Time poems

 / page 771 of 792 /
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40,000

© Charles Bukowski

at the track today,
Father's Day,
each paid admission was
entitled to a wallet

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Cows In Art Class

© Charles Bukowski

good weather
is like
good women-
it doesn't always happen

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Hot

© Charles Bukowski

she was hot, she was so hot
I didn't want anybody else to have her,
and if I didn't get home on time
she'd be gone, and I couldn't bear that-

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Luck

© Charles Bukowski

once
we were young
at this
machine. . .

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O, We Are The Outcasts

© Charles Bukowski

ah, christ, what a CREW:
more
poetry, always more
P O E T R Y .

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Yes Yes

© Charles Bukowski

when He created you lying in bed
He knew what He was doing
He was drunk and He was high
and He created the mountians and the sea and fire at the same time

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What Can We Do?

© Charles Bukowski

at their best, there is gentleness in Humanity.
some understanding and, at times, acts of
courage
but all in all it is a mass, a glob that doesn't

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A Radio With Guts

© Charles Bukowski

it was on the 2nd floor on Coronado Street
I used to get drunk
and throw the radio through the window
while it was playing, and, of course,

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I Met A Genius

© Charles Bukowski

it was the first time I'd
realized
that.

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Nirvana

© Charles Bukowski

not much chance,
completely cut loose from
purpose,
he was a young man

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Are You Drinking?

© Charles Bukowski

washed-up, on shore, the old yellow notebook
out again
I write from the bed
as I did last

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The History Of One Tough Motherfucker

© Charles Bukowski

he came to the door one night wet thin beaten and
terrorized
a white cross-eyed tailless cat
I took him in and fed him and he stayed

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How Is Your Heart?

© Charles Bukowski

during my worst times
on the park benches
in the jails
or living with

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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

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Young In New Orleans

© Charles Bukowski

starving there, sitting around the bars,
and at night walking the streets for hours,
the moonlight always seemed fake
to me, mabye it was,

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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

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The Most Beautiful Woman In Town

© Charles Bukowski

Cass was the youngest and most beautiful of 5 sisters. Cass was the most beautiful girl
in town. 1/2 Indian with a supple and strange body, a snake-like and fiery body with eyes
to go with it. Cass was fluid moving fire. She was like a spirit stuck into a form that
would not hold her. Her hair was black and long and silken and whirled about as did her

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Somebody

© Charles Bukowski

and I said

forget that

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I'm In Love

© Charles Bukowski

she's young, she said,
but look at me,
I have pretty ankles,
and look at my wrists, I have pretty

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Let It Enfold You

© Charles Bukowski

when i was a young man
I felt these things were
dumb,unsophisticated.
I had bad blood,a twisted
mind, a pecarious
upbringing.