a note on the masses

private hells made public
often puzzle the readers:
they wonder how this one
or that one
can endure and
continue.
well, there’s a secret:
don’t expect too
much of Humanity,
they have been
practicing hatred
for centuries,
it’s passed down
refined and
perfected,
oh, they have become
very good at that—
their hatreds blossom
with ever more frequent
regularity.
our public hell creates a
private hell and
there is no hell
except on
earth.
once you accept
this premise
you will be free to
exist
on your own terms
and you will never
know loneliness
and death will be as
nothing.
consider yourself
blessed in the
dark.


Charles Bukowski, Bone Palace Ballet, New Poems, Black Sparrow Press, Santa Rosa, 1997.

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