Crucifix In A Deathhand Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABCDEFGHDIIIJKLMINDD OICHPPCQDPDDLDIRIDST UIIDVDIDJWIIXIYIWEIJ ZX

yes they begin out in a willow I thinkA
the starch mountains begin out in the willowB
and keep right on going without regard forC
pumas and nectarinesD
somehow these mountains are likeE
an old woman with a bad memory andF
a shopping basketG
we are in a basin that is theH
idea down in the sand and the alleysD
this land punched in cuffed out dividedI
held like a crucifix in a deathhandI
this land bought resold bought again andI
sold again the wars long overJ
the Spaniards all the way back in SpainK
down in the thimble again and nowL
real estaters subdividers landlords freewayM
engineers arguing this is their land andI
I walk on it live on it a little whileN
near Hollywood here I see young men in roomsD
listening to glazed recordingsD
and I think too of old men sick of musicO
sick of everything and death like suicideI
I think is sometimes voluntary and to get yourC
hold on the land here it is best to return to theH
Grand Central Market see the old Mexican womenP
the poor I am sure you have seen these same womenP
many years beforeC
arguingQ
with the same young Japanese clerksD
witty knowledgeable and goldenP
among their soaring store of oranges applesD
avocados tomatoes cucumbersD
and you know howL
theseD
look they do look goodI
as if you could eat them allR
light a cigar and smoke away the bad worldI
then it's best to go back to the bars the same barsD
wooden stale merciless greenS
with the young policeman walking throughT
scared and looking for troubleU
and the beer is still badI
it has an edge that already mixes with vomit andI
decay and you've got to be strong in the shadowsD
to ignore it to ignore the poor and to ignore yourselfV
and the shopping bag between your legsD
down there feeling good with its avocados andI
oranges and fresh fish and wine bottles who needsD
a Fort Lauderdale winterJ
years ago there used to be a whore thereW
with a film over one eye who was too fatI
and made little silver bells out of cigaretteI
tinfoil the sun seemed warmer thenX
although this was probably notI
true and you take your shopping bagY
outside and walk along the streetI
and the green beer hangs thereW
just above your stomach likeE
a short and shameful shawl andI
you look around and no longerJ
see anyZ
old menX

Charles Bukowski



Rate:
(1)



Poem topics: , Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme

Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation


Write your comment about Crucifix In A Deathhand poem by Charles Bukowski


 

Recent Interactions*

This poem was read 206 times,

This poem was added to the favorite list by 0 members,

This poem was voted by 0 members.

(* Interactions only in the last 7 days)

New Poems

Popular Poets