Reflections on the Centennial of Charles Bukowski (Part 2)
just for the hell of it
I remember you
you beautiful son of a b*#%
writing alone and without god
finding your way out of the ordinary
by digging pearls out of piles of shit
and the pieces left behind mounds
from years ago —before you wrote
the epitaph on the tombstone
of all humanity
punch drunk and foolhardy —
you were willing to write anything
to enflame and disgust
every depraved drunk and whore
who read your poetry
out of obscurity —
climbin’ out of the ooze and muck
like a latter-day Lazarus —all for the chance
to be re-released as a car salesman
robbing the empty vaults of banks
just for the hell of it.
Michael C. Seeger
Michael lives with his lovely wife, Catherine, and still-precocious 16 year-old daughter, Jenetta, in a house with a magnificent Maine Coon (Jill) and two high-spirited Chihuahuas (Coco and Blue). He is an educator (like his wife) residing in the Coachella Valley near Palm Springs, California. Some of his poems have appeared recently either published or included in print anthologies like the Lummox Press, Better Than Starbucks, and The Literary Hatchet
2 Comments
Bukowski definitely required a better PR agent than himself. Like they say on the street: only a fool represents himself. Commendable work.
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