Archive for December, 2017

For The Foxes by Charles Bukowski

don’t feel sorry for me.
I am a competent,
satisfied human being.

be sorry for the others
who
fidget
complain

who
constantly
rearrange their
lives
like
furniture.

juggling mates
and
attitudes

their
confusion is
constant

and it will
touch
whoever they
deal with.

beware of them:
one of their
key words is
“love.”

and beware those who
only take
instructions from their
God

for they have
failed completely to live their own
lives.

don’t feel sorry for me
because I am alone

for even
at the most terrible
moments
humor
is my
companion.

I am a dog walking
backwards

I am a broken
banjo

I am a telephone wire
strung up in
Toledo, Ohio

I am a man
eating a meal
this night
in the month of
September.

put your sympathy
aside.
they say
water held up
Christ:
to come
through
you better be
nearly as
lucky.

The People by Charles Bukowski

all people start to
 come apart finally
 and there it is:
 just empty ashtrays in a room
 or wisps of hair on a comb
 in the dissolving moonlight.

it is all ash and dry leaves
 and grief gone
 like an ocean liner.

when the shoes fill with blood
 you know
 that the shoes are dead.

true revolution
 comes from true revulsion;
 when things get bad enough
 the kitten will kill the lion.

the statues in the church of my childhood
 and the candles that burn at their feet
 if I could only take these
 and open their eyes
 and feel their legs
 and hear their clay mouths
 say the true
 clay
 words.