Month: January 2015

This Life Calls For Certain Things

Such is life

That much is certain

Some days I feel it

Many days I can’t

Or don’t

Or won’t

And for some, there are essentials

Those things we can’t go without

Simple things

Horrific things

Some things, so complex, I don’t understand

Can’t or won’t understand

These things I write of

Change, depending on the person

They change on decisions

And of circumstance

Some days you can go without

Never thinking of them

Some days they will swallow you

And your every thought

And sometimes

Most times

You just plain want them

They make this life easier

More convenient

Easier to deal with

And easier to live by

I have a long list of these, said things

I can’t think of them all

For I don’t need them all

Not all at once

Not now

And often, never

But by having them

I find I am happier

A bit fitter

More socially acceptable

In a better mental and physical state

And more apt not to kill anyone

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

You Know Who You Are

To me, this life grows thinner

All the auto mechanics, page-boys and school girls

Can’t and won’t fill it up

Stop with all the love poems

Stop by with a shot

I’ll take it

Like a bullet

Hope to see you soon

That same spot on the shore

It’s calling us, again

And all the doctors in the world

Can’t put me back together

Again

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

Sundays

All Sundays can eat a box of dicks

I fucking hate Sundays

Sunday – the day of the Lord

Sunday – The day of rest

Not for this old bag of shit

Everything needs to be done on Sundays

No football, no drinks

Just work, work, work

Got to pick such-and-such up from the store

Got to drop that thing off over at where ever

I fucking hate Sundays

And it seems quite apparent

Sundays hate this old fucker, too

© Dicky J Loweman 2014

Wednesday Afternoon, Wasting Time

Wednesday afternoon

Sitting here, wasting the time

There is no polo being played, today

But I went to the field anyhow

I watch as the trainers run the ponies

I survey and walk the grandstand

I’m not suppose to be here

But they know me, I’m not a threat

They leave me be

I search for the perfect seat

I plan for the best view when they ride, again

I like the sun on my face

I take my time

Reread some of the sports page

I sip on rum and coke

from a bota bag I brought along

These days are slow

The slowest of the slow

These are the days I would pay good money

Just to have more of

And as I think more of days, like these

I think

I like these the best of all

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

 

The Parts They Will Remember

When I lie dead

What will they remember?

My cold heart?

My carelessness and carefree ways?

I doubt that

Those who will remember me, at all

Will remember the smiles

Those of mine, and those I brought

The smiles and the many written lines

Which often meant more to me than to them

I will be remembered as a giver

Often giving more than I had

They say this is a character flaw

I’d say that’s right

But, in the end

That’s just me

And I can’t (and won’t) speak for them

I hope some of these many interactions

Have sat well, with them

© D J Loweman 2015

 

 

On The Gallows

As I stood on the gallows

I could hear all the cries below

Hang the bastard

Let him go

He’s innocent

He stands guilty

At this point, it’s useless

I’m going where we are all going

Only I’m going to get there

A little faster than most

Faster than everyone here

That much is obvious

That much is clear

But I lived faster

And that should be noted

The fastest ponies always die the hardest

Broken legs

Broken reins

Broken first — and the hardest

My guess is that it sets an example

Something for all

To look at

To remember

To fear and root against

© D J Loweman 2015