we are afraid. we think that hatred signifies strength

too much 

too little 

or too late 

 

too fat 

too thin 

or too bad 

 

laughter or 

tears 

or immaculate 

unconcern 

 

haters 

lovers 

 

armies running through streets of pain 

waving wine bottles 

bayoneting and fucking everyone 

 

or an old guy in a cheap quiet room 

with a photograph of Marilyn Monroe. 

 

there is a loneliness in this world so great 

that you can see it in the slow movement of 

a clock's hands. 

 

there is a loneliness in this world so great 

that you can see it in blinking neon 

in Vegas, in Baltimore, in Munich. 

 

people are tired 

strafed by life 

mutilated either by love or no 

love. 

 

we don't need new governments 

new revolutions 

we don't need new men 

new women 

we don't need new ways 

we just need to care. 

 

people are not good to each other 

one on one. 

people are just not good to each other. 

 

we are afraid. 

we think that hatred signifies 

strength. 

that punishment is 

love. 

 

what we need is less false education 

what we need are fewer rules 

fewer police 

and more good teachers. 

 

we forget the terror of one person 

aching in one room 

alone 

unkissed 

untouched 

cut off 

watering a plant alone 

without a telephone that would never 

ring 

anyway. 

 

people are not good to each other 

people are not good to each other 

people are not good to each other 

 

and the beads swing and the clouds obscure 

and dogs piss upon rose bushes 

the killer beheads the child like taking a bite 

out of an ice cream cone 

while the ocean comes in and goes out 

in and out 

in the thrall of a senseless moon. 

 

and people are not good to each other. 

 

[Charles Bukowski {1920-1994} 'the crunch (2)', from What Matters Most is How Well you Walk through the Fire]