Alle volte inizia con un silenzio – Oliviero Dilimberti

Alle volte inizia con un silenzio
pieno di troppe cose da dire,
silenzi da dare /
silenzi da non tradire.

Altre volte inizia con un libro in mano,
un po’ per gioco.

Altre volte sei su un letto e pensi.

Il piacere di stare con sè stessi,
senza rima, senza sosta,
un po’ di pace.

Nel freddo e nella nebbia
si confondono i mood e gli orizzonti,
hai paura di non arrivare mai a nulla, nulla di reale.

La foga di evadere dorme un po’,
che senso ha evadere/
se l’evaso non sei tu?

nebbia

I remembered my New Orleans days, living on two five-cent candy bars a day for weeks at a time in order to have leisure to write. But starvation, unfortunately, didn’t improve art. It only hindered it. A man’s soul was rooted in his stomach. A man could write much better after eating a porterhouse steak and drinking a pint of whiskey than he could ever write after eating a nickel candy bar. The myth of the starving artist was a hoax. – Charles Bukowski

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Bluebird – 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?
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