crucifixion

now we must select with extreme caution our lovers,

water, foodstuffs and even our visible

air.

it is a very careful time.

our politicians consider ways to dismantle

the worldwide stockpile of bombs

all too late, of course, since it only takes one fool to

push one button

somewhere.

we draw close together, frightened, searching for a return

to a safe

womb.

but we must have been wrong for too long. The asylums overflow and spill their

detritus into our streets

and where our leaders once spoke wisely

they now speak gibberish –

they stop, then continue, look about, addled,

substituting insane slogans for real

speech.

this is the price we now pay: we can’t go

back, we can’t go forward and we hang helpless, nailed to a

world

of our own

making.

Charles Bukowski, The Flash of Lightning Behind the Mountain: New Poems, p. 72.

barfly

Jane,who has been dead for 31 years,

never could have

imagined that I would write a screenplay of our drinking

days together

and

that a beautiful movie star would play her

part.

I can hear Jane now: “A beautiful movie star? oh,

for Christ’s sake!”

Jane, that’s show biz, so go back to sleep, dear, because

no matter how hard they tried they

just couldn’t find anyone exactly like

you.

and neither can

I.

Charles Bukowski, The Flash of Lightning Behind the Mountain: New Poems, p. 73.