Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
victoria May 20
And then there was the day
that Bukowski ruined my life
I'd have been a regular girl
Maybe made a good wife

But he got a hold of me
Then cynicism snatched my mind
He was almost beside me
Grabbing my behind

I'd gotten straight
I'd forgiven my past
Then incame Hank
So it didn't last

I'm on the level
No knives in MY skirt
The other girls they teach
How a man to hurt

But I was gone, just gone
I couldn't have destroyed you
The Gods had been good to you
The tracks had adored you

And within your words
I found no salvation
Just a world you'd flown from
Leaving only adoration

But I was born in 77
A 17 itch before you passed
Your life still an obsession
By loving an outcast

A rose garden
Whiskey
Typewriter
That's what you gave to me
You gave me thicker skin
Now
I'll write...
I'll  just be

#bukowski
Found Bukowski at age 43... This is a blessing, any younger and he'd have destroyed me
"don't come inside"
usually, in fact, almost always
I would pull out
with a split second to spare
and ******* all over her
turning her navel in to
some sort of overflow ***-gutter
proceed to roll over
panting like an old dog in the sun
roll a cigarette whilst she
wipes us both down with some nearby
toilet roll and suggest
we watch something on her laptop
this time was different though
I pulled out and she lays there
and starts tugging me off
entirely unnecessarily
as though both of our lives
depended on it
and I'm glad she did
I started spraying hot **** everywhere
and I think to myself
"I'm painting the ******* walls!"
it was nothing short of sensational
...
and it all seemed very Bukowskiesque
Eric Hesner Jan 17
Each dull wheeze
— half-glass-filling lungs, tarred —
records my moments
like reel-to-reel tape
And the heart is a quivering branch
If not a paperweight
Pinning will and testament to the
desk

That plastic wine “glass”
turned out
to be
glass after all
My woman throws me punches
with the gentle touch
— all the virility —
of a little, lonely, old man
feeding bread
to ducks
Then goes to work on the meat of her hand
with the glass
Damages the nerves in her thumb
   tussle ensues
My arms are covered in blood
That two-penny copper smell

sister’s fella has anger issues
and wants a straightener
Tells me I need a job —
Is this not work?
If I had Molly’s blessing
I’d go to work on this *******
But she’s crying
And begs me not to
Begs him to calm down
I wanted to widow her
Her
And my bleeding wife
Norman Crane Oct 2020
Reading at the bar
Drinking at the library
         —Henry Chinaski
A haiku for Bukowski.
Rhys Hebbs Sep 2020
if you’re going to try, go all the
way.
otherwise, don’t even start.

if you’re going to try, go all the
way. this could mean losing girlfriends,
wives, relatives, jobs and
maybe your mind.

go all the way.
it could mean not eating for 3 or
4 days.
it could mean freezing on a
park bench.
it could mean jail,
it could mean derision,
mockery,
isolation.
isolation is the gift,
all the others are a test of your
endurance, of
how much you really want to
do it.
and you’ll do it
despite rejection and the
worst odds
and it will be better than
anything else
you can imagine.

if you’re going to try,
go all the way.
there is no other feeling like
that.
you will be alone with the
gods
and the nights will flame with
fire.

do it, do it, do it.
do it.

all the way
all the way.
you will ride life straight to
perfect laughter,
it’s the only good fight
there is.
My favourite Bukowski poem as well as one of my favourite pieces of literature in general
Rhys Hebbs Sep 2020
your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is a light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in you.
By Charles Bukowski
Mitch Prax Sep 2020
I'm still reading
the book she gave me
for Christmas.
Bukowski-
it's as good as you'd expect.
So why is it taking me
this long to finish?
Pockets Aug 2020
Birmingham I am your first born Ex husband
Birmingham I am 3rd avenue north
Birmingham I am the hands of Vulcan
Birmingham I am an abandoned race course
Birmingham I am your Bob Dylan
Basquiat and Bukowski
Birmingham I am nothing
Birmingham I am blue
Birmingham I’m yours if you let me
Birmingham I am you
Next page