2 Flies Poem by Charles Bukowski

2 Flies

Rating: 2.7


The flies are angry bits of life;
why are they so angry?
it seems they want more,
it seems almost as if they
are angry
that they are flies;
it is not my fault;
I sit in the room
with them
and they taunt me
with their agony;
it is as if they were
loose chunks of soul
left out of somewhere;
I try to read a paper
but they will not let me
be;
one seems to go in half-circles
high along the wall,
throwing a miserable sound
upon my head;
the other one, the smaller one
stays near and teases my hand,
saying nothing,
rising, dropping
crawling near;
what god puts these
lost things upon me?
other men suffer dictates of
empire, tragic love…
I suffer
insects…
I wave at the little one
which only seems to revive
his impulse to challenge:
he circles swifter,
nearer, even making
a fly-sound,
and one above
catching a sense of the new
whirling, he too, in excitement,
speeds his flight,
drops down suddenly
in a cuff of noise
and they join
in circling my hand,
strumming the base
of the lampshade
until some man-thing
in me
will take no more
unholiness
and I strike
with the rolled-up-paper -
missing! -
striking,
striking,
they break in discord,
some message lost between them,
and I get the big one
first, and he kicks on his back
flicking his legs
like an angry whore,
and I come down again
with my paper club
and he is a smear
of fly-ugliness;
the little one circles high
now, quiet and swift,
almost invisible;
he does not come near
my hand again;
he is tamed and
inaccessible; I leave
him be, he leaves me
be;
the paper, of course,
is ruined;
something has happened,
something has soiled my
day,
sometimes it does not
take man
or a woman,
only something alive;
I sit and watch
the small one;
we are woven together
in the air
and the living;
it is late
for both of us.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Stan Petrovich 07 July 2011

Who rates the top 500? Bukowski ahead of Yeats is nonsense. He just got drunk and ran from the mouth (pen) !

20 150 Reply
Karen Sinclair 06 November 2012

I for one really enjoyed the microscopic reality of this and the unique angles suggested...

58 3 Reply
Tim Roesch 23 March 2014

This is not a poem. This is a decent short story masquerading as a poem. Allow me to write a more poem like representation: two flies buzzing, circling, Rest! while Two Eye reads a page Two Wings hum and do their best to avoid sudden squalls of rage a rhythmic circling of restless souls locked in an eternal buzzing gyre falling, kicking, to the bottom of the Well seeking solace sought in something higher? Each carefully bereft of a story to s(t) ell

4 38 Reply
Pankaj Kumar 12 September 2013

This IS Bukowsi! ! A plain common people poet. I really enjoy his writing.

19 2 Reply
Charlie King 28 May 2014

Bukowski is the poet. The rest are like greeting cards from hell

2 2 Reply
Bharati Nayak 10 July 2021

The flies are angry bits of life; why are they so angry? it seems they want more, it seems almost as if they are angry that they are flies; it is not my fault; I sit in the room with them and they taunt me----Fabulous poem!

0 0 Reply
Bharati Nayak 10 July 2021

What a metaphorical poem about the little irritants of life bent upon ruining a day!

0 0 Reply
Lyn Paul 09 July 2021

Incredible how you have transformed the fly ?? into a captivating tale.

0 0 Reply
Shakira Nandini 08 July 2021

Very nice Congratulations to you

0 0 Reply
Chinedu Dike 08 July 2021

Well penned...

0 0 Reply
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