Play the Piano Drunk Like a Percussion Instrument Until the Fingers Begin to Bleed a Bit

Rating:
Summary: Sex, booze, and poetry
Review: "Play the Piano Drunk Like a Percussion Instrument Until the Fingers Begin to Bleed a Bit" is a collection of poetry by the prolific Charles Bukowski. In a down-to-earth, vernacular free verse, Bukowski poetically explores a number of recurring themes: women and sex, gambling and games of chance, alcohol, cigarettes, his life as a poet, and other writers.

I see Bukowski as a sort of literary philosopher-satyr who often writes about the crude, seedy side of life. Some of my favorite poems from this collection are as follows: "fire station," a bawdy, boozy narrative poem; "a radio with guts," about the narrator's drunken abuse of the title item; and "interviews," an ironic reflection on encounters with "young men from the underground / newspapers and the small circulation / magazines."

In this book the reader will encounter junkies, drunks, and various colorful characters. Bukowski's tone is sometimes melancholy; often the bawdy life of his poems is haunted by the specter of death. And I was intrigued by his occasional literary references: to Dos Passos, Mailer, Rimbaud, Hemingway, and others. Overall, a compelling volume.

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Summary: All my friends are married, every Tom and Dick and....
Review: ...Harry,
You must be strong if you're to go it alone
Here's to the bachelors and the Bowery bums
Those who feel that they're the ones
That are better off without a wife

Cause I like to sleep until the crack of noon
Midnight howling at the moon
Going out when I want to and I'm coming home when I please
Don't have to ask permission, wanna to go out fishing
Never have to ask for the key

Well I've never been no Valentino
But I had a girl who lived in Reno
Left me for a trumpet player who didn't get me down
He was wanted for assault
Though he said it weren't his fault
You know the coppers rode him right out of town

I've been sleeping until the crack of noon
Midnight howling at the moon
And I've been Going out when I wanna coming home when I please
Don't have to ask permission, wanna to go out fishing
Never have to ask for the key

Kinda selfish about my privacy
Now as long as I can be with me
We get along so well I can't believe
I love to chew the fat with folks
I've been listening to all your dirty jokes
I'm so thankful for these friends I do receive

I've been sleeping until the crack of noon
Midnight howling at the moon
And I've been Going out when I wanna coming home when I please
Don't have to ask permission, I wanna to go out fishing
Never have to ask for the keys, no

Yeah, I've got this girl I know, man and I just...she's been married several times. I don't wanna end up like her, I mean she's been married so many times she's got rice marks all over her face. Yeah you know the kind.

-I wrote a review for "THE LAST NIGHT OF THE EARTH POEMS" wherein I quoted "THE PIANO HAS BEEN DRINKING" by T. Waits. A buddy of mine said I shoulda put that one here, and I think, of course that woulda been way too obvious. But, maybe he was right. But, to h*ll with that and what's right. I always did know what the right path or choice was, but never took it anyway. It was just too damn hard. Except when it came to Buk. Buk and Waits. Buk and Waits and boxing. But here, you gotta know it's right to snatch this book up right away, because with Buk, you simply can't pick a bad one. Each one is as good, if not better, than the next and this one is no exception. Get it, get it, get it. You will not regret it.

Enjoy kiddies. Now I gotta make like a hockey player and get the puck outta here...

Rating:
Summary: It's so easy to be a poet but so hard to be a man.
Review: A friend of mine handed me this book and said that when she read them she wanted to throw Bukowski on the table and jump on top of him. Intrigued, perhaps a bit jealous, I plunged into this book.
My only knowledge of Bukowski had been the little biographical notes from Beat literature books or things like that. I was under the impression that I was going to get a beating from some cold unemotional degenerate, or something akin to the dry wit of William S. Burroughs.
Not so.
Bukowski's work is rich with emotion, but not sap. It is not the poetry of little delicate flowers and holding hands in the park; no, with this poetry you have to walk through a drunken hell before you can look at a woman with that special feeling of affection, before you can feel the grace of hearing classical music on the radio. Or maybe you can spend the in between time betting on horses, eating a sandwich, or just trying to understand a little bit about life.
Just dont' ask for any more than what's already here. Because herein lies all the secrets. Snapshots of heaven and hell, and how they are both right in front of us, whichever we see at the time.

Rating:
Summary: It's so easy to be a poet but so hard to be a man.
Review: A friend of mine handed me this book and said that when she read them she wanted to throw Bukowski on the table and jump on top of him. Intrigued, perhaps a bit jealous, I plunged into this book.
My only knowledge of Bukowski had been the little biographical notes from Beat literature books or things like that. I was under the impression that I was going to get a beating from some cold unemotional degenerate, or something akin to the dry wit of William S. Burroughs.
Not so.
Bukowski's work is rich with emotion, but not sap. It is not the poetry of little delicate flowers and holding hands in the park; no, with this poetry you have to walk through a drunken hell before you can look at a woman with that special feeling of affection, before you can feel the grace of hearing classical music on the radio. Or maybe you can spend the in between time betting on horses, eating a sandwich, or just trying to understand a little bit about life.
Just dont' ask for any more than what's already here. Because herein lies all the secrets. Snapshots of heaven and hell, and how they are both right in front of us, whichever we see at the time.

Rating:
Summary: good selection of derelcit poetry
Review: good collection of bukowski's work

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Summary: confession
Review: I know it sounds corny to say things like this but I found this book six weeks after my high school graduation and it changed my life; I had found someone who not only saw the world as I did but could actually articulate it, and so well.See what you think. Now go away.

Rating:
Summary: A good introduction to Bukowski's poetry
Review: This book is like a 'greatest hits' from the 1970s for Bukowski. Ranging from 1970 to 1979, these poems show him working on familiar themes, but he's getting better at expressing himself. His chaotic life is drawing to a close as he settles into married life in the 1980s. These poems are more focused than his earlier efforts, but also a little looser --- he's able to sum up a mood, a day, or an old friend in half a page of non-rhyming verse. These poems are full of wry humor and romance, a far cry from his reputation for booze and sullen moods. If you haven't read his poetry, try this book. You'll find out what kind of writer Bukowski was. It's sure to inspire you to read more of his great work.

Rating:
Summary: pollution falls like poetry
Review: this book should not be tossed aside lightly. it should be thrown with great force.credit to d. parker. then drink some rotgut.then pick on someone at least twice your size.morerotgut. yhen read it again and you will begin to understand. do this for 30 years and you will fully comprehend. hey, anybody can get a job it takes a man to make it without working.

Rating:
Summary: a great intro to Buk
Review: This was my first ever Buk book. I was smitten with the first poem "tough company" which starts by stating that "poems are like gunslingers" before explaning why. An inspired piece for this inspired book. This collection contains a fair cross-section of Bukowski's works, we see into several aspects of his life here. A quick read, initially, but not to be taken lightly. I recommend this book as an introduction to any virgin Buk reader.