June Poetry: Poem 1 – Bukowski

Posted: June 1, 2011 in poetry
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So originally I had hoped to have enough submissions from folks to do 30 original unpublished poems for the month, that didn’t happen.  Oh sure I could inundate you with 30 of mine but that seems a bit over the top although I will certainly sprinkle in several of mine as we go through the month.  I am still taking submissions so if you are reading this and want to send one along please do, you can publish under a pen name if you prefer.  Send them along to zdeaconblue@aol.com I look forward to seeing and publishing your work.

So before we get in to the original pieces we will start with some of my favorite poets, Bukowski, Neruda, McWilliams, might even toss in a little Poe to shake things up.  Today I start with the Poet Laureate of the Gutter, Charles Bukowski.  I love his work, it’s honest and foul and plain-spoken, everything your English teacher poetry should never be, but it does for me what all art should, it makes me feel.  So to hell with grammar and iambic pentameter, and hears to feeling:

Alone With Everybody

the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
and nobody finds the
but keep
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than

there’s no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular

nobody ever finds
the one.

the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill

nothing else

~Charles Bukowski


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