Charles Bukowski - Goading the Muse lyrics
[Charles Bukowski - Goading the Muse lyrics]
This man used to be an interesting writer
He was able to say brisk and
Refreshing things at the time
I suggested to the editors and
The critics that he was one to be watched
And also that he had hardly yet been noticed
And that he certainly should now be noticed
This writer used some of my
Remarks as blurbs for his
Books, which I didn't mind
All of his publications were little
Chapbooks, 16 to 32 pages
Mimeographed they came out at a
Rapid rate, Perhaps three or four a
Year the problem was that each
Chapbook seemed a little weaker
Than the one that preceded it
But he continued to use my old blurbs
My wife noticed the change in his writing
Too "what's happened to his
Writing?" she asked me
"he's doing too much of it, he's
Pushing it out, forcing it"
"this stuff is bad, you ought to
Tell him to stop using your blurbs"
"I can't do that, I just wish he
Wouldn't publish so much"
"well, you publish all the time too"
"with me" I told her, "it's different"
Yesterday I received another of his
Little chapbooks
With his delicate dedication scrawled
On the title page
This latest effort was totally flat
The words just fell off the page
Dead on arrival
Where had he gone?
Too much ambition?
Too much just doing it for the sake
Of doing it?
Just not waiting for the words to
Pile up inside and then explode of their own
Volition?
I decided then I should take a whole week
Off, Be on the safe side
Just shut the computer down
Forget the whole damned silly business
For awhile as I said, that was
Yesterday
He was able to say brisk and
Refreshing things at the time
I suggested to the editors and
The critics that he was one to be watched
And also that he had hardly yet been noticed
And that he certainly should now be noticed
This writer used some of my
Remarks as blurbs for his
Books, which I didn't mind
All of his publications were little
Chapbooks, 16 to 32 pages
Mimeographed they came out at a
Rapid rate, Perhaps three or four a
Year the problem was that each
Chapbook seemed a little weaker
Than the one that preceded it
But he continued to use my old blurbs
My wife noticed the change in his writing
Too "what's happened to his
Writing?" she asked me
"he's doing too much of it, he's
Pushing it out, forcing it"
"this stuff is bad, you ought to
Tell him to stop using your blurbs"
"I can't do that, I just wish he
Wouldn't publish so much"
"well, you publish all the time too"
"with me" I told her, "it's different"
Yesterday I received another of his
Little chapbooks
With his delicate dedication scrawled
On the title page
This latest effort was totally flat
The words just fell off the page
Dead on arrival
Where had he gone?
Too much ambition?
Too much just doing it for the sake
Of doing it?
Just not waiting for the words to
Pile up inside and then explode of their own
Volition?
I decided then I should take a whole week
Off, Be on the safe side
Just shut the computer down
Forget the whole damned silly business
For awhile as I said, that was
Yesterday