I like stuff by Charles Bukowski

But why write it as if it was poetry? It's just sentences in fancy patterns. Or have you done that to it, Flash?

I haven't changed the format, this is how i found it so i assume this is how he used to present his work.

I like his work very much - also he does great titles. I'm not that struck by this poem, but I think it needs to be read within the collection it's taken from. It's sort of a short story written as poetry and the last line was great. It left me wanting to read more, which is no bad thing. [%sig%]

This is the first Bukowski poem I've read. I'm a great fan of such books as Factotum and The Post Office (is that the correct name?) but for some reason have shyed away from his poetry. Time will tell.

Jewel Kilcher also admires Charlie Bukowski. I personally can't stand the poet. I saw a interview with him in which he was drunk. He said to drink when one has a problem. I took his advice. The worst advice in the world. Despite my hatred for him, he says some deep things that spook me out every once a blue moon. He's dead though. He also wrote the screenplay for "Barfly."

How about this one then? For Jane Charles Bukowski 225 days under grass and you know more than I. they have long taken your blood, you are a dry stick in a basket. is this how it works? in this room the hours of love still make shadows. when you left you took almost everything. I kneel in the nights before tigers that will not let me be. what you were will not happen again. the tigers have found me and I do not care.

I've read almost everything Bukowski ever wrote. The poems are great, like minimalist short stories. It helps a lot if you hear him reading his own writing. Tapes and CDs of his reading are readily available. You could probably find some in the library. It's well worth listening to his voice. The poems really come alive that way. Here are a few of my favorites: yes yes when God created love He didn't help most when God created dogs He didn't help dogs when God created plants that was average when God created hate we had a standard utility when God created me He created me when God created the monkey He was asleep when He created the giraffe He was drunk when He created narcotics He was high and when He created suicide He was low when He created you lying in bed He knew what He was doing He was drunk and He was high and He created the mountains and the sea and fire at the same time He made some mistakes but when He created you lying in bed He came all over His Blessed Universe. ****** quotable she is an old woman now still quite beautiful she has known many famous men. we are sitting in a Mexican café and she tells me, "Hemingway was an amazing man, he'd sit and make these off-hand remarks, one after another, these astonishing truthful statements…" I like that. but I have nothing to say. well, I do. I tell her: "the red sauce in the little bowl is very hot so don't use it unless you like that sort of thing." --such statements don't create a legend but for ordinary mortals they still have a rather sturdy worth.` ***** fact careful poetry and careful people last only long enough to die safely. ***** And this one is my personal favorite. The last line is my motto: Full Circle Sanford liked to play dirty Tricks like piss in milk bottles, Burn the legs off of spiders, torture Cats, put water in gas tanks, etc. He was full of dirty Tricks. We grew up together. When World War II arrived he went into the Air force. "the flyboys get all the pussy," he told me. On his second mission over the English Channel they Blasted his ass out of the Sky. They never found him. One more dirty trick in a dirty trick World.

Superb James. My last one honest. Eulogy To A Hell Of A Dame Charles Bukowski some dogs who sleep ay night must dream of bones and I remember your bones in flesh and best in that dark green dress and those high-heeled bright black shoes, you always cursed when you drank, your hair coimng down you wanted to explode out of what was holding you: rotten memories of a rotten past, and you finally got out by dying, leaving me with the rotten present; you've been dead 28 years yet I remember you better than any of the rest; you were the only one who understood the futility of the arrangement of life; all the others were only displeased with trivial segments, carped nonsensically about nonsense; Jane, you were killed by knowing too much. here's a drink to your bones that this dog still dreams about.

Bukowski rocks! So does Richard Braughtigan. Braughtigan´s poem A Boat makes we want to cry it´s so beautiful.

my favourite by bukowski: "there are worse things than being alone, but it often takes decades to realize that and most often, when you do, it is too late and there is nothing worse than too late." from Bukowski "Oh, yes" He has been a great inspirtation for me: both his poems and his prose.

Inspired by Bukowski I once wrote this: "What matters most is how well you walk through the fires" Charles Bukowski Walking through fires and dark woods In scorching heat and freezing cold I got burned and scarred I got blistered and numb. Crossing burning deserts Walking through wood fires of passion The coolness of the forests lured me in. I was a child lost In a sombre maze of paths In undergrowth and eerie sounds Longing for warmth I bedded wolves And fed them my love. Kissed toads And touched wet surface hiding the cold hearts of amphibians. In icy streams of solitude I bathed my wounds And eased my pain. When tired I hid in a cave In hibernation Pregnant with myself . In my soul’s dark hollows I finally gave birth to me, a midwife in labour pains. Fathered by The beasts and the burns The fires and the forests. Walking through fires and dark woods In scorching heat and freezing cold I must have done it well Because I did not lose, but finally found myself.

I like your poem a lot, Ulrike. Kissed toads and touched wet surface. A midwife in labour pains. Great!

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