Wednesday, 27 March 2013

Day 268: The Poem Reads You


'...this is more than a poem...' 

Most poems are 'dull' Bukowksi states blatantly here, but not the real poems, the ones that grab you and slam you into the pressing urgency of reality with a whooshing of gravity, a thumping of heartbeats. The ones that wake you up, shake you up, glare truth in front of you like a blinding light. 

The ones that make you think, of something other than daily trivialities, beyond the 'illusion' and  into the realm of what really matters. What it's all about.


Splash - Charles Bukowski

the illusion is that you are simply
reading this poem.
the reality is that this is
more than a
poem.
this is a beggar's knife.
this is a tulip.
this is a soldier marching
through Madrid.
this is you on your
death bed.
this is Li Po laughing
underground.
this is not a god-damned
poem.
this is a horse asleep.
a butterfly in
your brain.
this is the devil's
circus.
you are not reading this
on a page.
the page is reading
you.
feel it?
it's like a cobra. it's a hungry eagle circling the room.

this is not a poem. poems are dull,
they make you sleep.

these words force you
to a new
madness.

you have been blessed, you have been pushed into a
blinding area of
light.

the elephant dreams
with you
now.
the curve of space
bends and
laughs.

you can die now.
you can die now as
people were meant to
die:
great,
victorious,
hearing the music,
being the music,
roaring,
roaring,
roaring.

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