free verse


You say

No one takes comfort in you

No one seeks this from you

This perplexes you

Causes you to lose time thinking about it

You look to me for answers

Any advice I can give

“Maybe you should spend less time dwelling on it

And spend more time working on it”

You don’t like this answer

I can tell from the look on your face

Sorry, honey

Sometimes the truth isn’t what you’d expect

Or want to hear

Maybe you’ll learn to take

A little comfort in that

© Dicky J Loweman 2014

The Weather Is Here, Wish You Were Fine

Sun drenched afternoons

Spent doing nothing special

Alone, to do as I please

Wake up when I want

Go to bed, anytime I choose

I can watch countless bad movies

Spend endless hours at the bar

I can waste all day and night

Catching reruns of M*A*S*H

Cloistered in my boxers

With one hand in a Doritos bag

And the other scratching my nuts

I won’t have to do laundry

Or wash any dishes

I can decide to let the phone ring

Or waste hours on it

Catching up with old friends

I can shit with the door open

Sing in the shower

Or, better yet, not shower at all

It’s all up to me

My choice

No one to tell me what to do

I don’t even need to go and collect the rent

I might even give those lazy bastards the week off, too

I could have spent it in Costa Rica

But even there, things can get crazy

Nope, not this time

Just me, tucked away in this little shack

A king and his castle

Worry free

No stress

No obligations

Just one glorious week

That was last Sunday night

Seven long nights ago

A head full of debauchery and sloth

Thoughts of torpid mornings

Twisting into apathetic, lethargic nights


Seven blissful mornings and evenings ahead, calling my name

All gone

Flattened like a fly with the morning news

The moment I answered

That child-like screeching, devil worshiping doorbell

And saw your pretty face

Instead of dark pinot’s, poured into stemmed golblits of bliss

I had you

A momentary lapse of oxygen hit me

As I stared at you

With arms stretched out in “V” formation

I was awarded this equivocal visit with endless hours of ‘remember when’ blathers

And timely decisions of who we need to call, and when

I had the privilege of cooking for you

French foods, mostly

Being your favorite and the most persnickety to cook

I enjoyed the benefit, only by a person beyond the advantages of most

Of doing your laundry

Hand washing panties and bras

Because of the small fortune it would take to replace them

Shoulder massages, foot massages

All the attentive and indulgent treatments

Poured onto you

Like kisses from the gods

Not that I never had time alone

I did

The times I would slink away to the bathroom

And sit on the toilet, with my pants on, and the door closed

To secretly enjoy a tallboy filled with lukewarm scotch

Slowly, wretchedly, the week slugged by

Until I saw you again, at the doorstep

Arms outstretched in the infamous “V” formation

And your exclamations of how fast the time went by

Now alone, I pour myself a cocktail

Sink into the couch

And try to find something to do

I think I’ll go collect the rent

Those lazy bastards have had an extra week

It’s time for someone else to pay up

© Dicky J Loweman 2014





I stare at the computer screen

The cursor blinking, blindly back at me

Words won’t write themselves

Thoughts just cloud and scurry

Like the dust on the window sill


I need fewer distractions

A clear head, like a blank sheet of paper

Maybe that’s the answer

I need to try the trusty typewriter

Computer won’t throw me a bone

Think a bit more about the typewriter

My jet black and scratched old friend

It’s been a while

Maybe it’s time to give her a pounding again

Stand, stretch, and follow it up with a groan

Voice a deep, inarticulate sound

Like a pain, grief, or displeasure shooting

Through my very soul

Take a quick lap around this dusty old study

Notice all the works which so freely came as waves

In the past

But that was then, this is now

A walk to the trusty ‘thinking box’

Grab a glass

A mental note to get some ice

Then top it off with some semi-expensive scotch

I’m hardly often fond of scotch

But it’s good for thinking

Clears the head, lets ideas back in

Usually a tad bit crazier than before

Who cares now

Just about anything will do

Then I notice all the clutter of papers, again

All these works were conceived

On that old whore of a typewriter

My old friend, old girl

I clear clothes off the chair, sit down

And undress her of her cover

Roll in a crisp,stark-white, brand new piece of paper

Hello old girl

We really shouldn’t spend so much time apart

Without hesitation my fingers snap the keys with speed

As if I have no control

As if I had been here all along

© Dicky J Loweman 2014

Nights Like This

Every now and then

I have one of these nights

My mind doesn’t stir in worry

All awash in calm

Drinks aren’t too stiff

Smoke doesn’t linger too long

There is a warmth from a small fire

And a book to be lost in

Sleep come with relative ease

Heavy eyes give way

To simple thoughts of nothingness

A subtle tease which always leaves room for more

All dreams are at a slower pace

All are lucid and worth remembering

No panic, no chasing, no reason to run or hide

Guards can be let down

All awash in calm

For every once in a while

There are nights like this

Even demons need a night off

So I’ll take advantage

Giving way to a restful night

© Dicky J Loweman 2014


City Bus

Riding the city bus

Right now I’m the most beautiful person

In the whole world

My hair is wind-blown

My beard is too long

I have tobacco stains on my fingers

I have a cut on my hand

And a stain on my pantleg

My spine is crooked

And I walk with a limp

But from the looks of things here

I am a super model

I see a homeless man with a paper bag

An old woman with eight shopping bags

A sad boy with a crumpled piece of paper

A dirty little girl clutching a doll with no head

I see a man sleeping in the back

A woman with a bad case of gout

And a lady who is perfectly content

Talking with herself

That’s when I comprehend completely

This bus is an ugly place

And I am the best looking person here

Life may not be grand

But it could be much worse

It’s cold outside, but I have a coat

I have money in my pocket

Food in my stomach

In twenty minutes I’ll be at the bar

So drinks aren’t far away, either

I have enough cigarettes to last the night

And I am the most beautiful person

In the whole wide world

When you look at it

From where I sit

© Dicky J Loweman 2104



You hold the qualities

Which enable you

To fuck with my oh-so small world

You turn out the lights

When I most need to see

You eat all we have

Knowing that I starve

You seem to like the power

You like to be in complete control

You have an ability

To make me frown at the very sight of you

Make me feel sick

And in need of a bed

Like a witch

You hold secret powers

The power to push me down

Bringing rain on the clearest days

Rabid cold during the summer months

You dabble in crudeness

Exploiting my dismay

These are your greatest qualities, dear

And no matter how hard one tries

They can’t be changed

Or taken away

© Dicky J Loweman 2014

Secret Spot

It’s cold and dark down here

I forget how long I’ve been gone

This secret spot

Always lush with courageous and mettlesome thoughts

Thoughts which help with bad days, just like today

The seemingly endless days where nothing goes right

And nothing good takes shape

But all that is forgotten

Left behind to sink into a rooted mind’s mire

Leaving behind only the goodness

All the coldness and darkness

Of this seldom viewed world

© Dicky J Loweman 2014