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A Man by Charles Bukowski   
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Charles Bukowski
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Charles Bukowski
(1920 - 1994 / Andernach / Germany)
139 poems of Charles Bukowski
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  A Man

 
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Charles Bukowski


Poems by Charles Bukowski : 9 / 143
 
  Comments about this poem (A Man by Charles Bukowski )
 
Assorted Thoughts (1/22/2012 7:22:00 PM)
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LOL, Richard
I do believe
That you
Hit
The nail
Right on
The head
Although
It’s quite a
Feat
To make a
Career
Out of
Booze and
Hoes
Well done
Charles
Nathaniel Pitts (6/29/2011 3:13:00 PM)
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The people who are giving this poem low ratings don't understand what it's about. The point is that a man defines himself. He's a blank slate. If he wants to be Conan the Barbarian, he defines and creates himself as such. If he wants to be sodomized by eighty-seven men in the bathroom of the Stallion theater, he does that. What he does not do, is allow himself to be dictated to by anyone other than himself. I can understand, perhaps, taking a few points off from the poem on account of sexism. That may be fair enough. I suspect most of the low ratings are due to the fact that the raters are idiots who have no ability to think, and hence no capacity to appreciate originality and subtext. Good work, proles.
Richard Hexem (3/22/2010 8:57:00 PM)
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I wonder if he ever wrote anything sober?
Louie -Love & Peace- Levy (9/23/2009 8:26:00 PM)
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Are you all writing of something new and self inspiring? ?
There's much that I've seen here on PH and elsewhere
that was not deserving of the effort and energy.
Now? think of all that men have evilly done that
does not have to be written yet well known?

MEN



INHUMANKIND



Mr Charles Bukowski writes like he feels. Are we to censure our own thought filled profanity? Some words are the only terms suitable for saddened, personal emotion. What a very simple way to do a self obituary, NO CONTENT! Just left to be critiqued with literary prejudice and envious manner.

...louie
George Campbell (10/13/2008 11:09:00 AM)
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There are no words in the text to the poem The Man by Bukowski
Alex Klein (1/11/2008 2:21:00 AM)
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Love....make me forget.
Pierre Heed (12/26/2007 2:07:00 PM)
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I would basically agree with Isaac. It's a woman who is turned on by a particular breed of 'masculinity'- the assertive type- but also afraid of it when it expresses itself in the way it was threatening to do- through violence.
It's a major issue in relationships between men and women: how much assertiveness do women want, and how much aggressiveness are they going to put up with, and where's the balance?

Rob's post is genuine.
Blank canvases are a pain in the arse.
A blank post that gets people criticizing is a laugh.
A contemptuous comment criticizing comments in general is commendably pardoxical
Isaac Deville (8/6/2007 9:43:00 PM)
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I don't find the message to be at all confusing or obscure. People always speak as if Bukowski is just some awesomely incoherent madman.

My take on it? 'A Man', as it is entitled, is in reference to when George says, 'Im a man, baby.'
George is violent, sexually aggressive, makes overt come-ons to Connie, and she likes it and is turned on by it. She says he knows how to please women, and his masculine dominance turns her on.'
George is 'A man'.

Wallace, on the other hand, is weak and incapable of turning on the woman despite the fact he doesnt abuse Connie. At the end, she comes back to Wallace and is completely impartial with him, and escapes in alcohol at the bar.

Perhaps George being 'the man' is ironic, in that his hard exterior is what is needed to obtain a compassionate response from Connie. Only after he hits her is she willing to soothe him intimately.

Both George and Wallace hurt. But George must put on the masculine mask of 'being a man' to get anywhere with Connie.

Thoughts?
Eduardo U (4/13/2007 11:34:00 AM)
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Thanks Robert for posting the actual text.
It's deeply human and louder than any overrated silence.
Kyle Fox (3/15/2007 6:54:00 PM)
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This poem reflects the art of his era, that miminalist, Jasper Johns and beyond art. How many canvases hang in our museums with nothing more than a splash or a slash? These artists were asking their viewers to do some work. Bukowski demands the same effort from his readers. You can simply shrug and move on, or you can stop and add something from yourself. The genius of modern art lies in its interactive qualities.
 

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