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To The Whore Who Took My Poems

some say we should keep personal remorse from the

poem,

stay abstract, and there is some reason in this,

but jezus;

twelve poems gone and I don't keep carbons and you have

paintings too, my best ones; its stifling:

are you trying to crush me out like the rest of them?

by Charles Bukowski

Splash

the illusion is that you are simply

reading this poem.

the reality is that this is

more than a

poem.

this is a beggar's knife.

this is a tulip.

this is a soldier marching

by Charles Bukowski

Prayer In Bad Weather

by God, I don't know what to

do.

they're so nice to have around.

they have a way of playing with

the balls

and looking at the cock very

seriously

turning it

by Charles Bukowski

Alone With Everybody

the flesh covers the bone

and they put a mind

in there and

sometimes a soul,

and the women break

vases against the walls

and the men drink too

much

by Charles Bukowski

A Man

George was lying in his trailer, flat on his back, watching a small portable T.V. His

dinner dishes were undone, his breakfast dishes were undone, he needed a shave, and ash

from his rolled cigarettes dropped onto his undershirt. Some of the ash was still burning.

Sometimes the burning ash missed the undershirt and hit his skin, then he cursed, brushing

it away. There was a knock on the trailer door. He got slowly to his feet and answered the

door. It was Constance. She had a fifth of unopened whiskey in a bag.

"George, I left that son of a bitch, I couldn't stand that son of a bitch

anymore."

by Charles Bukowski

Cause And Effect

the best often die by their own hand

just to get away,

and those left behind

can never quite understand

why anybody

would ever want to

get away

from

by Charles Bukowski

An Almost Made Up Poem

I see you drinking at a fountain with tiny

blue hands, no, your hands are not tiny

they are small, and the fountain is in France

where you wrote me that last letter and

I answered and never heard from you again.

you used to write insane poems about

ANGELS AND GOD, all in upper case, and you

knew famous artists and most of them

by Charles Bukowski

A Challenge To The Dark

shot in the eye

shot in the brain

shot in the ass

shot like a flower in the dance

amazing how death wins hands down

amazing how much credence is given to idiot forms of life

amazing how laughter has been drowned out

amazing how viciousness is such a constant

by Charles Bukowski

The Most Beautiful Woman In Town

Cass was the youngest and most beautiful of 5 sisters. Cass was the most beautiful girl

in town. 1/2 Indian with a supple and strange body, a snake-like and fiery body with eyes

to go with it. Cass was fluid moving fire. She was like a spirit stuck into a form that

would not hold her. Her hair was black and long and silken and whirled about as did her

body. Her spirit was either very high or very low. There was no in between for Cass. Some

said she was crazy. The dull ones said that. The dull ones would never understand Cass. To

the men she was simply a sex machine and they didn't care whether she was crazy or not.

And Cass danced and flirted, kissed the men, but except for an instance or two, when it

by Charles Bukowski

A Following

the phone rang at 1:30 a.m.

and it was a man from Denver:

"Chinaski, you got a following in

Denver…"

"yeah?"

"yeah, I got a magazine and I want some

poems from you…"

by Charles Bukowski

Freedom

he drank wine all night of the

28th, and he kept thinking of her:

the way she walked and talked and loved

the way she told him things that seemed true

but were not, and he knew the color of each

of her dresses

and her shoes-he knew the stock and curve of

each heel

by Charles Bukowski

Poetry Readings

poetry readings have to be some of the saddest

damned things ever,

the gathering of the clansmen and clanladies,

week after week, month after month, year

after year,

getting old together,

reading on to tiny gatherings,

still hoping their genius will be

by Charles Bukowski