THOUGHTS: The Assassination of Creativity

 I just finished Post Office today and read the blurb on back under the picture of  Bukowski.  It said he didn't get published until he was 35.  It was a poem, then the novels came.  Supposedly he wrote Post Office in one weekend.  I wonder what he would say now about the word processors and e-books and tablets.....etc.  I wonder if he would have got stuck writing some obnoxious sitcom and lose his edge.

I hope Bukowski would take a look around this culture and ask "what happened?"  I want to know, what happened to creativity?  We've made contests out of every form of expression.  We tell people that if you cannot win this contest, you're not good.  Even cooking shows have a "gong" factor.  Cooking is a basic need!  We made a business out of music, writing and art.  We established a new "reality" where your personal expression has a monetary value.  This is bizarre.  And I fully admit this is coming from someone whose expression has a low market value.  You can't rate an expression of my soul.  But I suppose it's like the way certain style of women come and go as the new beauty.
70's- Farrah Fawcett
80's- Brooke Shields
90's- Pam Anderson
00's- Paris Hilton
10's- Kim Kardashian.

The spotlight switched.  Is that to say that Brooke Shields is no longer beautiful?  No, but she's not the new beauty.

I say all that to say this:  Be creative and forget about winning.

POETRY: Broken Things

I watched a documentary about Charles Bukowski , "Born Into This".  He reminded me of my late grandfather so much, that I kept watching it night after night to feel like I was hanging with Grampa Bob again.  I learned something: I'm attracted to broken things and broken people.  I gravitate towards the low-life, late-night, dark bar rooms filled with men who can't seem to get it right.  Because somewhere in there, is a Bukowski, a Hunter, a Kerouac and their artistry.  After the 3rd night, I wrote this......

I'm attracted to broken things.
The one who played it safe, 
experience was not my teacher.

I'm attracted to broken things
and the exact point
where beauty pulls itself  from carnage.  

I'm attracted to broken things.
The assuredness of rock bottom
and the men who drink for work.

Men have never gotten over themselves.
The planet, the sun, the stars revolve around man
or so he would have them believe.