dark poetry

Purpose

Rolling up in a black limousine

Tallying all the fortunate little ones

With the big minds and tired, drab ideas

Sucking the very soul out of life

Fight on, but only with a purpose

Like floating the waves,

In the calm, after a scathing storm

The pieces will fall,

Laying and crying at your feet,

Begging to be stepped on,

Screaming for the hurt

But in this dismal time,

There is sometimes tucked a flower,

With the beauty of a smile,

Like that from some past lover

A smile you’d go to battle for,

Climb mountains to get to,

And give your last nickel,

Just to see once more

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

With Time To Kill

Time isn’t kind

Not to me, not to you,

Not to a single living, breathing soul

As I stand here,

Staring into the bathroom mirror,

I count 20 maybe 30 new grey hairs to my beard

I can’t bring myself to count those,

On top of my aching head

Time has done this

Stress has done this

All the bad things in this world have done this

Somewhere, in this world,

A small toaster just caught fire,

In a room with no one present

Somewhere, in a lonely back alley,

A baby is set in a dumpster

But in the end,

Time will fix all of it

It will right the wrong,

Kill the strongest,

And mercifully smother the weak

Time will play tricks,

Beguiling even the smartest of us all

It slips away

In the end, it all slips away

Then you’re left holding prayer cards,

Of loved one’s gone,

Dreams carried for years,

But won’t ever be realized

Time is a real piece of work

A real ‘fuck ya in the back’,

Kind of guy

Time is a whore,

Charging too much,

Giving too little,

And stealing your wallet,

While you wash your hands

A real piece of work

A seven layered loser

Time is a shitstorm we are all walking through,

At one time or another

So smile wide,

But keep your head low

So, I guess it’s time to wrap this up,

Time to get going,

And I’d best make good time

After Time has a chance to read this,

I seriously doubt,

It will be on my side

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

Sorry For The Silence

Sorry for the silence,

But I get tired,

Of the loud night’s shouts

She and I have,

Come and gone,

Parted ways,

And left all the entrails hanging

The deal sounded good,

In theory

But it looked worse,

Once it was written on paper

So I’ll move her letter on,

Place them with the thoughts,

That get these deals closed

Sometimes the silence is crushing,

Like the weight of 1000 stones

But often, it shows its face,

In the form of relief

Overthinking, planning, and surmising,

Never does the mind much good

And that about sums it up

Hope that fills you in,

Fills the cracks,

And patches all the leaks

Again, sorry for the silence,

But sometimes, like lately,

The world has been just too loud,

And the silence becomes,

My calm

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

All The Crashing Madness

When all the madness,

Comes crashing down,

And buries alive,

All it came to claim,

What will you think about?

Unpaid bills?

Long lost lovers?

Or maybe how,

This whole world,

So full of shit,

Will be better off?

It doesn’t matter

The air is thick,

And all that madness,

Is waiting around some,

Lonely and forgotten corner

Waiting for the perfect time,

And when all seems right,

And when you have perfected,

All you thought you were sent to do,

Madness will pay a visit

It may be in the form of that bill,

Your mother-in-law,

Or the ocean

Sneaky bastard,

Never drops a hint,

Never tips his hand

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

 

Without Asking

Thrown here, without asking,

It all appears easy,

When you stare through it all

Thrown here without asking,

I sit with my eyes closed

I didn’t want it then,

And I still don’t, now

Closed eyes,

And then comes the smile,

The one that stretches,

From ear to ear

Just killing the time

Working my way,

And thinking about,

How I never wanted this,

In the first place

Well, then,

Without asking,

I rise up,

Walk away

I can feel the open eyes,

Burning holes in the back of my head

I couldn’t care less,

All this came about,

Without asking for it,

Without a want, a need,

Or even any interest,

From me

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

 

Gluttony Of Big Winnings

Gluttony is the cost of doing business

And all those shiny stars,

Have faded out,

And are long past dead

The winds speak of all the big winnings,

All the luxuries,

All you could ever dream of

But the rains hold different plans,

And all will be shown,

When the time is ripe

I watch the mindless,

Looking lost and scared,

Scattered about ,

Walking aimlessly in circles,

And paying no attention,

To the vast world at large

There I can see,

All their tiny thoughts of disillusionment,

Those wicked glints of disappointment,

When they discover,

It’s not as they were promised

I’ve shared drinks with the best of them,

Listened to the sad tales,

And watch as the smiles,

Melted from their faces,

Like wax near a flame

Not what they had hoped for

Not the end,

Which they bought into

All that time is gone

It’s all gone,

And never coming back

Gluttony is the cost of doing business

And all those shiny stars,

Have faded out,

Hope the lies they tell themselves,

Have made it all worth it

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

Strangers

The kindness of strangers,

Plays to the rocking thoughts,

Of this paper-thin mind

With not a lot of time left,

And very little left of importance,

She finds nothing wrong with,

Taking sips of my drinks

Without asking

Or stealing freshly lit cigarettes

No one feels like her

Not the same exact way she does

And the masses,

Should be thankful for that

Reflect into her weary soul,

And spit prayers into the foolish winds

For to end like this,

Is to end alone

Sorrow-filled and empty

And an ending like that,

Is simply a waste

A waste of all her prettiness and promise,

Which was once held so high,

But now resorts to scraping,

It’s own belly across,

This barren and burned world

The same world where strangers,

Don’t save the day

And very rarely,

Can be seen,

Outside of the shadows

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

 

 

To All Men And Those Days

All men battle,

A forge against the strife,

The agony,

And the perpetual madness

When the lights go out,

What’s left?

Just sunken thoughts,

Of the days gone by

All the fleeting memories,

Of what was,

What could have been

All men lose sleep,

Over the feelings,

Of loss and nothingness

The blackness and voids,

Which fill the tiny spaces,

Which are hidden,

From plain sight,

In a barren and empty attempt,

To convince all,

Of how perfect all the world is

So, to all men,

Spit back at it all,

Growl, roar,

And never fear being heard

For we are all of these days

The days when the sun refuses to rise,

The snows pack the exits,

And the mind lies in ruins,

Like a forgotten headstone

Stand and call it to attention,

Be brave,

And put these days to rest,

Put them behind

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

Miller’s Problem, Not Mine

Push against the wind,

The wild flowers,

The rains,

The sea, the sun,

And all those who get in the way

Stare down the barrel of a gun,

And smile wide,

Just like you would do for the camera

This is all that’s left, my friend

The good times,

Jumped ship,

And I’m thinking,

You should, too

But make sure to go out with a bang

Make sure they remember you

Who cares if they ever knew your name

But make sure your face,

Is forever seared onto their brains

Stick to it,

Like dog shit to a shoe

Make it good,

Make it count

Then go and count your blessing,

Lick your wounds,

And cry to all the nameless faces,

You stored away,

And hoped would stay locked up,

For all of time,

For good.

© Dicky J Loweman 2015