In the smoky haze of dim-lit bars,
Where laughter mingles with despair,
He scribes the truths of broken dreams,
A poet’s heart laid bare.

With every bottle raised and shattered,
His words flow like a river wild,
Capturing the soul’s dark corners,
In the mind of a restless child.

Amid the clamor of a city’s roar,
He finds solace in the chaos,
Crafting verses from the mundane,
In the shadows of the lost.

A life lived on the edge of night,
In search of beauty in decay,
Charles Bukowski, the bard of the streets,
His legacy in words shall stay.