Black Swan
Abord the Yorikke!
As you say Talent and the Muse . I believe that Luck is also a factor.
Would You Suggest Writing as a Career?
- Thread starter mjp
- Start date
jordan
lothario speedwagon
bukowski inspires me not to write. whenever i read bukowski, i fear my own poetry would just sound like an imitation of his- his style gets in my head, and it's not my style. my writing ends up sounding put-on and fake. i love reading bukowski, but if i want to get inspired to write, that usually happens through music, not other writers.
as for being published, i've been rejected from every journal i've ever submitted to, but i have never submitted very aggressively. a long time ago a woman asked me for a few poems for an anthology she was doing about race, and i wrote some really crap poems just because i thought it was a good chance to get published... now the book is on amazon. ironic that maybe my least favorite poems i've ever written are the ones that have been published.
i should edit this and say i'm not looking for sympathy or encouragement (there are other forums for that). if i want to get my work out there badly enough, i'll self-publish a book, the latest of which some of you have read and provided very nice commentary on.
as for being published, i've been rejected from every journal i've ever submitted to, but i have never submitted very aggressively. a long time ago a woman asked me for a few poems for an anthology she was doing about race, and i wrote some really crap poems just because i thought it was a good chance to get published... now the book is on amazon. ironic that maybe my least favorite poems i've ever written are the ones that have been published.
i should edit this and say i'm not looking for sympathy or encouragement (there are other forums for that). if i want to get my work out there badly enough, i'll self-publish a book, the latest of which some of you have read and provided very nice commentary on.
writing as a career?
Na...
Writing as a kind of life science/ art thing / observing you and yours / openly masturbating / telling what few will tell in written word / noting down the time, the period / noticing cracks in the wall, spiders webs, men with drink on their breath in black BMW's in the morning...I suggest writing, for that purpose alone.
Na...
Writing as a kind of life science/ art thing / observing you and yours / openly masturbating / telling what few will tell in written word / noting down the time, the period / noticing cracks in the wall, spiders webs, men with drink on their breath in black BMW's in the morning...I suggest writing, for that purpose alone.
I think there's a bunch of us here, Ponder and RJWink had chapbooks recently. I got my short stories on blogs on myspace.com/jimvacca There is a guy named Richard Perez who has a book called The Losers Club and he's a big Bukowski fan.
Anybody remember the Bukowski story where he mentions to a Mexican fellow in a bar that he's a writer and the guy replies he's one, also. He says he uses his dick to write inside women. Don't know why I thought of that.
Anybody remember the Bukowski story where he mentions to a Mexican fellow in a bar that he's a writer and the guy replies he's one, also. He says he uses his dick to write inside women. Don't know why I thought of that.
Father Luke
Founding member
I wrote before I ever heard of Bukowski. That Brother Schenker guy who posts here turned me onto Ham on Rye. Then I ate everything else I could find.
I'm still hungry.
Hungry for more Buk.
Funny, huh?
The more I eat
of him the more
I want.
Would I suggest writing as a career?
Not really.
It's like anything else you do that you like.
When it becomes a job, it can become like
a lover who has turned against you.
"I need to pay the rent!"
"But, can't you just write a little something for
me, like you used to?"
Any job, which is also a hobby, requires
the ability to be able to put the joy aside,
and to work.
I may be full of shit, but that is my experience.
If you can look at writing, and understand the difference between writing for fun, and reading for fun, then I say sure. Go for it. You are going into it with both eyes open.
Here is a sample of my work, since everyone else is throwing their two cents worth in.
derelict in his duties
Deserted weekend streets
downtown.
Sifting through the garbage
for something to eat.
Nothing.
Next can . . .
I'm still hungry.
Hungry for more Buk.
Funny, huh?
The more I eat
of him the more
I want.
Would I suggest writing as a career?
Not really.
It's like anything else you do that you like.
When it becomes a job, it can become like
a lover who has turned against you.
"I need to pay the rent!"
"But, can't you just write a little something for
me, like you used to?"
Any job, which is also a hobby, requires
the ability to be able to put the joy aside,
and to work.
I may be full of shit, but that is my experience.
If you can look at writing, and understand the difference between writing for fun, and reading for fun, then I say sure. Go for it. You are going into it with both eyes open.
Here is a sample of my work, since everyone else is throwing their two cents worth in.
derelict in his duties
Deserted weekend streets
downtown.
Sifting through the garbage
for something to eat.
Nothing.
Next can . . .
For those unaware, Rubyred is the harlot of the Buk forum!
I'm also a fan of Father Luke...
Thank you all.
Thank you all for the links to your writing. Please keep it coming.
Father Luke I am forever in your debt. Some things are so easy..others so hard. Reading and writing the balm for the wounds inflicted by my painting.
Thank you for momentarily stopping the bleeding with your words.
Thank you all for the links to your writing. Please keep it coming.
Father Luke I am forever in your debt. Some things are so easy..others so hard. Reading and writing the balm for the wounds inflicted by my painting.
Thank you for momentarily stopping the bleeding with your words.
Father Luke
Founding member
I wish I could say something wise.
I hope that thank you will do the trick.
Thank you.
Thank you because the greatest
gift you can give to any writer is to read
the words they write. You have given us all
an opportunity to receive the greatest gift available
to any author. So, that's why I'm saying thanks to you.
That, and because you mention my name. I thought that was cool.
I hope that thank you will do the trick.
Thank you.
Thank you because the greatest
gift you can give to any writer is to read
the words they write. You have given us all
an opportunity to receive the greatest gift available
to any author. So, that's why I'm saying thanks to you.
That, and because you mention my name. I thought that was cool.
Atlen -
Most of my stuff appeared in poetry mags between 1988 and 2001, about 200 poems in 100 or so mags. Not sure how much made it to the web.
Here's one poem. And three more short ones.
Most of my stuff appeared in poetry mags between 1988 and 2001, about 200 poems in 100 or so mags. Not sure how much made it to the web.
Here's one poem. And three more short ones.
bospress.net
www.bospress.net
Maybe I'm the only one on this forum that is NOT a writer?
Just think of a world where people read and wrote instead of watching American Idol and fretting over Paris Hilton's trials and tribulations.
What a world it would be....
Best,
Bill
thebluesman
Founding member
thebluesman.livejournal.com
ROC
It is what it is
No. Not a writer either.
But to paraphrase a wise man 'God saw fit to create a great many poets, but not so much poetry'.
I'm a reader... and sometimes that's hard too.
:cool:
hmm..
last night (high)
i close my eyes for protection
ugliness filling the outside
open my eyes again
to whitness the beautiful complexity of exhaled smoke
close
open
close,
then open again
this time there's a sense of hidden darkness
emptyness
or pherhaps
an abnormal fullness of thoughts to come
a shred of evil sprouts through the look
a thought sneaks in
by a universe
formed chemicals
on formed planets
chemicals shaped to reach intricacy in compound
manifesting Adam
making it think
making it bewildered
by it's own essence
by it's mere existence
no room for merciful void
oh sweet death.
last night (high)
i close my eyes for protection
ugliness filling the outside
open my eyes again
to whitness the beautiful complexity of exhaled smoke
close
open
close,
then open again
this time there's a sense of hidden darkness
emptyness
or pherhaps
an abnormal fullness of thoughts to come
a shred of evil sprouts through the look
a thought sneaks in
by a universe
formed chemicals
on formed planets
chemicals shaped to reach intricacy in compound
manifesting Adam
making it think
making it bewildered
by it's own essence
by it's mere existence
no room for merciful void
oh sweet death.
Gerard K H Love
Appreciate your friends
There's not a time now
that I mow my lawn
and don't think about getting
all the hairs.
I have a 6 horse power Briggs and Sratten and
I still worry about getting all the hairs.
Or I will get the strop.
I have never been him and I will
never be
But I know what he was saying and
how he felt
this is no passing intrest
that I mow my lawn
and don't think about getting
all the hairs.
I have a 6 horse power Briggs and Sratten and
I still worry about getting all the hairs.
Or I will get the strop.
I have never been him and I will
never be
But I know what he was saying and
how he felt
this is no passing intrest
Dreams and Nightmares
Wake you up
make you think
about the things that bother us.
Do dreams come true ?
we try and real hard
to be the things we want to be.
Get shot down and kiss the dirt
standing up and walking in reverse.
Dreams and nightmares
cracks in the concreate
words are moving but there's no sound.
Shadows and figures
familair faces and Places
Monsters and Demons.
Paupers and vandals.
Saints and sinners.
You awake in pitch black room
returning to reality
asking yourself
am I okay ?
Dreams and nightmares
Wake you up
make you think
about the things that bother us.
Do dreams come true ?
we try and real hard
to be the things we want to be.
Get shot down and kiss the dirt
standing up and walking in reverse.
Dreams and nightmares
cracks in the concreate
words are moving but there's no sound.
Shadows and figures
familair faces and Places
Monsters and Demons.
Paupers and vandals.
Saints and sinners.
You awake in pitch black room
returning to reality
asking yourself
am I okay ?
Dreams and nightmares
Black Swan
Abord the Yorikke!
The sun was going down
at one end of St. Louis Lake
people were sliding down St.Joseph Blvd.
stupefied by this July heat
All was well in old Lachine
too hot for fights and too late for ideas of one
I sat under the tent at the Topaze
Away from the Elvis look alike and their girls,
squeezed in black leather casings
And the Greek waiters were twirling like ballerinas
while the hanging speakers sprayed the half naked crowd
with Gloria Estefan
like rain
at one end of St. Louis Lake
people were sliding down St.Joseph Blvd.
stupefied by this July heat
All was well in old Lachine
too hot for fights and too late for ideas of one
I sat under the tent at the Topaze
Away from the Elvis look alike and their girls,
squeezed in black leather casings
And the Greek waiters were twirling like ballerinas
while the hanging speakers sprayed the half naked crowd
with Gloria Estefan
like rain