From Serbia With Love: Another Bukowski Tattoo Narrative

I recently received an email from an ardent Bukowski fan in Serbia who was keen to show me his Bukowski tattoo. When trawling the net last year for my post The 15 Best Bukowski Tattoos Online, I briefly considered including it: https://georgedanderson.blogspot.com.au/2015/03/the-15-best-bukowski-tattoos-on-line.html

The three legged tat is a photo realistic representation of Mark Hanauer’s circa 1981 photo of Bukowski. The original photo can be found in Abel Debritto’s article in Jacket Magazine Big Time: Charles Bukowski in Evergreen Review: http://jacketmagazine.com/40/debritto-bukowski.shtml

I asked the Sebian bloke, Predrag Almazan, why the fascination with Bukowski.

His reply, “Well...you know how some things and moments in life help define who you are? I always loved to read, and one day, when I was 15, at my grandmother’s apartment I found a book with an interesting cover picture : It was Ham on Rye by Bukowski.

“I asked what that book was about and my mother said that I was too young for that but my grandmother said that I wasn’t and told me to take it. I read it in three hours, and I was hooked. Then, I discovered his poetry, simply written but beautiful and strong.

“I was writing poetry myself up to that moment for about 2 years, but I followed forms. Then, I discovered that you don't need forms, or rhymes, you have free verse. So, about that time, 1999, puberty, first sexual experiences, alcohol and drug abuse, NATO bombardment of my country (Serbia), I was changing in what I am now in part thanks to him, or you might say, my fascination with him. I have his every novel, and poetry book published here, even his comic - The Day it Snowed in LA, which only came out once in 500 copies in my country.

“I still write poetry, though I found my own flow, but I still use free verse, and I still love reading poetry mostly thanks to him. So, as years passed, and I got to know one of the best tattoo artists in Serbia Ivan Sabo "La madre muerta" https://www.facebook.com/lamadremuerta I had to do Buk’s portrait, so I found a black and white picture of him, that not only represented him well but also was a great picture by itself, and got it tattooed.”

The tattoo five years on:
  

Bukowski is either hoisted on a pedestal or maligned for opening up poetry to the masses and encouraging the widespread writing of poetry. There is certainly no curbing of Predrag’s enthusiasm for Buk. His leg is a testament to his love of Bukowski's writing.

Predrag Almazan is presently preparing a book of poetry called Crn Pan (Black Pan). Here are few of his Bukowski inspired poems from Serbia:

ANTIMUZA

Noć je

i Antimuza krklja

dok se smeje

dok dovlači klitoris

do kreveta

u tri do pola devet

zinula je na sva usta

ali su bar ptice umukle

obućari

verovatno

drkaju na njene cipele

U radiju se čuje

lomljenje kostiju

panterovo oko

izgleda kao mesec

ako je ludilo sreća

onda sam srećan

a ako nije

pronaći ću

nešto drugo

neku

srećniju sreću

koja će me veštije ubiti

ANTIMUSE

It is the night

and Antimuse is gurgling

as she is laughing 

while she’s dragging her clitoris

to bed 

at three to half past eight

she gaped with all of her mouths 

but at least the birds have gone quiet

shoemakers are

probably 

jerking off on her shoes

radio is playing 

breaking of the bones

panther's eye

looks like the Moon

if madness is happiness

than I’m happy

if it’s not

I’ll find something else

some happier kind of happiness

that will kill me more cunningly.

 LAŽNO DNO BEZ DANA

Spojeni pljuvačkom ili mislima o njoj

s komšija voajerima ili bez njih

s njenom svetom Vodicom i mojim ejakulacijama

s njenim bolestima

i mojim bolestima;

spojeni pseći

dok ona grči lice u nežnu grimasu

dok nam bog mater psuje

a ona očekuje izbacivanje

mesečne larve-

šake pune krvavog

čijoj sahrani neću prisustvovati jer

kaže: Nisam;

dok je bez dna ovaj bez-dan u koji smo sa dna pali

dok sutrašnjica abortira i baca svoj fetus među nas

dok sveti mučenici svojim životom proslavljaju mazohizam

mogu reći da je

a i ne moram

to ništa neće promeniti

dok spavamo nožu ispod jastuka

dok ona leži pored mene

a besno sunce nam ponovo otima mir

ne bi li ga zamenilo nečim

nazovimo-

Božanskim...

FALSE BOTTOM OF ABYSS

Joined together with saliva or with the thoughts about it
with voyeur neighbors or without them
with her holy Water and my ejaculations
with her illnesses
and my illnesses;

joined like dogs
while she’s convulsing her face in a tender grimace
while god curses our mothers
and she’s expecting an ejection

of her monthly maggot-
a handful of a bloody child
whose funeral I won't be attending ‘cause
she says: I’m not;

while bottomless this abyss is into which from the bottom we have fallen
while tomorrow aborts and throws its fetus between us
while holy martyrs praise the masochism with their lives

I can say it’s…
but I don’t have to

it won’t change a thing

while we're sleeping under the knife’s pillow
while she’s laying by my side,
and the furious sun is taking our peace once again
in order to replace it with something
let's call it-

Divine…

TAČKE

TAČKA 1

Sunce se još tu i tamo snalazi.

Oblaci idu negde drugde.

Adam je donirao rebro.

Jedan i jedan su još uvek.

Ko može i dalje se oduševljava ljudima.

Da me ne mrzi i ja bih bio normalan.

Neko svoje noge naslanja na zid pa tek onda seda.

Mrtvi drugari su popili svoje.

Sanjaju me košmari jednog po jednog.

Nisam još dovoljno sjeban da pišem bolju poeziju,

ali ima vremena.

TAČKA 2

Možda je pišanje po njenoj mokraći izvestan vid ljudavi.

Uključim svetlo - svetlo ti se uključi.

Možda ima nečega u vezama među ljudima.

Antimuza čeka dete,

a ja joj dadoh:

srce na dlanu,

govno u ruci

i bukete cveća

koje je u ćošku sažvakala.

Izvukao sam kućicu i sunce.

Bio je vedar dan.

Srećne su priče bez kraja.

Hajde da ga onda ova ipak ima.

POINTS

POINT 1

Sun is coping now and then.
Clouds are going elsewhere.
Adam donated the rib.
One and one are still.
The one who knows how can still be amazed by people.
If it wasn’t so hard I too would be normal.
Some abuts their legs on the chair before they sit.
Dead friends drank their share.
I turn, I spin, the nightmares dream of me,
one by one.
I’m not yet fucked up enough to write better poetry,
but there’s time.

POINT 2

Maybe peeing on her piss is some sort of love.
I switch on the light – your light switches on.
Maybe there is something about relationships between people.
AntiMuse is expecting a child.
and I gave her:
heart on a palm,

shit in a hand
and bouquets of flowers

which she chewed up

in the corner.
I snorted a small house

and the sun.
It was a beautiful day.
Happy are the stories that have no end.

So let this one have it anyway.