Thunder Sandwich #26 - Charles Bukowski poetry

it's funny, isn't it?

poem #3

I hate to get out of bed

in the morning

to
consign myself to
whatever
is
there.

in the old days
(when I had better

sense)

I just stayed in bed
for 3 or 4 days and
nights.

now

I rise toward that
weary sun

walk
across the room

noting
my toes
hands
feet

realizing that
my survival is
dictated by
acts to be
fulfilled

the first is
pissing
and often
the last is

pissing

we really aren't very
much.

damn the bathing beauties
and the great works of
art

I hate to get out of bed
in the morning.

it's funny, isn't it?

poem #6

when we were kids
laying around the lawn
on our
bellies

we often talked
about
how
we'd like to
die

and
we all
agreed on the
same
thing:

we'd all
like to die
fucking

(although
none of us
had
done any
frigging)

and now
that
we are hardly
kids
any longer

we think more
about
how

not to
die

and
although
we're

ready

most of
us

would
prefer it
alone

under the
sheets

now
that

most of
us

have fucked
our lives

away.

(Ed note: Charles Bukowski submitted 6 poems to Thunder Sandwich in 1986. I was not printing the zine at that time and wasn't sure I would continue, thus I contacted him and offered to return them. He said keep them in case I ever did publish again. In the meantime, the envelope containing the poems was lost for several years. I found it some time ago and will, over the next few issues, use the poems therein.)

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