Good poems
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The Retreat
© Charles Bukowski
this time has finished me.
I feel like the German troops
whipped by snow and the communists
walking bent
On The Fire Suicides Of The Buddhists
© Charles Bukowski
you sophisticates
who lay back and
make statements of explanation,
I have seen the red rose burning
and this means more.
Something For The Touts, The Nuns, The Grocery Clerks, And You . . .
© Charles Bukowski
some do it naturally
some obscenely
everywhere.
True Story
© Charles Bukowski
I think sometimes of all of the good
ass
turned over to the
monsters of the
world.
Prayer In Bad Weather
© Charles Bukowski
by God, I don't know what to
do.
they're so nice to have around.
they have a way of playing with
Whats The Use Of A Title?
© Charles Bukowski
they do'nt make it
the beautiful can't endure,
they are butterflies
they are doves
they are sparrows,
they dont make it.
My Groupie
© Charles Bukowski
I read last Saturday in the
redwoods outside of Santa Cruz
and I was about 3/4's finished
when I heard a long high scream
Gamblers All
© Charles Bukowski
you find the turn-off, drive through the most dangerous
part of town, feel momentarily wonderful as Mozart works
his way into your brain and slides down along your bones and
out through your shoes.
Out Of The Arm Of One Love...
© Charles Bukowski
out of the arm of one love
and into the arms of another
I have been saved from dying on the cross
by a lady who smokes pot
We Ain't Got No Money, Honey, But We Got Rain
© Charles Bukowski
call it the greenhouse effect or whatever
but it just doesn't rain like it used to.
I particularly remember the rains of the
depression era.
O, We Are The Outcasts
© Charles Bukowski
ah, christ, what a CREW:
more
poetry, always more
P O E T R Y .
And The Moon And The Stars And The World
© Charles Bukowski
Long walks at night--
that's what good for the soul:
peeking into windows
watching tired housewives
trying to fight off
their beer-maddened husbands.
The Aliens
© Charles Bukowski
you may not believe it
but there are people
who go through life with
very little
Like A Flower In The Rain
© Charles Bukowski
I cut the middle fingernail of the middle
finger
right hand
real short
Short Order
© Charles Bukowski
I took my girlfriend to your last poetry reading,
she said.
yes, yes? I asked.
she's young and pretty, she said.
A Man
© Charles Bukowski
George was lying in his trailer, flat on his back, watching a small portable T.V. His
dinner dishes were undone, his breakfast dishes were undone, he needed a shave, and ash
from his rolled cigarettes dropped onto his undershirt. Some of the ash was still burning.
Sometimes the burning ash missed the undershirt and hit his skin, then he cursed, brushing
The Shower
© Charles Bukowski
we like to shower afterwards
(I like the water hotter than she)
and her face is always soft and peaceful
and she'll watch me first
