Poet: Charles Bukowski

Melancholia

the history of melancholia includes all of us.

me, I writhe in dirty sheets while staring at blue walls and nothing.

I have gotten so used to melancholia that I greet it like an old friend.

I will now do 15 minutes of grieving for the lost redhead, I tell the gods.

I do it and feel quite bad quite sad, then I rise CLEANSED even though nothing is solved.

that’s what I get for kicking religion in the ass.

I should have kicked the redhead in the ass where her brains and her bread and butter are at …

but, no, I’ve felt sad about everything: the lost redhead was just another smash in a lifelong loss …

I listen to drums on the radio now and grin. there is something wrong with me besides melancholia.

---

The Icecream People

the lady has me temporarily off the bottle

and now the pecker stands up

better.

however, things change overnight—

instead of listening to Shostakovich and

Mozart through a smeared haze of smoke

the nights change, new

complexities:

we drive to Baskin—Robbins,

31 flavors:

Rocky Road, Bubble Gum, Apricot Ice, Strawberry

Cheesecake, Chocolate Mint...

we park outside and look at icecream

people

a very healthy and satisfied people,

nary a potential suicide in sight

(they probably even vote)

and I tell her

“what if the boys saw me go in there? suppose they

find out I’m going in for a walnut peach sundae?”

“come on, chicken,” she laughs and we go in

and stand with the icecream people.

none of them are cursing or threatening

the clerks.

there seem to be no hangovers or

grievances.

I am alarmed at the placid and calm wave

that flows about. I feel like a leper in a

beauty contest. we finally get our sundaes and

sit in the car and eat them.

I must admit they are quite good. a curious new

world. (all my friends tell me I am looking

better. “you’re looking good, man, we thought you

were going to die there for a while...”)

—those 4,500 dark nights, the jails, the

hospitals...

and later that night

there is use for the pecker, use for

love, and it is glorious,

long and true,

and afterwards we speak of easy things;

our heads by the open window with the moonlight

looking through, we sleep in each other’s

arms.

the icecream people make me feel good,

inside and out.

---

I thought I'd start a new series where I feature poets I like, by posting two of their poems in one post. Twin Poems will be the name of this new series xD I know I haven't posted my own poetry in a while, but I think I'll be releasing video book reviews soon (here!) so you can look forward to that!! Cheers and Toodles !