Any Bukowski fans here?

THE ALIENS
from The Last Night Of The Earth Poems

you may not believe it
but there are people
who go through life with
very little
friction of distress.
they dress well, sleep well.
they are contented with
their family
life.
they are undisturbed
and often feel
very good.
and when they die
it is an easy death, usually in their
sleep.

you may not believe
it
but such people do
exist.

but i am not one of
them.
oh no, I am not one of them,
I am not even near
to being
one of
them.
but they
are there

and I am
here.

Bukowski had a way of boiling things down, explaining life in a way that most of us can't. His work isn't, typically, what we think about when we think of "poetry" -- it's not flowery. It's not filled with words that see us thumbing through a dictionary, trying to figure out what he's saying. He just lays it out, condensing it in such a concise way that it hits ya. It's human -- beautiful, albeit ugly.

Anyway, if you're not familiar with his work, I encourage you to google him.

Some hate him -- lol, many hate him, but they probaby hated beer, too! So fuck 'em!!!

Seth

PS ... Is poetry dead, or is it just this board that's dead?

Hey Seth,

I like Bukowski; he was a funny bugger. I've haven't read a lot of his poems, but I read a book of his called Pulp a few years ago and got a few laughs out of it.

I've also seen the films Barfly (Mickey Rourke) and Factotum (Matt Dillon), which where both adapted from two of Bukowski's novels. They where pretty good. I've also seen an interesting documentry about him called Born into This.

I think Bukowski had great insights and wrote sharp dialogue. However the three stories of his that I've come across lacked structure, but perhaps that's because the protagonists where alcoholics and their lives lacked structure. Anyway, here's a good poem that Henry Chanaski (Matt Dillon) recited in the last scene of Factotum.

Roll The Dice
If you’re going to try, go all the
way.
otherwise, don’t even start.
if you’re going to try, go all the
way.
this could mean losing girlfriends,
wives, relatives, jobs and
maybe your mind.
go all the way.
it could mean not eating for 3 or 4 days.
it could mean freezing on a
park bench.
it could mean jail,
it could mean derision,
mockery,
isolation.
isolation is the gift,
all the others are a test of your
endurance, of
how much you really want to
do it.
and you’ll do it
despite rejection and the worst odds
and it will be better than
anything else
you can imagine.
if you’re going to try,
go all the way.
there is no other feeling like
that.
you will be alone with the gods
and the nights will flame with
fire.
do it, do it, do it.
do it.
all the way
all the way.
you will ride life straight to
perfect laughter, its
the only good fight
there is




  

Quoted from Takeshi Hey Seth, I like Bukowski; he was a funny bugger. I've haven't read a lot of his poems, but I read a book of his called Pulp a few years ago and got a few laughs out of it. I've also seen the films Barfly (Mickey Rourke) and Factotum (Matt Dillon), which where both adapted from two of Bukowski's novels. They where pretty good. I've also seen an interesting documentry about him called Born into This.

I need to purchase both Barfly and Factotum. I have yet to read any of his books. His poetry, imo, is great. I'm a little worried that his books will be a let down.

Seth

PS Cool poem, thanks!

I'm going to have to read more of his stuff.

one thirty-six a.m.
  

  I laugh sometimes when I think about
say
Céline at a typewriter
or Dostoevsky...
or Hamsun...
ordinary men with feet, ears, eyes,
ordinary men with hair on their heads
sitting there typing words
while having difficulties with life
while being puzzled almost to madness.

Dostoevsky gets up
he leaves the machine to piss,
comes back
drinks a glass of milk and thinks about
the casino and
the roulette wheel.

Céline stops, gets up, walks to the
window, looks out, thinks, my last patient
died today, I won't have to make any more
visits there.
when I saw him last
he paid his doctor bill;
it's those who don't pay their bills,
they live on and on.
Céline walks back, sits down at the
machine
is still for a good two minutes
then begins to type.

Hamsun stands over his machine thinking,
I wonder if they are going to believe
all these things I write?
he sits down, begins to type.
he doesn't know what a writer's block
is:
he's a prolific son-of-a-bitch
damn near as magnificent as
the sun.
he types away.

and I laugh
not out loud
but all up and down these walls, these
dirty yellow and blue walls
my white cat asleep on the
table
hiding his eyes from the
light.

he's not alone tonight
and neither am
I.

Charles Bukowski