All Poems
/ page 3071 of 3210 /Metamorphosis
© Charles Bukowski
a girlfriend came in
built me a bed
scrubbed and waxed the kitchen floor
scrubbed the walls
O, We Are The Outcasts
© Charles Bukowski
ah, christ, what a CREW:
more
poetry, always more
P O E T R Y .
16-bit Intel 8088 chip
© Charles Bukowski
with an Apple Macintosh
you can't run Radio Shack programs
in its disc drive.
nor can a Commodore 64
And The Moon And The Stars And The World
© Charles Bukowski
Long walks at night--
that's what good for the soul:
peeking into windows
watching tired housewives
trying to fight off
their beer-maddened husbands.
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
Cause And Effect
© Charles Bukowski
the best often die by their own hand
just to get away,
and those left behind
can never quite understand
The Aliens
© Charles Bukowski
you may not believe it
but there are people
who go through life with
very little
Some People
© Charles Bukowski
some people never go crazy.
me, sometimes I'll lie down behind the couch
for 3 or 4 days.
they'll find me there.
The Worst And The Best
© Charles Bukowski
in the hospitals and jails
it's the worst
in madhouses
it's the worst
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
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,
Death Wants More Death
© Charles Bukowski
death wants more death, and its webs are full:
I remember my father's garage, how child-like
I would brush the corpses of flies
from the windows they thought were escape-
Be Kind
© Charles Bukowski
we are always asked
to understand the other person's
viewpoint
no matter how
Like A Flower In The Rain
© Charles Bukowski
I cut the middle fingernail of the middle
finger
right hand
real short
Oh Yes
© Charles Bukowski
there are worse things than
being alone
but it often takes decades
to realize this