Artwork: Charles Bukowski

$6000
Charles Bukowski was a prolific underground writer who used his poetry and prose to depict the depravity of urban life and the downtrodden in American society.
Bluebird by 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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