Saturday, July 26, 2008

Life Should Be Like A Bukowski Poem

I came across this poem from an email that I get that features a different poem on a regular basis. This one, I feel, is the best of the bunch, because it simply and succinctly celebrates the honesty of the life and writing of the late, great L.A.-based poet, Charles Bukowski. After having read some of his work, I have become a fan and can say that I hope to aspire to the kind of raw and brutal honesty conveyed in his stories and poems. If you're not familiar with this man, I would strongly recommend you get thyself to your nearest local library and check him out. Below, before the poem about Bukowski, by the poet, Anna Ruiz, is a poem by the man himself. Enjoy!




First Charles Bukowski's (1920-1994) poem:

my uncle Jack

my uncle Jack
is a mouse
is a house on fire
is a war about to begin
is a man running down the street with a knife in his back.

my uncle Jack
is the Santa Monica pier
is a dusty blue pillow
is a scratching black and white dog
is a man with one arm lighting a cigarette with one hand

my uncle Jack
is a slice of burnt toast
is the place you forgot to look for the key
is the pleasure of finding 3 rolls of toilet paper in the closet
is the worst dream you've ever had that you can't remember

my uncle Jack
is the firecracker that went off in your hand
is your run-over cat dead outside your driveway at 10:30 a.m.
is the crap game you won in the Santa Anita parking lot
is the man your woman left you for that night in the cheap hotel room.

my uncle Jack
is your uncle jack
is death coming like a freight train a clown with weeping eyes
is your car jack and your fingernails and the scream of the biggest
mountain now.







Life Is Like A Bukowski Poem


Life Is Like A Bukowski Poem
public, raw and ugly
no punches held
back,
rough, red scars on a
beaten-down body
a drunken Soul
thirsting for more,

as if you're defending
your own all-alone life,
as if an energy
sucks you through
to the other side
where his poems
live

oh, so fuckingly beautifully,
alive.


--Anna Ruiz

1 comment:

**Anna said...

I have to be at work early, but I am here instead of sleeping, and now I've read some really good poetry. Thanks for that.

Mary's friend, Anna