poet

Waste This Day

There is nothing to do in here

Time moves slowly, inches along

We’ll probably waste this day away

Like we’ve done so many times before

I’d say we’re pretty good at it

With all the practice we’ve had

We should be paid to make it look this easy

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

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The Shit Life Throws At You

Life is filled with ups, downs

We can look forward to some great highs

And miserable lows, as well

It’s kind of like being on a boat with no rudder

You toss and sway in the swells

And no matter how hard you try

In the end, you have very little control or say in the matter

So, my advice to you

Is to just sit back and enjoy the rocking motion

Roll with the punches

And if life throws shit at you

Duck

Then, pick it up

Put it in a paper bag

Light it on fire and leave it on life’s doorstep

Ring life’s bell

And quickly run away

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

To The Mexicans, Guatemalans, Hondurans…

Thanks so much for the way you take care of these horses

Their beauty, grace, and theatrics

Are owed, in a large part

To your endless care, endless days

And while I dress in a sportcoat, striped shirt and club tie

I want you to know

That these never-ending, drinkfested, pony-watching days

Wouldn’t be

Without you

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

Whirlwind

She worried about all of their stares

I don’t pay too much attention

Head down, and straight into the wind

She wishes to be more like me

Like me, with respect of not caring

She sees everything as hopeless

She is a free fall

A whirlwind, a disaster waiting to strike

But all the good one’s have already been claimed

No second chances

So I stay with her

Comfort, to some degree, on this knife-edge

Walking this line, tempting all fate

Call me an optimist

The straight-on wind walker

Who won’t have the good one’s

Because they’ve all been taken

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

Of All That We Lost

And all the daisies and posies will run wild

Leaving behind nothing

Not a bit more, than this scorched earth

The trees will uproot

Snarl, then move on

To the next big thing

The next big conquer

Obtained by efforts, with thoughts

All for our sad and misinformed personal appeals

And all the misfits will suddenly fit in

And all who sing will do so

In perfect harmony

And what will become of you and I?

We stay in the shadows

Curled up with fear

And the constant thoughts

Of all that we lost

But at least there will be the daisies

And we will still have the posies

We can look forward to that

© Dicky J Loweman 2015