Charles Bukowski Tribute Poems
"Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they must lead."
- Charles Bukowski -
Lover
Tired, hung over, a heavy night of drinking again.
The companionship of the bottle is just so sweet, it's unbiased friendship compared to that of other associates.
It's intoxicating effects, its horrible aftermath, in every relationship there are pro's and con's, positives and negatives out weight the costs.
Is it abuse when one wants to devote their time to a loyal friend? Is it abuse to bask in their presence? Oh that raunchy presence, that intoxicating smell..... Oh that Carmel look that draws me in and captivates me like a lustful lover. Is not a lover a friend, one to devout one’s life to.....? Tonight, I dedicate to you my lover, my friend, tonight I drink, drink until all blacks out.
The hammering of the head, the intense throbbing, "whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!" of the blood circulating through my temples, intensifying all sounds around me. How horrible this state is, what happened, oh my fucking head! Abuse..... Abuse with my lover, my friend, unbiased in its ways. Yes, unbiased, it does not care who it is, abuse it and it will enforce its vindictive side effects upon you, anyone, everyone who partakes of its lustful lure.
Come morning after a wild night with the bottle, enjoying each other’s company, each other’s miseries, I swear I need to find myself a comparable friend, someone who is not a lover, one that will not punish me for my wicked ways. One who's body is not so seductive, so irresistible, ones touch that is not so painful in the end. But what is a true friend if one does not accept their friend’s faults? Do we become conditional? Hypocritical? Our honor and dedication now questioned due to a flaw or error in another?
I see spirits before me, calling me, reminding me as we speak, that they are indeed my friends, my lover, my constant companion throughout life. They beckon me towards them, singing melodic songs as Greek Sirens of old.
I am captivated, drawn to their song, I follow, I am reminded of all the good times we have had together, of their undying loyalty and unbiased friendship. I arrive before the spirits that have called me.
I select my favorite glass and place it before me upon my alter to the spirits. I reach before me and select the ones who has won me with the silky coloring, their sweet-sounding song. I remove the cap and pour myself another drink, a perfect solution to the nasty hangover that I attained from the night before. 7am in the morning is too early to deal with a hangover, my lover and I start our affair yet again today.
The Room.
I did not know many young boys who would rather stay at school then go home,
So I asked him the reason why.
The boy shyly smiled and asked to be excused, rushing to pack his school bag,
eager to escape the classroom.
The boy slowed down his rushed, forced walk, not wanting to go home.
Dragging his feet, counting the cracks in the side walk, making sure to purposefully walk on each of them, “breaking his mother’s back”.
Dread, despair, fear, knowing what faces him once he reaches his home.
As he nears the door he hears the violent shouting escaping through.
He trembles, his arm reluctantly reaches for the handle of the door,
Not wanting to enter, knowing the scene before he even enters,
A scene well known to him, played out many times before.
He rushes into the house, taking the well often path he has taken before
to his bedroom, his place of safety, safety at least from his father who
is to plastered to make it up the flight of stairs without risk of tumbling back down. His mother though, His mother…
A coward, craven, too weak to stand up to the brute she calls her husband,
Allowing him to pray on their dysfunctional family.
She screams, she cries, she allowed the abuse to continue on,
Love being her motive, love of her husband, love of her son, the son she fails to protect from harm.
His mother comes to his room, strung out once again on medication, medication to numb her emotional tolls, promising him it will be all right and it will change.
The room, it is protection for the physical harm, but the lies cut deeper than the belt. The lies soil the sanctity of the room, the place of refuge from a life he does not want.
Maybe tomorrow the teacher will not ask him why he stays after school so often when most boys run out to play. Maybe he will never find out that the boy has no friends, school His only refuge, a room with more lies, but safer lies.
Tomorrow is another day…
Old Hag
Every morning I wake up,
Off to the bathroom I go,
I really need to take a piss,
Murky brown and reeks from last night’s binge.
Oh god, it’s only 7:00am,
Ok, it is early enough for a coffee,
I need to clear my head,
Pour a cup, reach for the Baily’s for the fix.
Maybe today I will only have a few drinks,
Today she may not be such a bitch,
I enter the living room to watch my morning news,
Nah, nag, nag, is all that comes from that old Hag!
This Is Me
Three pills, a few shots, smoke a few joints.
Try to make everything alright.
Ease the pain, kill the pain, stop the heart.
Feed the sorrow, drown it out, life's check out.
Write my feelings down, write them out.
Fight the Desire, the urge to carry them out.
This gloom is real, don't know how to fight to be free.
Selfish ways it may be, please do not blame me.
I need to find my way out from my internal misery
This is me, almost all is dead inside of me.
She
Soft, moist, damp between the legs.
My hands trace the inside of her tights, slowly.
Slightly my fingers trace her pubic mount, curling between the patch of fur she calls her cunt.
Oh how wet it is!
My fingers explore her nether reaches, bring her to repeatedly scream "Oh fucking god, yes, fucking god!"
She bucks and squeals as my fingers probe further north into her, exploring her territory.
She wraps her hand around me, stroking me, oh stoking me so well. The joys and sensations over whelming me, bringing me to ecstasy. I glance her way, she is sporting a wicked smile, a seductive, succulent smile. She knows she has me in her grasps, stroking me to eternal sinful joys! I smile back as I am ready for her to finish me off..... I feel it, she is about to bring bliss upon me..
I explode all over, feeling the energy sap out of my body, taxing me once again... WAIT... I startle awake to Captain Midnight visiting me... mother fucker!
A Cheer!
A drink, a glass of beer, raise a cheer!
The pub and smell of stale ale, a cheer!
The seedy, the sleazy, the needy, a cheer!
The rowdy, the pleasers and those passed out in their chairs, a cheer!
A shot of whiskey, a shot of gin, hell any shots, a cheer!
Struggle With Inner Peace
I have a new Life,A new song to sing,how long will it last?
how long before i stray?Waking up to the sunset with new hope on a rise,but struggling to keep a hold on it,keep reality.
Life is short and we can not see beyond the bend in the road,but we can envision a road that will bring us happiness.
to reach happiness alone is sadness,BUT to find the one to share it with is Joy fulfilled.
A light to keep us happy a goal to keep us focused.which will i chose?
Who's Ticket?
Portrays self confidence when reaching out to others,
he knows that it is all a lie.
Who am I to judge the poor bastard in is misery?
Sitting there was a joint in my hand watching, puffing, watching as the smoke fills the air.
I watch the expressions on his face, the poor bastard is falling apart.... I cannot help to feel something for him.. not much, but something.
Sitting there, the poor fucker is to chicken to do it.... I can see it on his face... Could I do it if I were in his shoes, If I were him?
I am sure I could... Checking out, it is easy to do, fuck it, go do it!
Something stings me in between my fingers... I look down and see that while I was captivated by my subject my joint has burnt out... I shall have to light a smoke to pass the time while I watch my case study.
What have I missed? Nothing, the poor bastard is still perched upon his chair, back straight, looking calm and collected on the outside, portraying self confidence. I see past it all, I see into his eyes, I read his story, I see the train ticket he will buy, I see it all in his eyes.
What is that? A twitch? Has something crossed over his face?
Maybe the poor bastard isn't a coward after all? Is he going to do it after all? I see something? I feel something? What is this? Fuck, I feel dizzy, he is throwing me for a loop... what is he doing?
He is getting up and leaving... can it be he is about to do it.. the look in his eyes... something?? He passes by me, fuck me...
I watch a man scrutinize my moves, watching me while I struggled today with the stresses of life. I wonder why he was watching me? Fucking freak, he should mind his own business.
Walking back to my house, my family, the one thing that keeps me going most times. The one thing that makes me stress. What a fucked up world this is. The one thing that should always bring us happiness is usually the root that causes us so much stress! What a fucking cruel and sick world. Well, today is at an end, I think I will keep that ticket for another day........
Conflict over 'Waiting'
I haven't eaten all
day I was too busy,
do I want to stop
and order some burgers?
Do I want to risk being
asked to pull ahead
and park because I
am "waiting" on my
order of TWO items?
I pull up to the speaker
and place my usual order
then proceed around
the corner to the
first window and pay.
Thank god there are
only two other cars
ahead of me I won't
get parked!
I pull up to the
window to collect my
simple yet desired order
just to have the kid
ask me to pull ahead
that they are waiting
on my TWO burgers,
shock strikes across
his face as I simply
state no I will not
please get a manager
to refund me my order.
After asking him twice
the manager comes and
I repeat my request
while explaining my case,
next thing I know my
order I am "waiting"
on is now in my hand.
Why tell me I am waiting
on an order I know is almost
ready when they are only
trying to manipulate their
service times for Corp office
and only establish aggravating
me, creating a scene because I
had a long day and am starving
and only wanted TWO burgers,
TWO simple hamburgers...
Objection
Why is it people feel a need
to interfere in someone else's life?
Just because my hair is unkempt
and my beard long and scruffy
does not mean they have a right
to comment on my crummy life.
Sure I may drink a little more
than one should drink, should,
but that doesn't mean I need
to stop, does it.
Is it any of their business
on who comes in or out of my place,
as if they have a right to know,
maybe she is a Lady of the Night,
who fucking cares what they think.
Thick slate smoke hangs heavy
in the room where I chain smoke
away as I write this piece,
patience with the neighbour's
noisy kids running back and forth
across the floor, creating a
pounding in my damn head,
maybe she should worry about
her children rather than who
spent the night in my lumpy bed.
Does it matter if I leave
the confines of my own
dingy prison where I am most
comfortable away from preying eyes?
Why do people feel the need
to tell me I need more interaction
when I am quite content in the
situation I have put myself
peacefully in?
Is it any of their concern really
that I rather avoid those around me,
that I rather be alone in my own
self loathing and misery where I
feel more in control than letting
another in who may not be on
par with me, may hurt me?
Nah I rather be the mingy dog
that I am and own it rather
than be a fake me for others
to see and pretend that I am not.
A rats ass what others think of my
shabby appearance and my
sleazy ways that at least pleases me,
nor does it matter to me if
it does not satisfy others,
My life is bedraggled but mine.
Judging Truth
What truth is there really?
Morals are objectionably
if not completely forgotten,
people walk past those out
on the street corners
without thought or care,
yet proclaim that they
abide by a higher standard
from some deity above
thus do not show a single
ounce of what their faith
teaches to the flock.
When you see the drunkard
stumbling out of a seedy bar
zig zagging unto the street,
you do not think about that
he may have just lost his job
and has to go home to a family
breaking the news.
You only judge him based off
your assumptions of what you
want the story to be, not what
it may have really been.
When we see someone married
coming out of another persons
home not their spouse,
we tend to judge those people
as committing some kind of sin,
not knowing that one is in an
open relationship and the other single
because what we think is moral may
not be the cause for another life style.
Is there really such thing as truth
outside the eye of the beholder,
where absolutes are absolute,
there being no shades of gray?
Where we all see eye to eye
in one color no politics
or religions to persuade?
Where hate and judging no longer
exists, where wino's and
junkies are real human's
where antidepressant mothers
and fathers do matter,
no social classes as barriers.
The Coffee Shop
Late for work, tired, sluggish,
Standing in line at the coffee shop, annoyed at the louts ahead of me, annoyed with the cashiers.
A red head, undeceive, pissing me off! I want to punt kick her flabby ass,
I just want to scream at her to hurry the hell up and move it!
The sound of an old lady chatting the ear off the cashier, the only ear that she has to listen to her.
I am sure she is a kind, lovely lady, but I want a damn coffee and I am late for work!
The clueless dolt who is not paying attention that “Red” has finally make up her mind and has move on,
Come on asshole, move it or lose it!
The humming of the florescent lights, adding to my irritation, the line slowly moves on, closer to my coffee, if only these people would hurry up.
Looking around as I wait in the wearisome line I take in the people around me,
Lost in their own conversations, lost in their newspapers, laughing, smiling, blank stares which makes you wonder if there is anyone inside, they all have their coffee, I still do not have mine.
“May I help you?”
Ah, finally my turn to order!
I step up to the till and give my order to the young girl before me.
A young blond with so much makeup I am unsure if there is actually a face under there, or if it is a robotic creation, a blank stare on her face, smile forced.
I hand her my money, stepping aside, leaving her the change as a customary tip.
I wait for my coffee, watching those who are supposed to make my coffee stock the cups, make another pot of coffee, but not making mine,
What did I do today to draw the straw to test my patience? Why is it so hard for a man to get a cup of coffee?
Finally I hear my order called, having my thick paper cup from the server, I head for the door which is being blocked by those waiting to get in and have their order taken. I am so late for work!
Bow
I bow to no one!
Well unless they are putting out,
than I'm their mangy dog to command!
Theirs to abuse and submit under.
Self Deception
Johnny likes to drive, he's trying to find his way, he just turned 39 the other day.
He's just a regular guy, working like a slave, trying to make a dollar keep the collector man at bay.
He just don't see he ain't 18 any more, a little off the roof top, belly trying to reach the floor. Looks in a mirror sees James Dean,
More like Al Bundy, former football King.
Roxie
The rays of the sun hitting through the slots of the bedroom shades,
Still wasted from the night before, eye hurting, head throbbing to the sound of the seconds hand ticking.
Tick, tick, tick, a whooshing sound echo’s as the clock hits the wall, not broken, still ticking, tick, tick, tick.
The taste of bile in my mouth, raunchy, nasty, like I kissed a whore all night long, oh Lord, the foulness.
Bang, crash, boom!
The sound of my wife in the kitchen cooking, doing what she does best.
The usual sight in front of me as I enter the kitchen, Overweight, not looking like the women I married.
As I poor my coffee she starts bitching again about my being out late drinking.
I want to shout at her, “Look at you! Listen to yourself!”
I pour my coffee into the travel mug and head out the door.
Hell at work, hell at home, a bottle of whiskey to keep me company,
Too listen to me, too not judge me, to just be there for me.
Oh yes, work is done, hello Roxie, here I come.
Work
Waking up knowing what challenges face me today, challenges I want to set aside and avoid.
Wanting to roll over and go back to sleep, my mind is so tired, “Rest” it screams to me, “more rest!”
Pulling myself from under my covers, the cold crisp morning air hitting my skin, Goosebumps cover my skin like a swarm of locus.
Scurrying to the kitchen, my fingers instinctively find the “on” button of the coffee maker.
Dreadful thoughts of work start to cloud my mind as I wait for the coffee to brew, my bladder calling to me too relieve it of its burden. God, I do not want to work today, hurry up coffee, I NEED that bathroom! Why do you take so long every morning to provide me with my morning stimuli? Augh, work, I do not want to go, I do not want to do anything today but go back to sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep!
Trudging to the bathroom, coffee with cigarette in hand, work…..
With duty done, work still on my mind, I get dressed for another day.
Another day I do not want to go to work, to avoid the stress that awaits me.
I make my way to my office, another drone.
Down on John’s Street
Aunt Hazel hangs out down on John’s street,
She has him chasing for his next treat
Chasing green dragons up into the blue heavens
Playing with Peter Pan, discretion’s not a reckon
He can’t stay away, he’s chasing it again today
Hating himself as he gets his next fix,
He watches like he’s hanging from someone else’s crucifix
Cat killer, blue kisses the red bullets of the smoking gun
He hates his life and what he has become
He cannot see a way out, blue devils and god’s flesh
He rushes his next step, his disco biscuits still fresh
One way out, he feels so numb, pops that pill off his thumb
Floats away, says goodbye for today, he says goodbye for today
Molly calls out his name, “come on the Cadillac Express!” to Detroit Pink,
It’s on the way just down from John’s street where Elvis’ golden dragon lip syncs
With the China girl down in China town who was slick supersede,
This is where his end of life is goin to meet, he’s been flying with the speckled birds,
Living high off the ever clear he cannot hear their words
Calling back to him, bringing him back again
Dependency
Sitting in a silent room
strong smells of weed
a half empty glass of gin,
loathing in self misery.
Finding someone to blame
other than himself
A waste of a man, a drunk
a stoner with nothing,
late nights alone,
cigarettes slowly burning
one by one to clicking of keys.
Not wishing to be save
content in this pain
writing about others agony
finding solace in their gloom.
Suffering? One has to feel
that would mean sobriety
I rather rely on my dependencies.
The touch of whiskey to my lips
burning as it goes down,
like the warm touch of a lover
who is never there
but gives glimpses of hope
only to feel despair.
The lifting high of reefer's
temporary feeling of bliss
just like the emotions
love first brings
only to die off over
a short period of time.
Yet here I am relying
upon my dependencies
Unwilling to relent,
compelled to loathe
all that is fake around me,
including myself.
The earthy taste
as I draw off the joint
held loosely between my lips
takes me to the trolley
which I was upon this morning,
in which I heard a little
six year old brat proudly proclaim,
as we past the beach
"it's not so pretty really",
Which now has me thinking
do we really see the truth
at such young of an age?
Is this what leads us to our dependencies?
The Sweet Escape of Sleep
The burden of stress and constant worry,
Oh how I roll back over my head I bury,
Under the fluffy down cotton white pillows.
Another hour or two can most definitely wait,
Before I have to think about my dreadful fate,
Of being unable to pay bills past due behind,
Stressing over the need of money I cannot find.
Once I use to sleep to have dreams of wonders,
Now I sleep to escape my life under soft covers.
Wisdom?
I stood by a boy
And his mother at
the bus stop on the
street corner block.
He and I had a grand
conversation about many
a thing, when all of a
sudden he farted,
looked up and me and
simple said it was a
course of nature we couldn't
contend with.
Such wise words from someone so young.
Long Way Up
When the days are really hard
And I don't want to look up
When the pain is really rough,
There is always a song I can play,
To make me see brighter days.
I hear my own story as he belts out singing
The words I so often wished I could say,
Dreams that use to seem to be so far away,
Knowing I am not the only one to feel that pain,
Someday to have that one who will be my "angel's wings".
To learn that it's ok to share your inner pain,
No matter how hard or tough one thinks they are,
We all have our challenges it's how we will win,
As Mike Ness so wisely sang so we all can see,
In a soulful voice "I triumphed in the face of adversity".
"I became the man I never thought I'd be",
Oh how that chord struck out and shouted at me,
Making me reflect upon my struggles in this life,
Realizing I have made it further than I had thought,
As he said, "And now my biggest challenge, a thing called love".
When the Black Clouds Rolled Out
I faintly recall feeling the cold damp days
when dark dense rain clouds use to rule my life,
Above my head during day or night always to follow,
Tormenting along the way where ever I gloomily went,
During those days my body and mind felt overly spent.
Then one day I opened my eyes to a different point of view,
Instead of allowing the darkness within myself to win,
I would struggle with that mighty beast and crack a grin,
as I know I was winning the confrontation we began,
For now when I see the clouds moving in I see the beauty,
The absolute wonders and joy they exquisitely portray,
Promises of another elongated bright shinning day,
Where I can find my inner happiness whatsoever comes my way.
Blackened is the Heart
I thought I had finally
found love but the King
of Fools once again I see.
For I thought she cared
as much for myself as
I did deeply loved her.
My heart was inflated
like a balloon ready
to powerfully explode.
I danced on cloud nine
gave her my everything
to her I fully exposed
the deeper sensitive side
she brought out in me,
only to realize it was
simply a one way street.
To hell and back I went
to try to make things work
only for her to stomp all
over my now blackened heart.
Her hallow words coming
out of her two-timing mouth
That she does loves me
and has been completely devote.
Now my heart has crumbled
as if fragile charcoal
unwilling to take the risk
yet tired of being alone.
Black and dead is my heart
thought it may be beating
its lack of emotions will
eventually lead me into the dirt.
Blackened is the Heart
I thought I had finally
found love but the King
of Fools once again I see.
For I thought she cared
as much for myself as
I did deeply loved her.
My heart was inflated
like a balloon ready
to powerfully explode.
I danced on cloud nine
gave her my everything
to her I fully exposed
the deeper sensitive side
she brought out in me,
only to realize it was
simply a one way street.
To hell and back I went
to try to make things work
only for her to stomp all
over my now blackened heart.
Her hallow words coming
out of her two-timing mouth
That she does loves me
and has been completely devote.
Now my heart has crumbled
as if fragile charcoal
unwilling to take the risk
yet tired of being alone.
Black and dead is my heart
thought it may be beating
its lack of emotions will
eventually lead me into the dirt.
Watching Him
Watching him outside,
walking, walking by,
what motivates him so?
Everyday he repeats his steps
what does he think on these walks?
Did his wife or lover leave him?
Was he an abusive asshole?
Did she run around and cheat on him?
Did he drink to much or,
did she nag relentlessly?
Walking, walking by everyday,
daily I watch him from my window's side.
Reflections of a Bum
I see him sitting against a building wall
soiled in his own filth, reeking, volatile,
vomit stains his crumbled worn out shirt.
wet patches on his pants from where he pissed
all over himself, to drunk to realize or care.
What's the difference between him and I?
That I have a home to go back to and sleep,
where I can hide from the public eye
and be the drunk I want to be
away from the prying eyes of the nosy?
It makes me wonder what brought him
to this point, was it by his own hand
or did circumstances kick him in the balls?
Booze, drugs, a gambling addiction maybe?
Thank fucking god it's not me out there,
though it easily could be.