Teddy.15

Bukowski’s Muse

 

Yes, I admit, my work is never posh 

I don\'t like, fancy poetry 

I don’t need a vocabulary of big words

sending my reader to a dictionary

simply isn’t my style

I prefer to make them cringe and blush

that is where the richness truly comes from right?

pure honesty of who and what I just fucked

prostitutes and dogs galore

 

even one poem that gets the reader thinking

thinking about the magnificent imagery

and emotion from each

un poised line 

waiting anxiously for the next

and in some rare cases

when my reader even becomes envious?

because isn’t that

what poetry means?

and finally… the last line 

that always gives me the satisfaction of impact

 

Bukowski admitted his very best friends

and finest company were Bach and Mozart

and the true reason he loved them

was because they were already dead

 

so maybe, just maybe, right now

they are all together somewhere

composing a masterpiece…

whilst I the muse, am living very happily in limbo?