he's a difficult crank, too much bukowski is probably not good for the mental health, but there is beauty in the ugliness. or there is truth, which is sometimes the same thing. revelation.in this book, i keep coming back to "white dog":I went for a walk on Hollywood Boulevard.I looked down and there was a large white dogwalking beside me.his pace was exactly the same as mine,we stopped at traffic signals together.a woman smiled at us.he must have walked 8 blocks with me.then I went into a grocer...

One of my favorite poems by Bukowski in this volume, not anthologized much for some reason. There are others as well- all good and inimitably honest to whatever moment he's writing about, and sometimes humorous. -------------------"Born to Lose"I was sitting in my celland all the guys were tattooedBORN TO LOSEBORN TO DIEall of them were able to roll a cigarettewith one handif I mentioned Wallace Stevens oreven Pablo Neruda to themthey'd think me crazy.I named my cellmates in my mind.that one was...

Bukowski lived a tough lifebut had his funand jesus could he write it down.Real real real.

and when love came to us twiceand lied to us twicewe decided to never love againthat was fairfair to usand fair to love itself.

"precious grenades inside my skull,I’d rather grow roses than nurture self-pity, but sometimes it really begins to tell on me and I have visions of house trailers and hookers slipping into giant volcanic cracks just south of Santa Barbara. "I found out this was another posthumously released volume of previously unreleased works. I cursed myself, I had done it again. Last time was no success, so why would this be any better? Thankfully it is human to err and so I had. This turned out to be so muc...

Reading Bukowski is like hanging around drunk in the broke-down, decrepit, sun-drenched underworld of Los Angeles; listening to Mahler and betting your last five dollars on a horse named after a stripper you used to know. But you don't get dirty or hung-over, and the only ill-effect is a new-found empathy for the damned.

Bukowski is back with another epic collection of idiosyncratic poetry. The poems published in the collection were written between 1970 and 1990, and they were part of an archive that the great poet left behind to be published after his death.As always, it's fascinating to see the way in which Bukowski used simple (and often profane) language in such a powerful way - his poems don't read like Shakespeare, they read like Bukowski talked, and that's what gives them their power. Bukowski wasn't a po...

My absolute favorite Bukowski book. People say he's overrated and too popular now days, and he is...he would have HATED the popularity he's managed to master in death. I appreciate him for what he is: a lowlife waste-less drunk. I respect him for that.

My friend Todd recently recommended this book to me during our most recent book club. Thankfully, my lovely bibliophile hubby actually had this book in his possession. I am not usually into reading poetry--I would much rather make my own bad poetry or scrub toilets, but this book of poetry immediately captured my attention and retained it all throughout.This seems like a hefty volume at first glance, but don't let it put you off. It is an amazingly quick read. I finished it in a couple days, eve...

"I will remember the kissesour lips raw with loveand how you gave me everything you had and how I offered you what was left of meand I will remember your small room the feel of you the light in the windowyour records your books our morning coffee our noons & our nights our bodies spilled together sleepingthe tiny flowing currents immediate and forever" <3

Most reviewers have agreed, there is no middle ground here – you either like him or you don’t. Maybe, he’s not really a poet. Maybe, in his unique and very authentic voice he is sharing his experiences from living on the streets and we have to pick the ones that speak to us.Many, if not most of us, at one time, maybe while in grad school or in the military, ran into someone like Bukowski. If not, well, if it broadens us to understand 19th century Russians – it would not hurt to also share Bukows...

There is very little left original to say about Charles Bukowski.Bukowski is the type of writer who takes you deep into the raw, wild vein of writing and for me, one who exists at the intersection between the touching and the haunting.He is one of the most influential and imitated poets America has ever produced and his poems are executed with all the boldness and audacity of a German expressionist painter. You don't even really need to be intimately familiar with his world of seedy bars, vulgar...

all theories like cliches shot to hell, all these small faces looking up beautiful and believing; I wish to weep but sorrow is stupid. I wish to believe but belief is a graveyard. we have narrowed it down to the butcherknife and the mockingbird wish us luck. In one sentence: Just a man in a room - odd, then, that this is enough to make people read them voluntarily, religiously, unlike almost all contemporary poetry with their bigger brains and better politics and more eventful stories and u

What a title!  I read this during the Coronavirus madness and the title fits that situation perfectly.  This was a collection created after Bukowski died and they've done a good job pulling together material that showed his mood in those years.  From unwanted visitors telling him how great he is to freeloading friends trying to get a few bucks from him to his cats.  Each time I read one of his poems about cats I can see how much he lived his life like a cat, eating, drinking, going after ladies

If you are afraid to break the bubble you are living in and transcending the bullshit, Bukowski is not the one for you. His compilation of poetry is blunt and depressing, yet more real than anything I have ever read. Bukowski has truly nothing to hide and his poetry gets down to the truth. Although he comes off as a very isolated and depressed individual, I can really understand where he is coming from as well as his trouble relating to society. What Matters Most is How Well You Walk Through the...

too muchtoo little or too latetoo fattoo thinor too badlaughter ortears or immaculateunconcern...-from "the crunch (2)"'nuff said

‘What Matters Most….’ is quite evidently one of his last collections of poems; there’s a more somber and reflective mood, typical of a man nearing the end, slowly moving past his regrets, yet with a fire burning bright, deep down.I guess what makes his poems so special is that most of us can relate to them, because he draws out the beauty, harshness and loneliness that exists even in the most everyday situations: at the racetrack, at the car wash witnessing a bird’s death, playing with his child...

This one has some of my favorite Bukowski poems. At the end of almost all of them you are left with the feeling that he has lifted the veil and shown the world for what it truly is.

Excellent posthumous collection.Loved to hear Buk reflect on his childhood, being a young man, jobs and all kinds of things. One of my favorite poems was a poem called, "the poetry reading." Enlightening because I knew Buk, did a few poetry readings to promote his books.Always sage-like and reflective.

you must refuse to join them. you must remain yourself. you must open the curtains or the blinds or the windows to the gentle light. to joy. it’s there in life and even in death it can be there.

If you would have told 16 year old me that there is some literature that they're not yet ready to understand, they would have been incredibly annoyed and would absolutely disagree. And yet, here I am, reading another Bukowski book, after hating Women. And I have to admit, I saw a lot more beauty in it. I felt like I understood more of him, like his vibe made sense. That I've experienced enough of life to see what he means when he's talking about pain or mental health issues (and future me is pro...

this was on my to read shelf but i'm pretty sure i've already read it because one of my favorite bukowski poems (everywhere, everywhere) is in it, unless it's elsewhere, toobut it's all beat up like it spent a week in my purse and i found dried flowers in it(??????) so i guess i havebut i guess i'm still going to finish itthe thing about bukowski is, and i'm pretty sure i said this last time i read a book of his poems, he's overwhelmingly boring. he knew that though. most of his books only have

"I will remember the kisses / our lips raw with love / and how you gave me / everything you had / and how I / offered you what was left of / me, / and I will remember your small room / the feel of you / the light in the window / your records / your books / our morning coffee / our noons our nights / our bodies spilled together / sleeping / the tiny flowing currents / immediate and forever"

Absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful. I fell in love with Bukowski's poetry all over again and I didn't even think that was possible. Happy National Poetry Day, Chuck. I hope you know what this collection did to me and how badly I needed every slice of it.

After hearing that I had to read Bukowski to understand contemporary poetry, I disagree. The level of misogyny to tolerate should come with trigger warnings. I gave the book two stars as the beginning pieces were well-written. I considered one star, but there was skill there. The content, it deserved barely a star.As you read the poems, racism, sexism, and an overall indulgent attitude are themes. Bukowski was a man depressed. He thought of himself as brilliant and misunderstood. Yes, he had an

I love Bukowski, but sometimes it feels like reiterations of the same thing. He's got his general themes: seedy sex, American poverty, back alley transactions, loneliness and despair, and he doesn't stray too far from those motifs. The poems are true to the periods he lived in, and only Bukowski can make stuff like dog fights poetic. There were some great lines, though:"feelin' bad, kid?" he asked/yeh, yeh, yeh/"kid," he said, "I've slept longer than you've lived."-too soonthings get bad for all...

Unlike many of his devotees, I cannot say that I would like to sit and have a drink with Charles Bukowski. I think it is safe to say that from what I know of the man, it would be an unpleasant experience at best for the both of us. Some people, however troubled or misanthropic (good word choice, yeah?) they may have been in life cannot help themselves...they write beautifully. And Charles Bukowski wrote so damn beautifully. His later poems are by far my favorite, the youthful anger tempered with...

I love Bukowski's poetry, but it's also easy to hate it. Or to kind of love it and hate it at the same time. Prepare to be depressed and maybe revolted. This book upsets me but also teaches me a lot about common threads and human nature. I like that Bukowski doesn't give me some sort of academic exercise / intellectual self-massage and call it a poem. He's just going to say what he's going to say -- and it's important or it's not -- and you should just shut up and read it or not. I was moved.

Oh my goodness, I finished a book! I am so proud of myself but I really should take this time to thank the author: Bukowski. Well done, sir. I never thought I would be the sort of person to read a grouping of poems much less an entire book of them but I liked it and now I'm reading others poets so I guess I'm a changed person. I'm just glad my roommate decided to borrow this puppy from Cameron.

I'm not saying that this wasn't worth reading, but I'm giving it two stars because of how hard I found it to get through. While there are a few gems of poetry within this collection; I found largely they did not interest me and weren't my preferred style of poetry at all.