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The warmest room - Billy bragg


A rainy afternoon
Spent in the warmest room
She lay before me and said
Yes it's true that I have seen some naked men
As she made for the door
Leaving me on the floor
I wish I'd done biology
For an urge within me wanted to do it then


And here he comes again
And I'm sitting on my hands
And he sings to me that siren song
Here he comes again and I'm biting my lip
But it won't be long

As Brother Barry said
As he married Marion
The wife has three great attributes
Intelligence, a Swiss army knife and charm
But that's not enough sometimes
And she did speak her mind
And told them all that she believed
The only way to disarm is to disarm

I know people whose idea of fun
Is throwing stones in the river in the afternoon sun
Oh let me be as free as them
Don't let him pass this way again

Though you cannot be blamed
But I've become inflamed
With thoughts of lust and thoughts of power
Thoughts of love and thoughts of Chairman Mao
We have such little time
At your place or mine
I can't wait till we take our blood tests
Oh baby let's take our blood tests now


the strongest of the strange 

you wont see them often
for wherever the crowds are
they are not.

these odd ones, not
many
but from them come
the few good paintings
the few good symphonies
the few good books
and other works.

and from the
best of the
strange ones
perhaps
nothing.

they are their own paintings
their own books their own music
their own work.

sometimes i think
i see them- say
a certain old man
sitting on a certain bench
in a certain way

or
a quick face going the other way in a passing automobile

or
there’s a certain motion
of the hands
of a bag-boy or a bag- girl
while packing supermarket groceries.

sometimes
it is even somebody you have been
living with for some time-
you will notice
a lightning quick glance
never seen from them before.

sometimes
you will only note their existence
suddenly in vivid recall
some months
some years
after they are
gone.

i remember
such a one-
he was about 20 years old
drunk at 10 a.m.
staring into a cracked new orleans mirror

face dreaming against the walls of the world

where did i go?

-charles bukowski.

Charles bukowski -  the genius of the crowd

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 peace 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 censor they are afraid of what they do not know


beware those who seek constant crowds for 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