Poem titles that are mini-poems (1 Viewer)


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A lot of Bukowski's poem titles were like poems in and of themselves. Here are some long and memorable ones:

- My God, My Mother, Most Holy Thing: Shaken And Awaken The Drunken Hell Of Myself And Save Me!

- Non-Particular And Continuing Thoughts Of Very Little Consolation Against The Knife

- Rimbaud Be Damned: I Have Withstood 99,000 Seasons In Hell And I Still Look Down Into This Glass Wondering, Wondering

- The Fish With Yellow Eyes And Green Fins Leaps Into The Volcano

- I Wanted To Overthrow The Government But All I Brought Down Was Somebody's Wife

- A Disorganized Poem On A Disorganized Day, With Women Running In And Out And The Price Of Beer Up 20 A Can

- This Is The Way It Goes And Goes And Goes "All Your Writing About Pain And Suffering Is A Bunch Of Bullshit" --

- When The Berry Bush Dies I'll Swim Down The Green River With My Hair On Fire

- A Rambling Essay On Poetics And The Bleeding Life Written While Drinking A Six-Pack (Tall)

- When You Wait For The Dawn To Crawl Through The Screen Like A Burglar To Take Your Life Away

- You Can't Get Something Without The Belly-Ache Of A Bullet, And I Guess The Mushroom Now

- In This Place We Eat Apples And Cut Our Fingers On Beercans

- I Am Afraid That I Will Continue To Drink Myself To Death For These Small Reasons Mentioned Here And For Other Reasons That Neither Of Us Has Time For Because I Have The Need To Get Drunk Now

- Getting Ready For A Summer Tan As Suicides Mount In Delaware...

- Death Sat On My Knee And Cracked With Laughter

- The Terror Of Sunlight Is People Walking Through Who Were Long Ago Lost In Intention And Who Have Now Turned To Mobile Shit

- Death Comes Too Slowly Like Ants Take To A Fallen Fig

- This Whore Which Fucks Us As The Calla Lillies Weave In Some September Sun

- A Poem That Doesn't Work But One That I Still Keep Playing With Like A Cat With A Toy Mouse That Won't Become Alive--

- The Whores, The People At Taco Stands, The Bus Drivers, The Cops, The Killers, The Janitors, The Highschool Teachers, The Priests And The Garbagemen...

- A Kind Of Lecture On A Dull Day When There Isn't Even A Fly Around To Kill

- 18 Cars Full Of Men Thinking What Could Have Been

- For Jane: With All The Love I Had, Which Was Not Enough

And my all time, hands-down favorite:

You And Your Beer And How Great You Are

Martin shortened many of the long titles when he eventually republished the poems. But I like the long titles. They're crazy and inspiring.
Something For The Touts, The Nuns, The Grocery Clerks And You..."

"The Days Run Away Like Wild Horses Over The Hills"

"I Was Born To Hustle Roses Down The Avenues Of The Dead"

"These Mad Windows That Taste Life And Cut Me If I Go Through Them"

"I Will Never Ride A Horse Along The Sands Of Normandy Or Against The Sides Of Your Brain, Lilac-Raining Like It is Tonight . . ."

"One Hundred And Ninetynine Pounds Of Clay Leaning Forward"

"And The Mouse Knows And The Windowpane And The Chair"

"The Hell Of It Is To Throw Away Rejected Poems That Seem To Say Something Anyhow Even If Perhaps Not Too Well"”"

"Something In Me Wants To Sing And Scream All Day Long,"

"There is something very ugly about circuses and picnics too-"

"All right, so Camus had to give speeches before the academies and get his ass killed in a car-wreck"

"Doom like those large red lights you suddenly see in the overhead mirror..."

"Engraving found upon the back of a bill sent to me by the Southern California Gas Company, oct. 12th, 1971"

"The vast area of space nothingness with snakes crawling through me and you and everything"

"bet too early in the 9th. and was sent weeping down the escalator and into the parking lot"”"

"the confusion of the gently-damed is the best song going on everybody's hit parade:"

"Note upon the poetic fallacy of Rimbaud and the light shinning through the blinds upon the face of a punk:"

"my doom has wire wheels and girls in light green tight green dresses smile at me"

"a lifetime report from an agent from Mars who lived almost his total life on earth:"

"shoot me in the leg, shouts the sky; some good soul does as the sawdust falls through",
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cirerita said:
Something For The Touts, The Nuns, The Grocery Clerks And You..."
Funny that Bukowski didn't even remember sending Webb Something For The Touts - a poem that became one of his earlier well known works (it was published in Crucifix, A Bukowski Sampler, Penguin Modern Poets, Burning in Water, and at least one magazine appearance).

In this letter to Jon Webb he asks for a printed copy of it -- if it doesn't "screw up your count": https://web.archive.org/web/2020/ht...isplay_man.php?show=letter1964-12-23-webb.jpg

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