Thursday, July 7, 2011

Hell is a lonely place

 Charles Bukowski is the newest poet i have discovered. His poetry his eloquent and impregnated with passion. I particularly enjoy his poem, which i am posting for the day, Hell is a lonely place. I hope you enjoy each of its words as i do. The poetry is indeed sad but it's beauty is exquisite.

                                                       Hell is a lonely place
                                                                 By Charles Bukowski








he was 65, his wife was 66, had 
Alzheimer's disease. 

he had cancer of the 
mouth. 
there were 
operations, radiation 
treatments 
which decayed the bones in his 
jaw 
which then had to be 
wired. 

daily he put his wife in 
rubber diapers 
like a 
baby. 

unable to drive in his 
condition 
he had to take a taxi to 
the medical 
center, 
had difficulty speaking, 
had to 
write the directions 
down. 

on his last visit 
they informed him 
there would be another 
operation: a bit more 
left
cheek and a bit more 
tounge. 

when he returned 
he changed his wife's 
diapers 
put on the tv 
dinners, watched the 
evening news 
then went to the bedroom, got the 
gun, put it to her 
temple, fired. 

she fell to the 
left, he sat upon the 
couch 
put the gun into his 
mouth, pulled the 
trigger. 

the shots didn't arouse 
the neighbors. 

later 
the burning tv dinners 
did. 

somebody arrived, pushed 
the door open, saw 
it. 

soon 
the police arrived and 
went through their 
routine, found 
some items: 

a closed savings 
account and 
a checkbook with a 
balance of 
$1.14 
suicide, they 
deduced. 

in three weeks 
there were two 
new tenants: 
a computer engineer 
named 
Ross 
and his wife 
Anatana 
who studied 
ballet. 

they looked like another 
upwardly mobile 
pair.
 
 

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