lonely as a dry and used orchard <br />spread over the earth <br />for use and surrender. <br /> <br />shot down like an ex-pug selling <br />dailies on the corner. <br /> <br />taken by tears like <br />an aging chorus girl <br />who has gotten her last check. <br /> <br />a hanky is in order your lord your <br />worship. <br /> <br />the blackbirds are rough today <br />like <br />ingrown toenails <br />in an overnight <br />jail--- <br />wine wine whine, <br />the blackbirds run around and <br />fly around <br />harping about <br />Spanish melodies and bones. <br /> <br />and everywhere is <br />nowhere--- <br />the dream is as bad as <br />flapjacks and flat tires: <br /> <br />why do we go on <br />with our minds and <br />pockets full of <br />dust <br />like a bad boy just out of <br />school--- <br />you tell <br />me, <br />you who were a hero in some <br />revolution <br />you who teach children <br />you who drink with calmness <br />you who own large homes <br />and walk in gardens <br />you who have killed a man and own a <br />beautiful wife <br />you tell me <br />why I am on fire like old dry <br />garbage. <br /> <br />we might surely have some interesting <br />correspondence. <br />it will keep the mailman busy. <br />and the butterflies and ants and bridges and <br />cemeteries <br />the rocket-makers and dogs and garage mechanics <br />will still go on a <br />while <br />until we run out of stamps <br />and/or <br />ideas. <br /> <br />don't be ashamed of <br />anything; I guess God meant it all <br />like <br />locks on <br />doors.<br /><br />Charles Bukowski<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-blackbirds-are-rough-today/
