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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=354589" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Death Wants More Death</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">death wants more death, and its webs are full:<br>I remember my father's garage, how child-like<br>I would brush the corpses of flies<br>from the windows they thought were escape-<br>their sticky, ugly, vibrant bodies<br>shouting like dumb crazy dogs against the glass<br>only to spin and flit<br>in that second larger than hell or heaven<br>onto the edge of the ledge,<br>and then the spider from his dank hole<br>nervous and exposed<br>the puff of body swelling<br>hanging there<br>not really quite knowing,<br>and then knowing-<br>something sending it down its string,<br>the wet web,<br>toward the weak shield of buzzing,<br>the pulsing;<br>a last desperate moving hair-leg<br>there against the glass<br>there alive in the sun,<br>spun in white;<br>and almost like love:<br>the closing over,<br>the first hushed spider-sucking:<br>filling its sack <br>upon this thing that lived;<br>crouching there upon its back<br>drawing its certain blood<br>as the world goes by outside<br>and my temples scream<br>and I&nbsp;hurl the broom against them:<br>the spider dull with spider-anger<br>still thinking of its prey<br>and waving an amazed broken leg;<br>the fly very still,<br>a dirty speck stranded to straw;<br>I shake the killer loose<br>and he walks lame and peeved<br>towards some dark corner<br>but I intercept his dawdling<br>his crawling like some broken hero,<br>and the straws smash his legs<br>now waving<br>above his head<br>and looking<br>looking for the enemy <br>and somewhat valiant,<br>dying without apparent pain<br>simply crawling backward<br>piece by piece<br>leaving nothing there<br>until at last the red gut sack<br>splashes<br>its secrets,<br>and I&nbsp;run child-like<br>with God's anger a step behind,<br>back to simple sunlight,<br>wondering<br>as the world goes by<br>with curled smile<br>if anyone else<br>saw or sensed my crime</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Charles+Bukowski">Charles Bukowski</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=354589" data-title="Death Wants More Death de Charles Bukowski" data-description="death wants more death, and its webs are full:
I remember my father's garage, how child-like
I would brush the corpses of flies
from the windows they thought were escape-
their sticky, ugly, vibrant bodies
shouting like dumb crazy dogs against the..."></div>
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