I watched “Born into this”:http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0342150/ last night. It is a documentary about the late poet Henry Charles Bukowski Jr.

I sometimes forget how much I really loved this guy. There are times I am sure I would have hated to have him as a friend. But as a poet, what he stood for, what he endured, his courage, and his art, he is the shining example of a poet.

This poem below was not one I had in my collection. He read the poem below during the film and it really struck me. I remember as a young man that this is exactly how I felt about myself and my place in the world.

I think I have gained some perspective and think more benevolently of my fellow man for the most part, but you have to give it to Charles Bukowski for being able to put this to paper. And this to me speaks to an America where people only care about themselves. Everything is down to the bottom line. All that matters is wealth, cars, how big your house is, how big your piece of the pie is. We don’t care about the little guy. We don’t care about things that enhance life. We only care about things that sustain life.

There will always be a need for folks who are able to enhance the meaning of life rather than just sustain it. You have to have something to make the ride worth it. Poetry enhances life, gives meaning to the little things, and clarifies the big things with the one thing that separates us from the baboons with the coconut bikini’s… poetry. Bukowski was one of the best.

*The Genius Of The Crowd*

there is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average
human being to supply any given army on any given day

and the best at murder are those who preach against it
and the best at hate are those who preach love
and the best at war finally are those who preach peace

those who preach god, need god
those who preach peace do not have peace
those who preach peace do not have love

beware the preachers
beware the knowers
beware those who are always reading books
beware those who either detest poverty
or are proud of it
beware those quick to praise
for they need praise in return
beware those who are quick to censor
they are afraid of what they do not know
beware those who seek constant crowds for
they are nothing alone
beware the average man the average woman
beware their love, their love is average
seeks average

but there is genius in their hatred
there is enough genius in their hatred to kill you
to kill anybody
not wanting solitude
not understanding solitude
they will attempt to destroy anything
that differs from their own
not being able to create art
they will not understand art
they will consider their failure as creators
only as a failure of the world
not being able to love fully
they will believe your love incomplete
and then they will hate you
and their hatred will be perfect

like a shining diamond
like a knife
like a mountain
like a tiger
like hemlock

their finest art