Ah, ce cher Bukowski…

Portrait : Richard Tito

Henry Charles Bukowski (1920-1994)
Quel personnage! Rebelle, lucide, visionnaire, irrévérencieux, sentimental à ses heures, quand il laissait son Bluebird* placer un mot.

Le documentaire Born like this nous présente l’écrivain «tel quel», sans édulcoration; et c’est bien la meilleure façon de lui rendre justice. L’on comprend mieux les méandres d’une vie mouvementée et loin d’être conforme aux normes d’esclavage courantes. Bukowski y récite entre autres ce poème à caractère prophétique – puisque nous sommes dedans…

[La transcription sur écran cesse au mot powder; n’ayant pas trouvé de version complète sur le web, j’ai transcrit la suite à partir de l’audio.]

Born like this

born like this
into this
as the chalk faces smile
as Mrs. Death laughs
as political landscapes dissolve
as the oily fish spit out their oily prey

we are born
like this
into this
into hospitals which are so expensive
that it’s cheaper to die
into lawyers who charge so much
it’s cheaper to plead guilty
into a country where the jails are full
and the madhouses closed
into a place where the masses elevate fools
into rich heroes

born into this
walking and living through dying
because of this
castrated
debauched
disinherited
the fingers reach for
the bottle
the pill
the powder

we are born into this sourful deadliness
there will be open and unpunished murder
in the streets
it will be guns and roving mobs
land will be useless
food will become a diminishing return
nuclear power will be taken over by the many
explosions will continually shake the earth
radiated men will eat the flesh of radiated men
the rotting bodies of men and animals
will stink in the dark wind 
and there will be the beautiful silence never heard
formed out of that  
the sun hidden there
and waiting the next chapter 

---
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 it
are those who preach love.
And the best at war – finally –
are those who preach peace.

Beware
the average man
the average women
beware their love
their love is average, seeks average.

But there is genius in their hatred
there is enough genius in their genius
to kill you, to kill anybody.

Not wanting solitude
not understanding solitude
they will attempt to destroy anything
that differs from their own.

Not able to create art
they will not understand art 
they will consider their failure as creators
only as 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. 

Vidéo avec sous-titrage en français :

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D3r1vdst5Wo

---
Superbe film d'animation inspiré du poème Bluebird, par Monika Umba (2009)  



* Bluebird
(1992)

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?

“Love is kind of like when you see a fog in the morning, when you wake up before the sun comes out. It’s just a little while, and then it burns away… Love is a fog that burns with the first daylight of reality.” (Bukowski)

En bonus pour la fête du travail :

«L'esclavage n’a jamais été aboli, il n'a été qu’élargi de manière à inclure toutes les couleurs. Et ce qui fait mal, c'est la déshumanisation de ceux qui se battent pour garder des emplois dont ils ne veulent pas, mais qui craignent qu’une alternative soit pire. Les gens se vident tout simplement. Ce sont des corps peureux et des esprits obéissants. (...) Quand j’étais jeune, je ne pouvais pas croire que les gens puissent soumettre leur vie à pareilles conditions. Le vieil homme que je suis ne peut toujours pas y croire. Pourquoi font-ils ça? Le sexe? La télé? L’automobile à paiements mensuels? Ou les enfants? Les enfants qui vont faire exactement les mêmes choses qu'eux?» (H.C. Bukowski) 

 

J’ai toujours détesté le labeur et si je travaille, c’est dans le but unique de subvenir à mes débauches. ~ Alphonse Allais

 

Le but du travail n’est pas tant de faire des objets que de faire des hommes.

~ Lanza Del Vasto