READING BUKOWSKI'S POEM.

[dadio]

You ran your finger
along the spine

of books on your bookshelf
and took down

Betting on the Muse
by Charles Bukowski

and opened it
at random

reading the stories
and poem after poem

then having
nothing better to do

you got to page 292
and a poem titled

the good soul
and laughed out loud

like a dog barking
in dead of night

and your shoulders shook
and your wife said

What’s so funny?
and you said

Oh just words
and she turned over

and back to sleep
and you put down

the book
beside the bed

and turned out
the light

laughing at the poem
inside your head.

[the mingo]

can't say more than that

[dadio]

Thank you, the Mingo.

[saw]

excellent poem...subtle images paint a picture.....

[dadio]

Thank you Saw.

[Kailashana]

Just what the heck are you trying to say here, Terry?

[dadio]

Ah, yes, Anna. You are a Bukowski fan. We expect to read him and now and then be shocked(maybe) or caused to laugh. But to read a poem of his (especially the one mentioned) and suddenly to be caused to laugh so unexpectedly that others looked at you as if you are a loonytune. That is what happened. Captured and put down. Life's unexpected moments.

[Kailashana]

Usually these unsuspected moments are absolute moments of clarity. With that rider, comes unabated laughter. The humour of all things comes to pass,
again and again.

~A

[dadio]

This is Bukowski's poem mentioned in my poem.

the good soul

it’s not enough that he’s one of
the richest men on
television,
he has to reappear on the
tube
and complain that many other
programs are not
decent,
they are full of obscene
words and
gestures,
or that people are
“anti-social,”
that they should look up
to things that
will inspire
and purify
them.

his own program is
full of cute
children,
well-dressed, well-
fed,
overlooked by a
very understanding
father
and a mother
who understands the
father better than
he does
himself.
they live in a
luxurious home
and at times
certain members of
this family
have little
programmed arguments,
but they work it
out,
become instruments
for a more
loving and understanding
togetherness.

all that I can say
to this
is :
shit, fuck, bullshit,
crap
come here and
bite
this.

[theirishsea]

I had to smile at that Bukowski poem too. I wrote my little Monologue tonight before reading your poem and the Bukowski poem. There is some overlap with all 3. I guess that is beside the point.

Enjoyed your poem & Bukowski's.

[dadio]

Thank you, my friend, for reading & comments.