dreams

Wonderous Night

My eyes brightened as I awoke

I took you in

You came into focus,

Still sleeping,

Yet just an inch from my face

Still in your beauty,

Still in the airs of sleep

And I can’t be a luckier man,

Farther from the truth

So I roll over and sigh,

And hope you had,

As wonderful a night,

As I

© Dicky J Loweman 2105

 

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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

Last Waltz

I wore a mask

Of bad and evil

She wore a mask

of kindness and good

We shared a dance,

And she whisked along,

As beautiful as the sun

I took turns with precision and grace,

And planned for only, my own

Looking back, I have seen

The teardrop in her eye,

I could have done more

I could have opened these eyes

But I never did

And we danced along

And she aged within my arms

And smiled at my face

And the words she said,

“I’ll be yours forever”

But I couldn’t muster

Those final words in return

And now it haunts me,

Now I’m left,

with only her memories

© Dicky J Loweman 2105

Spaces She FIlls

Grab at the words

I’ll take every one of them

Got to find the room

Spaces for each of them

They come faster than I can write them down

Cigarette burns alone in the ashtray

No time for that

This is what’s important, now

And now is not the time to lose focus

She has filled me

Filled me with thoughts and compliments

A true find

Such a lovely girl

So many words

So little time

Write it all down

Take the words

As many as I can

Because soon enough

This will only be a blur

Unfocused and unclear

Grab the words

Take them all

Before this slips away

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

Updating The Scars

All the red slashes and markings look to me like scars

Because they are here, forever and ever

Coded into these pages, tucked away and longing for a return

All these pages should be in another place

Not this makeshift database query

Not this database query, because of its size

The vastness, the hugeness of it all

It’s mesmerizing, overflowing, and makes me slightly nervous

I have trouble looking at it, straight in the eyes

I can do it, I do do it

But it takes a lot

Patience, bravery, or maybe just stupidity and some rum

All this for something that so rarely changes

Something which takes on no new shapes

And it never speaks of what it would like to see happen

What it would like to become, hopes to become

Come to think of it, I also have no idea of what this will become

I’m going through all these old manuscripts, at the moment

This one goes with this one

This one belongs over here

No, no that’s not right, so over here it’s moved

I’m finding there are more than a few that are incorrectly marked

Some with no titles, many which make no sense

These are the works, the sweat, the love, the time invested

This is my work, although it’s been more like a job, as of late

And everybody needs a weekend, a stop, a brake

Maybe a vacation

I’ve written of Paris, all because of a dream

It’s just a place, and although beautiful, I’m sure

It would soon look the same

The same as New York, Los Angeles, Miami

Places I’ve been to, lived in, and left

Truly, I think I would rather be shacked up in eastern France

Alone with a typing machine, and my back against the Alps

Or maybe in the south of France

The Mediterranean, maybe Cannes, Marseille

Or, better yet, Saint-Tropez

Or maybe I scrap France altogether

And just hide away in Monaco

Writing, drinking fine wines

And watching all the expensive boats that pass

Just dreams about dreams, tucked away within a dream

Not a dream of color

Rather, just random black and white musings

And so, “tous les bons rêves doivent prendre fin”

If that’s even right, I don’t know

I don’t speak French

Yet, here I still sit

Finding more and more correctly and incorrectly marked manuscripts

Drowning in the sea

I open a bottle of rum, if only to slow this speeding mind

I suppose I’m doing the best I can

We are all doing our best

And I have come to accept

That your best is better than my best

Still, all the red slashes and markings on these pages

Look like scars to me

I have hard-coded scars, in various parts of my brain

And I can’t seem to find an end

And I’m not at all sure

That there was ever meant to be an updating

An ending to the end

© Dicky J Loweman 2015