The Bluebird wants out again!
I am tough enough for it.
But only just.
He wants out, but can't.
Meanwhile, his beak tears a hole.
Sears into my flesh.
Bleeds a little, but thats OK.
It reminds me that I'm not.
It reminds me I gotta run.
Pump my legs out of this place!
To chase the dreams they sold me
"You'd be a leader, just you wait to get your degree.
BAM! ZAAM! KABLAAM!
Labs and companies will be groveling at your feet!"
They spoon-fed me, like a child off the ****.
For FOUR. AND. A. HALF. YEARS!!!
I swallowed the lies like a baby lamb
With a glint on my eye, wasting my time
I believed they'd make me a man
No need to go and try, they'll take charge on that.
But the world is a cold, brick, wall.
And you crash into it as soon as you cross the door.
You break your nose, bleed a touch.
Now it's time to crack it back into form!
Ouch! Ow! It hurts! It smarts!
But it's good for ya kid!
It'll do ya right!
You can't look forward with that crooked thing blocking your sight!
So yank it straight! Get off off your **!
Dreams ain't something you'll find on a market stall.
You can't buy them, they ain't sold.
But you can make them on a workshop.
A table, a shed, behind garage doors.
Behind a computer, even a phone!
They are made with sweat and blood.
Better spend that chasing them
Than to waste it
listening to someone pump them into head.
The poem Bluebird by Charles Bukowski may be one of my absolute favorite pieces of writing I've ever read, and it is all I want to achieve in my writing. A worm that burrows in your brain that won't leave you and inspires you to do something.
The title is an allusion to Bukowski and his work "Notes from a ***** Old Man" published in 1969