Poetry

Clean Examples of Charles Bukowski's work

splash

the illusion is that you are simply
reading this poem.
the reality is that this is
more than a
poem.
this is a beggar's knife.
this is a tulip.
this is a soldier marching
through Madrid.
this is you on your
death bed.
this is Li Po laughing
underground.
this is not a god-damned
poem.
this is a horse asleep.
a butterfly in
your brain.
this is the devil's
circus.
you are not reading this
on a page.
the page is reading
you.
feel it?
it's like a cobra. it's a hungry eagle circling the room.

this is not a poem. poems are dull,
they make you sleep.

these words force you
to a new
madness.

you have been blessed, you have been pushed into a
blinding area of
light.

the elephant dreams
with you
now.
the curve of space
bends and
laughs.

you can die now.
you can die now as
people were meant to
die:
great,
victorious,
hearing the music,
being the music,
roaring,
roaring,
roaring.

I Met A Genius

I met a genius on the train
today
about 6 years old,
as he sat beside me
and as the train
ran down along the coast
we came to the ocean
and then he looked at me
and said,
it's not pretty

it was the first time I'd
realized
that.

16-bit Intel 8088 chip

with an Apple Macintosh
you can't run Radio Shack programs
in its disc drive.
nor can a Commodore 64
drive read a file
you have created on an
IBM Personal Computer.
both Kaypro and Osborne computers use
the CP/M operating system
but can't read each other's
handwriting
for they format (write
on) discs in different
ways.
the Tandy 2000 runs MS-DOS but
can't use most programs produced for
the IBM Personal Computer
unless certain
bits and bytes are
altered
but the wind still blows over
Savannah
and in the Spring
the turkey buzzard struts and
flounces before his
hens.

true

one of Lorca’s best lines

is,

“agony, always

agony . . .”

think of this when you

kill a

cockroach or

pick up a razor to

shave

or awaken in the morning

to

face the

sun.

bluebird

there's a bluebird in my heart that 

wants to get out 

but I'm too tough for him, 

I say, stay in there, I'm not going 

to let anybody see you. 

there's a bluebird in my heart that 

wants to get out 

but I pour whiskey on him and inhale 

cigarette smoke 

and the whores and the bartenders 

and the grocery clerks 

never know that 

he's 

in there.  

there's a bluebird in my heart that 

wants to get out 

but I'm too tough for him, I say, 

stay down, do you want to mess 

me up? 

you want to screw up the 

works? 

you want to blow my book sales in 

Europe? 

there's a bluebird in my heart that 

wants to get out 

but I'm too clever, I only let him out 

at night sometimes 

when everybody's asleep. 

I say, I know that you're there, 

so don't be 

sad. 

then I put him back, 

but he's singing a little 

in there, I haven't quite let him 

die 

and we sleep together like 

that 

with our 

secret pact 

and it's nice enough to 

make a man 

weep, but I don't

weep, do 

you?

rain or shine

the vultures at the zoo 

(all three of the) 

sit very quietly in their 

caged tree 

and below 

on the ground 

are chunks of rotten meat. 

the vultures are over-full. 

our taxes have fed them 

well.  

we move on to the next 

cage. 

a man is in there 

sitting on the ground 

eating 

his own [crap]. 

i recognize him as 

our former mailman. 

his favorite expression  

had been: 

have a beautiful day."  

that day i did.

what’s the use of a title?

They don’t make it  

the beautiful die in flame-  

sucide pills,rat poison,rope what-  

ever...  

they rip their arms off,  

throw themselves out of windows,  

they pull their eyes out of the sockets,  

reject love  

reject hate  

reject,reject.   

they don’t make it  

the beautiful can't endure,  

they are butterflies  

they are doves  

they are sparrows,  

they dont make it.   

one tall shot of flame  

while the old men play checkers in the park  

one flame, one good flame  

while the old men play checkers in the park  

in the sun.   

the beautiful are found in the edge of a room  

crumpled into spiders and needles and silence  

and we can never understand why they  

left, they were so  

beautiful.   

they don’t make it,  

the beautiful die young  

and leave the ugly to their ugly lives.   

lovely and brilliant: life and suicide and death  

as the old men play checkers in the sun  

in the park.

don’t forget

there is always somebody or something
waiting for you,
something stronger, more intelligent,
more evil, more kind, more durable,
something bigger, something better,
something worse, something with
eyes like the tiger, jaws like the shark,
something crazier than crazy,
saner than sane,
there is always something or somebody
waiting for you
as you put on your shoes
or as you sleep
or as you empty a garbage can
or pet your cat
or brush your teeth
or celebrate a holiday
there is always somebody or something
waiting for you.

keep this fully in mind
so that when it happens
you will be as ready as possible.

meanwhile, a good day to
you
if you are still there.
I think that I am---
I just burnt my fingers on
this
cigarette.

be kind

we are always asked
to understand the other person's
viewpoint
no matter how
out-dated
foolish or
obnoxious.
one is asked
to view
their total error
their life-waste
with
kindliness,
especially if they are
aged.
but age is the total of
our doing.
they have aged
badly
because they have
lived
out of focus,
they have refused to
see.
not their fault?
whose fault?
mine?
I am asked to hide
my viewpoint
from them
for fear of their
fear.
age is no crime
but the shame
of a deliberately
wasted
life
among so many
deliberately
wasted
lives
is.

almost competition

the higher you climb
the greater the pressure.

those who manage to
endure
learn
that the distance
between the
top and the
bottom
is
obscenely
great.

and those who
succeed
know
this secret:
there isn't
one.