“Play the piano drunk like a percussion instrument until the fingers begin to bleed a bit” by Charles Bukowski



Play The Piano Drunk Like A Percussion Instrument Until The Fingers Begin To Bleed A Bit by Charles Bukowski is small book of big poems. They’re short and shit directly in your head. All of Bukowski’s works have a quality of being from a generation that lived harder, but also from a man who cared less because he saw the futility in everything. His tombstone reads “Don’t Try.” Yet, the poems in Play The Piano Drunk… take your mind to his world of seedy bars, faithless women, and desolate factories, within six words. It’s a book for anyone who knows what it’s like to waste away a job while being strangled with a crucifix. If you’ve never read a work by Bukowski, or even heard of him, pick up this book, pick up any of his books.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: