Some People Poem by Charles Bukowski

missing the best parts 'some people': some people never go crazy. me, sometimes I'll lie down behind the couch for 3 or 4 days. they'll find me there. it's Cherub, they'll say, and they pour wine down my throat rub my chest sprinkle me with oils. then, I'll rise with a roar, rant, rage - curse them and the universe as I send them scattering over the lawn. I'll feel much better, sit down to toast and eggs, hum a little tune, suddenly become as lovable as a pink overfed whale. some people never go crazy. what truly horrible lives they must lead.

I love it! ! ! I still like your version more than that of lina v... it says enough and more! ! Yuri *

This poem is like my life terrible miserable, worthless. End it Now

thank you 'lina v' (comment box below) for posting the other part of the poem..

ahaha alex gets it sort of

Ahaha@Alex. There's nothing better than poetic snobbery. For god's sake, get over yourself.

I'm pretty sure Bukowski wrote a poem in which he lambasted people for printing versions of poems that HE wrote the way THEY would have liked to have written them. Yuri, you ought never to be allowed to read poetry again. And whomever submitted this, you are the Bane of artists everywhere including myself. When you have a child, I shall come round and chop off a couple of fingers and perhaps a toe, then put out an eye and brand its chest with my initials. Then you'll understand.