"harrison" poems
only an idiot like me, the rain poured down, my socks were wetted, and i looked at the pavement for glory, instead i found a £10 note and imagined my right shoe on my left leg, and my left shoe on my right leg... just to prove the luck.
it came from listening to rotting christ's kata
ton daimona...
i wrote the poem on two tesco receipts
numbering them no. 1 - .4,
it made sense to just give it a narrative...
the naturally apparent lisp of greek is due to...
lies between theta (θ) and phi (φ)...
check feta cheese... it might be less morbidly fermented...
that's why the greeks have a natural lisp...
it's theta and it's phi...
in english it's like chinese.... w & r...
something's rolling something's waving,
something's trigonometric...
harrison fowd was almost jonathan woss if i care...
the chinese in english debate with chin-chin-wanker
scissors piece of paper stone good luck on the handshake:
lost the price of interest being gained for excavation
purposes of dinosaur bones and inflation via the
ptertodactyl of the extended mohawk shave...
english dicionary makes me confused...
it places theta alongside the, than... but then
it's therapy... thermometer...
too many unique examples i'd have said...
that's the lisp there... sidelined phew and engaged in phew
in byzantine...
english linguistics is filled with too many "unique" examples
of expression... coupled with the celebrity culture...
i farted and a person took hold of a *** squeeze...
how's that?! english language in summary?
pleasing on the eye... but the spelling? a burden on the tongue.
i know that slavic linguistics would make enlgish that's written
ugly...
it wouldn't be pharmacology but farmacology...
then it made sense, i stopped asking the english dicta
written down, the greek θ wasn't a couple of th & etc...
a few athenains in death metal said it like i said it... the 2nd f...
it was απηθανoν - because it was simply athens - fern fence...
and not d... defence, or anything easily acquired as a prescription
of zee wee point of german scottish.
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 7:04 PM UTC
The Beatles are legend forever!
The Beatles and Elvis Presley
Pop singers immortal love all!
McCartney, John Lennon and
George Harrison with ****** Starr
Make The Beatles a music group!
Music mesmerised many in 1960s!
The Beatles were welcomed ever
With Red Carpet welcome everywhere!
Love me do and Hard day's night still
Ring in the ears with haunting spell
No one can forget even today, well!
John Lennon or Paul McCartney,
Single or group is The Beatles in one!
Dec 8, 2011
Dec 8, 2011 at 2:09 PM UTC
To know just where your're going
You must know where you've been
You must respect the history
The things others have seen
It's true in all things relative
Be it music, sports or life
If you don't know where you came from
You're just dancing on a knife
Gherig, Ruth and Robinson
May, and Mantle, Seaver too
Respect their contributions
And don't just say Ruth who?
Respect where things have come from
And the players of the past
Because you learn and make things better
It's what makes the **** game last
Jimmy Foxx, Bob Gibson, Kaline
Nestor Chylak and The Goose
They made baseball special
They gave the game a little juice
Orr, Richard and Gretzky
Gordie Howe and Howie Morenz
You have to know about them
You need the beginning to your ends
Bob Baun and Bill Barilko
Connie Smythe and yeah...the Chief
You have to know their history
They're what it is to be a Leaf
The game has changed immensely
Things can not go back in time
But to me...the old alumni
Made the game I know as mine
Respect the ones before you
The ones who laid the groundwork down
The ones who made it special
The non-pretenders to the crown
Elvis, Buddy, Harrison
Played the songs inside their heart
Lennon, Wilson and the rest
They all played a real big part
Every single generation
should learn from the one before
For if they don't know where they've come from
Then what has it all been for?
Nicklaus, Palmer, Bobby Jones
Sarazen and Hogan too
They pushed the gameright to it's limits
Now the pressure's upon you
The new breed are the teachers now
They're the ones to lead the way
When twenty or so years from now
You'll hear somebody say
"Respect who came before you
The ones who made us so **** proud
LIke Nash and , Perry and Taylor Hall
They played the game so loud
Pudge, Jeter, and Verlander
they brought it up a notch
They were there to stretch the limits
Not to just sit by and watch
Rory, Justin Rose and Mahan
Bubba, Dustin and the rest
They are the players of the future
They all respected the games best
So, to know where you are going
You must know where you have been
Respect, past through the future
And all that's happened in between.
May 4, 2012
May 4, 2012 at 4:49 PM UTC
***Put on your yamaka, it's time for Hanukkah
So much fun-akkah to celebrate Hanukkah,
Hanukkah is the Festival of Lights,
Instead of one day of presents, we have eight crazy nights.
But when you're the only kid in town without a Christmas tree, Heres a list of
people who are Jewish, just like you and me:
David Lee Roth lights the menorah,
So do James Caan, Kirk Douglas, and the late Dinah Shore-ah
Guess who eats together at the Carnegie Deli,
Bowzer from Sha-na-na, and Arthur Fonzerrelli.
Paul Newman's half Jewish; Goldie Hawn's half too,
Put them together--what a fine lookin’ Jew! [Esus]
You dont need Deck the Halls or Jingle Bell Rock
Cause you can spin a dreidel with Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock--both Jewish!
[Esus]
Put on your yamaka, its time for Hanukkah,
The owner of the Seattle Super Sonic-ah celebrates Hanukkah.
O.J. Simpson-- not a Jew!
But guess who is...Hall of Famer—Rod Carew--(he converted!)
We got Ann Landers and her sister Dear Abby,
Harrison Ford's a quarter Jewish--not too shabby!
Some people think that Ebeneezer Scrooge is,
Well, hes not, but guess who is: All three stooges. [Esus]
So many Jews are in show biz--
Tom Cruise isn't, [tacit] but I heard his agent is. [Esus]
Tell your friend Veronica, its time to celebrate Hanukkah
I hope I get a harmonica, on this lovely, lovely Hanukkah.
So drink your gin-a-tonic-ah, and smoke your mara-juanic-ah,
If you really, really wanna-kah, Have a happy, happy, happy, happy
Hanukkah……. HAPPY HANUKKAH!***
Dec 15, 2012
Dec 15, 2012 at 10:35 PM UTC
I look at you all see the love there that's sleeping
While my guitar gently weeps
I look at the floor and I see it needs sweeping
Still my guitar gently weeps.
I don't know why nobody told you
How to unfold your love
I don't know how someone controlled you
They bought and sold you.
I look at the world and I notice it's turning
While my guitar gently weeps
With every mistake we must surely be learning
Still my guitar gently weeps.
I don't know how you were diverted
You were perverted too
I don't know how you were inverted
No one alerted you.
These were two verses from a demo version of the song that didn't make the final recorded version:
"I look at you all, see the love there that's sleeping
While my guitar gently weeps
Problems you sow are the troubles you're reaping
Still my guitar gently weeps
I look at the trouble and hate that is raging
While my guitar gently weeps
As I'm sitting here, doing nothing but ageing
Still my guitar gently weeps"
And then this verse which came from another take of the song and is now included on the Love Album
"I look from the wings at the play you are staging
While my guitar gently weeps
As I'm sitting here doing nothing but ageing
Still my guitar gently weeps"
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 2:24 AM UTC
Somebody put Kylie Minogue on
from the wall mounted touchscreen one-pound-a-go jukebox-
Coldplay would've been better, but I should be so lucky-
and the rising water in the Titanic's engine room of noise
rose to a First Class stateroom chatter and Kate Winslet
and the queue to the bar grew a little longer
and then
you
walked
in
like
a
Sunday
morning
walk,
one long stroll by a river edge or lake side,
through a Westfield, Bluewater Meadowhall
in one long rehearsed map move entrance
dodging standing drinkers and their plus ones in Zara trench coats and Boden shawls,
and you left a wake of wet forest and crumbling beachhead afternoons behind you as you
walked
on
through
the
crowd
to the pool table at the back where you watched
*** after ***
after pint
after ***
after we need more one pound coins to play more pool,
and you went out for **** though you don't smoke yourself
and you looked up into the mist because you're the kind that would find New York Stuart Little big:
mostly building, building, building, window, balcony, bridge, statue and Central Park trees,
and you walked back in with river eyes, your lids moving from cold back to behind-the-fridge, pub-room warm
and they watered a little, Pacific blue sliding over eternal black;
I think she's the kind that needs a lion tamer not an orchestra leader,
but I've only got Petit Filous muscles and I had four raw eggs this morning and I'm still not as strong as I’d like to be,
(put the baton down, Tim)
a River Phoenix younger Harrison Ford stasis, one train wreck ride to remember,
nowhere near the lion tamer you need.
Kylie sings for the fifteenth time in a row,
and the bar is past last orders though cash is pushed under for pints
and you disappeared under bar light
and then into the moonlight
and now I'm sat grieving
the Golden Retriever of The Nutshell
in Bury St Edmunds this evening.
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 12:26 PM UTC
unsure of living
I have discovered
the waiting room
of the nearly dead
there are pictures
of the famous ones
hung upon the wall
****** Hemmingway,
Hammurabi, Harrison
in their different times
they all sat in these chairs
reading magazines and
quaint biographies while
they waited for their name
to be called
the most unsettling thing
is not knowing if you truly
belong here
so sitting in death’s waiting room
I flip through greasy, old pages
wondering if I’m brave enough
to walk out the door and see if
anybody notices
Apr 19, 2011
Apr 19, 2011 at 4:58 PM UTC
Trolling Amazon I found my inner Kurtz
Harrison foreswore my bear totem: darkness
Lady gal pal taught me soul-mating hurts
Martha Muffins vinyl v. Kirby’s Agatha Harkness
Saved my twins made them productive
Mutating FF X to Avengers indie 80s on me take
Man-starring all the boogie children say code this grandpa
Gaiman Miller Moore Morrison invade Waid
Wrightson Kaluta Jones Smith put bronze to paint
McKean Sienkiewicz Mack Maleev mimic The Studio
Now let’s gallery our portals strung from kid dimensions
Makers engaging history NOW NEW 52 intervals starstruck
Spread indie throughout known multiverse in craft crooks
While nursing nannies coddle light corners scuttling roaches
Bell & Schrödinger's cat transport trainspotting to a fine art
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 12:03 AM UTC
There was one day when the dysfunctionality, obscure and fearful
left my body to slump for once, laid back almost literally,
because we were sitting on a sofa, a boring tone so no descriptive words included.
You're cold marble fingers that greyish tint touched the skin of my cheek.
being nothing but dry terrain accompanied by sudden rain storms, my cheek is pale.
puberty according to american girl dolls books never told me
my first love would bring love to lifeless,
my cheek was only the beginning.
Spinning the corners of my mouth into ringlets,
dancing with empathetic eyebrows,
sweeping my eyelashes into brown billowed bristles,
circling the bridge of my nose.
You thought I was watching as Harrison
hopped round realities
and watched himself lead lovers
to open spaces.
But the time laces were three seconds to long.
I counted 21 kisses
no wrong, just a few misses.
Now that we’re done,
I can feel the mark of your physical wishes.
My soul is love lifeless, as before we begun.
Jun 21, 2012
Jun 21, 2012 at 10:29 PM UTC
Friends come and friends go
As I go round and round in circles
Love someone change your mind
Decide he was a swine
As you go round and round in circles
He who knows does not speak
He who speaks does not know
And I go round in circles
Dislike someone and will not bend
Later they may become your best friend
As life it goes around in circles
He who knows does not speak
He who speaks does not know
And I go round in circles
Soul takes on a body with each birth we make our date
With life and death along the road the soul reincarnates
The show goes round and round in circles
When loss and gain and up and down
Becomes the same, then we stop going in circles
Round and round in circles
Feb 13, 2017
Feb 13, 2017 at 1:31 PM UTC
he big concert in the sky forces meteor over USA
HI EVERYONE I AM SAM KINISON
and i sing wild thing, oh yeah dude let’s party
you make my heart sing, who let’s party dude
if you feel cool enough, you will be made to ****** dry
wild thing, as we are flying in the sky, pretty cool, that’s great, ya ****** see
and sam kinison screams real loud, and it makes your heart
crawl right out of your body, and make ya wanna bleed
wild thing, hey wild thing, i think you will move me, who oh oh oh oh
and then came the great elvis presley singing
you are nothing but a hound dog, your farting all time
you are nothing but a hound dog, farting all the time
you will never catch me a rabbit, cause your no mate of mine
you said it was high class, that is just a lie
you said it was high class, well, that is just a lie
and you’ll goodie every day and night and watch this great meteor with us in it really fly
and now here is robert palmer, how can it be permissible
to compromise my principals, that kind of love is missable, she’s anything but typical
it’s a craze, or a cause, it’s a powerful force, there is nothing wrong surrounding because
does our meteor we are sending to the USA look good to you, because we find it, SIMPLY IRRESISTABLE
And john denver, take me home, country roads, to the place, where we belong
west virginia mountain mama, take me home, country road
there is no heaven, can you understand that, we are up here flying over the USA
And we want you to understand this, that we want you to take me home
country road take me home, to the place i belong, we are travelling over your country obama
saying we have been taken home, by country roads
and now, george harrison has a song, i got my mind set on you
i got my set on you, roy orbison sang, ANYTHING YOU WANT YOU GOT IT
anything you need you got it, anything you need you got it, baby
wild thing, oh yeah oh yeah
we are flying in the meteor yeah, who who who who
you make everything so wonderfully groovy
you big despicable wild thing
and this meteor did a mercy dash to bring elvis presley sam kinison robert palmer john denver
george harrison and roy orbison over this nation to explode with total madness, oh yeah, dudes
KABOOM, IS WHAT IT SOUNDED LIKE IN SPACE OVER USA, BUT IT WAS THIS GREAT CONCERT, WAS REALLY GOING ON
TRUST ME, I AM A COSMIC SLEEPER, IT WAS TUESDAY NIGHT, WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON IN CANBERRA, NEARLY POETRY SLAM
I WAS A BIT QUIETER AT THE POETRY SLAM, BUT I SENT MY LITTLE COOL KID THERE, AND SENT MY OLD MAN TO THE POETRY SLAM
I STILL BLEW THE CROWD AWAY WITH MY AUSSIE AUSSIE AUSSIE POEM, I AM COOL, MAN
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 3:21 AM UTC
I am Sarah Malcolm -
yes, the one they call the Irish Laundress
and the jury found me guilty of the murders
(the Infamous Murderess)
of Mrs Lydia Duncomb,
Mrs Harrison and the servant Ann Price
in Mrs Lydia’s chamber
at the Inns of Court in the Temple;
and the jury only needed 15 minutes
and there was disbelief when I admitted to robbery
but not ******
and there was disgust
when I said the blood on my clothing was my own menstrual blood
and not the blood of Ann Price:
I had broken a taboo in talking of menstrual blood
for, as they say,
only loose and the not so virtuous women speak that way
and of course even after the judgement
I have been deemed even more guilty
for I am of a different Communion
of the Catholic faith, not Anglican -
just as the Ordinary, James Guthrie described me
in instructing me here at Newgate on the Christian faith;
and I have earned the name now of many
as the evil, barbaric, and stubborn woman
And now Mr Hogarth sketches and paints
that you might have a view of me;
and the appointed date is 7 March 1733
when I will be executed...
and these lines I add to the picture
that you might remember me
Jan 28, 2012
Jan 28, 2012 at 5:29 AM UTC
Srinu, you demented little kid
To have you in my life i don't know what good things i did!
You can really take a bad song and make it better
We all know how crazy you are about Helter Skelter
You'd make a better actor than the guy who played Bane
I'm telling you, for the music industry, you're the next Kurt Cobain!
Man I'd love to see you perform 'House of the Holy'
I'm pretty sure you'll never leave the guitar, not even for the Cannoli
When you get hyper you remind us all of the Incredible Hulk
You're the happiest kid I've ever seen; you never sulk!
Your moods are unexpected and its types are various
Your crave for those "SUBSTANCES" is hilarious!
I know that Nirvana has made your Chemistry easier
You can now point out Lithium on the Periodic Table at your leisure
That face you make when you play the guitar is that of a Negative Creep
And when you blush you remind me of Meryl Streep
You lucky dog, you share your birthday will George Harrison!
If you were born during World War II, you'd provide awesome entertainment by playing guitar at the garrison
Over the Hills and Far Away is where you'll have your tryst
A Whole Lotta Love is definitely part of your Wishlist
You're way more electrifying than Angus Young
You set the stage on fire with your guitar skills and singing at the top of your lungs
Linkin Park is your childhood and In The End, it does matter
The Caste of Glass that you're building will never shatter
Your love for Jimi Hendrix is stronger than a dose of Purple Haze
Cuz your love for that musician is true and not just a phase
Santana invented the Spiritual ****** which makes us forget all our fears
Eric Clapton breaks me down into a River of Tears
There's something similar between you and Red Hot Chili Peppers
You're both unique - and i can't find anything else to rhyme so here's the closest - Def Leppard
Continue on your musical journey and people will be dying to give you a chance
One day, the music you create, will put us all in a Psychedelic Trance
I know that when you go
You'll either take the Stairway to Heaven or Highway to Hell
I heaven, you'll be Knockin' on their Door,
If Hell, you'll be ringin' Hell's Bells...
Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 10:29 AM UTC
I HEARD a woman's lips
Speaking to a companion
Say these words:
"A woman what hustles
Never keeps nothin'
For all her hustlin'.
Somebody always gets
What she goes on the street for.
If it ain't a ****
It's a bull what gets it.
I been hustlin' now
Till I ain't much good any more.
I got nothin' to show for it.
Some man got it all,
Every night's hustlin' I ever did."
1.6k
It wasn't until the sixth century that the Christians
decided animals weren't part of the kingdom of heaven.
Hoof, wing and paw can't put money in the collection plate.
These lunatic shit-brained fools excluded our beloved creatures.
Theologians and accountants, the same thing really,
join evangelists on television, shadowy as viruses.
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 4:26 PM UTC
When I need to re-connect with the "Great Energy"
I put my headphones on and play "My Sweet Lord"
And the wind blows through my hair
In the living room
The tambourine thickens the beat of my heart
As the melody is busy baking pecan pie
In my belly
All the while I melt into relaxation
and my my ...
It is ever so sweet
Jan 28, 2012
Jan 28, 2012 at 11:45 PM UTC
Sometimes I feel so gloomy,
Got a brand new bag of shroomies
And now my blues are through
There’s one last thing to do….
Trip out (trip out) Let’s go for a walk
Trip out (trip out) I wanna smoke some ***
Trip out (trip out) I'm tripping out man!
Tra lala lalalay (doo dadoo dadoo doo)
Sometimes I feel so bored,
I want to live like Harrison Ford
I procured some L.S.D.
I watch you paint those happy trees…
Trip out (Bob Ross) Let’s go for a walk
Trip out (Bob Ross) I wanna smoke some ***
Trip out (Bob Ross) Trippin' out to Bob Ross
Tra lala lalalay (doo dadoo dadoo doo)
Bob Ross….(We love you)
Feb 10, 2011
Feb 10, 2011 at 1:38 PM UTC
You smoked your throat gone.
I'll sit in bed opening and closing my Opinel No. 8 and stare at an unread compilation of a then-alive poet's correspondence with a then-and-still-dead poet and wonder at the cover art, a fishing-line-thin threaded rope that could well be tied in a slipknot. Tendrils that look like loose straw scattered thirty different ways.
He said *You can't **** your life away* and there are many ways to do that. I'm stuck inside a small bedroom dreaming or hallucinating an open space, streams flowing from nowhere near and flat space so full of sky it is sin to call it empty. The world can be hot and fast; I am bad at resting. I don't sleep well. I can float a river and not once hear it moving.
You drank and dissected your drinking so it could masquerade as something under your control. We all are guilty of this at some point. In some way or another. I am lucky to sit in my bedroom and write that the next two years of my life have well been mapped. I do not pout, there is no malice here. My head is close, fastened between my small shoulders. I share no heart with Yesenin.
*You can't **** your life away* he said he thought. These things change. But you can!
Jul 11, 2017
Jul 11, 2017 at 3:09 PM UTC
A cold has put me on the fritz, said Eugene O'Neill,
how can I forget certain things?
Now I have thirteen bottles of red wine
where once I had over a thousand.
I know where they went but why should I tell?
Every day I feed the dogs and birds.
The yard is littered with bones and seed husks.
Hearts spend their entire lives in the dark,
but the dogs and birds are fond of me.
I take a shower frequently but still
women are not drawn to me in large numbers.
Perhaps they know I'm happily married
and why exhaust themselves vainly to ****** me?
I loaned hundreds of thousands of dollars
and was paid back only by two Indians.
If I had known history it was never otherwise.
This is the song of the cold when people
are themselves but less so, people
who haven't listened to my unworded advice.
I was once described as "immortal"
but this didn't include my mother who recently died.
And why go to New York after the asteroid
and the floods of polar waters, the crumbling
buildings, when you're the only one there
in 2050? Come back to earth.
Blow your nose and dwell on the shortness of life.
Lift up your dark heart and sing a song about
how time drifts past you like the gentlest, almost
imperceptible breeze.
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 8:31 AM UTC
#7 from Geo-Bestiary
O that girl, only young men
dare to look at her directly
while I manage the most side-long of glances:
olive-skinned with a Modigliani throat,
lustrous obsidian hair, the narrowest
of waists and high french bottom, ample
******* she tries to hide in a loose blouse.
Though Latino her profile is from a Babylonian
frieze and when she walks with her small white dog
with brown spots she fairly floats along,
looking neither left nor right, meeting no one's
glance as if beauty was a curse. In the grocery
store when I drew close her scent was jacaranda,
the tropical flower that makes no excuses.
The geezer's heart swells stupidly to the dampish
promise. I walk too often in the cold shadow
of the mountain wall up in the arroyo behind the house.
Empty pages are dry ice, numbing the hands and heart.
If I weep I do so in the shower so that no one,
not even I can tell. To see her is to feel
time's cold machete against my grizzled neck,
puzzled that again beauty has found her home in threat.
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 7:47 AM UTC
It was quite evident as a teenager , drawing Boston's guitar shaped space ship on the back of an English book , playing the opening riff to Smoke on the Water with a broomstick
Hiding in the closet , listening to Kiss's first album , singing in front of the mirror to REO Speedwagon
Bad Company on the eight track in my '63 Ford Falcon , taking a Guess Who album to show and tell in Kindergarten
Reciting every lyric on Three Dog Night albums , Foreigner turned up so loud that the windows would ratttle !
Learning Free songs note by note on the guitar , playing Born to be Wild like I was on a World Tour
My heroes are Page , Scholz , Perry and Geddy Lee ! Soundgarden , Alice in Chains , Mott the Hoople and Queen
Jimi Hendrix bringing his Strat to life , Eddie's blistering fretwork !
Crosby , Stills and Nash , three part Angelic vocal harmonies , Ronnie James Dio wailing like a banshee !
A Gibson through a Marshall , A Fender through a Vox , a Tele through a Peavey , a Rickenbacker through an Orange !
Jim Morrison turning poetry into song , Elton John baring his soul through the piano
Eddie Vedder in a trance on stage , Anne Wilson crying out in pain , Layne Staley raising the hairs on the back of your neck , the reassuring voices of McCartney and Lennon , every musical note committed to paper by George Harrison
Chris Cornell screaming into the night , the aura of Robert Plant onstage
the sweet guitar work of Eric Clapton , heart wrenching soul of Janis Joplin
The wailing guitar of Robin Trower , the blues power of Rory Gallagher
Siren song of Annie Lennox to the infectious , brilliant lyrics of Tom Petty
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 11:50 AM UTC
The secret’s out – Hip! Hip! Horray!
Meghan Markle has had her way:
no papparazzi just a note to state..
..gold framed upon the palace gate..
a baby born to her and Prince Harry.
It was a very private affair - narry
a Home Secretary was there to see
the birth - a custom ended by decree:
though historically meant as inclusion
t’was deemed at last a male intrusion.
Now in an age where all is bi-
ethnic black and white tie
parently neat and true
with the royal blood line’s
red, white, and blue.
By George! To Will and Kate
in poetry - I must relate
there is no comparison
other than that word
rhymes with Harrison.
Hey. Nonny. Nay.
Alack a day -
I must away,
for this verse done and said
I could withall lose my head.
Tobias
May 15, 2019
May 15, 2019 at 6:54 AM UTC
To the many readers, I ****** off with my poem about Bukowski.
I don't loathe Bukowski. My point is that he is a cult writer. His cult seems to be made up of people who are ignorant of other much better writers of his time. If they read the Beats (in particular Gary Snyder) or others like Richard Brautigan, Jim Harrison, Wendell Berry and many others, they would see how poorly his writing stands up to comparison.
Bukowski's persona is what seems to attract people. He knew that and cultivated it. It was his meal ticket. The poor, drunken, uncouth, outsider, loser who was scorned by the literati of his time. In truth, he was a writer of pulp poetry. What he needed was a good editor. You could take all of his books of poems, cut out the rambling, self-serving, tedious, self-glorifying ******** and cut them down to maybe two books of decent poetry. His prose is better, but not that much.
Young people, lacking better poetry for comparison, are mainly attracted by this cult of personality. Young people are attracted to rebels, even bogus ones. He himself said he didn't write, he just typed. Some hero.
He portrays himself as a big, tough *** willing to fight the whole world. Actually, he was a fat drunk barely six feet tall. That's why I laughed at him when he threatened me. I was 20, just three weeks back from Vietnam. The thought of fighting an old drunk seemed pathetic to me. I could have easily killed him. Who goes to a poetry reading for that?
There was also his attitude toward women. I believe he really hated women. He saw them as receptacles for his ***** nothing more. He used his fame to **** a good many young admirers. He's not alone in having done that, but he was obsessive about it. Women were a perk, nothing more.
In the end, his cult status will remain, but he will never be taken seriously as a writer, because - by his own admission - he wasn't. There is much excellent poetry out there by better writers of his time. Do yourself a favor, read them, educate yourself. If you only read mediocre poetry, you'll only ever be a mediocre poet.
Even at his most unheroic, he is the hero of his stories and poems, always demanding the reader’s covert approval. That is why he is so easy to love, especially for novice readers with little experience of the genuine challenges of poetry; and why, for more demanding readers, he remains so hard to admire.
Please: Join in. Tell me why I am wrong or right.
Mike Essig
Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 4:28 AM UTC