"madwomen" poems
all I've ever known are ****** ex-prostitutes,
madwomen. I see men with quiet,
gentle women I see them in the supermarkets,
I see them walking down the streets together,
I see them in their apartments: people at
peace, living together. I know that their
peace is only partial, but there is
peace, often hours and days of peace.
all I've ever known are pill freaks, alcoholics,
****** ex-prostitutes, madwomen.
when one leaves
another arrives
worse than her predecessor.
I see so many men with quiet clean girls in
gingham dresses
girls with faces that are not wolverine or
predatory.
"don't ever bring a ***** around," I tell my
few friends, "I'll fall in love with her."
"you couldn't stand a good woman, Bukowski."
I need a good woman. I need a good woman
more than I need this typewriter, more than
I need my automobile, more than I need
Mozart; I need a good woman so badly that I
can taste her in the air, I can feel her
at my fingertips, I can see sidewalks built
for her feet to walk upon,
I can see pillows for her head,
I can feel my waiting laughter,
I can see her petting a cat,
I can see her sleeping,
I can see her slippers on the floor.
I know that she exists
but where is she upon this earth
as the ****** keep finding me?
Charles Bukowski
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 12:15 PM UTC
She was a shy, detached woman
shortchanged at birth
In all her life
she never opened her arms to anyone
never returned affection
her heart an icy chamber
stoic, closed
Half the time she was penned up in isolation
trapped in an asylum
a life cruelly altered by thorazine
and shock treatments
her soundtrack a choir of madwomen
their voices running riot
in her only home -
a snake pit
She was trapped in a Bronte novel
her mournful eyes fixed
on some distant invisible point
She remained disconnected
unknowable
a doomed woman
a doomed time
Jan 14, 2017
Jan 14, 2017 at 4:27 PM UTC
Her mournful eyes fixed
on some distant invisible point
In all her life
she rarely opened her arms to anyone
rarely returned affection
her heart an icy chamber
stoic, closed
Half the time she was penned up in isolation
trapped in an asylum
a life cruelly altered by thorazine
and shock treatments
her soundtrack a choir of madwomen
their voices running riot
in a snake pit
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 3:18 PM UTC
Just wanna say a quick thank you Soo much to all who's liked me poetry, and I love all yours!! As all you inspire me!!!
You all give me more hope as the half human left in me, and you all give me smiles. And make me to remember what living is!!! And again thanks for liking me own work!!! Can't thank you enough!!! Keep up beautiful artworks and masterpieces.... May god bless you and thy life!! And love!! And family
Thank you!
Brandon cory nagley!!
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 5:24 PM UTC