Not so very much poetry

Some say we should personal remorse from the 
poem,
stay abstract, and there is some reason in this,
but jezus;
twelve poems gone and I don't keep carbons and you have 
my 
paintings too, my best ones; it's stifling:
are you trying to crush me out like the rest of them?
why didn't you take my money? they usually do
from the sleeping drunken pants sick in the corner.
next time take my left arm or a fifty
but not my poems;
I'm not Shakespeare
but sometime simply
there won't be anymore, abstract or otherwise,
there'll always be money and whores and drunkards
down to the last bomb,
but as God said,
crossing her legs,
I see where I have made plenty of poets
but not so very much
poetry.

To the whore who took my poems - Charles Bukowski