I feel like we've all written this poem at some time, in some way

"Bluebird" - Charles Bukowski

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?



I was just introduced to this a few nights ago, and it honestly grabbed me in a way I can't even begin to explain. How many nights have I, have you, have we all lain awake with the bluebird? and what is the significance of bluebird? The beautiful song that we can't/won't let out? Take blue as in the mood, as in we have a struggle inside we can't break free from? I know its not a poem that requires much textual analysis (I'll probably get yelled at for saying that). Each section lands beautifully. If you know even a little bit about Bukowski (as I know very little as of right now...searching for an adequate biography to read over break...) you'll find, even in his other poems, that at times he is quite hard, crude, offensive, and sometimes uses imagery that us downright repulsive. He was also an incredibly hard looking man. But out of all of that rises bluebird, one of the most heartbreaking and tender and beautiful pieces I have ever come across. I held back the urge to cry when this was first read aloud to me. And to me, this is one of the many reasons I adore poetry so much. It's like that buried treasure, that deep and blinding beauty within every single human being, but a beauty that often goes largely unnoticed because either we don't reach down far enough in ourselves to find it, or other people don't bother to look for it in us either. We use understood symbols (letters, words) not to convey or explain, but to evoke. Have you ever seen the juxtaposition of two, three, four words, such a small set of words, that have stirred in you something that no other words could even begin to explain? Language is such a gift, such a mystical thing when I think about how we use it as art to evoke in others the deepest feelings of our humanity. Things that can only be felt, never explained. Sometimes I think, there is so much beauty in the world that is hidden, but that is because true beauty is something so precious that it will never be appreciated unless it is genuinely sought(if you want to ride with me for a second with the whole Platonic idea of true beauty, etc). Don't keep your bluebird inside. Always look for other people's bluebirds.


-J