Month: May 2015

Lifting Them

All is good in this world

And as long as no one is dying,

Let’s lift a few

Put them up to our lips,

And hope we make it back alive

Here’s to the future good days,

And to all the bad ones gone

I guess I prefer the here and now,

Over the what could or should have been

Call me an optimist,

It seems everyone else likes to call me a cynic

Well, fuck ’em

Let them rot and roll in their graves

And to all of those retched souls,

I lift one

Just because I’m still here,

And they’re not

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

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Michelle The Cat Lady

Michelle was a sweet girl

Who lived upstairs from me in Venice

She was pretty, but never had men around

The very few times I was in her apartment,

I counted at least six cats

I’m sure most of the strays outside,

Were taken care by her, as well

And all of the cats’ names,

were people’s names

There was Francis and Toby,

Aphrodite, and Matilda…Etc., etc.

A pretty girl, but a spinster at heart

More room for the cats,

Than any man who came along

Late at night,

After I had finished with my drinks and the t.v.,

I would lie in my bed,

And listen to Michelle through the paper-thin walls

She would talk to those cats

All through the night

“No, no Francis!  That’s what the litter box is for!”

“Matilda, no paws on the table!”

“Oh, Jack!  Not on the pillow!”

This would go on until dawn

Oh, Michelle,

She was a sweet little girl

Crazy as hell,

But good in the heart

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

Waiting Room

I sit with her in the waiting room

I’m here for support and the ride

I wish that I could be anywhere else

A bar, a boat, a beach,

A storm drain, a funeral,

Almost anywhere would be better

I have a deep hatred for waiting rooms

Magazines scattered everywhere,

Not a single one I would read

Woman’s Day, Ms., Glamour,

There are two other men in here,

And not a single magazine on sports

All four walls in here,

Are covered with bad contemporary art

It looks as if they’re posters in cheap frames

And, of course, the Bose ceiling speakers,

Which puke out barely audible elevator music

We’ve been sitting here for almost an hour,

When her name is finally called

“Be right back,” she says,

In her best ‘I’m not nervous’ voice

Then she slips though the door

And I’m left there,

With only boredom to contain myself

Thirty seconds later and she’s back

“Ready?”, as if she needed to ask

Then she slipped out the front door

An hour’s wait and a thirty-second visit

I have no idea what went on back there,

But something tells me,

It wasn’t free,

And I probably choose the wrong profession

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

 

 

 

Sky Dreams

The sky is filled with birds, clouds and vapor trails

Such a big and beautiful place,

So vast and high up there

Seems a waste not to use more of it

But that leads to the question of what for?

And what could really be good enough?

probably just added useless shit

Shit that I wouldn’t want to see up there, anyway

Like more planes and non-recycled plastic bags

I would much rather see it filled with written words,

And of secret dreams

The kind of which are so big,

It would take up the entire sky

Dream big, they say

And so do I

And so I do

After all, daydreams, nighttime dreams,

Dreams of all and any kind

Seem, to me, to be the best way to pass the time

So, dream big,

And fill all the skies

All the skies in this world and others

Fill it with all you like, want or wish for

Fill it with all that may or may not ever be

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

Drinks For Thought Or For Reminder

Cast out like a bullet

So full of life and all

Times like this call for drinks

Drink it all down deep,

And make sure it stays

For this will serve as the constant reminder

Of how life takes turns

When all you wanted was straight and narrow

Let it serve as that reminder,

Of how life comes with curves,

And of how much better those curves are,

With that constant reminder

Packed deep in your gut,

Surrounded by those deep drinks

© Dicky J Loweman 2015