Bukowski never wrote like this

[revolutionR]

I don't live on the same streets as Bukowski
but the same old young girls still haunt them
I will never be as old as Bukowski or as young
his words seem to be written between the lines
like the
legs of a tore up whore of a cummed on paper back
dime novel of the fifties, the one ghost written
by some down on his luck gum shoe with a yen
for poetry, a yearning for glamorous dames
that have seen better days, painting their faces
in snazzy mirrors looking for a devil to buy their soul
for a scene in the movie on Hollywood boulevard
I knew a young girl in the sixties that did just that
she stared in seventies grade B soft porn and had
a cult following of sorts, because grade B Hollywood

soft porn movies will never come again, and Candy
will never act again in one of them, just like a poem
by Bukowski that is a underbelly Los Angeles movie
where the actors drink hard and fuck hard and exist
between palm trees and hooker sidewalks and candy bars
where the losers walk down lonesome alleys looking for time

because they have to write a novel that breathes murder & fun
and the slow sickly perfume puke wind gone with the talkies
when great gaudy tramps taversed the silver screen in ungodly
costumes of bitterness and sweet death, bordering on nostalgia
uttering impossible dialogue scrawled on match book covers
by heroin addicts hold up in dank hotel rooms on the edge
of hell and lotus eater promise land paradise, looking for a oasis
in the middle of the mecca of impossible dreams and romance
and scratching out crappy plot lines that resemble Greek tragedy
that never made it to the lips of the common unwashed rabble
to dabble in that black magic of plagiarism and corny coincidence
a cheap novel born in shit holes of alternate universe low dives
where the true story lives are played out on the crumbling stages
of pages that turn because they are on fire, against all odds, all sides
they read the words as they are burning and pour another tall cool one

[saw]

cheers to the pulp that is tongue in cheek, and I'm not talking about the one on your face...ha

if only they were still a dime

[revolutionR]

we have been short changed by trillions.

[saw]

I can picture someone in a dim lit room with gumshoe hat banging on a Smith Corona

[revolutionR]

Apparently there are people who imagine hidden meanings behind
the Tarantino movie, 'Pulp Fiction'.
Oh, and by the way the girl I was referring to in the poem
was a real person, her name was Candy Rialson, or Candice.
In fact, Tarantino modeled a character after her in a movie
Jackie Brown, played by Bridget Fonda, whose character's
last name was Ralston, kinda like Rialson. I met Candy
as a teenager, she was a friend of a girl friend I had. I
never forgot the first time I met her, There was something
about her, like she was bound for Hollywood. She was a very
beautiful girl, it was that first impression that was unforgettable.
She was in a car with two other lovely girls and we were on our
way up to Hollywood, and my male friend was driving. And the
three girls had just dropped LSD and they started singing the
doors song , light my fire loudly.I had not taken LSD yet. Candy
had this light about her, she just was so radiant, so young and
so alive. And then she became a Hollywood film star, but only
people who were into grade B 70's soft porn know who she was.