Charles Bukowski

Charles Bukowski
Henry Charles Bukowskiwas an American poet, novelist, and short story writer...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth16 August 1920
CityAndernach, Germany
CountryUnited States of America
home night voice
I went home each night dizzy and sick. He was murdering me with the sound of his voice.
waiting pull-ups rail
there are so many days when living stops and pulls up and sits and waits like a train on the rails.
form fronts actuality
They, all of them, seemed to put literary form in front of the actuality and living of life itself.
mother father school
I didn't like anybody in that school. I think they knew that. I think that's why they disliked me. I didn't like the way they walked or looked or talked, but I didn't like my mother or father either. I still had the feeling of being surrounded by white empty space. There was always a slight nausea in my stomach.
boys giving parent
Your parents don't give you much love, do they?' 'I don't need that stuff,' I told her. 'Henry, everybody needs love.' 'I don't need anything.' 'You poor boy.
mad stills scrap
It is possible to be truly mad and to still exist upon scraps of life.
reality
I was only photographing in words the reality of it all.
strong sleep skills
and when love came to us twice and lied to us twice we decided to never love again that was fair fair to us and fair to love itself. we ask for no mercy or no miracles; we are strong enough to live and to die and to kill flies, attend the boxing matches, go to the racetrack, live on luck and skill, get alone, get alone often, and if you can't sleep alone be careful of the words you speak in your sleep; and ask for no mercy no miracles; and don't forget: time is meant to be wasted, love fails and death is useless.
running horse believe
all that I know is that I believe in the sound of music and the running of a horse. all else is squabble.
thinking way feels
How are his poems?" "He's not as good as he thinks he is, but then most of us feel that way.
jobs pain men
Trouble and pain were what kept a man alive. Or trying to avoid trouble and pain. It was a full time job.
fiction improvement
Fiction is an improvement on life
funeral would-be why-not
You are thirty minutes late." "Yes." "Would you be thirty minutes late to a wedding or a funeral?" "No." "Why not, pray tell?" "Well, if the funeral was mine I'd have to be on time. If the wedding was mine it would be my funeral.
care structure laughed
They laughed. Things were funny. They weren't afraid to care. There was no sense to life, to the structure of things.