bukowski
lived his life
under
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
banging
on the underwood
bukowski
hocked poems
for women
whiskey
& 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
bukowski
lived his life
the ugliest
drunken
bastard
ever
to get it
right
(this post got me thinking–may have been inspired here)
Be Not Inhospitable to Strangers 
great post. bukowski’s such an interesting mix of wonderful and terrible. i think you captured that here.
Brilliant, love this Scot……yes, Lissa’s right, the wonderfulterrible,
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?
thanks lissa
Jo
love him or hate him–no in between. It is amazing how many artists are like that.
Bob
It is ironic and you are right about disagreeing–not a good practice. 🙂