poet Charles Bukowski

Charles Bukowski

#16 on top 500 poets

Mama

here I am
in the ground
my mouth
open
and
I can't even say
mama,
and
the dogs run by and stop and piss
on my stone; I get it all
except the sun
and my suit is looking
bad
and yesterday
the last of my left
arm gone
very little left, all harp-like
without music.

at least a drunk
in bed with a cigarette
might cause 5 fire
engines and
33 men.

I can't
do
any
thing.

but p.s. - Hector Richmond in the next
tomb thinks only of Mozart and candy
caterpillars.
he is
very bad
company.

Poem Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003
Poem Edited: Saturday, March 17, 2012

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Comments about Mama by Charles Bukowski

  • Dr Tony BrahminDr Tony Brahmin (10/10/2019 2:12:00 PM)

    Hector Richmond in the next
    tomb thinks only of Mozart and candy
    caterpillars.
    he is
    very bad
    company.. a good poem. tony

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