This Poem by Charles Bukowski
This
self-congratulatory nonsense as the
famous gather to applaud their seeming
greatness
you
wonder where
the real ones are
what
giant cave
hides them
as
the deathly talentless
bow to
accolades
as
the fools are
fooled
again
you
wonder where
the real ones are
if there are
real ones.
this
self-congratulatory nonsense
has lasted
decades
and
with some exceptions
centuries.
this
is so dreary
is so absolutely pitiless
it
churns the gut to
powder
shackles hope
it
makes little things
like
pulling up a shade
or
putting on your shoes
or
walking out on the street
more difficult
near
damnable
as
the famous gather to
applaud their
seeming
greatness
as
the fools are
fooled
again
humanity
you sick
mother*****.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 12:31:02 AM # 1.0.0.1119
self-congratulatory nonsense as the famous gather to applaud their seeming greatness you wonder where the real ones are what giant cave hides them as the deathly talentless bow to accolades as the fools are fooled again you wonder where the real ones are if there are real ones. this self-congratulatory nonsense has lasted decades and with some exceptions centuries. this is so dreary is so absolutely pitiless it churns the gut to powder shackles hope it makes little things like pulling up a shade or putting on your shoes or walking out on the street more difficult near damnable as the famous gather to applaud their seeming greatness as the fools are fooled again humanity you sick motherf-.