turning into Bukowski

 

turning into Bukowski

 

 

 

i fell in love with...

pastured parliaments, mad rivers of righteous clarity

autumns in New England

and Eiffel Towers in the Bronx

that paled in comparison

 

to that foreign one that wasn't surrounded

by graffiti

and hop scotch chalk lines

and disheveled poets

on street corners

trying to sell their words for a few drinks

 

and that spit shine

fella dreaming of collared shirts

and brazen ties

bought for the company Christmas affair

 

and maybe a back room mama

who had one too many,

and was giving something besides

a grab bag present,

or maybe she wasn't

 

and then i blinked

and fell out of love with...

 

imagined pretense

subway thoughts, underground morals

teenage angst

dreams of Europe

 

and strolled ever so pretentiously

into a 9 to 5 existence

sweating ink onto pages

of routine banishment

an exile into a normal life

 

begging for another fantasy

then settling for a drink or three

to forget who i really am.

 

 

erin-cilberto

11/18/15

Reviews

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

It's hard not to feel the pull of reality sucking the marrow from your poetic bones. The mendacity of the routine and life in general have a way of deflating the dreams that struggle to rise to the air. At times, they seem to drift altogether, far away, and you have to struggle to pull them back. For me, I prefer a hiatus to a drink. If I were drunk, I can't even imagine the things I'd write. Well done.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

yes, we are supposed to be most truthful when we drink....so i am careful never to mix writing with the bottle...

thank you, Linda Marie...

j.

[Jimmy Yetts]

Bukowski--right place, right time. Far better poets, I am certain, drowned in Lake Obscurity.
Unfortunately, the 9 to 5 existence is often quite unavoidable--besides, it's where we exist, not where we live. Also, how else would we truly know drudgery enough to regularly and poetically piss-and-moan about it?
Fascinating read!

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind review ...i like your insights, much.

j.

[Corset]

I have always believed the man to be crass, but undeniably brilliant in the essence of humanity the grit of it, the sweat, boose pored skin of it, the dirty sheets of it, the lined and cracked walls of it. He didn't pull any punches.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

he was crass...in my view...and i didn't care much for his work, actually...

thank you for your words, Corset...

j.

[Corset]

There is one poem in particular that I remember, he was talking about changing his locks, the ordeal of such a simple task all he went through trying to get it done, and through out he speaks with his current lady friend who says it's so easy and she could do it for him if she was there, and that was his point of the poem I think, she wasn't there, she wasn't there for him, for something as simple as changing his locks.

[Corset]

I guess the point was if she wasn't there for the small things how could he depend on her being there for the larger?

[jacob erin-cilberto]

true...but wow...he was such an abusive drunk...yet i know he has a tremendous following and i am in the minority of those who don't consider him so highly...

j.

[Corset]

I've never been a fan either but some poets I don't care for on a personal level , I do recognize and can appreciate their talents. :) you are NOT turning into Bukowski, luckily for us, but you are a wonderful poet with an inherent talent that most would envy :)

[jacob erin-cilberto]

you are very kind to say that, Corset.

thank you.

j.

[andrew mitchell]

Fantastic narrative style Jacob. An amazing read this journey you took me on.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, andrew.

j.

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

I know as I aged I began to like things I didn't as a child, and disliked things I liked as a child. With age comes not only wisdom but different perspectives.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your words, Dale...yes, different perspectives...

j.

[emmajoy]

There's both sadness and a wonder if maybe - in these words. jacob. Surely men, especially, come to a place and wonder why they crossed the road of life to get to another side that lost its shine the nearer they fought through the traffic! I've been reading Bukowski this year cos am just an ignorant Brit who hasn't adventured too far into American literature. I found this: ' We smoke and the clouds do not notice us. A cat walks by and brushes Shakespeare off of his back.. (think that's right)... those words made me think that maybe what we do isn't what we seem to do both by other's judgement.. or secretly, what we regret in ourselves. Perhaps.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i like those lines you pointed out, emma

i am actually not a big fan of his....but i surely appreciate your words,
thank you.

j.

[emmajoy]

Your poems are so often adventures for me! Just taken my copy of The Treasures of the Damned to look through - yet again, over the weekend!

[h d e rushin]

I grew up hating his poetry then I figured out that he was talking about me; my life, my
situations in it. The vocative "I" in that final stanza is all of us, dishonest and untwisted,
"Begging for another fantasy"

No way would Bukowski be as proud of you as I am.....dana

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind words, dana...

j.

[Leslie Philibert]

Indeed, a very fine poem that I like a lot ; the central idea of a shift of person great, then the quality of the imagery that shows you to be a poet who knows CB, a poet I have read too little. A great write. my
congratulations.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your words, Leslie.

j.

[Alfred Kukitz]

A long ride into normalcy that are shadowed by boredom and the lack of any fantasy.

Great write!

Regards,
Al

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your words, Al.

j.

[alifeacoustic]

We hope, we dream and then we realise that what we live never quite matches up to what we thought. I think this is a sentiment most of us can relate to and we all forget who we really are. Great piece Jacob.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

so true, alife...thank you for your words...

j.