dark poem

Bad News

Harbored in bed

With all lights out

Not wanting to move

Only to sleep

I could get up

Re-read yesterday’s paper

Again

Filled with story after story

Of bad news

But, instead, I settle for a glass of water

Prepare the coffee pot

The room is dark

No need for the lights

I have nothing to read

I just sit still in silence

With my water

Thinking about the sleep

I missed out on

And wait for the news boy

To bring me today’s bad news

© Dicky J Loweman 2014

 

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The Ugliness Of This Street

I walk down the street and the ugliness is everywhere

It drips from the trees and belches in exhaust form from the cars

I can hear small chatter from passer-by’s

Their quiet squawks are going to be the death of me

I’d like to kick them square in the face

For what it’s worth, I’d like to leave this place

Find a deserted beach or maybe a desolate mountain top

This, of coarse, is just a crack pipe dream

There really is just no way out

Stuck here

To wither, spin and slowly dissolve

Breaking away from any chance of a sound piece of mind

Like a dock being ripped from the shore during a storm

This place is like a slow cancerous death

A beast that grows and torments from the inside out

Slowly eating at my brain and causing this mind-numbing hatred

I believe this is what drives men to kill

This makes for a very long and lonely walk

I walk down the street and the ugliness is everywhere

© Dicky J Loweman 2014