107th out of 218 books
—
45 voters
Slouching Toward Nirvana
in this place
there are the dead, the deadly and the dying.
there is the cross, the builders of the cross and the burners of the
cross.
the pattern of my life forms like a cheap shadow
on the wall before me.
my love
what is left of it
now must crawl
to wherever it can crawl.
the strongest know that death is
final
and the happiest are those gifted with the
shortest journey.
Paperback, 288 pages
Published
January 3rd 2006
by Ecco
(first published 1996)
Friend Reviews
To see what your friends thought of this book,
please sign up.
Community Reviews
(showing
1-30
of
1,586)
Look at Jenn's review. I essentially agree with everything she wrote (excepting the list of favorites), so no need to restate it.
Some of what Bukowski wrote here is really, really good. Some of it looks like he just jotted down some thoughts for a poem and stuffed them into a drawer to work on later, then his posthumous editors grabbed them and published them. If it was the editors' fault, and they were never intended by the author to be ready for publishing, well, that's what you get with a pos...more
Some of what Bukowski wrote here is really, really good. Some of it looks like he just jotted down some thoughts for a poem and stuffed them into a drawer to work on later, then his posthumous editors grabbed them and published them. If it was the editors' fault, and they were never intended by the author to be ready for publishing, well, that's what you get with a pos...more
basic
the short poem
like the short life
may not be the best thing
but generally
it's
easier.
this is a short
poem at the end
of a
long
life
sitting here
looking at
you
now
then
saying
adios!
"the angry, the empty, the lonely, the
tricked.
we are all
museums of fears"
"fools turn other fools into idols.
the people waste their lives and their minds
sitting in the dark
as more and more movies ars made."
" theres time to weep
a time to die
and a time to live"
"regardless
the nights you fight best
are
when all the weapons are poin...more
the short poem
like the short life
may not be the best thing
but generally
it's
easier.
this is a short
poem at the end
of a
long
life
sitting here
looking at
you
now
then
saying
adios!
"the angry, the empty, the lonely, the
tricked.
we are all
museums of fears"
"fools turn other fools into idols.
the people waste their lives and their minds
sitting in the dark
as more and more movies ars made."
" theres time to weep
a time to die
and a time to live"
"regardless
the nights you fight best
are
when all the weapons are poin...more
The thing about Bukowski is that even when he was bad he was still better than nearly anyone else - and if you've already read a ton of his poetry you'll find his posthumous collections at times overly familiar, this is the stuff he discarded, but like Woody Allen even his weak stuff is good and some of these are right on the money. This later stuff is mostly nostalgic, Bukowski in his 70's reminiscing about the old rooms and bars and women, the language is straight up, stripped down (lazy), not...more
I've counted the ways I love Bukowski in previous reviews aplenty so let’s amble slowly toward why I love this specific posthumous collection.
Bukowski nearing life’s end zone is the celebrity I’d go to dinner with in that one hypothetical exercise. Seeing him, mainly through the lens of his writings with a few supplemental perspectives of movie adaptations, biographical sources and the rare treat of a filmed poetry reading, through the decades and how the suicidally volatile drunk becomes a casu...more
Bukowski nearing life’s end zone is the celebrity I’d go to dinner with in that one hypothetical exercise. Seeing him, mainly through the lens of his writings with a few supplemental perspectives of movie adaptations, biographical sources and the rare treat of a filmed poetry reading, through the decades and how the suicidally volatile drunk becomes a casu...more
Slouching Toward Nirvana is my first foray into the strange nihilistic and unpretentious world of author Charles Bukowski. In his poem called, "the curse," he writes of the unfortunate consequences of fame—the ultimate fragility of Tolstoy, Henry Miller, Hemingway, Celine, Ezra Pound, Hamsun, Ambrose Pierce and van Gogh. He ends with: "we are hardly ever / as strong / as that which we / create." In a long poem called "The Tide," he writes: "most of what we learn / in this crazy life is /what to...more
I loved the title. I loved it so much I wanted to like the rest of the book on the basis of the title alone. Ultimately, I found a couple poems in here that I really liked, but the rest, not so much. I've never been able to really relate to writers and artists who drink heavily. They don't seem to be people who are living life, but rather, scraping through it...or, you know, "slouching towards nirvana"...so I can't say I wasn't warned.
I will explore more of his work and see if my feelings change...more
I will explore more of his work and see if my feelings change...more
Actually this book should get two stars (for the most part). I've come to enjoy Charles Bukowski fairly late. During my younger daughter's college days, she bought me a couple of Bukowski novels. This book of poetry is of poetry that he did not publish before his death. Part 4 of the book is what made me give it 3 stars. It is poetry that he wrote in his late 60s and early 70s. I found the work quite touching (if you can call Bukowski poetry touching).
Cicada - Charles Bukowski
writers love to use the word
"cicada' in a poem.
it makes them believe that
they are there, that they
have done it.
every time I see this word
in a poem, I think, damn
it, haven't the editors
caught on yet?
that it's a con?
a way to milk the game?
and look at me:
here I'm using it:
"cicada."
well, that means that
this poem surely will get
published.
see?
it works.
writers love to use the word
"cicada' in a poem.
it makes them believe that
they are there, that they
have done it.
every time I see this word
in a poem, I think, damn
it, haven't the editors
caught on yet?
that it's a con?
a way to milk the game?
and look at me:
here I'm using it:
"cicada."
well, that means that
this poem surely will get
published.
see?
it works.
I've never considered Bukowski a Great writer, but he writes and writes as if words were oil seeping through him. Most of this depressed shit goes down real easy; nothing revelatory, but not easily dismissed. Bukowski seems to bear a baseline gravity of unpretentious and bland sincerity that can at times be cathartic, for reader, writer, or writer-reader.
A really cool collection of posthumously previously unpublished poetry mainly written when Bukowski was an old man. Many of the poems are snippets of Bukowski's life full of humor. Others are subtle lamentations on decaying literary and artistic talent in the artists' formative years including Van Gogh, Hemingway, and Erza Pound.
It's not that I didn't like this collection, but it was more reflective. These poems were just Bukowski looking back at his 'wasted' youth and coming to terms with the fact that he wasn't that deviant guy anymore- he was no longer a chain-smoking alcoholic. His tone in this one is fairly sentimental and lost.
This was my first Bukowski poetry book. I had read a few snippets of his work here and there and it intrigued me. His profanity, his bluntness, his (misogynistic is so over used) base view of women. Yes, he was a drunk, a gambler, a womanizer... and it made for great poems. This book wasn't full of great poems. Published after his death, it had good poems and a few great poems. I'd like more Bukowski for poems such as ; something's knocking at the door , this one, surreal tangerines... a few of...more
New is never really new when it comes to Bukowski. Be that as it is, I continue to buy his books as soon as they hit the shelves. The imagery is a little updated, the cynicism is a little more harsh, and the wry sense of doom amidst all the happiness is still there. Dirty love, clean hate, answered paradoxes, and the like make up what Chuck covers in this edition of filthy poetry. I keep thinking I will grow out of this desire to read smut with an edge. So far, I haven't.
(Caveat: I'm not a poet connoisseur.) That being said, I did enjoy this collection of poems. Bukowski is a lucid raconteur, spinning pessimistic tales of life in the mid-20th century and beyond. I have been told that all of his books of poetry are very similar. If that is true, I can see it getting old really quickly, as nearly all of the poems are about either drinking, horse racing and gambling, or women he's slept with. It's a very vivid tale, and I almost think that his style is idiosyncrati...more
There are no discussion topics on this book yet.
Be the first to start one »
Charles Bukowski was born in Andernach, Germany on August 16, 1920, the only child of an American soldier and a German mother. At the age of three, he came with his family to the United States and grew up in Los Angeles. He attended Los Angeles City College from 1939 to 1941, then left school and moved to New York City to become a writer. His lack of publishing success at this time caused him to g...more
More about Charles Bukowski...
Share This Book
No trivia or quizzes yet. Add some now »

Loading...














































21. Juni, 17:16 Uhr
21. Juni, 21:00 Uhr