General Interest > Let It Bleed

The Genius of The Crowd

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Froderik:
there is enough treachery, hatred, violence, absurdity in the average
human being to supply any given army on any given day

and the best at murder are those who preach against it
and the best at hate are those who preach love
and the best at war finally are those who preach peace

those who preach god
need god
those who preach peace
do not have peace
those who preach love
do not have love
beware the preachers
beware the knowers

beware
those who
are always
reading
books

beware those who either detest
poverty or are proud of it

beware those quick to praise
for they need praise in return

beware those who are quick to censure
they are afraid of what they do not know

beware those who seek constant crowds
they are nothing alone

beware
the average man
the average woman
beware their love

their love is average
seeks average
but there is genius in their hatred
there is enough genius in their hatred to kill you
to kill anybody
not wanting solitude
not understanding solitude
they will attempt to destroy
anything
that differs
from their own

not being able
to create art
they will not
understand art

they will consider their failure
as creators
only as a failure
of the world

not being able to love fully
they will believe your love
incomplete
and then they will hate you

and their hatred will be perfect
like a shining diamond
like a knife
like a mountain
like a tiger
like hemlock

their finest
art

--Charles Bukowski

Samara:
Charles Bukowski. I was at a friend's house several years ago who had some of his books and I devoured him.  (Not the friend, the author's books.) It was sort of compelling but depressing. I stepped away from the books feeling... perturbed. Can't read another Bukowski.  I don't mind feeling unsettled after reading disturbing works, but at the end of the day, doesn't he just write about lonely, supremely selfish drunks?  

When I read the poem, there is some part of me that recognizes the truth in its cynicism. And another part that rejects it in the perpetual hope of a Julie Andrews sing-along.

justonemore:
There was this guy, (Suetonius, I think, but hell, i'm a redneck, and I think everything's Suetonius) Any way this guy said" If you want peace, prepare for war."
That's why the 'parabellum round is named as it is.
Just sayin'
J.O.M.

Froderik:
this fear of being what they are:
dead.

at least they are not out on the street, they
are careful to stay indoors, those
pasty mad who sit alone before their TV sets,
their lives full of canned, mutilated laughter.

their ideal neighborhood
of parked cars
of little green lawns
of little homes
the little doors that open and close
as their relatives visit
throughout the holidays
the doors closing
behind the dying who die so slowly
behind the dead who are still alive
in your quiet average neighborhood
of winding streets
of agony
of confusion
of horror
of fear
of ignorance.

a dog standing behind a fence.

a man silent at the window.

Froderik:
you have to have it or the walls will close
in.
you have to give everything up, throw it
away, everything away.
you have to look at what you look at
or think what you think
or do what you do
or
don't do
without considering personal
advantage
without accepting guidance.

people are worn away with
striving,
they hide in common
habits.
their concerns are herd
concerns.

few have the ability to stare
at an old shoe for
ten minutes
or to think of odd things
like who invented the
doorknob?

they become unalive
because they are unable to
pause
undo themselves
unkink
unsee
unlearn
roll clear.
listen to their untrue
laughter, then
walk
away.

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