Fuckin Bukowski, by pd lyons – with regards to the day that’s in it.

i never knew  Bukowski. i hadn’t even heard of him for most of my life. i think i was 52 when i first read anything by him – despite work of mine appearing in print with his back in the early 80’s . i knew little about his real life but what came from the poetry (never read a novel by him) – i don’t remember his words but i still remember the rush of honest poetry i discovered there – how beauty cannot be subdued by drink drugs abuse of any kind. how the humanity of the human spirit will not be denied – even if the only place it can manifest is in the fact of not killing the cat who pisses all over you while you’re sleeping one off in bed.

the following poem was published by Caliope Nerve in October 2009, http://calliopenerve.blogspot.ie/search/label/PD%20Lyons  it was probably written in 06-07 :

 

Fuckin Bukowski

Idiot me picks now

6000 miles away at 52

To discover him

Still glad I didn’t stay in Waterbury

Find him sooner

Probably still be pukeing

Out in the after last call

Parking lot of now what am I gonna do

Or else back in jail

Or else still with one of the xes

Or else not even alive

~

Tonight just had a chicken and ham sandwich on rye

And its sometime after midnight

And I’ll probably still be up @ 6 maybe half 6

Do some yoga make coffee for the wife

Bring it to her in bed

Get some pancakes going for the kid

And be happy to do so

~

No not envious

Not regretful

Rather peaceful

Glad to be out of it

That’s the kind of poet I’m happy to live with

Now.

 

 

 

Fuckin Bukowski, by pd lyons – with regards to the day that’s in it.

i never knew  Bukowski. i hadn’t even heard of him for most of my life. i think i was 52 when i first read anything by him – despite work of mine appearing in print with his back in the early 80’s . i knew little about his real life but what came from the poetry (never read a novel by him) – i don’t remember his words but i still remember the rush of honest poetry i discovered there – how beauty cannot be subdued by drink drugs abuse of any kind. how the humanity of the human spirit will not be denied – even if the only place it can manifest is in the fact of not killing the cat who pisses all over you while you’re sleeping one off in bed.

the following poem was published by Caliope Nerve in October 2009, http://calliopenerve.blogspot.ie/search/label/PD%20Lyons  it was probably written in 06-07 :

 

Fuckin Bukowski

Idiot me picks now

6000 miles away at 52

To discover him

Still glad I didn’t stay in Waterbury

Find him sooner

Probably still be pukeing

Out in the after last call

Parking lot of now what am I gonna do

Or else back in jail

Or else still with one of the xes

Or else not even alive

~

Tonight just had a chicken and ham sandwich on rye

And its sometime after midnight

And I’ll probably still be up @ 6 maybe half 6

Do some yoga make coffee for the wife

Bring it to her in bed

Get some pancakes going for the kid

And be happy to do so

~

No not envious

Not regretful

Rather peaceful

Glad to be out of it

That’s the kind of poet I’m happy to live with

Now.

 

 

 

Fuckin Bukowski, by pd lyons ( again )

( i kinda like this one, thats why i’m posting it again. different pictures though!)

i never knew  Bukowski. i hadn’t even heard of him for most of my life. i think i was 52 when i first read anything by him – despite work of mine appearing in print with his back in the early 80’s . i knew little about his  “real”  life but what came from the poetry (never read a novel by him) – i don’t remember his words but i still remember the rush of honest poetry i discovered there – how beauty cannot be subdued by drink drugs abuse of any kind. how the humanity of the human spirit will not be denied – even if the only place it can manifest is in the fact of not killing the cat who pisses all over you while you’re sleeping one off in bed.

the following poem was published by Caliope Nerve in October 2009, http://calliopenerve.blogspot.ie/search/label/PD%20Lyons  it was probably written in 06-07 :

 

Fuckin Bukowski

Idiot me picks now

6000 miles away at 52

To discover him

Still glad I didn’t stay in Waterbury

Find him sooner

Probably still be pukeing

Out in the after last call

Parking lot of now what am I gonna do

Or else back in jail

Or else still with one of the xes

Or else not even alive

~

Tonight just had a chicken and ham sandwich on rye

And its sometime after midnight

And I’ll probably still be up @ 6 maybe half 6

Do some yoga make coffee for the wife

Bring it to her in bed

Get some pancakes going for the kid

And be happy to do so

~

No not envious

Not regretful

Rather peaceful

Glad to be out of it

That’s the kind of poet I’m happy to live with

Now.

 

Fuckin Bukowski, by pd lyons – with regards to the day that’s in it.

i never knew  Bukowski. i hadn’t even heard of him for most of my life. i think i was 52 when i first read anything by him – despite work of mine appearing in print with his back in the early 80’s . i knew little about his real life but what came from the poetry (never read a novel by him) – i don’t remember his words but i still remember the rush of honest poetry i discovered there – how beauty cannot be subdued by drink drugs abuse of any kind. how the humanity of the human spirit will not be denied – even if the only place it can manifest is in the fact of not killing the cat who pisses all over you while you’re sleeping one off in bed.

the following poem was published by Caliope Nerve in October 2009, http://calliopenerve.blogspot.ie/search/label/PD%20Lyons  it was probably written in 06-07 :

 

Fuckin Bukowski

Idiot me picks now

6000 miles away at 52

To discover him

Still glad I didn’t stay in Waterbury

Find him sooner

Probably still be pukeing

Out in the after last call

Parking lot of now what am I gonna do

Or else back in jail

Or else still with one of the xes

Or else not even alive

~

Tonight just had a chicken and ham sandwich on rye

And its sometime after midnight

And I’ll probably still be up @ 6 maybe half 6

Do some yoga make coffee for the wife

Bring it to her in bed

Get some pancakes going for the kid

And be happy to do so

~

No not envious

Not regretful

Rather peaceful

Glad to be out of it

That’s the kind of poet I’m happy to live with

Now.

 

 

 

Because I Like You In Dresses, by pd lyons

 

 

 

Because I Like You In Dresses

you told me of friends and enemies

we talked about being sick asked everyone in the bar

if they thought seeing someone throw up was funny and

what was their favourite puke story

we smoked two packs of Marlboro

drank shin un rack brussians

and at two o’clock or sometime past last call

struggled for comfort in the car

and after we tried everything we knew

to get me over the gin –

you whispered a poem to me

and told me how you really did wear that dress for me

for Annie Kindness 1980

 

three love poems by pd lyons originally published by bone orchard poetry

As Long As Its You

 

When you breathe it is my name.

When you stare,

Your own eyes black pools,

Liquid movements synchronize my own.

Who knows me any better?

Naked throat? Beating heart?

You may heal. You may feed.

Whatever you do, as long as its you.

Neptunian

My ugliness raised in both hands

Almost expecting something from you

And if only I had a gun I woulda’ made you

And hated myself forever for being so desperate

If only I could believe 

Then how easy it would be

Walking away leaving you alone

Free at last to wander endless starry nights I always dream of

Instead I let you

 Tattoo blue around my mouth

  Tell me that I’m privileged

   

 After Last Call

Puke my guts out in the after last call parking lot

Of the now what am I gonna do

Still hometown married jails unavoided

Lucky having nothing to do with being alive

Benches wrapped in paper, nightmares unelaborate

Just boys with lighter fluid searching for someone sleeping.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

originally published by Bone Orchard Poetry feb. 2012  http://boneorchardpoetry.blogspot.ie/2012/02/pd-lyons.html

Another publisher i sought out because of their cool name. the editor has been very kind to me over the years and published a fine bunch of my own and other talented poets work. unlike many Bone Orchard is still up and running. as of this writing they are open for submissions : http://boneorchardpoetry.blogspot.ie/

basically three love poems set in the far off cities of my youth