All Poems

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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.

Pull A String, A Puppet Moves

© Charles Bukowski

each man must realize
that it can all disappear very
quickly:
the cat, the woman, the job,

There are sketches on the walls of men and women and ducks,
and outside a large green bus swerves through traffic like
insanity sprung from a waving line; Turgenev, Turgenev,
says the radio, and Jane Austin, Jane Austin, too.

Eulogy To A Hell Of A Dame

© Charles Bukowski

some dogs who sleep ay night
must dream of bones
and I remember your bones
in flesh

Trashcan Lives

© Charles Bukowski

the wind blows hard tonight
and it's a cold wind
and I think about
the boys on the row.

The Poetry Reading

© Charles Bukowski

at high noon
at a small college near the beach
sober
the sweat running down my arms

Big Night On The Town

© Charles Bukowski

you leave Madame Death there,
you leave the sneering bartender
there.

True

© Charles Bukowski

one of Lorca's best lines
is,
"agony, always
agony ..."

No. 6

© Charles Bukowski

I'll settle for the 6 horse
on a rainy afternoon
a paper cup of coffee
in my hand

The House

© Charles Bukowski

They are building a house
half a block down
and I sit up here
with the shades down

Finish

© Charles Bukowski

We are like roses that have never bothered to
bloom when we should have bloomed and
it is as if
the sun has become disgusted with
waiting

Melancholia

© Charles Bukowski

the history of melancholia
includes all of us.
me, I writhe in dirty sheets
while staring at blue walls

Sleep

© Charles Bukowski

she was a short one
getting fat and she had once been
beautiful and
she drank the wine

Friends Within The Darkness

© Charles Bukowski

the old composers -- Mozart, Bach, Beethoven,
Brahms were the only ones who spoke to me and
they were dead.

Writing

often it is the only
thing
between you and
impossibility.

Poetry

it
takes
a lot of
desperation

For The Foxes

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

The Blackbirds Are Rough Today

lonely as a dry and used orchard
spread over the earth
for use and surrender.

Out Of The Arm Of One Love...

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

Question And Answer

putting the blade on the table, he
flicked it with a finger
and it whirled
in a flashing circle
under the light.