Panda Sex with Charles Bukowski

 

 it was on the 2nd floor on Coronado Street

I used to get drunk
and throw the radio through the window
while it was playing, and, of course,
it would break the glass in the window
and the radio would sit there on the roof
still playing
and I'd tell my woman,
"Ah, what a marvelous radio!"
the next morning I'd take the window
off the hinges
and carry it down the street
to the glass man
who would put in another pane.
I kept throwing that radio through the window
each time I got drunk
and it would sit there on the roof
still playing-
a magic radio
a radio with guts,
and each morning I'd take the window
back to the glass man.
I don't remember how it ended exactly
though I do remember
we finally moved out.
there was a woman downstairs who worked in
the garden in her bathing suit,
she really dug with that trowel
and she put her behind up in the air
and I used to sit in the window
and watch the sun shine all over that thing
while the music played.

Panda Sex with Charles Bukowski

 at one stage in my life

I met a man who claimed to have
visited Pound at St. Elizabeth's.

then I met a woman who not only
claimed to have visited
E.P.
but also to have made love
to him—she even showed
me
certain sections in the
Cantos
where Ezra was supposed to have
pounded 
her.

so there was this man and
this woman
and the woman told me
that Pound had never
mentioned a visit from this
man
and the man claimed that the
lady had had nothing to do
with the
master
that she was a
charlatan

and since I wasn't a
Poundian scholar
I didn't know who to
believe
but one thing I do
know: when a man is
living
many claim relationships
that are hardly
so
and after he dies, well,
then it's everybody's
party.

my guess is that Pound
knew neither the lady or the
gentleman

or if he knew
one
or if he knew
both

it was a shameful waste of
madhouse
time.

Panda Sex with Charles Bukowski plus sandwiches

 having the low down blues and going

into a restaurant to eat.
you sit at a table.
the waitress smiles at you.
she's dumpy. her ass is too big.
she radiates kindness and sympathy.
live with her 3 months and a man would no real agony.
o.k., you'll tip her 15 percent.
you order a turkey sandwich and a
beer.
the man at the table across from you
has watery blue eyes and
a head like an elephant.
at a table further down are 3 men
with very tiny heads
and long necks
like ostriches.
they talk loudly of land development.
why, you think, did I ever come
in here when I have the low-down
blues?
then the the waitress comes back with the sandwich
and she asks you if there will be anything
else?
and you tell her, no no, this will be
fine.
then somebody behind you laughs.
it's a cork laugh filled with sand and
broken glass.

you begin eating the sandwich.

it's something.
it's a minor, difficult,
sensible action
like composing a popular song
to make a 14-year old
weep.
you order another beer.
jesus, look at that guy
his hands hang down almost to his knees and he's
whistling.
well, time to get out.
pick up the bill.
tip.
go to the register.
pay.
pick up a toothpick.
go out the door.
your car is still there.
and there are 3 men with heads
and necks
like ostriches all getting into one
car.
they each have a toothpick and now
they are talking about women.
they drive away first
they drive away fast.
they're best i guess.
it's an unbearably hot day.
there's a first-stage smog alert.
all the birds and plants are dead
or dying.

you start the engine.

Panda Sex with Charles Bukowski

 

the words have come and gone,
I sit ill.
the phone rings, the cats sleep.
Linda vacuums up my soul.
I am wanting to live,
waiting to die.       

Panda sex with Charles Bukowski

Van Gogh writing his brother for paints
Hemingway testing his shotgun
Celine going broke as a doctor of medicine
the impossibility of being human
Villon expelled from Paris for being a thief
Faulkner drunk in the gutters of his town
the impossibility of being human
Burroughs killing his wife with a gun
Mailer stabbing his
the impossibility of being human
Maupassant going mad in a rowboat
Dostoevsky lined up against a wall to be shot
Crane off the back of a boat into the propeller
the impossibility
Sylvia with her head in the oven like a baked potato
Harry Crosby leaping into that Black Sun
Lorca murdered in the road by Spanish troops
the impossibility
Artaud sitting on a madhouse bench
Chatterton drinking rat poison
Shakespeare a plagiarist
Beethoven with a horn stuck into his head against deafness
the impossibility the impossibility
Nietzsche gone totally mad
the impossibility of being human
all too human
this breathing
in and out
out and in
these punks
these cowards
these champions
these mad dogs of glory'
this gang bang of virtuosity
moving this little bit of light toward us
impossibly.

Panda sex with Charles Bukowski

Is a pillow a disciplinary form of some metaphor?
Any way I'm the one who's quite dead now
so please you wear the mask.
I have two to hide my head under?
Mumbling in her nasty girl hole some come calling sleep.
It was not long, after that, it became even longer.
Rolling over the moon and I found the arrow.
It rattled yet but still I found it broke.
And I hummed a song, from first to end,
I found it for the second time in the center of the friend.
It was virus that did the deed
but not the one I thought would be.

Panda Sex With Charles Bukowsky

I am drinking tonight in Spangler's Bar
and I remember the cows
I once painted in Art class
and they looked good
they looked better than anything
in here. I am drinking in Spangler's Bar
wondering which to love and which
to hate, but the rules are gone:
I love and hate only
myself--
they stand outside me
like an orange dropped from the table
and rolling away; it's what I've got to
decide:
kill myself or
love myself?
which is the treason?
where's the information
coming from?

books . . . like broken glass:
I w'dn't wipe my ass with 'em
yet, it's getting
darker, see?

(we drink here and speak to
each other and
seem knowing.)

buy the cow with the biggest
tits
buy the cow with the biggest
rump.

present arms.

the bartender slides me a beer
it runs down the bar
like an Olympic sprinter
and the pair of pliers that is my hand
stops it, lifts it,
golden piss of dull temptation,
I drink and
stand there
the weather bad for cows
but my brush is ready
to stroke up
the green grass straw eye
sadness takes me all over
and I drink the beer straight down
order a shot
fast
to give me the guts and the love to
go
on.

Pandora Problems

Lately I have sort of become addicted to Pandora. I might have posted about this before. In fact I know I posted that video about Three Dog Night before. Anyhoo I use Pandora all the time. I put it on while I am cooking or writing or just sitting around. It soothes me and lets me relax as I multitask. I had always had music on in the background to smooth off the rough edges.

I wanted to put Three Dog Night on because I had been nostalgic as usual. Listening to them makes me think of the old days of the 1960's when I used to  listen to top 40 on WABC AM radio. That was long before the free form hippie dippy FM radio like WNEW and WPLJ became the "cool" radio to listen too later in the decade. WABC played the same twenty songs over and over. Three Dog Night. Grand Funk Railroad. Cher. The Monkees. And these guys:

They had all the old DJ's spinning the hits. Dan Ingram. Dan Daniel. Of course Cousin Brucie. He was so famous he had a guy who sold beer at Yankee Stadium who copied him and called himself Cousin Brewski. They were the soundtrack of your life.

What is funny is when I programed a station with Three Dog Night I didn't get any of those bands. Instead I got Led Zeppelin and the Jefferson Airplane. If I wanted that I would have programed that. Instead I guess they lump everything together in the genre of "classic rock." I wanted easy listening frothy bubble gum rock and I got that stuff. What a pain in the ass. I didn't want to think about getting a Stairway to Heaven. I just wanted to be a Day Dream Believer.

Panda Sex with Charles Bukowski

Red panda could have escaped because she’s horny New York Post By Joshua Rhett Miller January 26, 2017

some people never go crazy.
me, sometimes I'll lie down behind the couch
for 3 or 4 days.
they'll find me there.
it's Cherub, they'll say, and
they pour wine down my throat
rub my chest
sprinkle me with oils.

Then I am ready to party.

A 19-month-old red panda went missing from the Virginia Zoo this week — and officials say she may be roaming to find a mate.

Sunny the red panda was last seen in her enclosure in the “Asia — Trail of the Tiger” exhibit at the Norfolk zoo at 5 p.m. Monday. Zookeepers noticed she was missing during the first check of the animal habitats and launched a search of the grounds, where zoo staffers are hopeful she remains. But she also may have fallen victim to the stresses of mating season.

Pandora listening with Charles Bukowski?

I enjoy listening to music. As we all do. I have eclectic tastes. Everything from Julie London to James Brown. The Talking Heads to Sidney Bechet. Louie Prima to Sinead O’Conner. So I really am starting to love Pandora.

You all know that Pandora is the music streaming app that you can put on your phone or ipad. You simply set up a channel by naming a favorite artist or band and then it streams music of that group or similar bands non-stop. Or stopped only occasionally by a commercial. You can get a commercial free feed for a few dollars more but it is not worth it.

I really enjoy listening to music while I am cooking or taking a shower or just sitting on the couch reading. Recently I have been spending a lot of time in a hospital visiting so I listen with ear phones. It really passes the time effortlessly.

Transpanda sex with Charles Bukowski

BE KIND

we are always asked
to understand the other person's
viewpoint
no matter how
out-dated
foolish or
obnoxious.

one is asked
to view
their total error
their life-waste
with
kindliness,
especially if they are
aged.