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Charles Bukowski

in the cupboard sits my bottle like a dwarf waiting to scratch out my prayers. I drink and cough like some idiot at a symphony, sunlight and maddened birds are everywhere, the phone rings gamboling its sound against the odds of the crooked sea; I drink deeply and evenly now, I drink to paradise and… Continue reading Charles Bukowski

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American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Confessional · Contemporary · Excerpt · Fiction · Mystery · Novel · Paraphrase · Passage · Quote · Thriller

Charles Bukowski

If you’re going to try, go all the way. Otherwise, don’t even start. This could mean losing girlfriends, wives, relatives and maybe even your mind. It could mean not eating for three or four days. It could mean freezing on a park bench. It could mean jail. It could mean derision. It could mean mockery—isolation.… Continue reading Charles Bukowski

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American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Collection · Confessional · Contemporary · Poetry

Charles Bukowski

Whats the Use of a Title? They don’t make it the beautiful die in flame— suicide pills, rat poison, rope what— ever… they rip their arms off, throw themselves out of windows, they pull their eyes out of the sockets, reject love reject hate reject, reject. they don’t make it the beautiful can’t endure, they… Continue reading Charles Bukowski

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