The news paper article,

Say the body was found,

On a particularly hot,

Monday morning

An unsuspecting jogger who was

A sophomore at the university,

Was the first to see him

Bloated, rotting

And taking on a good suntan

The paper said he was a


From the Boston area

The local authorities didn’t

Have a clue as to why

He was here

Apparently his wallet,

His cash and ID

Were missing

He had nothing

Of major value to

Anyone else

Except for a map

With the small town,

Of Asheville, N.C.,

Circled in red

Of course, this had police baffled

Not because of the robbery,

Not because of the killing,

Only because he was so far off

And there wasn’t anyone

In Asheville

Who was looking for him

Or, at least

Wanted to claim him

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

Counterfeit World

It’s not always as it seems

And rarely turns out the ways you want

But that’s life

This is what we’re given to work with

You got the liars

The cheats

The low-down, no-goods

The special ones, who won’t explain the rules

But don’t worry about it,

Because they don’t play by their own rules, anyway

They like to make it up

As they cruise along

As long as it works out in their favor

That’s how it’s going to be

The fakes, the thieves

And just so you’re not surprised,

They’re everywhere

They’re the ones who sell you

Tickets to the show,

Fed complete with all the lines,

All the bullshit

And the world is full of them

The counterfeit producing,

Bullshit artists

The ones with the pretty smiles

And the swaggered walks

So take a look around

And if you start to pay attention

You’ll see them everywhere,

Spread out

And sucking on the life

Of this beautiful,

Counterfeit world

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

Paul And The Bird

Paul and I sat on a park bench

Drinking whisky from clear plastic cups, which we took from a fast food restaurant

It was a beautiful day and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky

As he poured us another shot, he looked anxiously to the sky

I saw him do this more than a couple of times

“Hey man, what are you looking up there for?”, I asked

“Birds”, he answered. “Those god damned creatures are everywhere these days.”

“Listen, Paul.  We live in Florida.  I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we have birds here.”

“Yeah, well, not usually this many.  Did you know I counted more than twenty of them in my backyard, yesterday?  They’ve been shitting everywhere.  I got so pissed off, than I grabbed a pellet gun and killed one of them.”

“Why would you do something like that,” I demanded, “What if I unexpectedly shot you, the next time you were in my backyard?”

“You probably would” he said, “I’ll drink to that.”

So Paul poured two more

This time he poured them deep

They were taller than doubles

“Here’s to you, shooting me”

“Here, here”

And I drank the whisky back

Faster than the pellet which killed that bird

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

Names In The Dirt

Damaged and used up

Spit out, thrown to the wolves

Bent and cramped

With eyes that falter

The long shadows are screeching

With the names of those now long past

There will be no consolation prizes

No raffles with promises of big wins

There will, however, be long nights

Cold nights

And thoughts which bring brave men

Crashing down to their knees

There will be soft whispers

Of all you don’t know

Of all the wasted time

Spent dreaming of the better ways

The impossible, impassable, linger on

Long past their prime

But with little else to do

Except scratch names in the dirt

The names of the hidden, of the few

Who sought out this world

However, had no choice

But to view it through fogged eyes

Damaged and used

Thrown down with careless abandonment

Only to hesitate, waiver

Slowed by the process

Which was never forgiving

And never sympathetic

© Dicky J Loweman 2015


Call It Quits

Think I’ll call it quits for the day

I’ve already written thirteen pieces this morning

It’s only 10:10 am

But I’m tired

I feel like I’ve already put in a full days worth

Such a tough life

Not a thing to complain about

But I still find ways

So I think I’ll call it quits for today

I’m all dried up

Out of ideas

And at this point I’m only writing

The very thoughts I’m thinking

More like exercise than writing

It isn’t very much fun

And that’s supposedly why I do this

So I think I’ll call it quits

This write isn’t any good, anyhow

Now I feel bad

For wasting the time of both of us

Yeah, it’s time to call it quits

© Dicky J Loweman 2015