The Genius Of The Crowd (Charles Bukowski Poem)
there is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average human being to supply any given army on any given ...
there is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average human being to supply any given army on any given ...
Inheritance. I wasn't raised to call myself Black, Indian, Chinese-- "You're human," said my parents. That was all. By the ...
I heard an echo in a hollow place. No sound of blowing wind or drifting sand, some ancient voice was ...
1 Senlin sits before us, and we see him. He smokes his pipe before us, and we hear him. Is ...
1 Senlin sits before us, and we see him. He smokes his pipe before us, and we hear him. Is ...
Fanfare of northwest wind, a bluejay wind announces autumn, and the equinox rolls back blue bays to a far afternoon. ...
Far from the churchyard dig his grave, On some green mound beside the wave; To westward, sea and sky alone, ...
That which he did not feel, he would not sing; What most he felt, religion it was to hide In ...
Part in peace: is day before us? Praise His Name for life and light; Are the shadows lengthening o'er us? ...
A quay with vessels moored Thomas To India! Yea, here I may take ship; From here the courses go over ...
We sighing said, "Our Pan is dead; His pipe hangs mute beside the river Around it wistful sunbeams quiver, But ...
Lo giorno se n'andava, e l'aere bruno toglieva li animai che sono in terra da le fatiche loro; e io ...
Just when I thought there wasn't room enough for another thought in my head, I had this great idea-- call ...
Near the wall of a house painted to look like stone, I saw visions of God. A sleepless night that ...
IS it so small a thing To have enjoy'd the sun, To have lived light in the spring, To have ...
Glion?--Ah, twenty years, it cuts All meaning from a name! White houses prank where once were huts. Glion, but not ...
How changed is here each spot man makes or fills! In the two Hinkseys nothing keeps the same; The village ...
Crouch'd on the pavement close by Belgrave Square A tramp I saw, ill, moody, and tongue-tied; A babe was in ...
Light flows our war of mocking words, and yet, Behold, with tears mine eyes are wet! I feel a nameless ...
Through Alpine meadows soft-suffused With rain, where thick the crocus blows, Past the dark forges long disused, The mule-track from ...
Light flows our war of mocking words, and yet, Behold, with tears mine eyes are wet! I feel a nameless ...
A region desolate and wild. Black, chafing water: and afloat, And lonely as a truant child In a waste wood, ...
Goethe in Weimar sleeps, and Greece, Long since, saw Byron's struggle cease. But one such death remain'd to come; The ...
'Twas August, and the fierce sun overhead Smote on the squalid streets of Bethnal Green, And the pale weaver, through ...
I ask not that my bed of death From bands of greedy heirs be free; For these besiege the latest ...
We were apart; yet, day by day, I bade my heart more constant be. I bade it keep the world ...
He was the sort of man who wouldn't hurt a fly. Many flies are now alive while he is not. ...
ON TURNING ONE DOWN WITH THE PLOUGH, IN APRIL, 1786 Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flow'r, Thou's met me in an evil ...
I mind me in the days departed, How often underneath the sun With childish bounds I used to run To ...
LIGHT human nature is too lightly tost And ruffled without cause, complaining on-- Restless with rest, until, being overthrown, It ...
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