each man must realize
that it can all disappear very
quickly:
the cat, the woman, the job,
the front tire,
the bed, the walls, the
room; all our necessities
including love,
rest on foundations of sand -
and any given cause,
no matter how unrelated:
the death of a boy in Hong Kong
or a blizzard in Omaha ...
can serve as your undoing.
all your chinaware crashing to the
kitchen floor, your girl will enter
and you'll be standing, drunk,
in the center of it and she'll ask:
my god, what's the matter?
and you'll answer: I don't know,
I don't know ...
Well they are both writers so it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to compare them would it, I think it was fairly obvious I was saying Shakespeare is quite a good one and Bukowski not so much. And Doug surely this is a place to comment the poem rather than insult people.
What a great poem blunt but also heart breakingly sad i know i've been there!
I love this poem because it depicts how haphazard life can be to those living it.
This is perhaps one of the most truthful pieces I've had the pleasure of stumbling across.
Larry, I do believe this is a place to make comments on the poem, rather than insult people, including the poet. Your claims have little to back them up. But it's okay, your ability to hate this man and his poetry just makes me love him all the more.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
As much as I hate him, I think 50 Cent has written better 'poetry' than this garbage. There's nothing poetic about listing a series of words such as cat, woman and job and then recounting stupid events other than the fact that a new line starts mid sentence. This man's no Shakespeare rather a fool.
Either you get it, or you don't. You don't.