A Reply to Charlie:
I heard you read your poem
on the radio tonight
You said, you’re no Shakespeare
You got that, part right
Yea, I did it, I admit it
I’m the one who stole your poems
I was going hungry
on the street alone
I was looking for a poet
Just when you came along,
But you took me for a whore,
Did you think you might be wrong?
That night you wanted only flesh
Now you say you have regrets
I didn’t want your money
You could have been an easy touch
I wanted you, to want to know me
Was that asking for too much?
I never bargained price but you decided then
I was a just a whore, just another piece of meat.
You couldn’t see any more to me
Than trash, you step over, on the street
If you had looked with your other eyes
The ones that poets have
You could have made me human
You didn’t even ask me, if I had a name
It didn’t even cross your mind to ask me why I came
You might be a poet, but you men are all the same
In your drunken stupor, just use me like a crapper
You just helped to dig, my hole to hell, a little deeper
Just a little lower, than a level under yours.
Did that make you my better?
You thought I wanted money?
From those crumpled, empty pocket pants,
You didn’t think I’d took a look
You didn’t even have a twenty,
So I took your poetry book.
I thought you could be my ticket out, to a better life
You only saw me as a whore,
Not a woman, who could ever be a wife
You thought I was unworthy to hear your pretty words
So I took them for myself and I took your paintings too
I’m worth more than all your money and your left arm, Jack
I keep your poems in a suitcase, and I’ll never give them back
Rough justice from me, makes this life lesson for you
You used my body and you stole my hope for
Meaning any more, to you, than just another whore.
God protect the money, the drunkards and the whores.
Charlie Bukowski was a poet from the 1950-1970's modern poetry, beat generation and he wrote a poem titled" To the Whore Who Stole My Poems" He is dead now, so i thought it would be fun to write an answer back, taking the voice of the one who stole them: Tell me what did you think of it?
line 35.You didn’t think I took a look
I heard you read your poem
on the radio tonight
You said, you’re no Shakespeare
You got that, part right
Yea, I did it, I admit it
I’m the one who stole your poems
I was going hungry
on the street alone
I was looking for a poet
Just when you came along,
But you took me for a whore,
Did you think you might be wrong?
That night you wanted only flesh
Now you say you have regrets
I didn’t want your money
You could have been an easy touch
I wanted you, to want to know me
Was that asking for too much?
I never bargained price but you decided then
I was a just a whore, just another piece of meat.
You couldn’t see any more to me
Than trash, you step over, on the street
If you had looked with your other eyes
The ones that poets have
You could have made me human
You didn’t even ask me, if I had a name
It didn’t even cross your mind to ask me why I came
You might be a poet, but you men are all the same
In your drunken stupor, just use me like a crapper
You just helped to dig, my hole to hell, a little deeper
Just a little lower, than a level under yours.
Did that make you my better?
You thought I wanted money?
From those crumpled, empty pocket pants,
You didn’t think I’d took a look
You didn’t even have a twenty,
So I took your poetry book.
I thought you could be my ticket out, to a better life
You only saw me as a whore,
Not a woman, who could ever be a wife
You thought I was unworthy to hear your pretty words
So I took them for myself and I took your paintings too
I’m worth more than all your money and your left arm, Jack
I keep your poems in a suitcase, and I’ll never give them back
Rough justice from me, makes this life lesson for you
You used my body and you stole my hope for
Meaning any more, to you, than just another whore.
God protect the money, the drunkards and the whores.
Charlie Bukowski was a poet from the 1950-1970's modern poetry, beat generation and he wrote a poem titled" To the Whore Who Stole My Poems" He is dead now, so i thought it would be fun to write an answer back, taking the voice of the one who stole them: Tell me what did you think of it?
line 35.You didn’t think I took a look