DOES ANYBODY?

I really wonder!

In my observations, have we progressed thus far?

Bukowski taught us that we should never hold back!

The fire is gone from our writings, they all seem carbon copies

And the quell is so obvious! That's a fact!

Bukowski got so drunk he had anal sex with a friend!

Now, who admits that but a REAL man!

He wasn't proud he'd invaded that end

But to admit it took a real sense of power!

Reviews

[John the Baptist]

Somehow, I am unable to understand how admitting to the world that you've been buggered is a sign of masculinity. Sounds more like an act of desperation to me. Of course, booze can make us do strange things.

[DESSI]

@John the Baptist, Yes, I guess that's why we have different fingerprints. We see things differently. To me, Bukowski was like an open book. He didn't try to hide things even being defiled and being the defiler. It kind of reminds me of you, John, eater of locusts and honey, screaming out into the wilderness. The daughter of Herodias who was so disgusted by John the Baptist she asked for his head on a platter...and got it.

[Paul Michael Kelly]

Sometimes we whisper, not even to be heard, but because the act of doing so gives some expression to that which is moving through us.
Sometimes we shout, and rage, and yell our truth out, regardless of who is really listening.
I remember Bukowski from the '80s. I saw both in him. But most of all, I saw an honest man.
Is this what we're missing these days, an honest man?

[DESSI]

Paul_Michael_Kelly Yes! We are so afraid to be "honest" we have shut out reality and even destroyed history. Thank you! ...Big E (which is what I call Elon Musk ;) says "so much of history is a lie we don't even know what's true anymore."

[Paul Michael Kelly]

Ah, what is true? what is real? for the individual or for the collective? Who can tell anyone else what their reality is. That won't stick anymore. The child has grown and won't accept the bedtime stories any longer. It's time to wake up and find out for ourselves.
As a writer I've to appreciate the value of the dance of fact and fiction sharing the same sentence. What is real and true? The feeling the reader is left with.

I won't lie to anyone, but I will be honest in my fiction. At the end of the day, others will believe what they're capable of believing. Growth happens from the inside out....

[DESSI]

Paul_Michael_Kelly I love your final sentence, "Growth happens from the inside out...." in studying Bukowski I learned he was beaten with a razor strop by his father almost to death at times. Of course, that would shape someone's growth. He was horribly poc marked from acne and when I heard Linda's describing how all his skin smoothed out just like a baby after he died, it made me realize he must've held inside so much of the emotions he felt until it broke out of his skin literally. We as humans have to vent and IMO that is what made his writing so unique although he obviously did not release as much as he could have if he lived much longer. 73 seems like a reasonable age of an elder to die unless you're a writer and then there is always so much more to pen. Bukowski wrote forty five books as counted and much more. My interest probably stems from the memories of beatings I got with belts, sticks, clothes hangars and I also got grounded for at least a month because I would not say "I love you" to my stepdad. I believe in saying "it's fiction" when there is no truth there. Gosh, you and I could breeze right through a few hours but I have things to finish up before Aunty Gee snatches her computer off my lap, lol. Thanks for your input.

[DESSI]

I read a piece about Bukowski adopting a stray that followed him home and Bukowski fed it so it stayed. Someone ran over it and Bukowski took it to the doctor who found it had been shot, beaten, broken-tailed and probably would not survive but he gave Bukowski medicine to relieve the cat's pain. Instead of just letting it die, Bukowski fed it milk and water off his fingers, he fixed meals for the cat and talked to it while it ate. The cat's back was broken so it could not walk but Bukowski rubbed it and promised it he would not give up on it. The cat finally began to drag its body to greet Bukowski whenever he saw him. Eventually the cat returned almost to normal. Bukowski made sure that cat was in any photos from then on. The man had a good, decent heart. You can read about him on Substack https://poeticoutlaws.substack.com/p/the-history-of-one-tough-m**********r

[Paul Michael Kelly]

Thanks for telling me this about him. I was unaware.