Charles Bukowski

(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994 / Andernach)

Charles Bukowski Poems

1. No help for that 4/27/2015
2. On The Fire Suicides Of The Buddhists 1/13/2015
3. The Last Days Of The Suicide Kid 1/14/2015
4. For The Foxes 11/26/2014
5. My Cats 1/8/2015
6. Hell Is A Lonely Place 2/9/2015
7. So You Want To Be A Writer 3/23/2015
8. The Trash Men 3/31/2010
9. Trollius And Trellises 3/31/2010
10. The Japanese Wife 3/31/2010
11. German 3/31/2010
12. Goading The Muse 3/31/2010
13. I Am Visited By An Editor And A Poet 3/31/2010
14. The Laughing Heart 12/30/2013
15. Gas 3/31/2010
16. New Mexico 1/13/2003
17. The Retreat 1/13/2003
18. The German Hotel 1/3/2003
19. Hemingway Never Did This 3/31/2010
20. Short Order 1/13/2003
21. The Shoelace 4/28/2011
22. My Computer 1/3/2003
23. My Friend, The Parking Lot Attendant 1/3/2003
24. Shoes 1/13/2003
25. The House 1/13/2003
26. The Sun Wields Mercy 1/1/2004
27. The Shower 1/13/2003
28. Layover 1/13/2003
29. The Great Slob 1/3/2003
30. Show Biz 1/13/2003
31. Mama 1/13/2003
32. Crucifix In A Deathhand 3/31/2010
33. Marina 1/13/2003
34. Poetry Reading 1/13/2003
35. Magical Mystery Tour 1/3/2003
36. His Wife, The Painter 1/13/2003
37. The Meek Shall Inherit The Earth 1/13/2003
38. The Worst And The Best 1/13/2003
39. Love &Amp; Fame &Amp; Death 1/13/2003
40. Poem For My 43rd Birthday 1/13/2003
Best Poem of Charles Bukowski

A Smile To Remember

we had goldfish and they circled around and around
in the bowl on the table near the heavy drapes
covering the picture window and
my mother, always smiling, wanting us all
to be happy, told me, 'be happy Henry!'
and she was right: it's better to be happy if you
can
but my father continued to beat her and me several times a week while
raging inside his 6-foot-two frame because he couldn't
understand what was attacking him from within.

my mother, poor fish,
wanting to be happy, beaten two or three times a
week, telling me to be happy: 'Henry, ...

Read the full of A Smile To Remember

These Things

these things that we support most well
have nothing to do with up,
and we do with them
out of boredom or fear or money
or cracked intelligence;
our circle and our candle of light
being small,
so small we cannot bear it,
we heave out with Idea

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