Bukowski Could Never Be a Haiku

lived his life
the blinking moon
of neon whores
with too much rouge
happy hour booze
barstool blackouts
always ready
to drink, screw & fight
then go
another three rounds

a mad man
on the underwood
hocked poems
for women
& smokes
for a ten dollar exacta
–never bet on a bay

for a slice
of life that after
8 or 9 beers
just might
get better

lived his life
the ugliest
to get it

(this post got me thinking–may have been inspired here)

6 Responses to Bukowski Could Never Be a Haiku

  1. lissa says:

    great post. bukowski’s such an interesting mix of wonderful and terrible. i think you captured that here.

  2. johemmant says:

    Brilliant, love this Scot……yes, Lissa’s right, the wonderfulterrible,

  3. Bob says:

    Can’t disagree with the ladies, Scot, I think you captured his spirit. Isn’t it ironic that sometimes perfection can only be defined by its antithesis?

  4. Scot says:

    love him or hate him–no in between. It is amazing how many artists are like that.

  5. Scot says:

    It is ironic and you are right about disagreeing–not a good practice. 🙂

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