Charles Bukowski (16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994 / Andernach)
some people never go crazy.
me, sometimes I'll lie down behind the couch
for 3 or 4 days.
they'll find me there.
it's Cherub, they'll say, and
they pour wine down my throat
rub my chest
sprinkle me with oils.
Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003
Comments about this poem (Some People by Charles Bukowski )
People who read Charles Bukowski also read
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
William Ernest Henley
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings