Charles Bukowski Poems

They don't make it
the beautiful die in flame-
suicide pills, rat poison, rope what-
ever...
...

you haven't lived
until you've been in a
flophouse
with nothing but one
...

I reached up into the top of the closet
and took out a pair of blue panties
and showed them to her and
...

sway with me, everything sad -
madmen in stone houses
without doors,
lepers steaming love and song
...

I read a book about John Dos Passos and according to
the book once radical-communist
John ended up in the Hollywood Hills living off investments
and reading the
...

There are sketches on the walls of men and women and ducks,
and outside a large green bus swerves through traffic like
insanity sprung from a waving line; Turgenev, Turgenev,
says the radio, and Jane Austin, Jane Austin, too.
...

when I look back now

at the abuse I took from
...

I read last Saturday in the
redwoods outside of Santa Cruz
and I was about 3/4's finished
when I heard a long high scream
...