Yet another "Tell me a story"

My tribute to Bukowski and my cry for having more of the unpretentious and honest and expressive and in it's own way beautiful "art that matters." I don't mean that this is in his style of writing or that this has to do anything with him and his art, except for that same longing for sincerity and relevance that I find in his work. And yes, true, it's my trashing of most of the aesthetics around me (and many of the values, too). Such a waste of talent.

Tell me a story

but an honest one…
and naked.
Strip magic off it,
those promises of hope, too.

Tell me a story
but a gentle one…
and not wicked.
Take God away from it,
those hopes of justice, too.

Tell me a story
but a beautiful one…
and not reserved.
Put yourself in it,
along with some jealousy and dirt, too

Remove the mountains and the desert and the seas.
Let painters roam in them free.
You better tell me about the city
but without any sense of pity

Tell me how
homeless screw to stay alive
workers to forget
hookers with regret
and bankers to pretend

Let it be just the next love story
between a girl and a boy
with no past or future of glory
for whom life is not an eternal ploy
with no mercy for the coy,
but is just another toy

Keep the wise and the preaching
out of my reaching.
Let in the pompous instead.
For, they are more candid, indeed

Have some music in it,
all at once cheerful and blue.
Kind of as the hidden glue
that keeps us through and true.

Tell me a story
but a bold one…
and as inspiring
and forgotten, too,
as the tale of the One
who on cross was dying,
yet as mundane as two and two

[March 2009, BE]