Hello PoetryVoting

Vote

Voting-Boards

Home

HomeFollowingInboxNotifications

Read

ReadLiftedFeedsHeartedHistoryMy poemsNew poem

Explore

ExploreOrbitsWordsTagsClassics
Log in
0
Stars
0
Embers
0
Alerts
0
Inbox

Vote

Voting-Boards

Home

HomeFollowingInboxNotifications

Read

ReadLiftedFeedsHeartedHistoryMy poemsNew poem

Explore

ExploreOrbitsWordsTagsClassics
Log in
0
Stars
0
Embers
0
Alerts
0
Inbox

Cows In Art Class

good weather

is like

good women-

it doesn't always happen

and when it does

it doesn't

always last.

man is

more stable:

if he's bad

there's more chance

he'll stay that way,

or if he's good

he might hang

on,

but a woman

is changed

by

children

age

diet

conversation

***

the moon

the absence or

presence of sun

or good times.

a woman must be nursed

into subsistence

by love

where a man can become

stronger

by being hated.

I am drinking tonight in Spangler's Bar

and I remember the cows

I once painted in Art class

and they looked good

they looked better than anything

in here. I am drinking in Spangler's Bar

wondering which to love and which

to hate, but the rules are gone:

I love and hate only

myself-

they stand outside me

like an orange dropped from the table

and rolling away; it's what I've got to

decide:

**** myself or

love myself?

which is the treason?

where's the information

coming from?

books...like broken glass:

I wouldn't wipe my *** with 'em

yet, it's getting

darker, see?

(we drink here and speak to

each other and

seem knowing.)

buy the cow with the biggest

****

buy the cow with the biggest

****

present arms.

the bartender slides me a beer

it runs down the bar

like an Olympic sprinter

and the pair of pliers that is my hand

stops it, lifts it,

golden **** of dull temptation,

I drink and

stand there

the weather bad for cows

but my brush is ready

to stroke up

the green grass straw eye

sadness takes me all over

and I drink the beer straight down

order a shot

fast

to give me the guts and the love to

go

on.

from "poems written before jumping out of an 8 story window" - 1966

Written by
Charles Bukowski
1920-1994 / Male / American
Lines·Words
84·306
AboutBlogFAQPrivacyTermsContact
© 2009-2026 Hello Poetry/v27.0 by @eliotyork
Explore
Hello PoetryVoting
Write