hug the dark by Charles Bukowski

turmoil is the god
madness is the god

permanent living peace is
permanent living death

agony can kill
or
agony can sustain life
but peace is always horrifying
peace is the worst thing
walking
talking
smiling
seeming to be.

don't forget the sidewalks
the whores
betrayal,
the worm in the apple,
the bars, the jails,
the suicides of lovers.

here is America
we have assassinated a president and his brother,
another president has quit office.

people who believe in politics
are like people who believe in god:
they are sucking wind through bent
straws.

there is no god
there are no politics
there is no peace
there is no love.

there is no control
there is no plan.

stay away from god
remain disturbed

slide.

Thirty years
echo round
our front room.
And what's done is
done.
No use crying
over milk that's spilt,
no use chasing
shadows which, after all,
are only the absence of light
& air
in this ransacked hall.

Witness it:
strewn papers everywhere,
I, naive, seeking out some other
glowing thing amongst
these scrawled ink letters,
half a foot high
on my mother's wall.