Month: January 2015

Sick Little Bastards

And the sick little bastards cause commotion

Running through the gardens

Stealing and defacing the gnomes

Russell keeps the engine running

And the car in drive

The rest is left to these demons

Widespread panic

Cast out in meer seconds

And spread like the Huns

Marauding barbarians, with a reputation

For procrastination and sloth by day

But come the nights and the shadows

And the world is ours

Keep that car running, Russell

This won’t take but a moment

And then, just like that — it’s over

The village has been razed to the ground

The flowers stomped

The gnomes in pieces or stolen

And this shaggy and coarse gang of hoodlums

Sets off, again

For drinks and a comfortable night’s sleep

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

The Night This City Burned

And the lions lay in their beds

On their backs, with the fans blowing the night air away

And the topless dancers collect dollar bills

From the sailors and street-wise foes

Who know all to well

It’s not safe to go home

The dinner will be served at 8

Baked beans shoveled in

Pure boredom and a skittish grin

Folks like us should be locked away

Maybe studied, most likely just left for dead

Now Bobby was hit by that train

And Nancy only comes around after sundown

Cliff is lost in Utah

Probably never to be seen again

And the dogs will own the streets

And the Pope will give one last prayer

Saying all is lost

Make sure to wear your best underwear

Don’t get caught without them, or matches

To burn this place to the ground

Leaving more for the bugs to sift through

And time moves along

And alone

At the very same speed

It always had

And always will

© Dicky J Loweman 2015



Something stirs inside of me and I need to get up

This is how it begins, always, every time

So I move about slowly, searching

There isn’t any reasoning to it, this just happens

Then, without warning I arrive at my finding

A bottle of vodka, purchased a while back

This was purchased and saved with very good intentions

This would be opened and consumed at a special time

But, like always, no time like the present

And not a reason to wait

Uncap, pour in glass, dive right in

Forget about the special time

For now, with this in hand

Has become special

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

Unfinished Business

Some days, mornings usually, I can’t get started

Nothing comes to mind

There just isn’t anything I can think of to write about

These are frustrating times

But there are a grip of ways to deal with this problem

I take a shower

I smoke cigarettes

Overload on too much caffeine

Of course, there’s always the cocktails, if all else fails

So while these are aggravating times

They are certainly better than the opposite

When the ideas and stories flow

Almost as fast as this sod can type

Ideas, ideas and more ideas

I write on napkins, scraps of paper, envelopes, etc., etc.

This, I know, hardly sounds like a bad thing

Poor guy, too many ideas, not enough time

And sometimes that’s the plain truth


It is almost a certainty

That along with the oh-so-many ideas

Comes a constant and nagging problem

I simply can’t finish them

None of them

I have amassed hundreds of writes — started, but never completed

And there they sit

Staring at me

Laughing at me

Reminding me of how I leave so much undone, unfinished

And like I said

To me

This is much worse than a good old-fashioned writer’s block

Writer’s block goes away — always

It may take hours, maybe even days

But eventually (and with the previously mentioned help) it ends

But the endings are a hard find

It seems to resemble my lost car keys

I look and look, but often end up no closer to the end

This is one of those days

And even now, as I write this

I can’t seem to find a way to sum it up

So I guess I’ll just leave it at that

At least I sort of found an ending

(Right next to the car keys)

I just took the easy way out


A very cheap way out

© Dicky J Loweman 2015