The Pleasures of the Damned. Charles Bukowski. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Charles Bukowski
Издательство: Ingram
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Жанр произведения: Зарубежные стихи
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781847678874
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mole on your butt.

      she walked into the other room

       and got dressed and then ran past me

       slammed the door

       and was

       gone.

      and to think,

       she’d read all my books of

       poetry too.

      I just hoped she wouldn’t tell

       anybody that

       I wasn’t pretty.

       my telephone

      the telephone has not been kind of late,

       of late there have been more and more calls

       from people who want to come over and talk

       from people who are depressed

       from people who are lonely

       from people who just don’t know what to do

       with their time;

       I’m no snob, I try to help, try to suggest something that

       might be of assistance

       but there have been more calls

       more and more calls

       and what the callers don’t realize is that

       I too have

       problems

       and even when I don’t

       it’s

       necessary for me

       sometimes

       just to be alone and quiet and

       doing nothing.

       so the other day

       after many days of listening to depressed and lonely people

       wanting me to assuage their grief,

       I was lying there

       enjoying looking at the ceiling

       when the phone rang

       and I picked it up and said,

       “listen, whatever your problem is or whatever it is you want,

       I can’t help you.”

       after a moment of silence

       whoever it was hung up

       and I felt like a man who had escaped.

      I napped then, perhaps an hour, when the phone rang

       again and I picked it up:

       “whatever your problem is

       I can’t help you!”

      “is this Mr. Chinaski?”

      “yes.”

      “this is Helen at your dentist’s

       office to remind you

       that you have an appointment at

       3:30 tomorrow

       afternoon.”

      I told her I’d be

       there for her.

       Carson McCullers

      she died of alcoholism

       wrapped in a blanket

       on a deck chair

       on an ocean

       steamer.

      all her books of

       terrified loneliness

      all her books about

       the cruelty

       of loveless love

      were all that was left

       of her

      as the strolling vacationer

       disthe ship

      as everything

       continued just

       as

       she had written it.

       Mongolian coasts shining in light

      Mongolian coasts shining in light,

       I listen to the pulse of the sun,

       the tiger is the same to all of us

       and high oh

       so high on the branch

       our oriole

       sings.

       putrefaction

      of late

       I’ve had this thought

       that this country

       has gone backwards

       4 or 5 decades

       and that all the

       social advancement

       the good feeling of

       person toward

       person

       has been washed

       away

       and replaced by the same

       old

       bigotries.

      we have

       more than ever

       the selfish wants of power

       the disregard for the

       weak

       the old

       the impoverished

       the

       helpless.

      we are replacing want with

       war

       salvation with

       slavery.

      we have wasted the

       gains

      we have become

       rapidly

       less.

      we have our Bomb

       it is our fear

       our damnation

       and our

       shame.

      now

       something so sad

       has hold of us

       that

       the breath

       leaves

       and we can’t even

       cry.

       where was Jane?

      one of the first actors to play Tarzan was living at the

       Motion Picture Home.

       he’d been there for years waiting to die.

       he spent much of his time

       running in and out of the wards

       into the cafeteria and out into the yard where he’d yell,

       “ME TARZAN!”

       he never spoke to anyone or said anything else, it was always just

       “ME TARZAN!”