anyhow

the nights you fight best
are
when all the guns are pointed
at you,
when all the voices are
dark,
when the dream is being
strangled.

the nights you fight best
are
when reasonability gets
kicked in the
ass,
when the chariots of
gloom
circle
you.

the nights you fight best
are
when the laughter of fools
conquers the
air,
when the kiss of death is
celebrated as
love.

the nights you fight best
are
when the judges are
fixed,
when the crowd screams
for your
blood.

the nights you fight best
are
on a night like
this
as you shake a thousand
dank rats from
your brain,
as you rise up against
impossibility
as you become brother
with the tender miracle
of joy

moving on through

anyhow.

Author
Charles Bukowski
Written
1990
Source
Original manuscript