Cigarette butts and beer cans
Grey paving slabs,
Stubs in the cracks.
Daisies searching
For life
Among the boots and butts.
Gum gobs
Trodden
Into patterns,
Stains.
Dandelions and grass
Against the odds,
Against the wall.
Sorry for existing.
Odour of decay.
Stench of poverty.
Whiff of neglect.
Diesel fumes.
A sodden poetry book
Discarded amongst the trash;
Dirt and litter.
Words
That will never be read –
Pointless –
Essence of real life
Amongst the decay.
A wizened bird
Cocks its head,
Surveys the scene,
In search of meaning,
Of a meal,
Among the beer cans,
Used condoms
Torn tights,
With no need
For Bukowski,
Or his commentary
On life,
Unless it attracts insects.
Opher 27.12.2017
I wrote this for Bukowski. Matt asked me to contribute a piece on Bukowski for a magazine he was putting together.
I reacquainted myself with his poems, thought about his novels and came up with three poems. This was the first.
Reality.