Saturday, November 21, 2009

Bluebird by Charles Bukowski

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see
you.
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pour whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he's
in there.

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to screw up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep.
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he's singing a little
in there, I haven't quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it's nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don't
weep, do
you?

3 comments:

Louise Dalton said...

Sigh. Those Bluebirds...

Red Hen (dette) said...

Oh this is the link...I read this post the other day and didn't make a comment, it kind of floated around in my head and my chest for a bit, and I forgot about it (while I was trying to stay focused on my reports!)but tonight I started making little blue birds from felt and wondered where they had come from.

Red Hen (dette) said...

Hey there, your real world must be so full leaving you little time to post. Hope you have a lovely christmas day and that the new year is a good one for both you and Beau.