Nirvana by Charles Bukowski
Вставка
- Опубліковано 12 бер 2022
- Music: Max Richter - Path 5 (Delta)
Speaker: Tom O' Bedlam (SpokenVerse)
Full poem:
not much chance,
completely cut loose from
purpose,
he was a young man
riding a bus
through North Carolina
on the way to somewhere
and it began to snow
and the bus stopped
at a little cafe
in the hills
and the passengers
entered.
he sat at the counter
with the others,
he ordered and the
food arrived.
the meal was
particularly
good
and the
coffee.
the waitress was
unlike the women
he had
known.
she was unaffected,
there was a natural
humor which came
from her.
the fry cook said
crazy things.
the dishwasher.
in back,
laughed, a good
clean
pleasant
laugh.
the young man watched
the snow through the
windows.
he wanted to stay
in that cafe
forever.
the curious feeling
swam through him
that everything
was
beautiful
there,
that it would always
stay beautiful
there.
then the bus driver
told the passengers
that it was time
to board.
the young man
thought, I'll just sit
here, I'll just stay
here.
but then
he rose and followed
the others into the
bus.
he found his seat
and looked at the cafe
through the bus
window.
then the bus moved
off, down a curve,
downward, out of
the hills.
the young man
looked straight
forward.
he heard the other
passengers
speaking
of other things,
or they were
reading
or
attempting to
sleep.
they had not
noticed
the
magic.
the young man
put his head to
one side,
closed his
eyes,
pretended to
sleep.
there was nothing
else to do-
just to listen to the
sound of the
engine,
the sound of the
tires
in the
snow.
Video: All royalty free video from from pexels.com
#Bukowski #CharlesBukowski
I gave this poem to my wife when we married. It speaks to me of our first year together, where I did not feel ready to commit and planned from early on to end things after a year. She was the waitress who was unlike the women I had known, or maybe she was the entire cafe.
When the time came - I really wrestled with it, because while I had really enjoyed our time together, I felt like I had made a promise to myself. But in the end, after we talked it out, she somehow told me exactly what I needed to hear - and so I did not get back on that bus.
That was over 20 years ago, now. 20 wonderful years, and three more wonderful kids. I listen to this poem sometimes - usually the Tom Waits version - and shudder a bit, thinking of how close I came to getting back on that bus to… somewhere.
Thank God I did not.
Oh my! The imagery used here is extraordinary. For a moment, I felt like I am that guy in the poem. It triggered a beautiful yet a sad feeling inside of me. This poem is unforgettable. Thank you for sharing Bukowski's magic 🙏❤️😊😢
I also made some on my channel hope u give it a watch 😊
yes. agreed, i think the beauty of it in some way is how we can all share that feeling together of the nameless individual.
This reminds me of a man sitting in an unsalted world beyond the mountains where all are respected and none are affected by the violence we throw at each other. Yet this peace feels slightly foreign - almost crazy- and somehow euphoric.
A feeling of greater purpose unfolds with the menu before him; a world he feels like he belongs in, but does not deserve.
A man that must remain unfeeling, unaffected and all masculine; or so, he believed before he reached that lone diner in the mountains.
The background music fits perfect the beauty of this poem
This piece is among my favorites, and I like to return to it from time to time. It well captures a feeling of isolation and the desire for a place to belong.
I also made some on my channel hope u give it a watch 😊
Slightly unrelated to Nirvana, in fact the total opposite, which means freedom from suffering. I wonder why he chose this name!
@@buddhism-lr1yt Perhaps in reference to the idyllic appearing place he passed through.
@@ponyboygarfunkel1675 No doubt he had some insights into reality. But as a Buddhist, in a technical sense, he didn't see nirvana, so he couldn't have written about it.
If you call it "lasting peace", it's far beyond romantic attachment or "love", alcohol intoxication, words, etc.
I guess this is westernization, where a new definition is given based on subjective interpretation.
Just like Kurt Cobain liked the idea of Nirvana that he read in the Webster's dictionary, but didn't put in any actual work and follow the teachings of the Buddha to actually understand what this word points to. It isn't music or poetry. It's non-conceptual. And you can't just call something else Nirvana, because the definition sounds like something you think you might have experienced like some assert the psychedelic state reveals Nirvana. It is technical and you must study Buddhism to understand it, and even this is limited.
Sorry to be an old goat, it's just this word, in my view shouldn't be interpreted, and the only way to actually understand it is to practice meditation. Any intellectual discussion is meaningless.
@@buddhism-lr1yt I don't mind when words are used colloquially.
I am a geezer, and an atheist. Best of luck.
that young man was him, and he put it in a way you just want to know where exactly that magic place is.
Look within.
Man this is has instigated a desire in me to make a bus tour to hills like good old days . Taking a break at local eateries, chatters of passengers , those different laughters , smoke . That stranger speaking to me ... every thing like Deja vu
Great work, Charles Bukowski, I remember when I felt lonely in the bus listening to engines and tyres. This is real 👍
Bukowisk vê o invisível. Não há palavras para descrever sua poesia.
He was young! Unbelievably young!
Brilliant, evocative poem by the master - Charles Bukowski.
Brilliant reading also by Tom o'Bedlam.
👏👏👏👏👏
Yes, I've been to those places too. It's sad to leave.
This is the first time I find a video fit so smoothly with a Charles Bukowsky poem. Great work!
This to me resonates, as ever since I was young, a hotel room, a cafe, a nice market, a pub, these things always felt magical to me, an I grow older I find myself less lost in the moment, as I endlessly try to reach the future
Nice! Hadn't heard this one before, so thank you!
Life sometimes feels like humanity has nowhere to go from here, like we are sliding slowly down and out of view of everything else in the universe and that when it does no one will care, at least not in this tiny place we call home, this speck of dust in an endless sprawl of elements and space. Nothing really matters, nothing at all if we can't beleive in anything.
A personal favorite. Brilliant.
Love it!
Hay!!! 😍
So beautiful
Thank you so much
Wonderful arrangement
love it. so many small thoughts and subtle human interactions described profoundly.
Really wish the audio wasn’t slowed. The original audio has the perfect cadence
It hits me so hard. My god, this is so beutifull, sad, everything... Fuck.
I can't say how much l love this man with all his poem, l hope to meet him one day
It feels otherworldly, as if the young man is caught in limbo and seeing other souls caught in between the crossroads.
Full of story details in a poetic way
Great 👍🏻👍🏻
Really nice
Masterpiece
Tohle je těžký i pro mě , kámo... Ani to nezkoušej!
Dobře
You've got a sub from me, fantastic edits and music choice! Thanks for your work
What a Poet ❤
You are doing great. 🖤 From Bharat 🇮🇳🚩
Sublime.
No, just weak and meaningless, Bukowski was so over rated.
fooled by life itself
A perfect recipe for Nirvana is pure, silencing, serene mountain snow. The "cut loose from purpose" enabled his perception of simple, magical, "unaffected" beauty. The waitresses natural humor, the not so crazy fry cook producing a particularly good meal, clean pleasant laughs from the dishwasher.
Great work John. Keep it up :)
I also made some on my channel hope u give it a watch 😊
Everytime I listen to this I become really sad.
This brought a memory of Tulsa in the 60's . Walking away from destiny...
destiny? oh
totally
What is the background music it's beatiful
Path 5 (delta) by Max Ritcher
I can´t belive it... This is the stuff that would give a man the nobel price in litteratur. But what do we get?
Anything is a poem is you are not dead.
Ty tvoje "myšlenky"... Vždycky pobavíš.
background music is too loud
Is the machinist, time?
What is the name of background music?
Max Richter -part 5
@@winstonwright853 thank a lot
the music behind is not good.
The f......g music??
sound is crap
I hope nobody is foolish enough to regard this rubbish as poetry, it's not even a good children's story, there's no meaning to it. Bukowski was an arrogant fake but I understand that it's trendy to pretend to like his meaningless ramblings.
tell us what poetry is, give us an example.
@@ivan-astral OK, FOREVER LOST - Lili
I sat upon a lonely beach, watched the gulls and crabs devour
The remains of one large man, no clothes, no eyes, one hand
As I enjoyed the morning sun, the waves had washed him clean
I lazed there for a little while and then began to dream
And wondered of his story, his sad demise upon the sand. -
I slowly woke when day had cooled and found I wasn’t alone
A Spectre sat at my right side and smiled at my surprise
I was a wanderer he said, a Tramp, a Sailor wild
And I pray the sea will take me and scatter all my bones
I’ll tell the story of my murder, no profit now in lies
For I was just a Gypsy, stolen from my tribe as child. -
Sunken deep within the mire of crime, four lads with time to kill
And kill we did whenever, we found the chance of coin
The guilty and the innocent, none spared or conscience felt
The hand of Satan on my shoulder, the tempest in my loins
But treachery’s around us all and treachery was dealt
When I stole within the clan, a wench I didn’t own.-
I lost my eyes, I lost my hand, I’m destined now to roam
The lonely shore for evermore, no life, no friends, no hand
He wandered back to where his form lay rotting on the sand
Sometimes I hear a wailing, from that Spectre in the foam
He cannot see, he can’t be free, his anger, hate demand
The death of any stranger who happens by his home. -
The beach looks so inviting for swimmers to its shore
Currents deep and fast, take the unwary to the deep
Every Summer takes its toll, the Spectre calls for more
The warning signs upon the sand, only tempt the brave
Dragged out to sea among the fish, reward eternal sleep
There’ll be no sleep for the vagabond, the sand his lonely grave.
KENSINGTON AVE Lili
Banished to the outer reaches
I peer in from the bitter cold
I see the warmth and reverie
Afforded to the fold
Hardship brings experience
That opens up the mind
Camaraderie with desperates
The fold will never find
They'll never walk the hard felt mile
In shoes all filled with holes
The end's the same for all of us
No empathy, no soul.
De’ja’Vu Lili
The three lives lived of mortal man, each with a different view
The feeling that you felt today, so strong and not misplaced
You know that person, you know that place, you’ve felt the De’ja’Vu
You also know that if approached, a blank stare on their face
Would leave you asking if you’re sane, you turn your head away
You know you’re sane, you know the scene, confusion is at play. -
The more you think the more you’re lost but it’s all a part of fate
It’s then you need hypnosis deep, the magick Mandrake root
The Peyote and the incantations will bring your past life back
You may not like what you may find, Black forbidden fruit
Or past loves that you still love, revenge left lost and black
If knowing is your only goal, the truth is absolute. -
But if you want to immerse your soul in joining once again
The people and the places lost you risk your present life
You’ve only three and they won’t mix, you’ll only bring the pain
The cards of life will not be shuffled thus, complications rife
De’ja’Vu’s a two edged sword you’ll avoid if you accept
The pleasures in the knowing and all it does contain. -
But what of when you are approached, told by strangers to your side
That you were part of their past life, Oh so long ago?
The circle turns, you can’t recall, they are sure, they know that you have died
You see the questions within their minds, you were called a different name
A riddle to be pondered as you follow life’s slow flow.
There are many more.