Something is wrong with me.

Bukowski had stole my soul.

                  Something is wrong with me.

Something is wrong with me. I am like a Bukowski  poem gone wrong.

Bukowski told us, do what you love, even if you must be alone, you must go hungry, be homeless and know hard days. Go all the way or just become a mountain that don't move.

I have become the mountain now, never moving, accepting life as-is.

Once I wanted to save my world, write the great novel and live near the sea.

I befallen and I can't find my real face.

I feel I am becoming more stone and rock than human skin.

Once I drank to feel alive, once I sought war to know I was alive.

Love was never my strength, patience is my enemy and kindness is forgotten.

Bukowski would tell me. "You did a fool's dance for the rich men.

Skinned off your real face and be-face with liar eyes.

Now accepting, just enough.

Remember Johnnie, never trust a man who doesn't drink.

Drink the strong whiskey till you can see,

then, your sleepy eyes can be awaken by the taste of the whiskey.

You will see, you are swimming in s**t."

Something is wrong with me. I have become the Hemingway's ghost.

I need the tropical sea, quiet places and polite woman.

I have none of these.

I need to follow Hemingway's advice. Finish one project and work on one thing only.

End at good open statement so you can find the flow of thoughts again. I need to bleed

to paper.

I met Bukowski once in California in the early nineties in a Tavern. I had a lot of cash and I bought the 

whiskey and we drank. He liked me and he told me. Write hard words, honest words. Make

the people feel your suffering. I didn't know who he was that day. His last words were very cool. He told me,

"you write like s**t, but suffer some more and you will write better."

Maybe I am where I suppose to be? 

Maybe I wasn't brave enough?

Maybe I didn't drink enough?

Dancing Coyote

Reviews

[JE Falcon]

Dancing Coyote, it is always the Bukowski's that get the free drinks and the fame for writing lies and spelling truth. Or is that selling truth? --- When it comes to being a famed poet, it is 50% fate, 20% being in the right place at the right time, and 30% good relatable writing. With me, I've never been where I should have been at the right time, so fate was somewhere else when I sat down at the bar (make that Bars). I'm still working on the 30% after ample suffering, and I gave up the drinks because they were never free. --- So, take heart and be you. Like every great pioneering poet, we have to die before we can find greatness. :)

[Coyote Poetry]

You are right my friend. In life. Bukowski lived okay. He didn't complain. His books sell better today then in the past. Today my life is okay. I have good health and five grandchildren. Thank you my friend for reading and the comment.

[Patricia Wedel]

dear John... there are times when we realize that all our experiences led us to where we are... the good and the bad. The gentle breezes see us through. tenderly, Pat

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you dear Pat. I agree. We land where we suppose to fall.

[Robert Trakofler]

One of my oldest and dearest friends told me that LOL:) he is an amazing artist and also a very good writer he paints every day Like I write every day and the funny thing is he didnt have to tell me that I almost never like a thing I scrawl yet I can't help but keep writing my brother poet:) Chuck is one of my favorites I have never really read another poet that could cut to the marrow like he does in ten words he can make you feel and think like very few others:/ a gift! that b*****d always made me think wretched creature that he was:/ I have done a fair amount of suffering over the years and I don't care to have anymore doses of that miserable cocktail anymore:) I think that a component of pain does give you some of the essential ingredients but more so comes from the hunger and crave of write and just doing it over and over till it slaps you in the face! Liked this one Mr. Coyote I feel a bit of chuck in your lines all the time

[Coyote Poetry]

I appreciate the kindness my friend. Few can write with the boldness of Chuck.

[alisha jonwal]

I am so happy to read this excellent poem Coyote Poetry, thanks for sharing this poem with us.
http://www.dubaiescortstweets.com/

[R.E. Ray]

This stanza truly speaks to me, and it's obviously deeper than drinking and whiskey:
"Remember Johnnie, never trust a man who doesn't drink.
Drink the strong whiskey till you can see,
then, your sleepy eyes can be awaken by the taste of the whiskey.
You will see, you are swimming in s**t."

Your poem is about not only finding your true self, but reconciling your mind to it, even if it's less than you want to believe, or more. I used to think we took one long straight journey and grew with each footstep and mile. I think now (at 52) it's a zig-zag mountain path, the type that rises and falls, often forcing you to cover some of the same terrain. We have certain times in life when we think we've arrived. We have not. We just haven't realized the journey continues, up and down, right and left, until we're dead. And who knows when that will be.

So much richness in your words and the ones you cite from Hemingway and others. Of course, as you imply here, we must not walk in Hemingway or Bukowski's shoes but our own, often through our own s**t. This is a raw and brutal piece of writing and that's the beauty of it.

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you my friend for reading and the comment. Bukowski and Hemingway told the truth. We must learn our truth.

[R.E. Ray]

My pleasure, and I agree.

[Paul Bell]

Definitely, never trust a man who won't get drunk with you.
Like he says, if you're down in the gutter the only way back is up, a bit like poetry and suffering, unsung heroes.

[Coyote Poetry]

Bukowski had some good wisdom Paul. A non-drinker in a bar. He is seeker something. Thank you for reading and the comment my friend.

[Paul Bell]

Just be glad when the bars reopen, this non drinking is bad for your health.

[Lydia Shutter]

Lots of reflection and introspection here, John. As time goes on, we change. Bukowski knew that. Your poetry is so honest....so real. I feel as though I know you after I read each poem. Good work. Lydi**

[Coyote Poetry]

Yes Bukowski saw the real world and thank you dear Lydia for reading and the comment.

[NonsenseTyper]

There is something so joyful in the melancholy of this type of poetry! Something so harsh and so true that feeling it even for a second could set everything into a new and interesting perspective. And that's what you did with this poem. I think all Bukowski poems go wrong... that's what makes them so right! excuse my contradictory statements but "swimming in s**t" is one hell of a way to live life!
I enjoyed your words very much... there is a heartfelt Bukowski in you!

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you for reading and the comment. Bukowski, was one of a kind. Few writers lived the real life. Hemingway, London and Bukowski. They lived their words.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Hard words, bitter life, bottom of a bottle to find peace, a laugh.
Maybe Bukowski had something there...If we suffer enough for a long enough time...maybe
we can write a decent poem....I'll pass on the whiskey...and just write more s**t.
You have a tendency with your poetry, to set me in a chair right next to your table.
I feel privy to the conversation...
Thought I might get him to sign a book for me...but he spilled all over the pages..and ruined that chance.
But I didn't have a pen with me anyway.

j.

[Coyote Poetry]

He sat next to me after the war and I was writing. I bought the whiskey and the beer. He talked to me and he read a few of my poems. He was a mean old b*****d and I liked him. Thank you Jacob for reading and the comment.