Back To The Machine Gun Comments

Act! ! Being shot! ! ! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.

Not impressed with this poem, but congratulations to the poet anyway, for its selection as the 'Modern Poem of the Day'!

I'm hung over hair down in my eyes barefoot gingerly walking on the small sharp rocks A very fine poem. tony

there's only one way to handle those motherf******ckers. the night harness races will have to wait. ///wow superb quality writing on the tone of rebellious, great poem

Realities of life has so soberly been handled

Naive..no fumbling for words to depict.....it's a photo framed still life piece of art work..a graphical representation of something petty nobody expects....yet, when read it, hangs over like a pang of sorrow..

.............the poet sets the scene amazingly, I'm sure the day was beautiful.. I could easily imagine how those rocks felt on bare feet.... and the feeling one has when receiving nothing but bad news in the mailbox.. a poem of reality for so many ★

where are your poems Larry......it's easy to sit back and critisize when you don't even try....Buk is what so many writers pretend to be. He lives, no pretense.

Larry....I strongly disagree....Buk takes the mundane and turns it into true poetry...it's the flash in the darkness.

The beauty of an individual soul, walking, working and wandering through a life, and expressing so in the wonder of words, as viewed by one who is not afraid to speak as he sees. Surprisingly refreshing, actually.

Larry Gorlitz why are you here? You have a tractor-pull attendee, trailer park-dweller, litterbug's understanding and appreciation of poetry AT BEST. Please excuse yourself, run down to the 7-11 for some dip, and go find some more naked lady mudflaps for your truck or something. Buh-bye!

Bukowski eschewed the clichés of pretentious poetry with an emphasis placed on modern sensibilities his descriptions flow with there unholy serene conviction that forces you to look at things in a less flowery way. The man was NOT a hack trying to rip off Shakespeare sonnets it was about living within the moment of Now. Anyway didn't the first stanza remind you of the Dude from the Big Lebowski?

A reply to Mr.Gorlitz: He wrote with soul and honesty..he painted pictures and stories with words. He style is not my style, nor should it be, because he is him and I am me. Whether you use mystic words or lines, academic words or lines, everyday words or lines; matters not. What matters is the beauty of the picture and the honesty of the inspiration.

Bukowski is a genius in that he can paint a lively picture from the mundane. Every detail given to the reader is well thought out- the title is a striking metaphor- we feel his unease at getting the mail in his tattered robe- the disappointment of bills in the mail. These are careful details of a depressed person, trying to paint a picture of reality, or the reality of his life. His weapon is the typewriter. Larry, you don't have to like it, but I cannot fathom how you can't see the poetry in his words. I think Bukowski is one of the greatest poets of his time for this- making art out of the dirty realities of his life. The Birds is one of my favorites.

Everything he writes shines like the morning star.

What speaks to me here is the title. Bukowski's machine gun is his typewriter. Those who are old enough to remember that sound will agree that the short, angry, staccado, bursts are the only plausible response to the invasiveness of every senseation reaching your brain as you emerge from who knows what nightmarish four day alcohol soaked cuckoon you have spun for yourself this time.

Kudos to brian. Larry deserves a slap in the face(Moron) . You missed the boat man. It is these 'boring' days that define who we really are. Nothing is particularly wrong with escapism, it's necessary at times, but to say that is what defines poetry is an idiotic statement sir. Poetry has no definition. None that i will recognize anyways. Every man's everyday is different from our own, and in its own way, it is art.

Why do we need to have the everyday described to us? It's boring. If anything it's poetry that should be the escapism. There literally is nothing poetic about this. His language here is not used for its aesthetic or evocative qualities past its apparent meaning. It could have been written as a paragraph. Clearly the ramblings of a drunken fool. Maybe I'm being harsh on the guy.

<- Does not agree with Ryan. Thats like saying you have to be able to count Banyon Trees home to understand Hemmingway, who was also quite intese, and also at ime dry as salt I get Bukowski and I'm a saint when it comes to drink and the common Alchie. He's just a realist... Perhaps a drunk but not for me to judge on mend. The cats got style in a way that those who wrk at it never quit tee of on.

I think you have to be a true alcoholic to understand the intensity of this.