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?
You can find this poem in Bukowski’s fantastic book — The Last Night of the Earth Poems.
Wow. These lines grabbed my attention this morning:
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pour whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
I remember when I did that often because I did not want to address particular fears, insecurities, and anxieties.
I am glad that I found the courage to address them, so that the bluebird in my heart could fly free.
Thank you for offering the poem. 🙏
I don’t weep, do you?