This is my first time giving Charles Bukowski a chance. Always heard of him, but I just never got around to reading his work. It wasn't easy picking a poem. Some of his poems frustrated me so much that I refused to keep on reading. Some just didn't really make me feel anything. Poetry is supposed to make the reader feel something and if it doesn't ... What now?
Bukowski did a good job in naming his poems. It was how I ended up selecting this one anyways. Alone with everybody. It's quite intriguing really. I wanted to know more. I wanted to know what he meant and why. My first impression was that it would be about how it doesn't matter how many people you're with or around if you still feel alone. You'd think that having company would make one feel whole, but really, that's not the case. Instead you just feel empty. Bukowski hits where it hurts.
After I read the poem, I realized how depressing it is. How depressing life can be if you let it. How depressing life can be if you're truly alone. "The flesh covers the bone and they put a mind in there and sometimes a soul," this made me think of a few things. In the end we really are just flesh and bones. We all have minds that over complicate things and we're our own obstacles. I don't even know what to make of the soul part. Or maybe I do. Maybe the people with souls are the honest, truthful, loyal ones. While the ones without cheat and play with peoples feelings ? I don't even know what i'm saying right now. I picked this part to talk about because he mentions it later on in the poem, "flesh covers the bone and the flesh searches for more than flesh," this is something big. It's something real too. While people are influenced by beauty, physical connections aren't strong, while actually mental connections, bonding... If you're lucky it'll last a life time.
He mentions hysterical women and alcoholic men. Which isn't such an odd picture. You don't find the one and one always drowns their sorrows in violence and drinks. At least, that's what's most common. Person after person and be after bed. One hopes to find love, but it's all lust. Lust, lusting after people thinking it's meant to be but it isn't. Think of it this way. "You think you're in love, but really you wanna be loved." I'm just going to leave that right there.
Firm believer in fate and what not, but we have the power to change how we get to out destiny. So, it's not all written in the stars. Not everyone has the same fate (unless death is the topic of discussion). This seems like a sad way to have lived. "Nobody ever finds the one," what if the one isn't even an actual thing? What if it's actually about two people wanting to be together and wanting to make it work? Everything is immensely temporary. So, yes, you will be empty, but you will will also be filled. Maybe Bukowski spent too much timing trying to find the right person instead of trying to be the right person.