ONE OF THOSE       

  By Charles Bukowski

 

Sartre was some fellow, oh yes,

he showed us the bone of

Nowhere and shook it in

our face.

the choice

is yours,

he said,

morals died with God

you're on your own,

 

every now and then

during the passing centuries

some giant among men arises

shakes us truly

shocks us out of our sleep

so that, at least for a

time, we become aware,

renewed

as we put on our shoes in

the morning

as we trundle through our tasks

as we eat

defecate

imagine love

mail letters

drive and walk the

city

things and thoughts

assume different shapes

 

Sartre was one of those

giants

Paris, France, much of the

world

rumbled and bounced

because of

him

 

without some like him

putting your shoes on in

the morning

would become so difficult

as to be almost

imposible

Jean Paul

thanks

for

everything

 

 

 

 

HOW TO GET RID OF PURISTS

  by Charles Bukowski

 

several months ago i was sent some tapes

by a musician who had put several of

my poems to music.

he professed much interest in my

poesy.

I played the tapes on the way to the track

and back.

very classical (and I am a classical muci

freak)

but the overall tone of the work was

I felt

tinged with intellectual

elitism--the pretentious sporano voices and the

general presentation

 

I was both abashed and honoured that

the composer had lent so much effort and

musical learning to my work.

at the same time I felt that the overall

effect was anti-life, anti-me, anti-the-

clarity of directly seeking joy, pain,

anything reasonable or

sufficient.

it was thesame old con, the same ol

snobbism, the same old murderous kill

of death clothed in a creative act.

 

so I wrote the gentleman back, "you know,

I have certain problems, one of them

being with instruments,

some instruments which I dislike

are the piano, the violin and the soprano

voice, especially the latter.

the human voices besides being basically ugly also reminds me of the human

race

and one of the last things I want to

think of and one of the first things I

want to get away from when I listen to

classical music is

the human

race.

I write for the same reason.

is it possible that you can rewrite this

whole thing

without using the above-mentioned

instruments?"

 

I haven't heard from this composer

since.

which is part of my plan.

the other part being to antagonize,

deplete, expose and shame

the thousands of practitioners of

the arts in all of their forms

who have been subsidized by

snobbery. dullness, and the willful

push toward fame

which has left us with

centuries of accepted

and immensely admired

works of

art of

which

all too many

are surely

useless,

worthless,

fake

and so supremely boring

that we think that

they certainly must be

something

real.