The People Look Like Flowers at Last (1 Viewer)

cirerita

Founding member
The title from the last book of poems by Ecco was taken from a poem titled "people as flowers," originally published in Choice #5, 1967. I guess the poem will be included in the collection. Remember that in the last volumen of poems, Come On In, there was only ONE poem pre-1969.

I do happen to have this poem, not a bad one, really.
 
people as flowers

such singing's going on in the
streets-
the people look like flowers
at last

the police have turned in their
badges
the army has shredded its uniforms and
weapons. there isnt any need for
jails or newspapers or madhouses or
locks on the doors....


a woman rushes through my door
TAKE ME! LOVE ME!
she screams.

she's as beautiful as a cigar
after a steak dinner. I
take her.




don't ask me how I got a copy of this poem
;)

p.s. sorry i can't post the whole thing


Rimbaud Be Damned also appears in this collection. ;)
 
Well, I'd be interested to know, since this collection you speak of is not in the database...
 
thats a really great poem. Rimbaud be damned is really good too. They couldnt have picked a better title for his last Poetry collection.

also

"Poem For My Daughter"

"i live too near the slaughterhouse"

"For They Had Things To Say"

"Measurements from the Creation Coffin"

Soup, Cosmos and Tears
This poem previously appeared in Evergreen Review No. 79
and also on the King Of Poets cd and the Bukowski @ Bellevue reading.

I've known some crazy women
but the craziest was
Annette
and it seems the crazier they are
the better they lay,
and what bodies they
have. Annette always lived with
Chinese men
but you never saw them
that's what scared you,
even the Mafia is scared of the Chinese-
"where's the dragon, kid?"
"that's alright. he know's youre all right."
"you sure? when they put the X on you,
you might as well
forget it."
"I told them you were all right. that's all
they need."
Annette had incense burning,
all sorts of charts and weirdo books,
she always talked about the gods
she had a direct line to the gods.
"you've been selected by the gods," she told
me.
"o.k., babe, let's make it
then."
"not right now. I want you to try this special soup
I've made."
"special soup?"
"yea, eat it and you will inherit the forces of
earth and sun, the entire
cosmos."

I went and ate the soup. frankly, it tasted all right,
though a bit rusty. no telling what the hell she had
put in there. I finished
it.
"I feel like a man of steel
now."
"you have inherited the force,"she said,"the gods are
proud of you."
on the couch I finally got hold of
her. under that loose orange gown
was enough woman to kill an
ox.
"I live in that hotel in Paris,"she said."I slept with all of
them. Burroughs, the whole
gang. I knew Pound at St. Liz."
"you slept with Ezra?"
"more than any!"
"oh fuck!"
"go," she laughed, "ahead."

it had been a good
soup. those Paris boys and
Ezra had known a good
mare.
I rolled
off.

when she came out of the bathroom she
had a bottle in her hand and began sprinkling me
with the
contents.
"hey, whats that shit?"
"the tears of the
gods."
"the tears of the gods?"
"yes. the tears of the
gods."
I laid there until she was
finished.
the I got up and
dressed.

"when can I see you
again?"

"in 2 hours or
tomorrow."

I walked to the door.

"you walk like a
poem," she said.
"see you in 2
hours," I told
her.

the door closed. what a man had to go through for a
piece of ass
in this modern age was
highly

suspect?
supposed to be ridiculous

oh well, one of my favorite poems of Bukowskis carreer. I love it very much.
 

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