charles bukowski's bluebird

i think that at some point everyone becomes aware of carrying a trapped spirit around inside. while their exterior suggests this spirit is alive and well, they carry the secret knowledge that not all of it is out there where it can live and nurture and grow in fullness. there are many good and valid reasons for this that have as much to do with having tasted the results of allowing their spirit to fly unfettered in a world that is not entirely equipped to manage so much all at once, as it does with protecting what is most valued, most beautiful and most sacred about oneself.

charles bukowski died 14 years ago and yet his words which captured the rich yet grubby confluence of writing, alcohol, relationships, and the drudgery of work in general magically live on. his poem "the bluebird" locks the knowing of the experience of protecting, hiding, encapsulating the inner spirit into a short and powerful piece of writing.

the bluebird

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?


here's "the bluebird" read by bukowski . . .



and if you head here you’ll get to hear those same words put to the music of muse, delibes’ “flower duet”, and bob dylan’s “man of constant sorrow” in an utterly beautiful mashup crafted by the talented and reclusive phil retrospector whose other tunes can be heard over at phil's myspace site.