Artwork: Charles Bukowski

$6000Charles Bukowski was a prolific underground writer who used his poetry and prose to depict the depravity of urban life and the downtrodden in American society. Bluebird by Charles BukowskiThere's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get outbut I'm too tough for him,I say, stay in there, I'm not going to let anybody see you.There's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get outbut I pour whiskey on him and inhale cigarette smokeand the whores and the bartenders and the grocery clerksnever know that he's in there.There's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get outbut I'm too tough for him,I say, stay down, do you want to mess me up? you want to screw up the works? you want to blow my book sales in Europe? There's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get outbut I'm too clever, I only let him outat night sometimes when everybody's asleep.I say, I know that you're there,so don't be sad.then I put him back,but he's singing a little in there, I haven't quite let him dieand we sleep together like thatwith our secret pactand it's nice enough to make a man weep, but I don't weep, do you?
Charles Bukowski, 30" x 76" oil on wood door

$6000 

Charles Bukowski was a prolific underground writer who used his poetry and prose to depict the depravity of urban life and the downtrodden in American society.  

Bluebird by Charles Bukowski 

There's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out 

but I'm too tough for him, 

I say, stay in there,  

I'm not going to let anybody see you. 

There's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out 

but I pour whiskey on him and inhale cigarette smoke 

and the whores and the bartenders and the grocery clerks 

never know that he's in there. 

There's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out 

but I'm too tough for him, 

I say, stay down, do you want to mess me up?  

you want to screw up the works?  

you want to blow my book sales in Europe?  

There's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out 

but I'm too clever, I only let him out 

at night sometimes when everybody's asleep. 

I say, I know that you're there, 

so don't be sad. 

then I put him back, 

but he's singing a little in there,  

I haven't quite let him die 

and we sleep together like that 

with our secret pact 

and it's nice enough to make a man weep,  

but I don't weep,  

do you?