blog number four, number three on content area

             When reading Bukowski I picture the poor souls of the world. I see the men and women outside the homeless shelters smoking cigarettes, before they enter the hell they call home. I picture the poor people who can`t see a doctor, because the powerful haven`t figured a way to give health care to all. I picture the addicts of the world who suffer because of their addictions. I smell the scent of a racetrack, which Bukowski wrote about all so much .The scent of eroding dreams and false hopes. Those two dollar bettors hoping to hit that magical triple, while struggling to pay the rent. I can see the bartender throwing out the drunks, and can see the dark despair of all those who feel hope is nothing more than a myth.


             I make connections to all those I have known who have taken one way roads down to pain. I can hear the sounds of the prisoners in the jails screaming out in agony, wondering if it was them who chose their road, or life that chose it for them. All that I see in his writing, is all that I want to keep my future kids away from. I can see why many people rather not read about these horrors, but to me it is a reminder of why I love to teach. Teaching gives a person the chance to help children go down different roads in life, and keep them away from the darkness Bukowski writes about.

           Bukowski never learned to write, he lived to write. What he saw and what he felt is what he wrote. He made no apologies for the way he lived his life, and gave the reader a first row seat to view it. The way he lived is a lesson to no one, the way he wrote is a lesson to all writers. It teaches writers to write the truth, and let the reader make up their own mind. I don`t feel sad while reading Bukowski. I feel thankful for putting myself in a position to help others and to try to help them avoid the harsh realities of life. I feel thankful for being alive and trying to live a meaningful existence.

            On page 215 is the poem "Put out the light." I wrote some about this poem in one of the earlier blogs. I think the important thing to understand when reading this poem, is that it came near the end of his life. He refers to death as a vaction, but I don`t think he really feels that way. In order to write about death you must think about death. The only time people think about death is when they fear it. I could be wrong, but that is what I am thinking when reading this poem. He states to go on "Living is much harder" this is Bukowski as an old man reflecting on how hard of a life he has had. I think about all the people struggling in the world and wonder, if they feel the same way.

           On page 217 is the poem "Foxholes". This poem starts with the line"Yes I know there should be a God." He goes on to state that "I remember that during World War Two there was a saying there are no atheists in foxholes. Of course, there were, but I suppose not very many." I think about what my father has told me about war. My father was shot in Vietnam and he has told me in the past that a solider either cries out for God or their mother when they are shot. It must be hard to face death at such a young age, without having the belief that their is a higher power. This poem was also written at a point in Bukowski`s life where he was thinking about death more. I start to think that I hope there is God, because otherwise how many young pople have died in War without a God to go to.

           On page 218 is the poem "Calm Elation". This poem is written in January 1993 right before President Clinton was going to be inaugurated. He writes about the president,"He`s so damn young I could be his grandfather, still he doesn`t seem like a bad chap but he`s sure inherited a mess." If he was alive today he might very well say the same thing. He dies less than two months after writing this poem and he admits to thinking too much about death and fate. This is the third poem in a row where he brings up death. He writes "A man can damn near perish for failure to pay a gas bill, get a tooth pulled or replace a leaking valve stem on a tire."This makes me think about how fragile life is. I think that is what sums up these 20 pages, how vulnerable we all are to this thing we call life.