Nothing Of Real Importance

I have nothing of real importance to do today

Nothing urgent which I must get done

I sneak a peek out the window

Yes, it’s still sunny

There are still no movements to the palms

The paper said in could get to 90 today

Sounds just about perfect

So why so sluggish?

Why ya moving so slow, kiddo?

No answers come to mind

So best to just let the thought fade

But before I can the voice of reason pipes up

You could wash and wax the car?


You could finish touching up the paint in the bedroom?


Go for hike?

No, too hot

Ride your bike?

No and no

Go swimming?

God damn it, no

Fine, just be like this

At times you wonder why people call you a dick?

Now you have an answer

Well, if nothing else

At least write something

And make sure it’s good

Something you can live with,

You old cantankerous fool

Ok, ok, ok

I’ll try to write at the old typer

See what I can pound out of her

So I mix an old standby, just like Frank used to do

3 cubes, 2 fingers and a splash of water

Then I went and sat by that old bitch of a machine

2 hours and 5 drinks later,

I am still here

And I never did write anything truly great,

Nothing of any real substance

But there will days like this, I know

Never finish the next great American poem

No big prizes for the writing

Nope, not today

And actually, I only wrote one piece that whole time

And you just finished reading it

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

Hey, Man…You Gotta Light?

I sometimes think I was born to lose everything

I feel I waste more time looking for “things”

Than anybody else, in the great wide world

I’ve been a smoker for years

And I never lose my cigarettes

But my lighter?

I can’t seem to keep it

I seem to put it down in the most unusual places

And you would think I’d have more than one

But, no

I only have the one

And, as of right now

As I type this out

I can’t remember where I left it

So my perfectly rolled smoke

Lies dorment and unlit

In my lonely ashtray

I bet I’ll spend the next ten minutes

Searching for that light blue Bic

And, as always, when I do find it

It will be in a place

(Any number of places)

That which little Bic lighters

Are never really suppose to be

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

Just Like You

I think you and I are a lot alike

We seem to be on the same page

Of course, we have our differences, too

But those have been outweighed

By all the many similarities

We seem to share common writings

I think this is by chance

For we have never met

However, I think a meeting

Would make for a wonderful evening

Imagine all the fun

All the recklessness

All of the things we could get into

I don’t see a need to mention them

I have no doubt, as you read this

You’re coming up with your own

Your own dirty little secrets

All you think, but dare not say

I’m with you on that

Fun to think of, though

In the privacy

Of our own thoughts

Because, in the end

I think we share a lot

All those hidden qualities

Hidden desires

All of those which I have

Just like you

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

Old House

Take a walk with me

Let me show you around

This is the old front door that sticks

Leads to the hallway, loaded with goods

The hall seat

Complete with high-back, hat hooks and mirror 

There are stains on the step

Left from my dog

Now long gone

Move up the stairs

I remember every creek

I know just where to step

So as not to wake anyone

I always return so late

That’s my room, in the corner

Where I hatched all my plans

Where I dreamed of you at night

Here’s the window I crawled out from

Sit on the roof

I count the millions of stars

Take a walk with me

Let me show you around

Like you, this old house

Was a good friend of mine

Arms To Hold You

I noticed how you didn’t acknowledge me when you came into the room

Must have things on your mind

I understand completely

This happens to me all the time

Pay no attention to me at all, as you get ready for bed

It’s nice that you finally came home without him

But never mind about that

I’ll just be quiet and let you get ready


It’s nice to watch you through so many eyes

So many different angles from which to view you

Slowly letting your hair down

A quick brush before putting on an old pair of his boxers and a t-shirt

Just act like I’m not even here

Pay no attention, not one bit

You’re doing fine, really well in fact

I am enjoying this

Wait?  Where are you going?

Oh, just to the bathroom

Wash your face and brush your teeth

Ha!  Look at me overreacting

Getting all fidgety and uptight, here in the corner

Sorry about that

I won’t let it happen again

Pay no attention

You’re doing just fine

I’ll sit here quietly, adjusting my legs

Do you like the stripes?

Red, black, red, black

Hard to see in this dim room, I know

Continue, please

Take your time to get into bed


Then tonight I’ll finally hold you

Tight, then tighter still, as you shudder

Tonight I’ll finally have you all to myself

I’ve waited a lifetime

I’ll finally hold you

In all my eight glorious arms

Won’t that just be the end?

How times slows when I have to wait like this

But I know you’ll be worth it


You’re a fucking whore

Look at yourself

you can’t even stand straight

you slouch like a pig in a pen

going into the trough again

Hanging onto the sink

Like a boat clings to a harbor in bad weather

You’re a seven layered loser

A real sight for sore eyes

You’re a fucking whore

Did you forget?

I’ll say it again

You’re a fucking whore


You’ve had enough


Sorry, said it again

Now wash up

And be gone

So the whore

Looks back to the sink

Turn the water on

Splash it upon the face

Grabs the paper towel

Wipes off, and looks up

I don’t like what I see

In the mirror

Still I dry off

And head back for the bar