Time poems
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Hymn 21
© Isaac Watts
Lo! what a glorious sight appears
To our believing eyes!
The earth and sea are passed away,
And the old rolling skies.
Hymn 164
© Isaac Watts
Why should this earth delight us so?
Why should we fix our eyes
On these low grounds where sorrows grow,
And every pleasure dies ?
Hymn 16
© Isaac Watts
Hosannah to the royal Son
Of David's ancient line!
His natures two, his person one,
Mysterious and divine.
Hymn 133
© Isaac Watts
Let Pharisees of high esteem
Their faith and zeal declare,
All their religion is a dream,
If love be wanting there.
Hymn 120
© Isaac Watts
Faith is the brightest evidence
Of things beyond our sight,
Breaks through the clouds of flesh and sense,
And dwells in heav'nly light.
Hymn 10
© Isaac Watts
How beauteous are their feet
Who stand on Zion's hill!
Who bring salvation on their tongues,
And words of peace reveal!
The Sun Weilds Mercy
© Charles Bukowski
and the sun weilds mercy
but like a jet torch carried to high,
and the jets whip across its sight
and rockets leap like toads,
This Then
© Charles Bukowski
it's the same as before
or the other time
or the time before that.
here's a cock
and here's a cunt
and here's trouble.
Curtain
© Charles Bukowski
the final curtain on one of the longest running
musicals ever, some people claim to have
seen it over one hundred times.
I saw it on the tv news, that final curtain:
Now
© Charles Bukowski
I sit here on the 2nd floor
hunched over in yellow
pajamas
still pretending to be
The Retreat
© Charles Bukowski
this time has finished me.
I feel like the German troops
whipped by snow and the communists
walking bent
Who In The Hell Is Tom Jones?
© Charles Bukowski
I was shacked with a
24 year old girl from
New York City for
two weeks- about
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.
His Wife, The Painter
© Charles Bukowski
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.
Sleep
© Charles Bukowski
she was a short one
getting fat and she had once been
beautiful and
she drank the wine
Out Of The Arm Of One Love...
© Charles Bukowski
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
Raw With Love
© Charles Bukowski
little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
Another Day
© Charles Bukowski
having the low down blues and going
into a restraunt to eat.
you sit at a table.
the waitress smiles at you.
We Ain't Got No Money, Honey, But We Got Rain
© Charles Bukowski
call it the greenhouse effect or whatever
but it just doesn't rain like it used to.
I particularly remember the rains of the
depression era.
Three Oranges
© Charles Bukowski
first time my father overheard me listening to
this bit of music he asked me,
"what is it?"
"it's called Love For Three Oranges,"
