Tag Archives: Bukowski

no boy’s poems

no boy’s poems out do Bukowski he‘s fucked us all up   Advertisements

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18-5-18

if I want to love the sky any more I will have to hold the bluebird to me  

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25-12-17

in a dull or aching time I can read Bukowski I can look at a sky and wait for a bird to fill it if a bird sings and I dance perhaps it sings only that it sings  

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just played Bukowski

just played Bukowski loud as AC/DC the neighbors are trying to drown him out unbelievable what people will do  

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18-12-17

I can grow flowers on my wilderness inside myself I not care they see my landscape nor hear the rainfall of my poetry I’m Bukowski ill and I have no air conditioner nor a comfort of love  

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I took Bukowski out me

I took Bukowski out me dangling between fingers a raindrop he tries to get back but I won’t let him I drop him in a meadow and Chuck cusses the flowers  

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singing in that rib cage

go to the cupboard the wrong remedy fall on the ground leaves are falling their small lives given life and afterlife? perhaps into that sad forest tired of Chuck’s bluebird singing in that rib cage  

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