name the poem (1 Viewer)

thebluesman

Founding member
found it!

here I am

drunk at 3 a.m. at the bottom of my 2nd bottle
of wine, I have typed from a dozen to 15 pages of
poesy
an old man
maddened for the flesh of young girls in this
dwindling twilight
liver gone
kidneys going
pancreas pooped
top-floor blood pressure

while the fear of wasted years
laughs between my toes
no woman will live with me
no Florence Nightingale to watch
over me.

if I have a stroke I will lay here for six
days, my three cats hungrily ripping the flesh
from my legs, wrists, head

the radio playing classical music.

I promised myself never to write old man poems
but this one's funny, you see, excusable, be-
cause there''s
still more left
here at 3 a.m. and I am going to take this sheet from
the typer
pour another glass and
insert another
make love to the fresh new whiteness

maybe get lucky
again

first for
me
later
for you.

-- Charles Bukowski, War All The Time
 

Users who are viewing this thread

Top