Month: August 2014

Forgotten Girl

You’re buried in an old forgotten place

I like to think I’m your only visitor

I tidy you up a bit

clear away all that’s unwanted

Then go around and pick up all the dead flowers scattered around

And lay them by your feet

A bed of roses for you, my dear

Just so you know

While you may be buried in an old forgotten place

You are not forgotten

© Dicky j Loweman 2014

The Beauty Of The Cellar Door

It’s a little hard to find

If you don’t know where to look

Hidden well, at the end of small pantry hall

The old cellar door

It’s paint is now faded

And the small handle has tarnished to black

But in all it’s imperfections

Within the space it stands

Is the true hidden beauty

It opens with loud creeks

A sound which hisses of age

And exposes three small steps

The steps which lead down through

Old cobwebs, which are always head-high

And to the single light bulb

Just beyond sit the oak racks, filled with more webs and dust

With bottles from the 50’s, 60’s, 70’s, 80’s and 90’s

Room for about 160 in all

But the truly best keep here is not encased in glass

It’s burrowed deep in a dark corner

Easy to miss, if you don’t know to look for it

But we both know it’s their, you and I

The true beauty of what’s hidden

Behind the cellar door

A secret we said we’d never reveal

And now that you’re gone

I know for sure

Our secret will go to the grave

I grab what I came for

And steal a quick, innoculous glance to that forbidden corner

Safe and sound, just as it always will be

I turn out the light

Walk up the stairs

It’s too dark, damp and cold to stay

I listen to the sound as the door shuts

And reflect on the beauty, and of the secret

Hidden deep away

Behind the beauty of the cellar door

The Look

A look can say a lot about a person

I saw you throught the bottom of a glass

And I know more about you than you’d ever tell

Sad on the outside

Lonely stirs within

But you don’t have to worry

Tonight will be much different

Once we leave, life will take a turn

No more drama

No more lonely nights

No more

The sadness, replaced with fear

Lonely with pain

One look can say a lot about a person

And you’ve already told me

All I need to know

Daft Cunt

You’re a fucking daft cunt

A waste of air, a waste of time

You’re as welcome as an infected boil on my ass

And I doubt

Even a fucking leprosarium would take you in

I bet, in fact, you’d have a hard time finding a leper

Who would be seen with the likes of you

Wha…What?

You brought a bottle?

Weed?

Fuck all, and why didn’t you say so sooner?

I’ll buzz you in

It’ll be good to see you, mate

You fucking daft cunt

Treat Me Well

Ah, you

How you treat me well

Drinks pour heavy

And we can still smoke in here

Music’s not too loud

As to allow for conversations

You allow me to get into minor troubles

Never getting the cops involved

There’s gambling

Tables littered with coasters, cards and dice

Ah, yes 

For you are the favorite

Of all the wells I consume at

And you 

How you treat me well

Immoveable

I can’t move anymore

I can only lay here, awaiting anything

Maybe for a passer-by

Maybe a gentle breeze to kiss my cheek

I wait with worry for the night

I count the seconds until daybreak

The day brings the sun, heat, exhaustion

But the night brings the foes

All those curious creatures

With foul breath and ghastly tastes

They have their way with me until first light

Ripping at my clothes

Taring at my flesh, grinding and clamping on my bones

I can only lay and wait until sunrise

More tattered than the day before

Then as they leave, one by one

I start a new day

Begin with a prayer

That the day will be cloudy, cool

And the night lets me move

Arms And Legs

I think you’re starting to get the hang of this

Gets a little easier every time

You’ve come a long way since your first time

Gets a little easier with every passing day

You even speak while we do our work

Now down to a finely tuned science

A quick glance, a subtle smile

Gets a little easier with every new friend

Enough talk for now

We have work to finish

Exactly like we always do

You grab the Arms, I got the legs

© Dicky J Loweman 2014