Bukowski poems or passages about death

I want to read a passage or poem of Bukowski's at my father's funeral service. Can anyone suggest something about death or life lived? I know that most of his writing is all about life lived and death pretty much, but I'm looking for something more specific....I can't really think of any right now with everything going on. I was thinking of The Bluebird
because it reminds me of my father but thought about others I could choose from. I welcome any suggestions you may have. Thanks.
 
I don't know the right poem for you, but I'm sorry for the loss of your father.

"Blackberry Wild," what a great, flavorful name.

I'm sure others will come up with just the right poem, and may all be well for you and your family.

Best wishes.
 
On loss: from You Get So Alone At Times That It Just Makes Sense


no help for that

there is a place in the heart that
will never be filled

a space

and even during the
best moments
and
the greatest times
times

we will know it

we will know it
more than
ever

there is a place in the heart that
will never be filled
and

we will wait
and
wait

in that space.
---

On what's left: Mockingbird Wish Me Luck


if we take

if we take what we can see
the engines, driving us mad,
lovers finally hating;
this fish in the market
staring upward into our minds;
flowers rotting, flies web-caught;
riots, roars of caged lions,
clowns in love with dollar bills,
nations moving people like pawns;
daylight thieves with beautiful
nighttime wives and wines;
the crowded jails,
the commonplace unemployed,
dying grass, 2-bit fires;
men old enough to love the grave.

These things, and others, in content
show life swinging on a rotten axis.

But they've left us a bit of music
and a spiked show in the corner,
a jigger of scotch, a blue necktie,
a small volume of poems by Rimbaud,
a horse running as if the devil were
twisting his tail
over bluegrass and screaming, and then,
love again
like a streetcar turning the corner
on time,
the city waiting,
the wine and the flowers,
the water walking across the lack
and summer and winter and summer and summer
and winter again.
---

On overcoming: The Last Night Of The Earth Poems


you know and I know and thee know

[durgelike longer poem...the ending]

as we look at our hands our lives our way
the sleeping hummingbird
the murdered dead of armies
the sun that eats you as you face it

you know and I know and thee know

we will defeat death
---

victory

what bargains we have made
we have
kept
and
as the dogs of the hours
close in
nothing
can be taken
from us
but
our lives.
 
Thanks so much Poptop

I very much appreciate the time you took to find these poems for me...you really covered everything and chose some very appropriate verses. For someone to take time out of their day to search for poems that cover the various aspects of life, death and loss, well I couldn't have asked for a better response to my request. I will be using some of those I think. Thanks again Poptop for your contribution and your sentiments, it means a lot. There's always so much intelligence and artfulness to your posts, again, lots of thought going into them.

Much gratitude...
 
I very much appreciate the time you took to find these poems for me...you really covered everything and chose some very appropriate verses.
My pleasure. No one was coming to the rescue, so I felt it was up to me. Plus I have insomnia, and your name is Blackberry Wild instead of Blackberry Mild. That's a free ticket for a free scan of the volumes of the B. I have left.
For someone to take time out of their day to search for poems that cover the various aspects of life, death and loss, well I couldn't have asked for a better response to my request.
You deserved a response, Blackberry Wild. Your request was that of a gentle spirit, and I got something from typing out the poems: I could pretend I was a Bukowski for few minutes instead of a Poptop for a few lifetimes. (By the way, Poptop isn't my given name, lol; I wasn't actually named after the opening of an exploding container. Does the name Clark Kent ring a bell?)
I will be using some of those I think. Thanks again Poptop for your contribution and your sentiments, it means a lot. There's always so much intelligence and artfulness to your posts, again, lots of thought going into them.
I offered some alternatives to "Bluebird" because some listeners like the metaphor of birds twittering, but might object to the mention of whores and whiskey at a funeral or memorial service, unless you get them plastered first. That can be costly and inconvenient. The one of "You Know And I Know" is one powerful dirge of a poem, masculine and serious. If you want more of it, Poptop will be glad to pop the keyboard and tap out the rest of it. Or you can always take the arms of one poem and combine it with the legs and torso of another, to make a beautiful Bukowskian Frankenstein of your own special devise.
Much gratitude...
You're welcome.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
i am sorry about your dad....

I really like the poem EVERYTHING (The Roominghouse Madrigals):

the dead do not need
aspirin or
sorrow,
I suppose.

but they might need rain.

not shoes
but a place to
walk.

not cigarettes
they tell us,
but a place to
burn.

or we're told;
space and a place to
fly
might be the same.

the dead don't need
me.

nor do the
living.

but the dead might need
each
other.

in fact, the dead might need
everythink we
need

and
we need so much,
if we only knew
what it
was.

it is
probably
everything

and we will all
probably die
trying to get
it

or die

because we
don't get
it.

I hope you understand
when I am dead

I got
as much
as
possible.
 
Top