I mentioned before that I had been reading a Bukowski collection and that had me thinking over the last couple weeks that I should write a similarly dirty collection of recollections of my misspent youth.
Granted, I’ve never been as bad of a guy as Bukowski, but I’m also not nearly as talented of a poet. In fact, if you know two things about me, it's these:
- He’s awesome,
- except for his poetry.
That being said, I thought it might be a fun project to exorcise some of my demons by putting together a little collection. I have no idea what I would ultimately do with that collection. Edit it, I guess, and try to make it suck less. Anyway, below are some of the poems I have dashed off in the margins of my notebook over the past couple weeks. I have not quite figured out yet what the collection would feel like, so these are sort of exploratory writing attempts on my part.
It can not possibly be stressed enough that these are all EXTREMELY FIRST DRAFT in their “quality”. But what’s the point of having a writing blog if all you’re doing is posting finished stuff? Writing is an embarrassing process and I’m sharing that embarrassment with you, dear reader. Please enjoy my inadequacy.
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