All Poems

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Rain Or Shine

© Charles Bukowski

the vultures at the zoo
(all three of the)
sit very quietly in their
caged tree

Show Biz

© Charles Bukowski

I can't have it
and you can't have it
and we won't
get it

Love & Fame & Death

© Charles Bukowski

the way to end a poem
like this
is to become suddenly
quiet.

Now

© Charles Bukowski

I sit here on the 2nd floor
hunched over in yellow
pajamas
still pretending to be

Cut While Shaving

© Charles Bukowski

I walked away from the mirror.
it was morning, it was afternoon, it was
night

The Retreat

© Charles Bukowski

this time has finished me.
I feel like the German troops
whipped by snow and the communists
walking bent

Decline

© Charles Bukowski

naked along the side of the house,
8 a.m., spreading sesame seed oil
over my body, Jesus, have I come
to this?

Layover

© Charles Bukowski

Making love in the sun, in the morning sun
in a hotel room
above the alley
where poor men poke for bottles;

Sway With Me

© Charles Bukowski

sway with me, everything sad --
madmen in stone houses
without doors,
lepers steaming love and song

Be Angry At San Pedro

© Charles Bukowski

I say to my woman, "Jeffers was
a great poet. think of a title
like Be Angry At The Sun. don't you
realize how great that is?

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.

Flophouse

© Charles Bukowski

you haven't lived
until you've been in a
flophouse
with nothing but one

Prayer In Bad Weather

by God, I don't know what to
do.
they're so nice to have around.
they have a way of playing with

Who In The Hell Is Tom Jones?

I was shacked with a
24 year old girl from
New York City for
two weeks- about

Working Out

Van Gogh cut off his ear
gave it to a
prostitute
who flung it away in

Whats The Use Of A Title?

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

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

The Most

here comes the fishhead singing
here comes the baked potato in drag
here comes nothing to do all day long
here comes another night of no sleep