Charles Bukowski

La baciai. Baciarsi è più intimo che scopare.
Ecco perché non mi è mai piaciuto che le mie donne andassero in giro a baciare altri uomini. Preferirei che se li scopassero.
—  Bukowski
Mi piacerebbe frustarti con la cintura sulle gambe, sul culo, sulle cosce.
Vorrei farti tremare e piangere e poi, quando sei tutta piangente e tremante, te lo sbatterei dentro in un gesto di amore puro.
—  Bukowski
Like anybody can tell you, I am not a very nice man. I don’t know the word. I have
always admired the villain, the outlaw, the son of a bitch. I don’t like the clean-shaven
boy with the necktie and the good job. I like desperate men, men with broken teeth
and broken minds and broken ways. They interest me. They are full of surprises and
explosions. I also like vile women, drunk cursing bitches with loose stockings and
sloppy mascara faces. I’m more interested in perverts than saints. I can relax with
bums because I am a bum. I don’t like laws, morals, religions, rules. I don’t like to be
shaped by society.
—  Charles Bukowski, South of No North”

(via Charles Bukowski - The Genius Of The Crowd)

The Genius of the Crowd

there is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average
human being to supply any given army on any given day

and the best at murder are those who preach against it
and the best at hate are those who preach love
and the best at war finally are those who preach peace

those who preach god, need god
those who preach peace do not have peace
those who preach love do not have love

beware the preachers
beware the knowers
beware those who are always reading books
beware those who either detest poverty
or are proud of it
beware those quick to praise
for they need praise in return
beware those who are quick to censor
they are afraid of what they do not know
beware those who seek constant crowds for
they are nothing alone
beware the average man the average woman
beware their love, their love is average
seeks average

but there is genius in their hatred
there is enough genius in their hatred to kill you
to kill anybody
not wanting solitude
not understanding solitude
they will attempt to destroy anything
that differs from their own
not being able to create art
they will not understand art
they will consider their failure as creators
only as a failure of the world
not being able to love fully
they will believe your love incomplete
and then they will hate you
and their hatred will be perfect

like a shining diamond
like a knife
like a mountain
like a tiger
like hemlock

their finest art



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