Section: «Poems»
Verse (ancient Greek ὁ στίχος — row, structure), a term in versification used in several meanings:
artistic speech organized by division into rhythmically commensurate segments; poetry in the narrow sense; in particular, it implies the properties of versification of a particular tradition ("antique verse", "Akhmatova's verse", etc.);
a line of poetic text organized according to a certain rhythmic pattern ("My uncle of the most honest rules").
The German Hotel
the German hotel was very strange and expensive and haddouble doors to the rooms, very thick doors, and it over-looked the park and the vasser tern..
© Charles Bukowski
Marina
majestic, majicinfinitemy little girl issunon the carpet-out the doorpicking a flower, ha!an old man,battle-wrecked,emerges from hischairand she..
© Charles Bukowski
Out Of The Arm Of One Love...
out of the arm of one loveand into the arms of anotherI have been saved from dying on the crossby a lady who smokes potwrites songs and storiesand is..
© Charles Bukowski
Now
I sit here on the 2nd floorhunched over in yellowpajamasstill pretending to bea writer.some damned gall,at 71,my brain cells eatenaway bylife.rows of..
© Charles Bukowski
The Worst And The Best
in the hospitals and jailsit's the worstin madhousesit's the worstin penthousesit's the worstin skid row flophousesit's the worstat poetry readingsat..
© Charles Bukowski
Something For The Touts, The Nuns, The Grocery Clerks, And You . . .
we have everything and we have nothingand some men do it in churchesand some men do it by tearing butterfliesin halfand some men do it in Palm..
© Charles Bukowski
Hooray Say The Roses
hooray say the roses, today is blamesdayand we are red as blood.hooray say the roses, today is Wednesdayand we bloom wher soldiers felland lovers..
© Charles Bukowski
Love &Amp; Fame &Amp; Death
it sits outside my window nowlike and old woman going to market;it sits and watches me,it sweats nevouslythrough wire and fog and dog-barkuntil..
© Charles Bukowski
True Story
they found him walking along the freewayall red infronthe had taken a rusty tin canand cut off his sexualmachineryas if to say --see what you've done..
© Charles Bukowski
These Things
these things that we support most wellhave nothing to do with up,and we do with themout of boredom or fear or moneyor cracked intelligence;our circle..
© Charles Bukowski
Revolt In The Ranks
I have just spent one-hour-and-a-halfhandicapping tomorrow'scard.when am I going to get at the poems?well, they'll just have to waitthey'll have to..
© Charles Bukowski
The Shoelace
a woman, atire that’s flat, adisease, adesire: fears in front of you,fears that hold so stillyou can study themlike pieces on achessboard…it’s not..
© Charles Bukowski
The Great Slob
I was always a natural slobI liked to lay upon the bedin undershirt (stained, ofcourse) (and with cigaretteholes)shoes offbeerbottle in handtrying to..
© Charles Bukowski
Short Order
I took my girlfriend to your last poetry reading,she said.yes, yes? I asked.she's young and pretty, she said.and? I asked.she hated yourguts.
© Charles Bukowski
Small Conversation In The Afternoon With John Fante
he said, "I was working in Hollywood when Faulkner wasworking in Hollywood and he wasthe worst: he was too drunk to stand up at theend of the..
© Charles Bukowski
Layover
Making love in the sun, in the morning sunin a hotel roomabove the alleywhere poor men poke for bottles;making love in the sunmaking love by a carpet..
© Charles Bukowski
What Can We Do?
at their best, there is gentleness in Humanity.some understanding and, at times, acts ofcouragebut all in all it is a mass, a glob that doesn'thave..
© Charles Bukowski
On Going Back To The Street After Viewing An Art Show
they talk down throughthe centuries to us,and this we need more and more,the statues and paintingsin midnight ageas we go alongholding dead hands.and..
© Charles Bukowski
Sleep
she was a short onegetting fat and she had once beenbeautiful andshe drank the wineshe drank the wine in bed andtalked and screamed and cursed..
© Charles Bukowski
Crucifix In A Deathhand
yes, they begin out in a willow, I thinkthe starch mountains begin out in the willowand keep right on going without regard forpumas and..
© Charles Bukowski
The House
They are building a househalf a block downand I sit up herewith the shades downlistening to the sounds,the hammers pounding in nails,thack thack..
© Charles Bukowski
No. 6
I'll settle for the 6 horseon a rainy afternoona paper cup of coffeein my handa little way to go,the wind twirling outsmall wrens fromthe upper..
© Charles Bukowski
Show Biz
I can't have itand you can't have itand we won'tget itso don't bet on itor even think aboutitjust get out of bedeach..
© Charles Bukowski