Friday, September 28, 2012

just to hear me yelp

this kind of fire

by Charles Bukowski

sometimes I think the gods
deliberately keep pushing me
into the fire
just to hear me
a few good

they just aren't going to
let me retire
silk scarf about neck
giving lectures at 

the gods need me to
entertain them.

they must be terribly
bored with all
the others

and I am too.

and now my cigarette lighter
has gone dry.
I sit here
flicking it.

this kind of fire
they can't give

A poem I wrote some time ago - Why Not - which appears in Red Velvet Forest - can still be found on the CV2 website. It was good to come across it, and read it, and not think it terrible. 

These leaves, seem to me to be on fire. 

There are days, you'd give everything to be pushed in, yelping.  


  1. Came here today, again, looking for the heart to put myself back in the chair..."why not"? amidst all this beauty. Thank you!!!

  2. Try to describe the colour of those leaves. It's a little game I used to play when driving all over Hell's Half Acre. It's impossible, but why not try?

    Loved your poem.


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