I love reading post-1914 poets a lot. Currently, my two favourite poems are:
A Radio with Guts by 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.
And Nebraska by Jack Kerouac April doesnt hurt here Like it does in New England The ground Vast and brown Surrounds dry towns Located in the dust Of the coming locust Live for survival, not for 'kicks' Be a bangtail describer, like of shrouded traveler in Textile tenement & the birds fighting in yr ears-like Burroughs exact to describe & gettin $ The Angry Hunger (hunger is anger) who fears the hungry feareth the angry) And so I came home To Golden far away Twas on the horizon Every blessed day As we rolled And we rolled From Donner tragic Pass Thru April in Nevada And out Salt City Way Into the dry Nebraskas And sad Wyomings Where young girls And pretty lover boys With Mickey Mantle eyes Wander under moons Sawing in lost cradle And Judge O Fasterc Passes whiggling by To ask of young love: ,,Was it the same wind Of April Plains eve that ruffled the dress Of my lost love Louanna In the Western Far off night Lost as the whistle Of the passing Train Everywhere West Roams moaning The deep basso - Vom! Vom! - Was it the same love Notified my bones As mortify yrs now Children of the soft Wyoming April night? Couldna been! But was! But was!' And on the prairie The wildflower blows In the night For bees & birds And sleeping hidden Animals of life. The Chicago Spitters in the spotty street Cheap beans, loop, Girls made eyes at me And I had 35 Cents in my jeans - Then Toledo Springtime starry Lover night Of hot rod boys And cool girls A wandering A wandering In search of April pain A plash of rain Will not dispel This fumigatin hell Of lover lane This park of roses Blue as bees In former airy poses In aerial O Way hoses No tamarand And figancine Can the musterand Be less kind Sol - Sol - Bring forth yr Ah Sunflower - Ah me Montana Phosphorescent Rose And bridge in fairly land I'd understand it all -
Gender:
Points: 1245
Reviews: 142