He'd Hate Us
I’m just the guy
who once fell for a woman
who read Bukowski
I bet there’s a lot of guys out there like me.
We should start a club–
get beers every Thursday
and rub our bellies
We should go to the tracks
and gamble away what little money we have,
and if we win,
we must spend it all on cheap wine.
we fuck each others wives-
and all the women in our dirty city
We must throw rocks at the blue birds
and push our junker cars to start them
On Saturdays nights
we can meet at the drunk tank
and there we can bitch about the women that broke our hearts
We can stumble through the streets
pretending to be hard men.
Let’s fight each other
and then drink more afterwards.
And we must never
under any circumstance
tell people we are writers.
That’s the number one rule of the ‘Bukowski Boys’
It’s a horrible name, I know fellas, but we must keep it simple, that’s the way he’d want it.
He’d hate us
Oh I’m sure he would
He’d hate that he inspired a generation of drunk idiot poets.
He would stick up his middle finger and tell us to be original.
But let us chug our drinks,
and give him the finger right back.
you’ve passed the torch,
we will be the new horny, drunk, poor, dirty, bitter, poets.
You just let us take it from here.