^so nice
some of my favs;
the man had killed the thing he loved,
and so he had to die.
yet each man kills the thing he loves,
by each let this be heard,
some do it with a bitter look,
some with a flattering word.
the coward does it with a kiss,
the brave man with a sword!
some kill their love when they are young,
and some when they are old;
some strangle with the hands of lust,
some with the hands of gold:
the kindest use a knife, because
the dead so soon grow cold
some love too little, some too long,
some sell and others buy;
some do the deed with many tears,
and some without a sigh:
for each man kills the thing he loves,
yet each man does not die.
he does not die a death of shame
on a day of dark disgrace,
nor have a noose about his neck,
nor a cloth upon his face
nor drop feet foremost through the floor
into an empty space.
------------------------------------------------
out of the arm of one love
and into the arms of another
I have been saved from dying on the cross
by a lady who smokes pot
writes songs and stories
and is much kinder than the last,
much much kinder,
and the sex is just as good or better.
it isn't pleasant to be put on the cross and left there,
it is much more pleasant to forget a love which didn't
work
as all love
finally
doesn't work ...
it is much more pleasant to make love
along the shore in Del Mar
in room 42, and afterwards
sitting up in bed
drinking good wine, talking and touching
smoking
listening to the waves ...
I have died too many times
believing and waiting, waiting
in a room
staring at a cracked ceiling
wating for the phone, a letter, a knock, a sound ...
going wild inside
while she danced with strangers in nightclubs ...
out of the arms of one love
and into the arms of another
it's not pleasant to die on the cross,
it is much more pleasant to hear your name whispered in
the dark.
Charles Bukowski