Bukowski - Relentless as the tarantula

relentless as the tarantula

they're not going to let you
sit at a front table
at some cafe in Europe
in the mid-afternoon sun.
if you do, somebody's going to
 drive by and spray your guts
with a submachine gun.

they're not going to let you
feel good for very long anywhere.
the forces aren't going to let you
sit around fucking-off and relaxing.
you've got to go their way.

the unhappy, the bitter and the vengeful
need their fix - which is you
or somebody anybody in agony,
or better yet dead, dropped into some hole.

as long as there are
humans about
there is never going to be
any peace for any individual upon this earth
or anywhere else they might escape to.

all you can do is maybe
grab ten lucky minutes here
or maybe an hour there.
something is working toward you right now,
and I mean you and nobody but you.

 Appears in Relentless as the Tarantula (1986) and You Get So Alone At Times That It Just Makes Sense (1986)


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