'About'Original PostsBurmabell hooks


I’ve had so many knives stuck into me, when they hand me a flower I can’t quite make out what it is. It takes time.

Charles Bukowski  (via mno-bimaadiziwin)



I am
a series of
small victories
and large defeats
and I am as
amazed
as any other
that
I have gotten
from there to
here.

Charles Bukowski; “grip in the dark” from The People Look Like Flowers At Last  (via shakethecobwebs)



Are you becoming what you’ve always hated?

Charles Bukowski (via fakeville)



Cautiously, I allowed
myself to feel good
at times.
I found moments of
peace in cheap
rooms
just staring at the
knobs of some
dresser
or listening to the
rain in the
dark.
The less I needed
the better I
felt.

Charles Bukowski, “Let It Enfold You” (via fluxofpinkindians)



Who the hell said you no longer had it in you?

Charles Bukowski (via mirroir)



I see men assassinated around me every day. I walk through rooms of the dead, streets of the dead, cities of the dead; men without eyes, men without voices; men with manufactured feelings and standard reactions; men with newspaper brains, television souls and high school ideas.

Charles Bukowski
(via theyoungradical)



"so you want to be a writer?" by Charles Bukowski

libraryland:

if it doesn’t come bursting out of you in spite of everything, don’t do it. unless it comes unasked out of your heart and your mind and your mouth and your gut, don’t do it. if you have to sit for hours staring at your computer screen or hunched over your typewriter searching for words, don’t do it. if you’re doing it for money or fame, don’t do it. if you’re doing it because you want women in your bed, don’t do it. if you have to sit there and rewrite it again and again, don’t do it. if it’s hard work just thinking about doing it, don’t do it. if you’re trying to write like somebody else, forget about it. if you have to wait for it to roar out of you, then wait patiently. if it never does roar out of you, do something else. if you first have to read it to your wife or your girlfriend or your boyfriend or your parents or to anybody at all, you’re not ready. don’t be like so many writers, don’t be like so many thousands of people who call themselves writers, don’t be dull and boring and pretentious, don’t be consumed with self- love. the libraries of the world have yawned themselves to sleep over your kind. don’t add to that. don’t do it. unless it comes out of your soul like a rocket, unless being still would drive you to madness or suicide or murder, don’t do it. unless the sun inside you is burning your gut, don’t do it. when it is truly time, and if you have been chosen, it will do it by itself and it will keep on doing it until you die or it dies in you. there is no other way. and there never was.