Bukowski, Charles


we are always asked
to understand the other person’s
no matter how
foolish or

one is asked
to view
their total error
their life-waste
especially if they are

but age is the total of
our doing.
they have aged
because they have
out of focus,
they have refused to

not their fault?

whose fault?

I am asked to hide
my viewpoint
from them
for fear of their

age is no crime

but the shame
of a deliberately

among so many

–Be Kind by Charles Bukowski


Many years ago, when I was barely 14 or 15, I remember browsing through my old computer to find a folder with many word versions of great novels -Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables, Shakespeare’s plays, even the Bible was there. Exploring the folders, I thought to myself I wouldn’t have the time nor the eye capacity to read every single file -at that time we didn’t have electronic e-book readers, so spending that quantity of time in front of the screen would made my eyesigh ache.

Anyway, one of those nights, I remember stumbling upon the “Bukowski, Charles” file. The titles inmediately got my attention -I was 14, as I said, and reading “Fuck Machine” (La Máquina de Follar, in Spanish, which was the version I read) clearly scandalized me. “Why on Earth would I have that file in my computer??” I probably thought. I can picture myself reading it and thinking “who is this dirty man and why am I still reading this?”. But I think that what really got me was his raw, true way of writing; the “reality” of his words.


Some years later, I’m still finding bits and pieces of his poems, and wishing to read more of his work. I think that, as a young girl back then, it made a huge impact on me, even if I’m pretty sure my writer dreams were slightly hidden by my self-imposed desire of becoming a lawyer (yeah, we all know how that ended up –I dropped out of Law school just a few months in, after realizing that was not what I really wanted).

Even so, I’m not saying I’m blaming Bukowski for my failed career. But maybe, just maybe, his words stayed at the back of my mind the whole time and reminded me of that kind of writing, the kind that makes you wonder how the hell is possible to express with words those feelings… and, probably, made me want to aim to be a “magician of words” myself.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s