I want to learn from the poet Charles Bukowski,
A man among men; with a bottle in hand,
a literate womanizer without any plan.
For he writes of growing old and the loss of love,
and his lonely words project his loss.
For a womanizer is the truest love,
one who wishes to love but is so afraid,
resorting to getting occasionally laid.
So I wanted to learn how to love, and lie; while smoking a cigarette,
and holding a bottle of wine,
but I don't want to be Mr. Bukowski,
for I wish to have love and lost,
but not at my vanities cost.