Form of Poetry｜Bukowski’s poem describing Russian atrocities

The photos of the Bucha massacre reminded me of a poem by Bukowski I read a few years ago. The scene described in a few lines of the poem was drilled into my mind. I thought of it again today, and I actually still remember where it was. Which poem is in this book, 👇The following is part of the original text and trial translation——

 I read (and I no longer know which side
did it) that in the Russian revolution
they'd catch a man, cut him open, nail
part of his intestine to a tree
then force him to run around and around
that tree, rolling his intestines about
the trunk. I'm no sadist. I'd probably
weep if I had to see it, probably go mad.
but I do know that we are much more than 
we think we are
even though the romantics
concentrate upon the hate/and or/love of 
the heart. 

【Trial Translation】

 I read (I can't remember which faction) that during the Russian Revolution they would grab a man, cut him open, nail a piece of his intestines to a tree and force him to walk around the tree. As he ran around, his intestines wrapped around the tree trunk. I'm not a sadist. If you have to see it,
I might cry, or I might go crazy.
but I know,
Even though romanticism always focuses on inner love and hate,
We are also much heavier than we think we are.

Interestingly, the title of this poem is called "Warm Water Bubbles". At first glance, it looks like it was written while eating marshmallows. It is precisely for this reason that the description of this atrocity suddenly appears in the poem, which is eye-catching to the point of hurting, out of place to the point of absurdity, and yet solemnly true. Very Bukowski.

Inserting this paragraph into that "warm water bubble" poem is as if Bukowski is still alive in the world, devoting his words to Ukraine in this cruel #NationalPoetryMonth of April.

The repeated "2" in 2022 makes the entire year look like an era in science fiction novels. Under the epidemic, some countries have gradually relaxed controls, and some countries have staged blockades and national movements two years ago. Global warming has suddenly changed. It was so light, only the invaded Ukraine fell heavily in front of the whole world, and every civilian corpse made a sound when it fell to the ground. Everything exists in a most absurd form.

However, very early on, Bukowski told us that "this is our fucking world." In his stories and poems, he transforms into Chinaski and lives again in this fucked-up world. He never warned anyone, he just observed and recorded it with a pen. He is not a model of life style, and perhaps he is not a poet with much readability in the eyes of feminists. However, I just like him, and I like his Doppelgänger called Chinaski. It is Bukowski’s poems that make me heartless in this fucked-up world. He stood up time and time again when the ground slapped him in the face.

Bukowski's poems deal with everyday life, inconspicuous moments in daily life, like the smelly empty wine bottles placed next to the trash can. He rarely writes about wars and atrocities, because aren't the "violent" moments in daily life enough? Don’t we face too little frustration every day?

Unexpectedly, in 2022, I was asked to pull out the clips about the atrocities written by Bukowski in the Russian Revolution. The Russian Revolution happened more than a hundred years ago, are the atrocities so far away from us? After the Russian Revolution, another country with a territory as vast as Russia was also affected. It worshiped the murderer Lenin as its god. There were revolutions one after another. In each revolution, there were many atrocities against ordinary people, some of which were recorded. , and more remain in the mouths of family members. After many years, it has become an oral history that they dare not tell.

I seemed to see Bukowski scratching his head and scratching his head like crazy when he thought about this atrocity, and then recorded it on his typewriter. He is not a poet labeled as a "tough guy" like Hemingway. He is Chinaski who perceives the world truthfully through words.

This book is one of my favorite Bukowskis. Published in 2017, this book contains many unpublished and uncollected poems by Bukowski, "Warm Water Bubbles" is one of them.

The book contains many graffiti-style illustrations created by Bukowski himself, which have the same style as his poems: concise, everyday, and sharp.

Also in these poems, Bukowski tells us, Write! Write it! ——

 listen, you write because it's the last machinegun
on the last hill.
you write because you're a bird sitting on a wire, then
suddenly your wings flap and your little dumb ass is 
up in the air.
you write because the madhouse sits there belching and
farting, heavy with minds and bodies, you write because
you fear ultimate madness...

Yes, you are writing because the last machine gun is on the last hill.

You write because you are just a little bird landing on a wire, and then with a shot from a distance, you fly into the sky, feathers and blood splashing everywhere.

You write because the people sitting in the madhouse are burping, farting, and thinking with heavy bodies. You write because,

You are afraid of the ultimate madness...

Sure, Henry Chinaski.

[Off topic] April is #NationalPoetryMonth in the United States. @Zi Fu Magazine will publish the submissions for the second issue of essays in the poetry special issue in April. Your attention and support will become the driving force for the advancement of "Word Binding" magazine, and will also become a force in #restricted writing. After the poetry special issue, there will be a third issue soliciting essays. We look forward to your submissions if you love literature and writing!