Chinches en el Espejo

julio 26, 2008

Tireless

Filed under: Poesía — chinchesenelespejo @ 11:14 pm
ALONE WITH EVERYBODY

the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
much
and nobody finds the
one
but keep
looking
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than
flesh

there’s no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular
fate.

nobody ever finds
the one.

the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill

nothing else
fills.

Anonymous submission.

 

Charles Bukowski

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3 comentarios »

  1. Trapped…? Only within the boundries of our own choices, chinchesenelespejo.

    I’m afraid I must disagree with dear Mr. Bukowski. I have to, or I would lose the will to live…

    Comentario por primeralluvia — julio 27, 2008 @ 5:36 am | Responder

  2. I’m sorry but I’m a born pessimist. Fortunately, my own illusions usually win the battle -but sometimes…

    Comentario por chinchesenelespejo — julio 27, 2008 @ 12:20 pm | Responder

  3. Good old poetry, what would we do without it…

    Comentario por primeralluvia — julio 27, 2008 @ 3:42 pm | Responder


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