Charles Bukowski

(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994 / Andernach)

Alone With Everybody - Poem by Charles Bukowski

the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
much
and nobody finds the
one
but keep
looking
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than
flesh.

there's no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular
fate.

nobody ever finds
the one.

the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill

nothing else
fills.


Anonymous submission.


Comments about Alone With Everybody by Charles Bukowski

  • Oratile Diratsagae (4/15/2017 2:52:00 AM)


    this is good. peace (Report) Reply

    2 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Sylva-onyema Uba (2/23/2017 1:46:00 PM)


    the flesh covers the bone
    and they put a mind
    in there...

    Well written and communicated.

    Sylva
    (Report) Reply

  • Robert Murray Smith (2/19/2017 8:26:00 PM)


    A very clever poem full of stark reality.++10 (Report) Reply

  • (11/23/2016 3:53:00 PM)


    (Alone With Everybody - Poem by Charles Bukowski.) **In the midst of a crowd, sometimes we feel alone. And tho’ close to others, still we can experience such aloneness. (Report) Reply

  • Shareq Rahman (11/19/2016 12:44:00 AM)

    Flesh searching for more than flesh.
    When you are done with searching for flesh you want something more. It could be a 'pristine environment', good friends and relatives or the spiritual. (Report) Reply

  • Neptune Barman (10/12/2016 8:04:00 AM)


    Amazing thinking in the poetry (Report) Reply

  • Mohammad Maleki (8/25/2016 12:26:00 AM)


    Nobody ever find one.
    we are doomed to everlasting ambiguity of life.harmony is nothing but, mere illusion of humanity.
    We are living in a sort of eternal contrasts and perhaps it's a benison which is granted to humanity that enhance their beauty in relationships.
    (Report) Reply

  • (8/15/2016 10:18:00 AM)


    We are all trapped by a singular fate......The poem itself is a dedication to humanity. (Report) Reply

  • (4/24/2016 12:06:00 AM)


    We are all trapped
    by a singular fate.
    A beautifully conceived poem with deep meaning. Thanks for sharing it here.
    (Report) Reply

  • Susan Williams (4/23/2016 3:24:00 PM)


    Pessimism? Possibly. However, if you live in certain parts of the big cities, in certain sub-cultures, if you live by your own wits, this poem may not reflect pessimism but realism. Based on the experiences of our life, we all have expectations about life in the future. If you see the worst of the worst everyday spilling out on the streets, it would be intelligent to expect to see it spill out on the streets tomorrow. If you move to a higher tone neighborhood, you would probably see signs of the same poverty of the soul except kept under wraps better, kept wrapped in a pretty
    package too. The crawling in and out of beds would be spoken of in more elevated terms- -like exploring one's sexuality or dating.
    (Report) Reply

  • Edward Kofi Louis (4/23/2016 2:57:00 PM)


    Crawling in and out of beds! Thanks for sharing. (Report) Reply

  • Subhas Chandra Chakra (4/23/2016 11:35:00 AM)


    Thanks for the beautiful poem clad with a pessimistic veil but a great truth.
    I loved the poem.
    (Report) Reply

  • (4/23/2016 10:38:00 AM)


    I feel the pessimism expression that makes in this poem. Wonderfully written. (Report) Reply

  • (4/23/2016 8:14:00 AM)


    Even in its pessimistic view the poem is beautiful. (Report) Reply

  • Alem Hailu G/kristos (4/23/2016 7:24:00 AM)


    What a poem so ironic.My hat is flown for you Charles Bukowski. (Report) Reply

  • Alem Hailu G/kristos (4/23/2016 7:23:00 AM)


    What a poem.So ironic.Charles Bukowski my hat is flown for you! (Report) Reply

  • Barry Middleton (4/23/2016 7:11:00 AM)


    I have to love Bukowski's nihilism. (Report) Reply

  • Kim Barney (4/23/2016 1:11:00 AM)


    Typical of Bukowski's work. Nobody else could do it quite like he could. He was the original hippie poet. Read his biography if you haven't already done so; it's fascinating. (Report) Reply

  • (4/11/2016 7:22:00 AM)


    I liked it's very touched to heart (Report) Reply

  • (4/10/2016 1:53:00 AM)


    What spirit! It rings with the casualness and truculence and respect for things of the inner life - from the first word to the last. I had never heard of Bukowski until last year or the year before - I think he died then and Newsweek or Time caught his name off some (Iʻm tempted to think) indifferent small town paper. The article said he was a poet, and was poor, lived (it was suggested) off the streets....and so on, the kinds of things that well dressed, normal people love to show how, thank-god, not everybody does that kind of thing, even for poetry.
    Here is a wonderful poet. Unmistakably the best among American poets.
    (Report) Reply

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# 32 poem on top 500 Poems

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What do you think this poem is about?

Read poems about / on: women, city, sometimes, fate, alone, woman



Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 1, 2004



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