[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
but hardly enough for a horse to eat,
and out on the sunshine street where
eyes are dabbled in metazoan faces
i decide again
that in theses centuries
they have done very well
considering the nature of their
brothers:
it's more than good
that some of them,
(closer really to the field-mouse than
falcon)
have been bold enough to try.
Anonymous submission.
Charles Bukowski
www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 99
one thirty-six a.m.
I laugh sometimes when I think about
say
Céline at a typewriter
or Dostoevsky...
or Hamsun...
ordinary men with feet, ears, eyes,
ordinary men with hair on their heads
sitting there typing words
while having difficulties with life
while being puzzled almost to madness.
Dostoevsky gets up
he leaves the machine to piss,
comes back
drinks a glass of milk and thinks about
the casino and
the roulette wheel.
Céline stops, gets up, walks to the
window, looks out, thinks, my last patient
died today, I won't have to make any more
visits there.
when I saw him last
he paid his doctor bill;
it's those who don't pay their bills,
they live on and on.
Céline walks back, sits down at the
machine
is still for a good two minutes
then begins to type.
Hamsun stands over his machine thinking,
I wonder if they are going to believe
all these things I write?
he sits down, begins to type.
he doesn't know what a writer's block
is:
he's a prolific son-of-a-bitch
damn near as magnificent as
the sun.
he types away.
and I laugh
not out loud
but all up and down these walls, these
dirty yellow and blue walls
my white cat asleep on the
table
hiding his eyes from the
light.
he's not alone tonight
www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 100
and neither am
I.
Charles Bukowski
www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 101
Out Of The Arm Of One Love...
out of the arm of one love
and into the arms of another
Charles Bukowski
www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 102
Paris
never
even in calmer times
have I ever
dreamed of
bicycling through that
city
wearing a
beret
and
Camus
always
pissed
me
off.
Charles Bukowski
www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 103
Poem For My 43rd Birthday
To end up alone
in a tomb of a room
without cigarettes
or wine--
just a lightbulb
and a potbelly,
grayhaired,
and glad to have
the room.
Charles Bukowski
www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 104
Poetry
it
takes
a lot of
Charles Bukowski
www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 105
Prayer In Bad Weather
by God, I don't know what to
Charles Bukowski
www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 106
Pull A String, A Puppet Moves
each man must realize
that it can all disappear very
quickly:
the cat, the woman, the job,
the front tire,
the bed, the walls, the
room; all our necessities
including love,
rest on foundations of sand -
and any given cause,
no matter how unrelated:
the death of a boy in Hong Kong
or a blizzard in Omaha ...
can serve as your undoing.
all your chinaware crashing to the
kitchen floor, your girl will enter
and you'll be standing, drunk,
in the center of it and she'll ask:
my god, what's the matter?
and you'll answer: I don't know,
I don't know ...
Charles Bukowski
www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 107
Question And Answer
he sat naked and drunk in a room of summer
night, running the blade of the knife
under his fingernails, smiling, thinking
of all the letters he had received
telling him that
the way he lived and wrote about
that--
it had kept them going when
all seemed
truly
hopeless.
Charles Bukowski
www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 108
Rain
a symphony orchestra.
Charles Bukowski
www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 109
Rain Or Shine
the vultures at the zoo
(all three of them)
sit very quietly in their
caged tree
and below
on the ground
are chunks of rotten meat.
the vultures are over-full.
our taxes have fed them
well.
we move on to the next
cage.
a man is in there
sitting on the ground
eating
his own shit.
i recognize him as
our former mailman.
his favorite expression
had been:
"have a beautiful day."
that day i did.
Charles Bukowski
www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 110
Raw With Love
little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
I won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
I won't blame you,
instead
I will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and I won't use it
yet.
Charles Bukowski
www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 111
Revolt In The Ranks
I have just spent one-hour-and-a-half
handicapping tomorrow's
card.
when am I going to get at the poems?
well, they'll just have to wait
they'll have to warm their feet in the
anteroom
where they'll sit gossiping about
me.
"this Chinaski, doesn't he realize that
without us he would have long ago
gone mad, been dead?"
"he knows, but he thinks he can keep
us at his beck and call!"
"he's an ingrate!"
"let's give him writer's block!"
"yeah!"
"yeah!"
"yeah!"
the little poems kick up their heels
and laugh.
then the biggest one gets up and
walks toward the door.
"hey, where are you going?" he is
asked.
"somewhere where I am
appreciated."
then, he
and the others
vanish.
Charles Bukowski
www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 112
Rhyming Poem
the goldfish sing all night with guitars,
and the whores go down with the stars,
the whores go down with the stars
Charles Bukowski
www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 113
Shoes
when you're young
a pair of
female
high-heeled shoes
just sitting
alone
in the closet
can fire your
bones;
when you're old
it's just
a pair of shoes
without
anybody
in them
and
just as
well.
Charles Bukowski
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]