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Ol’ Pete

had his youthful strings swaying

bird had its questioning flute

Duck, the sad, wobbling oboe

Cat the quickening clarinet

Kettles made their blasts

And the wolf

Ahhh the wolf

Loomin', lumberin ', and French

That ****** wolf had it all

And I've got my noisy type bars

And My beer caps

A dangerous place indeed

French horn sounds take a lazy drink

Boys like me ‘n’ Ol’ Pete

Aren’t afraid of the woods

Everything was quiet

Then the terror set in.
Hey Buk    

I just wanted to say...

Thank you

You make me laugh

You make me think

About this thing called life

And the small part I play

You inspire me to write

Even though by comparison

I am a fraud

I promise to dedicate my first book

To you

Or Robert Baun

Or my wife.
A short thank you to Charles Bukowski, who makes my life richer for knowing him and his poetry.
Drowning in the Sea of Freedom.

A citizen of nowhere to go

And nothing to do.

Hanging out with Bukowski

And drinking tea.

I should spend more days like this.
The wine flowed from the bottle  

as the words flowed from my pen.

It was my best ever.  

A match for the greats:  

Kipling, Thomas and Henley.

And one that my favourite, Bukowski

Would be happy to say

You matched me today.

I celebrated my masterpiece

With another glass of wine

Before going to bed, joyous

With the feeling I had created

My Magnum Opus.

In the morning I rose,

Clear headed and happy with

The memory of my creation.

I read it again.

It sounded different.  

This was not the splendid verse I recalled.

It was the ramblings of a drunken mind

Bukowski would say

Try again Man

This is a pile of ****.

Suddenly, I had a hangover.
Shotgun, shells
A bottle of whisky

A final burger
The best of Bukowski

Some pills
A line

Vivaldi for the last time

Sorry for
The mess
My first poem uploaded to hellopoetry
Aaron Feb 18
Did Bukowski drink because it gave him the strength to write?
I wonder if he chose to lose the fight
Because freedom mattered more;
I can't keep open the door, but I swear I can see
A deeper light meant for more than me.

It's hilarious how hypocritical I am;
I call you out for your sham
When I'm exactly the same:
I'm each shattered shard I wouldn't tame.

We're a composite of desires and fears
And rhythm and tears
And all the things in between,
A search for the golden mean.
Prolly' incomplete.
For a day, Mr. Bukowski, just a day
take me to the races in your convertible. We'll bet on the losing horse and drink the winners under the table. I won't make you talk about poetry like all the others. Just horses and beer.
The woman downstairs is angry
She asks:
Why do you shut the stars out and not let the moonlight in?
I think, but not say:
Listen *****, the night is bright and bustling
And I just want to ******* sleep
I want to forget the pleasantries and just heal
From the day, the week, the year
Of this seemingly inconvenient life of mine
Hating yourself is easier in the dark
Being hopeful seems easier when nobody is looking
I just want to ******* sleep
Written after reading "Women" by Charles Bukowski
Nathan Feb 4
I’m  nothing but a ******* taking up valuable space and oxygen
You wake up in the morning, him lying next to you
You smile and think,  I could get used to this
While I’m over here, waking up cold and alone
Thinking, I hope I never get used to this
I hope I get over this

I spend nights alone, holed up in this **** hole
Reading Plath and Bukowski
Trying to find inspiration
To write and to live
I have my sad songs on repeat
I have no more heart to give

I think its finally time
To give up and say goodbye
So this is it, one last plea
From me to you,
Sincerely, goodbye
Cash Carlos Jan 28
There,
hidden
in the silence
between words
and action,
between sight and desire,
I hold you
forever
in my life,
forever in my dreams,
forever in my heart.
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