Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

the latest collection de poems from Buk.

i tell ya, this one 's as good as any published in his day. poignant and observant and acerbic as hell.

some great lines. including some about hell. (that you can't tell people you are in hell when you are in it b/c they think you crazy.)

including

"poetry is a lie."


(see Anti-Academy thread on art and religion.)

but seriously, there is some of the most misanthropic, yet philosophic, stuff from Buk's stash, and a lot of the classic short story qua free verse poem that he excells at, with the old themes of:
childhood school memories,
race track participant observation studies of the human species, lonely drunken room gloom, working hatred of work, bar room duldrums lead to fighting leads to punch drunk wisdom, etc. etc. always from a new angle, the pain and insight is in, deep within, the details.

Reply to Bukowski's poem To Hell and Back


hell is not an external place
but an internal one
once hell has erupted
within your mind
there is no
returning

just
simply
turning and turning

but

one can seek
to cultivate a garden
of eden within hades

the Lord did this once
and He called it

Earth

one can seek
to cultivate a garden
of eden within hades

oh yeah... the nirvana in the samsara
(or maybe something more modest)

seriously, there is some excellent stuff in this collection.

some random lines i recall, such as:

"when . . . the monkey steals from the accordian man"

[on the train of fools]
"the poet sits in the passenger lounge reading tomorrow's newspaper"

etc.

etc.

OK

randomly clicked to read this topic

have never read Bukowski

but you've given me the drive needed to change that

thanks

there's also a recently done film biography 'bout Buk, it's pretty good if you can find it.

but no substitute for reading the poetry.

no never read anything by him except
for bits and pieces posted here and there.

shooting from the hip, have not read the post just the title.

For some neurotic reason I will not read him. Somebody put a curse on me, said I sounded like him

going to readyour post knowl

on the train of fools]
"the poet sits in the passenger lounge reading tomorrow's newspaper"

Freud was annoyed
Every where he went
A poet had been there first

I think I owe yu an appology Herr e-dog
I took your name in vain yesterday

acerbic wisdom.

caustic humour.

insights profane.