Regardless

This is one of my favourite ever poems, by Charles Bukowski. Though I should have nothing in common with Bukowski - I have not lived his raw and dirty realism - so many of his poems resonate with me and I have numerous collections of his work on my bookshelf that I dig into from time to time, usually when I am feeling low. This poem speaks volumes to me, and has done at numerous times in my life. It speaks to me now more than ever. It spurs me to go on, even when I feel like I've got nothing left. To go on each day 'regardless' of how you feel is one of the key lessons to be learnt through practicing mindfulness. I don't think Bukowski ever found mindful peace, expect at the bottom of a bottle, but he knew what it was to have been dealt (or perhaps in his case, to deal yourself) a shitty hand. I'd like to think today, as my mood wanes despite the sun outside, that there's still some fight in me yet.

Regardless

the nights you fight best

are

when all the weapons are pointed

at you,

when all the voices

hurl their insults

while the dream is being

strangled.

the nights you fight best

are

when reason gets

kicked in the gut

when the chariots of gloom

encircle you.

the nights you fight best

are

when the laughter of fools

fills the

air

when the kiss of death is

mistaken for love.

the nights you fight best

are

when the game is

fixed,

when the crowd screams

for your

blood.

the nights you fight best

are

on a night like

this

as you chase a thousand

dark rats from

your brain,

as you rise up against the

impossible,

as you become a brother

to the tender sister

of joy and

move on

regardless.