Charles Bukowski New Posthumous Book 'On Writing' Out Now in Bookstores

To some, Charles Bukowski, writer of Women and Ham On Rye, was a dirty old man that was scum to women. To others, Bukowski's work is nothing less than genius with its eloquent wording and honest to-a-fault thoughts. This is why when July 28th rolled around and his posthumous book, On Writing, hit bookstores everywhere, those who found Bukowski to be a genius poet laureate had to be excited. It's yet another new piece of work from the famed writer from skid row who died all the way back in 1994.

Unlike Stephen King's book of the same name, Bukowski's On Writing doesn't dive into the technical aspect behind "the work" but instead the philosophy that creates it. Here's one excerpt. In it, he speaks on poetry and how it's mostly for the youth.

"Most poets are young simply because they have not been caught up. Show me an old poet and I'll show you, more often than not, either a madman or a master . . . it's when you begin to lie to yourself in a poem in order simply to make a poem, that you fail. That is why I do not rework poems."

In another excerpt Bukowski talks about being married to a wealthy women. It was less about the craft but more about the life of the crafter. For everything that goes wrong in this particular marriage, he counts the millions upon millions of dollars passing him by simply because they have nothing in common. The story showed the master level honest prowess of Bukowski's writing.

"When I was married to this millionaires, I was lying on the rug drunk and listening to F.'s Symphony in D., she sat there and said, "I think that music is ugly!" so I knew right then that the million was gone," Bukowski wrote. "I couldn't make it with her. and to prove it, that night when I f*cked her in the bedroom all the shelves fell down and flowerpots and trinkets came down upon my back and ass. I mean, I do a good job, but not that good. she thought it was ugly when I laughed then too, and stuck it back in and saw the million going going... "I don't like a man who makes fun of himself, I don't like a man who laughs at himself. I like a man who has pride," she told me. well, I've got to laugh because I am ridiculous; I am only temporarily made, I sh*t and wipe my ass, am full of snot and slime and bugs and grandiose notions... but I really am a turd, nothing but a turd."

The book also shows letters Bukowski wrote from 1945 to 1993. The earliest letters show the desperation that befell Bukowski's life when he only received $10 for two poems, while in another cash exchange he got $20 for eight poems. As the letters go on he speaks about success and getting pleasure from writing back to fans.

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