Chinaski's Smiling
I reach
for the
tattered book
off of my toilet
tank, and
think...,
'Wouldn't
Bukowski
be proud'
Blurred,
sunken eyes
and rotted,
coffee-stained
teeth
'Wouldn't
Bukowski
be proud'
Crapping,
with the
Stench
of death
surrounding me
'Wouldn't
Bukowski
be proud'
Another hard-fought
battle with the bottle
And still: I'm
sucking in air....
'In with the good-
out with the bad'
Bukowski's dead.
Soon, I'll be dead.
Death
doesn't
have
pride
Ask Elvis.
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poem by Tim Labbe
Added by Poetry Lover
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