Why do we embroider everything we say with special emphasis when all we really need to do is simply say what needs to he said? Of course the fact is that there is very little that needs to be said.
Charles Bukowskiyes, Wagner and the storm intermix with the wine as nights like this run up my wrists and up into my head and back down into the gut
Charles Bukowskithere are so many days when living stops and pulls up and sits and waits like a train on the rails.
Charles Bukowskii am with the roots of flowers entwined, entombed sending up my passionate blossoms as a flight of rockets and argument; wine churls my throat, above me feet walk upon my brain, monkies fall from the sky clutching photographs of the planets, but i seek only music and the leisure of my pain
Charles Bukowski