jueves, 30 de octubre de 2014

Love. bukowski


Love, he said, gas

kiss me off

kiss my lips

kiss my hair

my fingers

my cock my balls

my eyes my brain

make me forget


He had a room on the 3rd floor,

rejected by a dozen women,

35 editors

and half a dozen hiring agencies.

Now I’m not saying he was any

good.


He turned on all the jets

without lighting them

and went to bed.


Some hours later, a guy on his

way to room 309

lit a cigar in the

hall.



And a sofa flew out the window.

One wall shivered down like wet sand.

A purple flame waved 40 feet high in the air.



The guy in bed

didn’t know or care,

but I’d have to say

he was pretty good

that day.

miércoles, 29 de octubre de 2014

Charles Bukowski, Love is a Dog from Hell



“there is a loneliness in this world so great
that you can see it in the slow movement of
the hands of a clock.
people so tired
mutilated
either by love or no love.
people just are not good to each other
one on one.
the rich are not good to the rich
the poor are not good to the poor.
we are afraid.
our educational system tells us
that we can all be
big-ass winners.
it hasn't told us
about the gutters
or the suicides.
or the terror of one person
aching in one place
alone
untouched
unspoken to
watering a plant.”

jueves, 23 de octubre de 2014

Honda es la noche. Juan Vicente Piqueras

Honda es la noche y no nos basta amar
cuando en la sangre sola se estremece,
como el niño que fuimos, la inocencia
al ver en qué nos hemos convertido.

Honda es la noche. Nos duelen los ojos
desalentados. Dime
si nos vale la pena
esta felicidad agazapada,
este oficio cobarde, este ir tirando.

Honda es la noche y ya nada nos basta
sino amar el amor y hacernos daño

martes, 21 de octubre de 2014

Escritos de un viejo indecente. Charles Bukowski



Me pregunto cuál será el sitio para todos aquellos que no queremos ser nada, que no aspiramos a nada, que simplemente nos queremos quitar de en medio de la masa, que abrimos la boca lo menos posible y que de vez en cuando escupimos al papel toda la mierda que llevamos dentro. ¿Dónde estará ese sitio?