Having lived LA for forty years I just love the way he uses "Alvarado Street like that says it all because it does. He could find them anywhere and if you took him to Yosemite, he'd find them there though they wouldn't sound like Thoreau (I know Walden Pond was not in Yosemite). I used to see him at Hollywood Park on the clubhouse level, leaning against the back wall with his racing form. I wanted to scream "Chinanski you fucking lunatic, who do you got in the seventh?" But I didn't want to be "that" guy or god forbid try to read him a poem. Besides, we were both at work, me in a suit because my holocaust survivor mother in law was a gambling addict and turf club member, and they had a dress code. We went everyday to gather the crumbs and make our dope habit. If I had told Bukowski that he might have appreciated it or might he have just told me to fuck off! Both would have been good.
You don't even have the courage to be a proper asshole, weakest shit ever! "People" like you is why Edward Abbey was correct that if you can't piss off your front porch, you're too close to town.
This morning, July 4, 2023, I found a copy the American Declaration of Independence online and I copied it and pasted it into a document file and removed from it all passages in which there is no reference to deity. Below is what was left. I capitalized the four references to DEITY. For the life of me, I do not see in anything below, nor anywhere else in the Declaration, how American Christians came up with the idea that America was founded on Christian principles. Many of the signers of the Declaration of Independence, including its alleged author Thomas Jefferson, were Deists. Later in time, Jefferson led the charge to block this home state of Virginia's state legislature from making Christianity the Virginia state religion.
"In Congress, July 4, 1776
"The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America, When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which THE LAWS OF NATURE AND OF NATURE'S GOD entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.
"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their CREATOR with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.
"We, therefore, the Representatives of the united States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to THE SUPREME JUDGE OF THE WORLD for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare, That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States; that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do. And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of DIVINE PROVIDENCE, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor."
There is nothing in the U.S. Constitution about Christianity or Christian principles.
Amendment I of the U.S. Constitution plainly states the US Congress cannot establish or prevent a religion in America.
"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances."
I'm pretty sure I write in plain English when I give it only half a try. You can answer the questions I put to you, or you can keep playing whatever kind of game this is that you are playing. :-)
Last night, a friend sent me several YouTube featuring Charles Bukowski, after I posted at a bog I run my comments under this Bukowski post, and replies to my comments. Today, I woke up feeling bad in my G.I. tract. As the day progressed, I felt worse and worse in my G.I. track. I laid down for a nap and dreamed of a woman friend, who often dreams about me. In my dream, she said she needed a new. laptop. I blessed her out. Then, I heard a heavy clumping in the attic above me, and the dream ended. I called her and told her about the dream. She is an empath. She has no laptop and uses a desktop. So, I figured my dream about her was about something I had written. I told her I wondered if it was my blog? She said she felt the Spirit all over her spine. I wondered if I should take the entire blog down? Then, I thought maybe it was the Bukowski post. I reverted it to draft. I started feeling better in my G.I. tract. I felt better and better there as more time passed. Now, I'm back to what seems normal for me. The Bukowski videos convinced me that he was a really talented man, who was an incorrigible drunk and hated himself and women, and roughed women up. Here is a link to one of the videos..
Yes. Yet, I was born into and grew up in Christendom, and although I left it, I did not hate it, and I very much believed God existed and Jesus was very different from everyone else around him. I also believed the Devil existed. Today, I know they exist, but Christendom has made a mess of it. I met a lot of people who grew up in Christendom a I did, or who grew as Jews, who went head long into the New Age and the spirituality.of India, and Buddhism, and even Native American. Yet, like me, they had an original spiritual foundation in them, and it was not going away, for it was part of them. I became very distressed at a Navajo sacred dance I attended outside of Santa Fe in the summer of 1985, when I was visiting friends from Birmingham, Alabama, my hometown, who had moved to Santa Fe. /They took me to the dance. The woman was all decked out in upscale cowgirl garb and turquoise and silver. I felt I was not supposed to be there, I was an intruder, ignorant of what I was watching. I. decided I never would do that again. And I didn't. I met a woman in. Santa Fe, who said said she had Lakota blood. I enjoyed talking with her privately. ehe convinced me the flood in the film, The Emerald Forest, very well could have been invoked by the young white man who had been stolen and raised by a native Amazon tribe. I attended a fire ceremony she did, but that was the extent of my dealings with Native Americans. I came to think it was a very wrong thing to try to impose Christianity onto Native Americans, for their traditions and ways were part of them, and it was like Christians trying to become New. Agers, or Buddhists, or whatever. Deep down, underneath everything, their birth spiritual roots were still very much alive and in play, regardless of that they thought or believed. I started telling them to consider going into and through the essence of their spiritual roots, and emerge from into something much vaster. That's is what the angels did with me. I loved stories of Native Americans being in Nature, being guided by nature signs, having visions. I had three spontaneous visions in June 1995, in 5 days' time, which proved to prelude me coming out of a 4-year dark night of the soul, which had been heralded in a dream in early 1991, in which I was told, "With respect to John of the Cross, you haven't seen anything yet." It was arranged for me to speak many times to Christians, in and away from their churches. I didn't make much progress, but that was not the point from my side of it. It was given to me to do, and I did it. Sometimes, it's still given to me. New Agers didn't know what to make of me after the angels had me for a while. It was as if I didn't fit into anything, and perhaps that is how it is. The angels made me into a shaman. And then they made me into something else. The tests and trials were horrible. I never used LSD or peyote or anything to have any of the otherworld experiences, visions, etc. It all simply came, and still comes, au naturale. About all the credit I can take for it is I didn't kill myself, and perhaps I can't even take credit for that. Perhaps something prevented me from killing myself, when the going was so awful, so terrible, that I wished unceasing that I was dead.
What a spectacle seeing flaming darts thrown easily by writers… this makes me think that there are some sorts of writings that are like prayers, they must be whispered in intimacy otherwise they lose their magic and they begin to taste like a mouth full of dirt when uttered aloud. And maybe there are writings that are so personal that they should have never been given to the world to eat in the first place for they cause indigestion…
Thank god the tourists here didn't set off too many fireworks, it was almost tolerable. They did leave a bunch of garbage in the park where I take my dog for a walk though.
Sad. I could hear this kind of story in any homeless encampment-- please explain to me what makes this poem special--other than the reputation of the author?
If you're not willing to hear the stories from the underbelly of humanity then are you really the puritan you claim to be? You're following a page that sheds light on the dark as well as the light. They are both important. You have to read Bukowski with a little sense of humor. He's not for the weak-hearted or those who are cursed with a self-righteous attitude.
Didn't say I wouldn't read him-- was just critiquing the poem--wow! Got some touchy triggers here. Are you upset because I wasn't impressed? And where does righteousness or puritanism come in? I have no beef with his choice of theme, use of language or point of view-- just thought it was a poor example of his craft. I've heard these stories everyday of my life- not from poets dreaming it but by real people living it!
Bukowski takes some getting used to, but if you put in the work, you'll start to get it. It doesn't matter if you've "heard the story before". What makes his poetry work is his off kilter cadence and his ability to make you see his people and their situations. He's a natural storyteller
Oh god this asshole, I have had runs in with you before, I thought I had blocked you. Do you think ACTUAL Native Americans lived respectful bourgeoisie lives like you seem to want before the white man arrived? Or did they have stinking urine soaked hides sunning in front of their teepees? (Urine is how you tan hides) Good, you could learn something from how ACTUAL native people lived. Soulless piece of shit!
Animal brains is how you tan hides. If you had blocked me I'd be blocked. And I think the word bourgeoisie applies more to your point of view than mine. You're so cute with your kindergarten attitude and name calling...have a good day. And I blocked you.
You have lived in a homeless encampment? In a tent? You have been penniless? You have slept on dirt, concrete, in doorways, on beaches, in church backyards, without even at tent, night after night, week after week, month after month? You have slept weeks and months in homeless shelters? In vehicles? In spare rooms in people’s homes? In sheds in someone’s backyard. I have. All of that, and more. I never heard anything remotely close to Bukowski. Nor did I meet or hear read or recited something of his or her own by a real writer or poet. Unless it was me. Bukowski is raw, irreverent, brutal, even vicious, and unlike any homeless person I met, and I met and got to know many, he was a really talented drunk. How that all sat with God, I can’t say. But I bet the farm there are no fig leaves in paradise, nor any secrets.
Yeah--I was on my own from early years, so I have. There were times I didn't know who the President was or what year we were in. Didn't see a TV or hear a radio for years. Had all these experiences and was entertained by some of the best poets and singers I've ever heard. Many of t had a diferent experience than you. Many of them memorized their work and never wrote it down. Hobo, cowboy and beat poets and songsters. Maybe the difference is that I was out on the open road. Was Bikowski a city guy? Maybe that's why I didn't get him. Nah, that's not it. I just think the poem mediocre. My editors would have tossed it immediately, but hey- maybe his other works are genius! And I have no idea what the fig leaf reference is about....
I diidn't do the open road, so I can't speak to that. Unlike Kerouac, I didn't have a mother to go home and live with, or send me money, while I rode the rails, so to speak. I did take some long Greyhound trips using money someone else provided. I I always knew who the president was, and 3 nights before 9/11, a familiar voice asked me in my sleep, "Will you make.a prayer for a Divine Intervention for all of humanity?" and I woke up and made the prayer. On 9/11, my concern was President Bush #2 would start another senseless war like the one in Vietnam. It never occurred to me that he would start 2 of them. I wasn't a drunk, like Bukowski, although I did drink beer sometimes, when it was offered or someone provided the money for it. Where I lived most of that time had a poetry guild that met once a month. Guild members recited their own poetry, but not other people's. I recited a lot of my poetry there, it was nothing like Bukowski's. One poem I recited several times, because there seemed to be so much affection for and devotion to what poems were supposed to look and sound like. I'll end with that. As for no fig leaves in paradise, nor any secrets, you never read the Adam and Eve story in the Bible?
Rules
Who invented the rule that poetry must rhyme, have pentameter, be cast into verse? Yes, please tell me who, just who, invented that really silly rule? Surely is wasn't the maker of the first stone- otherwise, there'd be no stones to break all those slaving rules!
Ok, first comes agreement. I don't believe poetry must rhyme or be in verse either but it has to do something more than just tell me a gutty story--I want to see the story. Poetry is the craft that preceded film in allowing others not only to read but visualize. A great poet can provide the reader with an experience they've never experienced emotionally because one can visualize it from their imagery. Anyone can tell a story with line breaks and call it poetry, but I have to be honest-- I have never heard of him before now although his name looks familiar. I didn't have a home either. Just my Uncle dragging around the country. By the time I was 14 I'd hitchhiked back and forth across the U.S. six times. Lived in all the states west of the Mississippi. Yeah, I know about that intense book of historical fiction called the Bibble, and you must be referring to the humans and their twisted sense of sin, along with their father Alien who wanted them to remain innocent, but had a sadistic streak so he tempted them to choose against his dominance--which hurt his ego and so he gave them false modesty and kicked them out of the house like all good Puritan zealot fathers would.... I'm running on74 years, crossed the country coast to coast more than twenty times and met every kind of people the US has to offer-- I'll give you Bukowski any day for Rod McKuen!
So would I, but this isn't my poetry forum. I'm 81, and you've been places I have not, and I've been places you have not. If you are a poet, I'd love to see some of your verses. I was not a poet, until one day I was, as if by magic, the first poem came In 1991. Eventually, there was a flood, it felt like they were dictated to me, and it still feels that way. A couple of months before I was asked to make the prayer for a Divine Intervention for all of humanity, I write a novel in about. 6 weeks time, which I felt was not entirely my work product, but much of it was. There was poetry in it, and I felt the novel was a poem, of sorts. I was homeless, wrote the tale on a public library desktop computer. The storyline was provided by a street performer I met in Key West. When I told him I had lived half of the story the year before, his jaw dropped. Here's a link where it can be read for free, very definitely no fig leaves in paradise, nor any secrets
-https://archive.org/details/heavy-wait-a-strange-tale_202212/page/n7/mode/2up. I completed its novella sequel earlier this month. Here's its link. https://archive.org/details/retun-of-the-strange-v-20_202306. There are no fig leaves in paradise, nor any secrets came out of me in early 1994. As did, God's gifts are not for sale, but are freely given to angels, saints, sinners, devils and fools alike, for all of God's children. I've had the exquisite experience of being shown countless times that God esists, and I've been turned every which a way but loose and upside down and inside out so many times by something a lot bigger and smarter than me, that I can never write it all down, nor how many times I was stood before mirrors looking at me. Even today.
Sounds like you are at peace with your spiritual beliefs and the story you tell is inspiring. Thanks for the link. Some of my poems are here on Substack. Two poetry books on amazon, audiobook on Audible but for God's sake don't buy anything! I'm slowly putting it all on substack for free.... I don't know if being Poet Laureate of my county for four years and being published internationally in four countries makes me a poet-- but with the quality of work all aound me, I'm still hesitant to take on the label. Have a good one.
Bukowski seems a journeyman compared to others who write in his genre of real life. While he just details it, shopping list style--others bring it to life--at least for this one poem. As for the book you refer to, I don't read plagarized fiction.
The Abrahamic Religions have nothing to do with Spirituality. They are committed to themselves only and, as Institutions, dream of power and violence above all else. Hardly an inspiration, spiritual or otherwise.
Sorry-- only an oral reading by the author would convince me of that. Yeah, the line breaks are consistant but the imagery is mediocre and more consistent with my idea of prosetry.
My man, he became a poetic legend. His words are sprinkled in songs and movies and are tatted on people's skin across the globe. You're far from a position to take the stance as a relevant critic.
Everybody's a critic. And we're talking about one damn poem! Just because luck and timing make so many nobody's famous, and so many genius' live unrecognized.... I've never expected the experts to know anything- since the word expert is made of word parts that mean "a drip under pressure." My opinions are my own, as are yours. We live in different worlds. I choose who I admire and appreciate, as do you. As for his fame, Hitler's words were also are sprinkled in songs, books, movies and tatted on people's skin. People are different. Our heros are different. To each his own.
4TH JULY
Jefferson, Adams and Washington
All died on Independence Day, the celebrations
Presumably too much for them, perhaps
Frightened (like dogs and cats) by the fireworks
On the plus side, Garibaldi
The Italian nationalist, was born. Louis
Armstrong, the trumpeter. Gina Lollobrigida
Jack Johnson broke John Jeffries nose in Reno
And the Communist Manifesto was published
My great-grandfather was named after Garibaldi
Having lived LA for forty years I just love the way he uses "Alvarado Street like that says it all because it does. He could find them anywhere and if you took him to Yosemite, he'd find them there though they wouldn't sound like Thoreau (I know Walden Pond was not in Yosemite). I used to see him at Hollywood Park on the clubhouse level, leaning against the back wall with his racing form. I wanted to scream "Chinanski you fucking lunatic, who do you got in the seventh?" But I didn't want to be "that" guy or god forbid try to read him a poem. Besides, we were both at work, me in a suit because my holocaust survivor mother in law was a gambling addict and turf club member, and they had a dress code. We went everyday to gather the crumbs and make our dope habit. If I had told Bukowski that he might have appreciated it or might he have just told me to fuck off! Both would have been good.
Sheesh, that’s a tough poem!
Any day is a good day for a little Buk.
Bukowski sucks.
Perhaps, but you'll never come close. His words have helped more people pull themselves from the muck than almost anyone. Have a little respect.
Ok
You don't even have the courage to be a proper asshole, weakest shit ever! "People" like you is why Edward Abbey was correct that if you can't piss off your front porch, you're too close to town.
You can't be a realtor and poet tard.
Lol, you don't even rise to the level of sucking, your mouth is too weak.
hahahahahahaha!
Hopefully he had enough Ale
fuck all, there truly ain't no fig leaves in paradise
This morning, July 4, 2023, I found a copy the American Declaration of Independence online and I copied it and pasted it into a document file and removed from it all passages in which there is no reference to deity. Below is what was left. I capitalized the four references to DEITY. For the life of me, I do not see in anything below, nor anywhere else in the Declaration, how American Christians came up with the idea that America was founded on Christian principles. Many of the signers of the Declaration of Independence, including its alleged author Thomas Jefferson, were Deists. Later in time, Jefferson led the charge to block this home state of Virginia's state legislature from making Christianity the Virginia state religion.
"In Congress, July 4, 1776
"The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America, When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which THE LAWS OF NATURE AND OF NATURE'S GOD entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.
"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their CREATOR with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.
"We, therefore, the Representatives of the united States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to THE SUPREME JUDGE OF THE WORLD for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare, That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States; that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do. And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of DIVINE PROVIDENCE, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor."
There is nothing in the U.S. Constitution about Christianity or Christian principles.
Amendment I of the U.S. Constitution plainly states the US Congress cannot establish or prevent a religion in America.
"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances."
Yawn another self righteous, puritanical, humorless fundamentalist atheist, zzzzzzz... How boring.
Atheist?
Thomas Jefferson?
Me?
I sometimes tell Christians I know, if they lived in my skin a little while, they might wish there were no God, Jesus, angels, or Devil :-)
What does that even mean? Why is the thought of secular people always such a confused muddle?
You didn't answer my questions and left your first comment more muddled :-)
How can you even answer a question when it is in the context of meaningless gibberish like:
"I sometimes tell Christians I know, if they lived in my skin a little while, they might wish there were no God, Jesus, angels, or Devil :-)"
I'm pretty sure I write in plain English when I give it only half a try. You can answer the questions I put to you, or you can keep playing whatever kind of game this is that you are playing. :-)
Last night, a friend sent me several YouTube featuring Charles Bukowski, after I posted at a bog I run my comments under this Bukowski post, and replies to my comments. Today, I woke up feeling bad in my G.I. tract. As the day progressed, I felt worse and worse in my G.I. track. I laid down for a nap and dreamed of a woman friend, who often dreams about me. In my dream, she said she needed a new. laptop. I blessed her out. Then, I heard a heavy clumping in the attic above me, and the dream ended. I called her and told her about the dream. She is an empath. She has no laptop and uses a desktop. So, I figured my dream about her was about something I had written. I told her I wondered if it was my blog? She said she felt the Spirit all over her spine. I wondered if I should take the entire blog down? Then, I thought maybe it was the Bukowski post. I reverted it to draft. I started feeling better in my G.I. tract. I felt better and better there as more time passed. Now, I'm back to what seems normal for me. The Bukowski videos convinced me that he was a really talented man, who was an incorrigible drunk and hated himself and women, and roughed women up. Here is a link to one of the videos..
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pUeGsTjIj0A
Yes. Yet, I was born into and grew up in Christendom, and although I left it, I did not hate it, and I very much believed God existed and Jesus was very different from everyone else around him. I also believed the Devil existed. Today, I know they exist, but Christendom has made a mess of it. I met a lot of people who grew up in Christendom a I did, or who grew as Jews, who went head long into the New Age and the spirituality.of India, and Buddhism, and even Native American. Yet, like me, they had an original spiritual foundation in them, and it was not going away, for it was part of them. I became very distressed at a Navajo sacred dance I attended outside of Santa Fe in the summer of 1985, when I was visiting friends from Birmingham, Alabama, my hometown, who had moved to Santa Fe. /They took me to the dance. The woman was all decked out in upscale cowgirl garb and turquoise and silver. I felt I was not supposed to be there, I was an intruder, ignorant of what I was watching. I. decided I never would do that again. And I didn't. I met a woman in. Santa Fe, who said said she had Lakota blood. I enjoyed talking with her privately. ehe convinced me the flood in the film, The Emerald Forest, very well could have been invoked by the young white man who had been stolen and raised by a native Amazon tribe. I attended a fire ceremony she did, but that was the extent of my dealings with Native Americans. I came to think it was a very wrong thing to try to impose Christianity onto Native Americans, for their traditions and ways were part of them, and it was like Christians trying to become New. Agers, or Buddhists, or whatever. Deep down, underneath everything, their birth spiritual roots were still very much alive and in play, regardless of that they thought or believed. I started telling them to consider going into and through the essence of their spiritual roots, and emerge from into something much vaster. That's is what the angels did with me. I loved stories of Native Americans being in Nature, being guided by nature signs, having visions. I had three spontaneous visions in June 1995, in 5 days' time, which proved to prelude me coming out of a 4-year dark night of the soul, which had been heralded in a dream in early 1991, in which I was told, "With respect to John of the Cross, you haven't seen anything yet." It was arranged for me to speak many times to Christians, in and away from their churches. I didn't make much progress, but that was not the point from my side of it. It was given to me to do, and I did it. Sometimes, it's still given to me. New Agers didn't know what to make of me after the angels had me for a while. It was as if I didn't fit into anything, and perhaps that is how it is. The angels made me into a shaman. And then they made me into something else. The tests and trials were horrible. I never used LSD or peyote or anything to have any of the otherworld experiences, visions, etc. It all simply came, and still comes, au naturale. About all the credit I can take for it is I didn't kill myself, and perhaps I can't even take credit for that. Perhaps something prevented me from killing myself, when the going was so awful, so terrible, that I wished unceasing that I was dead.
I wasn't commenting on his overall work--just the one damn poem. There are so many great poets to read, I don't worry about the few I miss.
What a spectacle seeing flaming darts thrown easily by writers… this makes me think that there are some sorts of writings that are like prayers, they must be whispered in intimacy otherwise they lose their magic and they begin to taste like a mouth full of dirt when uttered aloud. And maybe there are writings that are so personal that they should have never been given to the world to eat in the first place for they cause indigestion…
Thank god the tourists here didn't set off too many fireworks, it was almost tolerable. They did leave a bunch of garbage in the park where I take my dog for a walk though.
Sad. I could hear this kind of story in any homeless encampment-- please explain to me what makes this poem special--other than the reputation of the author?
If you're not willing to hear the stories from the underbelly of humanity then are you really the puritan you claim to be? You're following a page that sheds light on the dark as well as the light. They are both important. You have to read Bukowski with a little sense of humor. He's not for the weak-hearted or those who are cursed with a self-righteous attitude.
Didn't say I wouldn't read him-- was just critiquing the poem--wow! Got some touchy triggers here. Are you upset because I wasn't impressed? And where does righteousness or puritanism come in? I have no beef with his choice of theme, use of language or point of view-- just thought it was a poor example of his craft. I've heard these stories everyday of my life- not from poets dreaming it but by real people living it!
Bukowski takes some getting used to, but if you put in the work, you'll start to get it. It doesn't matter if you've "heard the story before". What makes his poetry work is his off kilter cadence and his ability to make you see his people and their situations. He's a natural storyteller
Oh god this asshole, I have had runs in with you before, I thought I had blocked you. Do you think ACTUAL Native Americans lived respectful bourgeoisie lives like you seem to want before the white man arrived? Or did they have stinking urine soaked hides sunning in front of their teepees? (Urine is how you tan hides) Good, you could learn something from how ACTUAL native people lived. Soulless piece of shit!
Animal brains is how you tan hides. If you had blocked me I'd be blocked. And I think the word bourgeoisie applies more to your point of view than mine. You're so cute with your kindergarten attitude and name calling...have a good day. And I blocked you.
You have lived in a homeless encampment? In a tent? You have been penniless? You have slept on dirt, concrete, in doorways, on beaches, in church backyards, without even at tent, night after night, week after week, month after month? You have slept weeks and months in homeless shelters? In vehicles? In spare rooms in people’s homes? In sheds in someone’s backyard. I have. All of that, and more. I never heard anything remotely close to Bukowski. Nor did I meet or hear read or recited something of his or her own by a real writer or poet. Unless it was me. Bukowski is raw, irreverent, brutal, even vicious, and unlike any homeless person I met, and I met and got to know many, he was a really talented drunk. How that all sat with God, I can’t say. But I bet the farm there are no fig leaves in paradise, nor any secrets.
Yeah--I was on my own from early years, so I have. There were times I didn't know who the President was or what year we were in. Didn't see a TV or hear a radio for years. Had all these experiences and was entertained by some of the best poets and singers I've ever heard. Many of t had a diferent experience than you. Many of them memorized their work and never wrote it down. Hobo, cowboy and beat poets and songsters. Maybe the difference is that I was out on the open road. Was Bikowski a city guy? Maybe that's why I didn't get him. Nah, that's not it. I just think the poem mediocre. My editors would have tossed it immediately, but hey- maybe his other works are genius! And I have no idea what the fig leaf reference is about....
I diidn't do the open road, so I can't speak to that. Unlike Kerouac, I didn't have a mother to go home and live with, or send me money, while I rode the rails, so to speak. I did take some long Greyhound trips using money someone else provided. I I always knew who the president was, and 3 nights before 9/11, a familiar voice asked me in my sleep, "Will you make.a prayer for a Divine Intervention for all of humanity?" and I woke up and made the prayer. On 9/11, my concern was President Bush #2 would start another senseless war like the one in Vietnam. It never occurred to me that he would start 2 of them. I wasn't a drunk, like Bukowski, although I did drink beer sometimes, when it was offered or someone provided the money for it. Where I lived most of that time had a poetry guild that met once a month. Guild members recited their own poetry, but not other people's. I recited a lot of my poetry there, it was nothing like Bukowski's. One poem I recited several times, because there seemed to be so much affection for and devotion to what poems were supposed to look and sound like. I'll end with that. As for no fig leaves in paradise, nor any secrets, you never read the Adam and Eve story in the Bible?
Rules
Who invented the rule that poetry must rhyme, have pentameter, be cast into verse? Yes, please tell me who, just who, invented that really silly rule? Surely is wasn't the maker of the first stone- otherwise, there'd be no stones to break all those slaving rules!
Ok, first comes agreement. I don't believe poetry must rhyme or be in verse either but it has to do something more than just tell me a gutty story--I want to see the story. Poetry is the craft that preceded film in allowing others not only to read but visualize. A great poet can provide the reader with an experience they've never experienced emotionally because one can visualize it from their imagery. Anyone can tell a story with line breaks and call it poetry, but I have to be honest-- I have never heard of him before now although his name looks familiar. I didn't have a home either. Just my Uncle dragging around the country. By the time I was 14 I'd hitchhiked back and forth across the U.S. six times. Lived in all the states west of the Mississippi. Yeah, I know about that intense book of historical fiction called the Bibble, and you must be referring to the humans and their twisted sense of sin, along with their father Alien who wanted them to remain innocent, but had a sadistic streak so he tempted them to choose against his dominance--which hurt his ego and so he gave them false modesty and kicked them out of the house like all good Puritan zealot fathers would.... I'm running on74 years, crossed the country coast to coast more than twenty times and met every kind of people the US has to offer-- I'll give you Bukowski any day for Rod McKuen!
So would I, but this isn't my poetry forum. I'm 81, and you've been places I have not, and I've been places you have not. If you are a poet, I'd love to see some of your verses. I was not a poet, until one day I was, as if by magic, the first poem came In 1991. Eventually, there was a flood, it felt like they were dictated to me, and it still feels that way. A couple of months before I was asked to make the prayer for a Divine Intervention for all of humanity, I write a novel in about. 6 weeks time, which I felt was not entirely my work product, but much of it was. There was poetry in it, and I felt the novel was a poem, of sorts. I was homeless, wrote the tale on a public library desktop computer. The storyline was provided by a street performer I met in Key West. When I told him I had lived half of the story the year before, his jaw dropped. Here's a link where it can be read for free, very definitely no fig leaves in paradise, nor any secrets
-https://archive.org/details/heavy-wait-a-strange-tale_202212/page/n7/mode/2up. I completed its novella sequel earlier this month. Here's its link. https://archive.org/details/retun-of-the-strange-v-20_202306. There are no fig leaves in paradise, nor any secrets came out of me in early 1994. As did, God's gifts are not for sale, but are freely given to angels, saints, sinners, devils and fools alike, for all of God's children. I've had the exquisite experience of being shown countless times that God esists, and I've been turned every which a way but loose and upside down and inside out so many times by something a lot bigger and smarter than me, that I can never write it all down, nor how many times I was stood before mirrors looking at me. Even today.
Sounds like you are at peace with your spiritual beliefs and the story you tell is inspiring. Thanks for the link. Some of my poems are here on Substack. Two poetry books on amazon, audiobook on Audible but for God's sake don't buy anything! I'm slowly putting it all on substack for free.... I don't know if being Poet Laureate of my county for four years and being published internationally in four countries makes me a poet-- but with the quality of work all aound me, I'm still hesitant to take on the label. Have a good one.
Hasn't heard of Bukowski or read the bible and claims to be some kind of artist, giggle!
Bukowski seems a journeyman compared to others who write in his genre of real life. While he just details it, shopping list style--others bring it to life--at least for this one poem. As for the book you refer to, I don't read plagarized fiction.
" And I have no idea what the fig leaf reference is about...."
Of course you don't it requires genuine spiritual insight, you have none.
The Abrahamic Religions have nothing to do with Spirituality. They are committed to themselves only and, as Institutions, dream of power and violence above all else. Hardly an inspiration, spiritual or otherwise.
Have fun burning in hell.
the rhythm.
Sorry-- only an oral reading by the author would convince me of that. Yeah, the line breaks are consistant but the imagery is mediocre and more consistent with my idea of prosetry.
My man, he became a poetic legend. His words are sprinkled in songs and movies and are tatted on people's skin across the globe. You're far from a position to take the stance as a relevant critic.
Zing!
Everybody's a critic. And we're talking about one damn poem! Just because luck and timing make so many nobody's famous, and so many genius' live unrecognized.... I've never expected the experts to know anything- since the word expert is made of word parts that mean "a drip under pressure." My opinions are my own, as are yours. We live in different worlds. I choose who I admire and appreciate, as do you. As for his fame, Hitler's words were also are sprinkled in songs, books, movies and tatted on people's skin. People are different. Our heros are different. To each his own.
You are just a poor unrecognized Einstein, aren't you, alike all the other losers, sob!
You are a legit flaming asshole.
That he has a soul, unlike you. You are the sort of person who will eat the bugs and live in ze pod because it's comfortable and respectable.
I like lampreys better.
You would because they suck!