I wanted to write a poem today

 So I wanted to write a poem today

But I really didn't know what to say

I was back in the exam hall

the year of no Covid

It was a long time ago

I never thought I would get to my fifties a failure

I never thought I would get to my fifties

Young pedantic pups are standing on bridges

while I'm working out how to fill my fridge

'Yes Cymru'&'Free Wales'

 Those goddam bastards are marching

to fill the stage

Don't know if I'm jealous or apathetic

See it just wouldn't have happened in our day

So used to being the underdog, the loser

that fooling yourself that you're a winner?

Just give me the sack cloth and ashes sinner

🕈

So I wanted to write a poem today

and you guessed it, I still don't know what to say.

Happy Birthday Buke

You were a 100 yesterday

My old man is older than you and he's still dancing

on the linoleum in his slippers, half asleep.

Your writing spoke to me, it still does,

like finding a volume of John Tripp in the Oriel bookshop in Cardiff, 

a Charles Bukowski poem helps those men who never want to grow up

 and mature and marry 

and have children and take responsibility,

 to feel that it's OK to be an outsider.

An outsider in your own freaking country

where the learners speak better Welsh than you.

I am a mongrel man Mr Bukowski

and I thank you.

🕈