Charles Bukowski

(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994 / Andernach)

Freedom - Poem by Charles Bukowski

he drank wine all night of the
28th, and he kept thinking of her:
the way she walked and talked and loved
the way she told him things that seemed true
but were not, and he knew the color of each
of her dresses
and her shoes-he knew the stock and curve of
each heel
as well as the leg shaped by it.

and she was out again and when he came home,and
she'd come back with that special stink again,
and she did
she came in at 3 a.m in the morning
filthy like a dung eating swine
he took out a butchers knife
and she screamed
backing into the rooming house wall
still pretty somehow
in spite of love's reek
and he finished the glass of wine.

that yellow dress
his favorite
and she screamed again.

and he took up the knife
and unhooked his belt
and tore away the cloth before her
and cut off his balls.

and carried them in his hands
like apricots
and flushed them down the
toilet bowl
and she kept screaming
as the room became red


and he sat there holding 3 towels
between his legs
no caring now whether she left or
wore yellow or green or
anything at all.

and one hand holding and one hand
lifting he poured
another wine

Comments about Freedom by Charles Bukowski

  • Rookie - 37 Points Li Po (1/11/2015 8:59:00 AM)

    I loved Jane. I loved her with all of hers impossibilities.loved her the way she was.just loved her.You love or you don't love. there 's no dosage of love.I LOVE.but it gets hard hard.that 28th was hardest.she wore that yellow dress, my favourite.she looks like an angel it that yellow dress.don't get me wrong she always looks divine but in that yellow dress...fucking goddess.but she came in the 3 am with that stink of betrayal.her weakness was to big.she failed again. but THIS time in that yellow was TOO much for me.(it is so hard to love someone more than that one love himself.) it is so hard. I don't drink because I'm weak; I drink because there's nothing else to do. that 28th nothing could save me.i felt trapped in the worst prison cage ever and I've seen them a lot, trust me on that one. my regular hideouts where ineffective. races, bar fights, drugs, alcohol, all the fucking delusions all over the universe could not make me feel better. I was dying waiting for her.teared my soul like a bunch of werewolves.All of this because of my abillity to love.can't take no more. this bars are unbearable I have to free myself. don't want to be a genius no more. fuck that. YOU WIN! ! ! OK! ? ? ! ! I will cut off MY balls! last balls on earth! Tonight I will be YOU; non-loving, selfish, absurd, balls lacking man not capable of loving or admiring the goddess in yellow dress.YOU, yes YOU! I'll be out of YOUR way, I will be SILENT, I will OBEY. it hurts too much, tonight it's EASIER to be YOU; but I will do it myself then; I will not give you the privilege of doing it! I'll cut it. tonight.on 28th. in this poem.YOU WANNABE humanity. (Report) Reply

    Rookie - 37 Points Li Po (1/11/2015 10:18:00 AM)

    In front of you!

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  • Rookie Andrew kopf (12/30/2014 3:00:00 AM)

    SG, I read a few interpretations and one of them seemed quite fitting. It stated that abscising his nuts is symbolic of how the U.S. society is predominantly sex-driven. He wanted nothing but her with his manhood in tact. But without, he only wanted another glass of wine. (Report) Reply

  • Rookie Shadow Girl (6/15/2011 9:17:00 AM)

    Might have to read this one a few more times to get the drift of what he is trying to say here - can anyone enlighten me? SG (Report) Reply

  • Rookie Ross Vassilev (2/2/2008 7:44:00 AM)

    One stupid poem unless it's based on a real-life case. (Report) Reply

  • Rookie Jack Turner (2/18/2007 2:14:00 PM)

    wow. (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: freedom, house, green, red, god, home, night

Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 1, 2004

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