Charles Bukowski is a poet who "sings" in his poems the voices of all travelers around the world. It's a cigarette lit over the years, millions bottles with beer, miles and hundreds of romances with motel lovers. It is one of the most emotioning voices you can read.
aphorism by Camelia Oprița from Dowry - WordPress.com (9 March 2009), translated by Camelia Oprița
Submitted by Marina Louise Bukowski
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The Poems Come From All Directions
The poems come from all directions
They overwhelm with their meanings and their beauties-
How many voices and names finer than mine
Have there been and will there be in the world?
Hundreds? Thousands? Millions?
It does not matter.
Each of us is only the voice he alone is.
And how strong how great that voice is
Is not given by measuring against others.
If I am nothing and nothing forever
As I most likely am and will be
It is not because there are so so many
Better than me.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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0095 The title of this poem comes at the end
If you’ve read
136 poems
by one poet
in, uh, an hour plus,
which is a stupid thing to do
normally
to any poet
and insulting
if you think that way
at least when you do this
you get an aftertaste
of a sort – you get
tired beyond boredom, or
the guy has only three things to say
again and again or
he’s posing as a poet or
subtly unloading his negativity
or his hatred for life or
exploiting your emotions or
even more subtly pleading
for your sympathy
but no
I don’t feel any of these things right now
I just feel
a huge huge love which
somehow isn’t
just focussed on you and
I’ve even tried to set against this
cold lit-crit sorta thoughts
but no
I see you as a man
who looked the ordinary
in the face
and didn’t want to alter it and
asked nothing of it but was
contented in a way
beyond definition that
I can understand
would piss off anyone
with ambition or
so-called American values
although many of your poems
are the stuff of ordinary Americans
in the bar chatting about life
over a beer in B movies
but I’m thinking that maybe
this is the way God sees the world –
‘this is what you’ve made
of what I gave you and
so be it’
I’m a little scared too
that if I met you face to face
unexpectedly with that
wise beat-up face like a
thoughtful ape I might
recoil or something
and be ashamed afterwards
but I hope not
I just hope that
somewhere deep down
you loved yourself
as much as so many people
and you can read them here
love you
for real
and as is
the title of this poem is
A Homage to Charles Bukowski
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Voices Cryin Out
Voices cryin out, voices cryin out
Voices cryin out in the night hear them call
Voices cryin out hear them call
Its a night
Like no other night
Its a day
Almost turning grey
Its a heart
Like a broken heart
Its a wheel
At the end of day
Its the plight
Of a boy whos scared
Of the waves rushing out
And the wind in the air
Its the sight
Of one longing to taste
Of life
Voices crying out in the night hear them call
Voices from some foreign shore
Visions that seem an incredible dream
Echoing for more
Voices crying out in the night hear them call
Voices crying out hear them call
Its a song
Of a love unsung
Its the pain
Of just being young
Its a cry
Of a voice unheard
Of a face
Speaking silent words
Its the hope
That the time goes by
Take you upon a wing
Teach your soul to fly
Its a wish
That youll live your experience life
Voices crying out in the night hear them call
Voices from some foreign shore
Vision that seem an incredible dream
Echoing for more
Voices crying out in the night hear them call
Voices crying out hear them call
Oh do you know how it feels to be free
Walking your path of life
Embracing destiny one day at a time
Voices cryin out...oh cant you hear them
Voices cryin out...listen please, listen to the future
Voices cryin out...millions and millions and millions of voices
Voices cryin out...oh oh oh oh
Voices crying out in the night hear them call
Voices from some foreign shore
Vision that seem an incredible dream
Echoing for more
Voices crying out in the night hear them call
Voices crying out hear them call
Voices crying out in the night hear them call
Voices from some foreign shore
Vision that seem an incredible dream
Echoing for more
Voices cryin out
Voices cryin out
Voices cryin out...
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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New York
In New York freedom looks like
Too many choices
In New York I found a friend
To drown out the other voices
Voices on a cell phone
Voices from home
Voices of the hard sell
Voices down a stairwell
In New York
Just got a place in New York
In New York summers get hot
Well into the hundreds
You can walk around the block
Without a change of clothing
Hot as a hair dryer in your face
Hot as a handbag and a can of mace
New York
I just got a place in New York
New York
song performed by by U2 from All that you can't leave behind
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nine Voices
Anderson/squire/howe/white/sherwood/khoroshev
On a beach
North africa
Nine tribesmen stand alone
Waiting for a distant call
Waiting for the world to answer
Thru' the night of a thousand stars
Encircled by the light
They began to sing a new song
Of forces that surround us
Nine voices
This dialogue
Nine voices
Singing as one
Nine voices
This dialogue
Nine voices
When the sun came up they sang
As the perfect calendar says
Each had the power of people
Speaking new languages
They gave forgiveness meaning
New ways of letting go
Each child is born for greatness
With forces that surround them
This voice
This dialogue
This voice
Singing as one
Nine voices
This dialogue
Nine voices
Singing as one
His voices
This dialogue
This voices
Singing as one
Nine voices
Nine voices
Nine voices
Nine voices
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nine Voices
Anderson/squire/howe/white/sherwood/khoroshev
On a beach
North africa
Nine tribesmen stand alone
Waiting for a distant call
Waiting for the world to answer
Thru' the night of a thousand stars
Encircled by the light
They began to sing a new song
Of forces that surround us
Nine voices
This dialogue
Nine voices
Singing as one
Nine voices
This dialogue
Nine voices
When the sun came up they sang
As the perfect calendar says
Each had the power of people
Speaking new languages
They gave forgiveness meaning
New ways of letting go
Each child is born for greatness
With forces that surround them
This voice
This dialogue
This voice
Singing as one
Nine voices
This dialogue
Nine voices
Singing as one
His voices
This dialogue
This voices
Singing as one
Nine voices
Nine voices
Nine voices
Nine voices
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Day After Day
She lives in a house
That reflects her state of mind,mind
Organised chaos
In this labyrinth she hides,hides
She got locked up years ago
All these voices whisper
All these voices whisper
Whisper and whisper
And day after day
Marinated in wine and tobacco
All these voices whisper
All these voices whisper and
Day after day
After day
Pink fluffy dinosaurs
Are almost back in town,town
Pulling all the strings
That will finally bring her down,down
She got locked up years ago
All these voices whisper
All these voices whisper
Whisper and whisper
And day after day
Marinated in wine and tobacco
All these voices whisper
All these voices whisper and
Day after day
After day
song performed by by Hooverphonic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Take On The World
You got to leave your seat, you gotta get up upon your feet,
Youre gonna move ya to the rhythm till you never can stop.
We got the power, we got the music, and you bet that you can use it,
Were gonna take rock-bottom, were gonna take it to the top.
Put yourself in our hands, so our voices can be heard,
And together we will take on all the world.
Put yourself in our hands, so our voices can be heard,
And together we will take on all the world.
Move a little nearer, you know you gotta follow your leaders,
As we need you, like you need us for sure.
Were gonna drive you, were gonna ride you,
Were gonna get right inside you,
And if you wanna keep going, just shout out for more!
Put yourself in our hands, so our voices can be heard,
And together we will take on all the world.
Put yourself in our hands, so our voices can be heard,
And together we will take on all the world.
Sing your song, well listen to you.
Sing your song, the spotlights are you.
Put yourself in our hands, so our voices can be heard,
And together we will take on all the world.
Put yourself in our hands, so our voices can be heard,
And together we will take on all the world.
Put yourself in our hands, so our voices can be heard,
And together we will take on all the world.
Put yourself in our hands, so our voices can be heard,
And together we will take on all the world.
song performed by by Judas Priest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Voices Are Back
He saw flames in the department store
He tried to get the people to the safety of the door
There was no fire the voices were telling him what to do
You could see from his face he needs someone
To help pull him through
The voices are back theyre telling him what to do
The voices are back theyre telling him what to do
Ripping through the fabric between his world and the real
Hes trying to protect you but
The knife will know that your flesh meets steel
Took him to an institution
And they helped the voices go away
But he didnt have the right set of papers
So they put this boy in jail
The voices are back theyre telling him what to do
The voices are back theyre telling him what to do
Six weeks turned to twelve
He was locked up for twenty-three hours a day
The warden found him in his cell
His only crime was that he was ill
The voices are back theyre telling him what to do
The voices are back theyre telling him what to do
song performed by by Howard Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Seraph and Poet
THE seraph sings before the manifest
God-One, and in the burning of the Seven,
And with the full life of consummate
Heaving beneath him like a mother's
Warm with her first-born's slumber in that
The poet sings upon the earth grave-riven,
Before the naughty world, soon self-forgiven
For wronging him,--and in the darkness prest
From his own soul by worldly weights.
Even so,
Sing, seraph with the glory ! heaven is high;
Sing, poet with the sorrow ! earth is low:
The universe's inward voices cry
' Amen ' to either song of joy and woe:
Sing, seraph,--poet,--sing on equally !
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Once Wrote About The Bees And The Beehive
on the web, i see you got pregnant
of this brainchild of yours, the beehive,
a project from your heart,
at the center is the child,
instead of the queen bee,
and surrounding still are the
workers, the drones, the soldiers
instead of your lovers,
and you ask for my support
(perhaps some money
but i know they are not that necessary)
you may hint on the songs
about children
my friends shall send you
you may ask for me to read
my poems
over some bottles of beer
or some tea,
there is no problem, honey,
i will be there buzzing around
your beehive
i will ask where the door is
and just hang in there
for in truth what makes me happy
is not that brainchild of yours
but just
you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poet's Soul
I read the poet's souls in the poems,
I read the poet's inner world.
Pulse beats louder, then duller,
And all my doubts are just hurled.
The sadness sometimes a kiss cover,
Then suddenly curled at my feet,
Giving the whole body a heat,
The warmth of a true lover.
Fever passes through nervous points,
Chill runs through the whole body,
I read the poet's souls in the poems,
And feel that the soul is haughty.
I delve into the words and their nature,
Understanding destroys the walls,
Now I would like to capture
The main idea and the poems calls.
I read and my joy is in full swing,
My own soul gets the wings,
I am ready to fly with the singer,
Like me the poet is a swinger.
I am with that one who dared
To plunge into the holy spring naked,
I am with that one who shared
An inspiration and was not faked.
I read the poet's souls in the poems.
But do I read the souls of reality or dream?
Let's deem that no one here and there lies,
And the law of poetry is always precise.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
The 4th of April,2012
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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The Travelers
We're travelers and we have no home,
We're travelers and we are trying to atone,
We're travelers and we have no name,
We're travelers with no one to blame,
Travelers who have no shame,
Travelers who all look the same,
Travelers who still love you,
But we prefer skies blue,
We don't play the game you do,
We also never feel blue,
We only know what is true,
We also know what's good for you,
We don't need your superstition,
We can't believe in repetition,
We don't like your traditions,
We only have our intuition,
We're travelers, we can take the pain,
We're travelers, you think we're insane,
We're travelers, we see your principles sway,
We're travelers, we still love you anyway,
Traveling time, through dirt and grime,
Hoping one day to align,
Our hearts and minds,
Travelers who will leave a sign of better times.
5 December 2012
poem by David Andre' Klopper
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Chant To The Sun
voices of men
like wailing of the rivers
like riding wild horses
and catching wolves
voices of men
strong and determined
for freedom
under the ruling sun
voices of men
cascading like the Niagara
falls
voices of men so alive
muscles of their arms
shining like metals
to the moon
voices of men
friends of nature
chanting
for more love
life
peace and
harmony
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Voices
If only there were a way to find
the return to sanity from an insane mind,
But pills and counseling oh so much
doesn't seem to help those out of touch
with the world about them that you're in
with peace of mind and not the din
of voices you can't hear.
If only the remembrance of a time gone away
could sneak back in for just a day,
But the door has closed on yesterday.
And those voices always seem to stay.
What are they saying? Why are they there?
Where you are it's so hard to bear
the voices that they hear.
If only the world were a different place
where tortured souls would not have to face
the torment inside that is their plight.
Then maybe the voices would leave at night
and find someplace in the universe
to have their say and cast their curse
and rid them of voices they hear.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poets! Who Are We / Why Do We Write
Is it our sub conscious seeking recognition?
Is it our search for fortune and fame?
Or is it that we enjoy the word game?
For every question there is an answer
And for every answer there is a question.
Who are we that we love to write?
So many reasons and excuses that we use.
Are we going thru this. Or feeling that,
or heard or read something that inspired us.
I have come to my own conclusion
As to what a poet is.
A poet is the dictionary, the encyclopedia of life.
Our poems give words - LIFE, DEFINITION
MEANING, FEELINGS, AND EXPLANATIONS.
Words to us is like food to the stomach
It is taken in, absorbed and then let out
For new food to enter.
For what ever reason that we write
We can or can not touch peoples
Hearts and minds, and we feel a peace sublime.
We become the voices of the voiceless
Who are afraid or too shy to speak.
We become the mothers, father, sisters, and brothers
The lovers, the homeless, and the abused.
But we do not mind being used.
New poets join us every day
From every country in the world
I’m proud to say.
poem by Louis Rams
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Beyond The End
Beyond the end
By: jimmy buffett, marshall chapman, will jennings
1985
We are a long way from anything, I told him. up ahead turn left and
Were fifteen or twenty minutes from cancun. turn right and youve
Got a batch of sixty miles of nothing. so who are we seeing,
Where is he and how do we get in touch.
- travis mcgee from the lonely silver rain
Mayan moon was burnin
We saw visions
Of the past returnin
On the shore
The band was playin
We all heard
What the moon was sayin
The world keeps closin in
It has before
It will again
A voice beyond the wind
Says we must go
Beyond the end
So follow
Beyond the end
A sea of friends are singin
Vaya con dios [go with god]
Mis amigos [my friends]
We take their hopes and feelins
To some new world
Well be revealin
Old worlds keep closin in
They have before
They will again
Voices call
Beyond the wind
Say we must go
Beyond the end
And follow
Beyond the end
(guitar break)
Old worlds keep closin in
They have before
They will again
Voices call
Beyond the wind
Say we must go
Beyond the end
Old worlds (old worlds) keep closin in (keep closin in)
They have before (they have before)
They will again
Voices call (voices call)
Beyond the wind
Say we must go (say we must go)
Beyond the end (beyond the end)
And follow
Beyond the end
Old worlds (old worlds) keep closin in (keep closin in)
They have before
They will again (oh they will again)
Voices call (voices call)
Beyond the wind (beyond the wind)
Say we must go (say-eeee...)
Beyond the end
Old worlds (old worlds) keep closin in (keep closin in) (=roy orbison)
They have before (they have before)
They will again (they will again)
Voices call (voices call)
Beyond the wind (beyond the wind)
Say we must go (say we must go)
Beyond the end (beyond the end...)
Old worlds keep closin in (keep closin in)
They have before (they have before)
They will again (they will again)
Voices call (voices call)
Beyond the wind (beyond the wind)
Say we must go (say we must go)
Beyond the end ...
- notes:
Featuring josh leo on lead guitar and jonathan edwards and roy orbison who
Take us beyond the end
The ocean almanac singers are: timothy b. schmit, harry stinson, larry lee,
Sam clayton, wendy waldman, pam tillis, val & birdie.
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am Visited By An Editor And A Poet
I had just won $115 from the headshakers and
was naked upon my bed
listening to an opera by one of the Italians
and had just gotten rid of a very loose lady
when there was a knock upon the wood,
and since the cops had just raided a month or so ago,
I screamed out rather on edge—
who the hell is it? what you want, man?
I’m your publisher! somebody screamed back,
and I hollered, I don’t have a publisher,
try the place next door, and he screamed back,
you’re Charles Bukowski, aren’t you? and I got up and
peeked through the iron grill to make sure it wasn’t a cop,
and I placed a robe upon my nakedness,
kicked a beercan out of the way and bade them enter,
an editor and a poet.
only one would drink a beer (the editor)
so I drank two for the poet and one for myself
and they sat there sweating and watching me
and I sat there trying to explain
that I wasn’t really a poet in the ordinary sense,
I told them about the stockyards and the slaughterhouse
and the racetracks and the conditions of some of our jails,
and the editor suddenly pulled five magazines out of a portfolio
and tossed them in between the beercans
and we talked about Flowers of Evil, Rimbaud, Villon,
and what some of the modern poets looked like:
J.B. May and Wolf the Hedley are very immaculate, clean fingernails, etc.;
I apologized for the beercans, my beard, and everything on the floor
and pretty soon everybody was yawning
and the editor suddenly stood up and I said,
are you leaving?
and then the editor and the poet were walking out the door,
and then I thought well hell they might not have liked
what they saw
but I’m not selling beercans and Italian opera and
torn stockings under the bed and dirty fingernails,
I’m selling rhyme and life and line,
and I walked over and cracked a new can of beer
and I looked at the five magazines with my name on the cover
and wondered what it meant,
wondered if we are writing poetry or all huddling in
one big tent
clasping assholes.
poem by Charles Bukowski
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Seeing Things Not There
Our voices are sometimes muted
on seeing things that are not there.
Witnessing events relived from the past
by people no longer here,
hearing voices we cannot explain.
At first, they frighten us,
as we know not what they are
or where they come from.
However, they hold our fascination
at what only we can see and hear.
Millions of moments from the past
cross our path throughout our life.
Some remain invisible except to our ears
and others re-enact a history
in which they were involved.
The less we talk about them,
the less we will understand
why they pay a visit to only us
when millions of others
walk along the same path.
21 November 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Computer
"what?" they say, "you got a
computer?"
it's like I have sold out to
the enemy.
I had no idea so many
people were prejudiced
against
computers.
even two editors have
written me letters about
the computer.
one disparaged the
computer in a mild and
superior way.
the other seemed
genuinely
pissed.
I am aware that a
computer can't create
a poem.
but neither can a
typewriter.
yet, still, once or
twice a week
I hear:
"what?
you have a
computer?
you?"
yes, I do
and I sit up here
almost every
night,
sometimes with
beer or
wine,
sometimes
without
and I work the
computer.
the damn thing
even corrects
my spelling.
and the poems
come flying
out,
better than
ever.
I have no
idea what causes
all this
computer
prejudice.
me?
I want to go
the next step
beyond the
computer.
I'm sure it's
there.
and when I get
it,
they'll say,
"hey, you hear,
Chinaski got a
space-biter!"
"what? "
"yes, it's true!"
"I can't believe
it!"
and I'll also have
some beer or
some wine
or maybe nothing
at all
and I'll be
85 years old
driving it home
to
you and me
and to the little girl
who lost her
sheep.
or her
computer.
poem by Charles Bukowski
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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