The Unbearable Banishment: Bukowski on beauty

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Bukowski on beauty

beware women grown
who were never
anything but

I had two requests for that poem. It's short but it really hits the mark, don't you think? Part of what I like about Bukowski is his brevity and economic use of words. Here's a classic. This one got me through many a lonely night.

oh, yes

there are worse things than
being alone
but it often takes decades
to realize this
and most often
when you do
it's too late
and there's nothing worse
too late.

* * *

We decorated the house and put up the Christmas tree on Sunday. It's great having little kids around when Christmas approaches. Their enthusiasm is infectious.

I was assembling my gift list and realized that I don't have to buy a gift for my mom. She passed away in May and this will be our first Christmas without her. I'm glad I'm going back to Ohio. I don't get to go every year and I really want to be there. I hope my sister can replicate mom's marinara sauce. The rumor is that she can pull it off, but I'll believe it when I taste it. It's no small matter to copy a master.


Blogger Sid said...

This year what I've been thinking about often is the difference between being alone and loneliness. Often I find myself sitting with ppl and realising that they're soooo not the ppl I'd really want to be with. Not right now.

December 8, 2009 at 9:20 AM  
Blogger Cat said...

Now that is some poetry I can get into. Simple, to the point but packing a big wallop in the end.

December 8, 2009 at 9:39 AM  
Blogger mapstew said...


I hope your visit will be great!


December 8, 2009 at 10:13 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

OHHH the pressure but you will see mom taught me well...If all else fails we will just have to drink all the Christmas Ale.

December 8, 2009 at 10:33 AM  
Blogger Leah said...

I really dig Bukowski.

I am so far out of the Christmas loop, even for a Jew, that it's really quite remarkable, but it's always fun to hear about other people's plans and festivities. And I like passing the tree vendors on the street, the pine smells delicious.

December 8, 2009 at 10:44 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

i'd rather die alone, surrounded by cats gnawing on my carcass, than ever be trapped somewhere i don't want to be. it's a no brainer. bukowski = genius.

December 8, 2009 at 11:42 AM  
Blogger Jimmy Bastard said...

Bukowski, new to me, but definitely one for my reading list.

December 8, 2009 at 1:37 PM  
Blogger The Unbearable Banishment said...

Sid: You have good insight for someone who is only 27. Happy birthday!

Cat: Bukowski is totally accessible. Start with War All The Time.

Map: Thanks. It's not for another three weeks, unfortunately. Good things are worth the wait.

MT: Maybe we should drink the Christmas Ale FIRST.

Leah: Christmas is cool. And not for religious reasons. Doesn't the city look great in December?

Daisy: Bukowski has a knack for stating the obvious in an elegant way.

Jimmy: I think you'd love this guy. Same as Cat: start with War All The Time.

December 8, 2009 at 3:10 PM  
Blogger Leah said...

I agree, it is very festive all lit up! I love walking around just after dusk. Very pretty.

December 8, 2009 at 3:30 PM  
Blogger Pueblo girl said...

Both the first poem and an earlier one you mentioned on beauty are wise words to people in general, who are frequently blinded by beauty or youth, whether womens' or mens', only to find they don't like the rest of the person that comes as part of the package.

The poem on "alone" made me smile. I, too, will be adding Bukowski to my reading list.

Hope your Christmas visit goes well in the sense of fond, warm memories. xx

December 8, 2009 at 5:03 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Well that was cheery. (the poems, I mean.)

Merry Christmas though.

December 8, 2009 at 5:07 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

this bukowski guy is a penny pincher of verbosity, yet eloquent nonetheless.

...there's nothing worse
too late.

excellent advice...i'm on it. to life!

December 8, 2009 at 8:00 PM  
Anonymous nursemyra said...

and to think, after I'm gone,
there will be more days for others, other days
other nights.
dogs walking, tress shaking in
the wind.

I won't be leaving much.
something to read, maybe.

a wild onion in the gutted

Paris in the dark.

December 9, 2009 at 2:55 AM  

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