here I am
in the ground
my mouth
open
and
I can’t even say
mama,
and
the dogs run by and stop and piss
on my stone; I get it all
except the sun
and my suit is looking
bad
and yesterday
the last of my left
arm gone
very little left, all harp-like
without music.

at least a drunk
in bed with a cigarette
might cause 5 fire
engines and
33 men.

I can’t
do
any
thing.

but p.s. — Hector Richmond in the next
tomb thinks only of Mozart and candy
caterpillars.
he is
very bad
company.

Analysis, meaning and summary of Charles Bukowski's poem Mama

2 Comments

  1. êóïèòü âèàãðó says:

    Âèàãðà êóïèòü, âèàãðà ñðî÷íî êóïèòü, êóïèòü ìíîãî âèàãðû, êóïèòü áûñòðî âèàãðó, òîëüêî íà íàøåì ñàéòå.

  2. Kosta Bojcheski says:

    My favourite poem about the indifference of man towards life and death.
    A skid-row masterpiece.

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