1. Charles Bukowski Poems

3. -Born Heinrich Karl Bukowski in Andernach, Germany in 1920 -Family originally emigrated to Baltimore and later settled in Los Angeles when Bukowski was 5 years old. Los Angles was where Bukowski spent most of his life. -Claimed to be a born out of wedlock but this was erroneous -Family was Roman Catholic -Abusive father beat him regularly, for example: due to his inability to “cut all of the hairs” while mowing the lawn -Father lost job as milk man in Great Depression but pretended to go to work anyways -Began a lifetime of alcoholism as a teenager -Suffered from extreme case of Acne Vulgaris as a teenager (required medical treatment) which would result in his scarred appearance as an adult -Was often depressed and socially withdrawn as a teenager -Kicked out by his father in 1940 after his father read some of his short stories -Attended college but did not graduate -Left Los Angeles 1942-44 and became a vagabond. Lived in Fort Worth, New Orleans, Atlanta, Savannah, Philadelphia, St. Louis, San Francisco and New York until returning to Los Angeles. -Was arrested during World War Two for draft evasion but charges were dropped upon his failure of the physical exam and the realization that it was in fact Bukowski’s uncle whom the authorities were looking for

4. -First published work was in 1944 when his short story Aftermath of a Lengthy Rejection Slip was published in Story magazine -Was disillusioned at his initial failure to break into the literary scene and quit writing altogether. This period would be the subject of most of Bukowski’s work concerning his alter ego Henry Chinaski. 1944-1954 -Has relationship and briefly marries Jane Cooney Baker. 1947- 55 -Mother died in 1956, Father died in 1958. -Eventually took job at post office in 1952. This was the longest consistent employment Bukowski ever had. 1952-55 then 1958-70 -Was hospitalized in 1954 with a near fatal bleeding ulcer and began writing poetry and sending his poems into literary magazines after he left the hospital -Briefly marries Barbara Frye. 1957-58. Frye would later die in India under mysterious circumstances. -Gets back together with Jane Cooney Baker and their relationship lasts until her death in 1962. 1958-62 -Begins submitting poetry to literary magazines in larger numbers. First poetry collection Flower, Fist and Bestial Wall is published. Bukowski has had at least one literary work published every year since. 1960. -Failed suicide attempt by gas. 1961. -Relationship with Frances Smith. 1963-1965

5. -Frances Smith births Bukowski’s only child Marina Louise. 1964. -Meets future publisher John Martin. 1966. -Bukowski interviewed by FBI. 1968. -John Martin offers Bukowski 100$/month for life if he quits his post office job and begins writing fulltime. Bukowski accepts although 45$ of his monthly income is already going to child support for Marina. 1970. -Relationship with Linda King. 1970-73. -First Novel Post Office published. 1971. -Documentary on his life Bukowski released. 1973. -Profile in Rolling Stone magazine. 1976. -Relationship with Linda Lee. 1976- 1994. -Monthly income is increased to 500$. 1978. -Buys first car. 1979. -Marries Linda Lee. 1985. -Semiautobiographical film Barfly (also written by Bukowski) is released. Mickey Rourke stars as Henry Chinaski. 1987. -Film of interviews The Bukowski Tapes (which is also directed by Barfly director Barbet Schroder) is released -Health begins to fail, various cancers treated. 1988. -Monthly income increased to 7 000$.1992. -Diagnosed with leukemia, quits smoking and drinking.1993. -Dies of leukemia briefly after completing work on his final novel Pulp.1994.

6. It's never quite right, he said, the way people look, the way the music sounds, the way the words are written. It's never quite right, he said, all the things we are taught, all the loves we chase, all the deaths we die, all the lives we live, they are never quite right, they are hardly close to right, these lives we live one after the other, piled there as history, the waste of the species, the crushing of the light and the way, it's not quite right, it's hardly right at all he said. don't I know it? I answered. I walked away from the mirror. it was morning, it was afternoon, it was night nothing changed it was locked in place. something flashed, something broke, something remained. I walked down the stairway and into it. Cut While Shaving

7. starving there, sitting around the bars, and at night walking the streets for hours, the moonlight always seemed fake to me, maybe it was, and in the French Quarter I watched the horses and buggies going by, everybody sitting high in the open carriages, the black driver, and in back the man and the woman, usually young and always white. and I was always white. and hardly charmed by the world. New Orleans was a place to hide. I could piss away my life, unmolested. except for the rats. the rats in my dark small room very much resented sharing it with me. they were large and fearless and stared at me with eyes that spoke an unblinking death. women were beyond me. they saw something depraved. there was one waitress a little older than I, she rather smiled, lingered when she brought my coffee. that was plenty for me, that was enough. there was something about that city, though it didn't let me feel guilty that I had no feeling for the things so many others needed. it let me alone. sitting up in my bed the lights out, hearing the outside sounds, lifting my cheap bottle of wine, letting the warmth of the grape enter me as I heard the rats moving about the room, I preferred them to humans. being lost, being crazy maybe is not so bad if you can be that way undisturbed. New Orleans gave me that. nobody ever called my name. no telephone, no car, no job, no anything. me and the rats and my youth, one time, that time I knew even through the nothingness, it was a celebration of something not to do but only know. Young in New Orleans

8. the flesh covers the bone and they put a mind in there and sometimes a soul, and the women break vases against the walls and the men drink too much and nobody finds the one but keep looking crawling in and out of beds. flesh covers the bone and the flesh searches for more than flesh. there's no chance at all: we are all trapped by a singular fate. nobody ever finds the one. the city dumps fill the junkyards fill the madhouses fill the hospitals fill the graveyards fill nothing else fills. Alone With Everybody

9. Analysis – Cut While Shaving This poem is written from the view of a man (possibly a life reflection of Bukowski), speaking with another man. It has no set pattern or rhyming scheme. This poem is Bukowski’s outlook onto life. It reflects many of his beliefs about life (primarily atheism). Although at first it may seem depressing, the messages it supplies are very true and after further reflection, the message can be seen as hopeful and positive. The line “It’s never quite right” is repeated throughout the piece. It succinctly summarizes the way things are in life – just not quite right. The “way people look, the way the music sounds, the way the words are written…” nothing in life is perfect. It may seem that such a gloomy outlook into life is disheartening, but the second half of the poem, and especially the last few words, change the entire meaning of this work.

10. After hearing about all the inadequacies of life, what is the man’s response? Simply, “Don’t I know it.” He realizes that life has many short fallings. While it may seem that after this realization it would be easy to perhaps give up, the next line gives us his very deep response. “I walked down the stairway and into it.” In this line, “it” refers to life itself. Even after the comprehension of the imperfect truth of life, he isn’t afraid to face and do what he can with it. This is one of the main ideas of the poem. Even if life is imperfect, that doesn’t mean it isn’t worth experiencing. Whether we do bad or good, or enjoy ourselves or not, there is value in those life experiences. This poem serves to inspire those who may have lost hope in the world. It gives those people and everyone else an excuse for living, even if life is “not quite right.”