eraldopontopdf: Bukowski.

01.04.13 @ 15:45♥1

eraldopontopdf:

Bukowski.

invent yourself and then reinvent yourself,
don’t swim in the same slough.
invent yourself and then reinvent yourself
and
stay out of the clutches of mediocrity.

invent yourself and then reinvent yourself,
change your tone and shape so often that they can
never
categorize you.

reinvigorate yourself and
accept what is
but only on the terms that you have invented
and reinvented.

be self-taught.

and reinvent your life because you must;
it is your life and
its history
and the present
belong only to
you.

~   Charles Bukowski, No Leaders, Please. (via ahhllayne)

07.22.12 @ 20:42♥217

Bukowskiwords

02.12.12 @ 21:32♥386

I’m on fire with love and anger.

~   Charles Bukowski (via fuckyeahbukowski)

12.19.11 @ 17:58♥237

Bukowski

11.29.11 @ 23:19♥6851

It wasn’t my day. My week. My month. My year. My life. God damn it.

~   Charles Bukowski (via sateenkaari)

10.22.11 @ 19:17♥14601

Bukowski

08.09.11 @ 17:03

tamburina: Charles Bukowski

03.04.11 @ 21:28♥2179

tamburina:

Charles Bukowski

Drinking is an emotional thing. It joggles you out of the standardism of everyday life, out of everything being the same. It yanks you out of your body and your mind and throws you against the wall. I have the feeling that drinking is a form of suicide where you’re allowed to return to life and begin all over the next day. It’s like killing yourself, and then you’re reborn. I guess I’ve lived about ten or fifteen thousand lives now.

~   Charles Bukowski (via fuckyeahbukowski)

03.02.11 @ 23:11♥157

wordsBukowski
pornforblind: Charles Bukowski, during a controversial episode of the French cultural program ‘Apostrophes’ in 1978. Bukowski in Apostrophes (clip on youtube)

02.18.11 @ 16:17♥822

pornforblind:

Charles Bukowski, during a controversial episode of the French cultural program ‘Apostrophes’ in 1978.

Bukowski in Apostrophes (clip on youtube)

(via madambivalence)

10.06.10 @ 01:10♥122

(via madambivalence)

footnote upon the construction of the masses:

some people are young and nothing
else and
some people are in old and nothing
else
and some people are in between and
just in between.

and if the flies wore clothes on their
backs
and all the buildings burned in
golden fire,
if heaven shook like a belly
dancer
and all the atom bombs began to
cry,
some people would be young and nothing
else and
some people old and nothing
else,
and the rest would be the same
the rest would be the same.

the few who are different
are eliminated quickly enough
by the police, by their mothers, their
brothers, others; by
themselves.

all that’s left is what you
see.

it’s hard.

Charles Bukowski

(in The days run away like wild horses over the hills)

09.19.10 @ 18:43♥2

Bukowskipoetry
Bukowski

09.02.10 @ 09:30♥1

Bukowski

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