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?
Carol Welsh said:
Holy Cow! Let that bluebird out!!! That was sad…but beautiful.
myrthryn said:
Powerful isn’t it?
Carol Welsh said:
Yes, it is…and better to have the bluebird than to not. I still wish it could be free though. 🙂
myrthryn said:
Part of the reason to keep it in there, is so that it can’t be cheapened by the world around him. Pearls before swine, sort of thing.
Carol Welsh said:
It’s still so sad…
myrthryn said:
You ought to read some of his other poems…very sad, but very good.
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