Charles Bukowski
INSPIRED BY CHARLES BUKOWSKI
(by Scott F., Bognor Regis January 2012)
Inspired by Charles Bukowski.
Christ ,this all feels so foreign,
I pulled up the toilet seat to see period blood
My big windows illuminate darkness into the lightened room.
the curtains are open and the traffic is busy.
I'm still trying to find my voice I guess,
inspiration comes from someone elses style sometimes.
Bukowski defied conventions of Wordsworth and High School Stanza-Epater Le Bourgeois as they used to say in old French.
If your standard is Shakespeare or Formal flowery verse
Well Pompous Literature teacher ,stick this up your arse !
unfamiliar loneliness.Renting a space in an unknown land.
It's not out of unsociableness I shy away
just so far,the boundaries haven't been set.
And I'm nervous of being seen a lazy lowlife or some shit
which isn't me at all.
I don't reckon the radiators on you know
Hospitable household how I love you!
He's a liberal enough guy If ever I've met one
and it's a struggle sorry to say.
I was thinking of home today,
as I lay on my side foetal.
How the fuck am I gonna have the heart to leave one day?
It's shit I've built all these connections
it'll be like severing some neurons to rebuild yourself into Einstein.
Fucking bollocks about that girl last night
her tactile touch melted me, the daft bloody soft Pisces I am.
Shame someone fucked up something devoid of being untoward.
Least she saw I was a genuine guy, but that's not gonna give me hugs at night.
Sincerity in voice seems to count for shit all,Lets all just ignore it
for artificiality,glamoury and bitchy back stabbing.
Fuck me,I've been around my fair share.
Better move my plate.The aluminium trays of the cakes look like sea turtles whose shells have been ripped open by garden shears.
It's dangerous to ask a man (especially a random bastard) what he's thinking..
I pulled up the toilet seat to see period blood
My big windows illuminate darkness into the lightened room.
the curtains are open and the traffic is busy.
I'm still trying to find my voice I guess,
inspiration comes from someone elses style sometimes.
Bukowski defied conventions of Wordsworth and High School Stanza-Epater Le Bourgeois as they used to say in old French.
If your standard is Shakespeare or Formal flowery verse
Well Pompous Literature teacher ,stick this up your arse !
unfamiliar loneliness.Renting a space in an unknown land.
It's not out of unsociableness I shy away
just so far,the boundaries haven't been set.
And I'm nervous of being seen a lazy lowlife or some shit
which isn't me at all.
I don't reckon the radiators on you know
Hospitable household how I love you!
He's a liberal enough guy If ever I've met one
and it's a struggle sorry to say.
I was thinking of home today,
as I lay on my side foetal.
How the fuck am I gonna have the heart to leave one day?
It's shit I've built all these connections
it'll be like severing some neurons to rebuild yourself into Einstein.
Fucking bollocks about that girl last night
her tactile touch melted me, the daft bloody soft Pisces I am.
Shame someone fucked up something devoid of being untoward.
Least she saw I was a genuine guy, but that's not gonna give me hugs at night.
Sincerity in voice seems to count for shit all,Lets all just ignore it
for artificiality,glamoury and bitchy back stabbing.
Fuck me,I've been around my fair share.
Better move my plate.The aluminium trays of the cakes look like sea turtles whose shells have been ripped open by garden shears.
It's dangerous to ask a man (especially a random bastard) what he's thinking..
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