Day: March 17, 2015

Updating The Scars

All the red slashes and markings look to me like scars

Because they are here, forever and ever

Coded into these pages, tucked away and longing for a return

All these pages should be in another place

Not this makeshift database query

Not this database query, because of its size

The vastness, the hugeness of it all

It’s mesmerizing, overflowing, and makes me slightly nervous

I have trouble looking at it, straight in the eyes

I can do it, I do do it

But it takes a lot

Patience, bravery, or maybe just stupidity and some rum

All this for something that so rarely changes

Something which takes on no new shapes

And it never speaks of what it would like to see happen

What it would like to become, hopes to become

Come to think of it, I also have no idea of what this will become

I’m going through all these old manuscripts, at the moment

This one goes with this one

This one belongs over here

No, no that’s not right, so over here it’s moved

I’m finding there are more than a few that are incorrectly marked

Some with no titles, many which make no sense

These are the works, the sweat, the love, the time invested

This is my work, although it’s been more like a job, as of late

And everybody needs a weekend, a stop, a brake

Maybe a vacation

I’ve written of Paris, all because of a dream

It’s just a place, and although beautiful, I’m sure

It would soon look the same

The same as New York, Los Angeles, Miami

Places I’ve been to, lived in, and left

Truly, I think I would rather be shacked up in eastern France

Alone with a typing machine, and my back against the Alps

Or maybe in the south of France

The Mediterranean, maybe Cannes, Marseille

Or, better yet, Saint-Tropez

Or maybe I scrap France altogether

And just hide away in Monaco

Writing, drinking fine wines

And watching all the expensive boats that pass

Just dreams about dreams, tucked away within a dream

Not a dream of color

Rather, just random black and white musings

And so, “tous les bons rêves doivent prendre fin”

If that’s even right, I don’t know

I don’t speak French

Yet, here I still sit

Finding more and more correctly and incorrectly marked manuscripts

Drowning in the sea

I open a bottle of rum, if only to slow this speeding mind

I suppose I’m doing the best I can

We are all doing our best

And I have come to accept

That your best is better than my best

Still, all the red slashes and markings on these pages

Look like scars to me

I have hard-coded scars, in various parts of my brain

And I can’t seem to find an end

And I’m not at all sure

That there was ever meant to be an updating

An ending to the end

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

 

Drive

Keep your eyes on the road

Don’t look at me

Just keep your eyes forward

This is a long jaunt, especially at night

This is where things turn towards the terribly wrong

I don’t want that turn

Tonight’s been long

We’ve been through some stuff

So do me a favor

Keep your eyes on the road, I’m thinking

“What did you say?”

“Keep your eyes on the road”

“Are you sleeping?” , she asks with disgust

Just resting my eyes

Not that she needs to know

“No.  I’m here”

She’s in control now

This is where she should be

And likes to be

I’m just a passenger

Strapped in, for my convenience

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

 

Misspoke

I haven’t given up, on all of it

I still have hope, faith

Maybe I’ll find someone like you

A pretty girl

Someone, who looks like you

Someone, with that same sense of humor

That dark side; that evil, girly smile

The one who laughs when people fall down

When they fail

The same girl who

I can share easy thoughts

Feel good

And still feel good about

Being alone

Either way

I still miss you

And everything is still good, up here

Scratch, what I said

About finding someone like you

I misspoke

© Dicky J Loweman 2015