poetry

Somedays Vodka Sounds Better Than You

I drink vodka in this bar

That’s what I drink in here

Sometimes it’s gin,

Sometimes rum

But never in here

This place calls for vodka,

And this bar rarely calls

But when she does,

It’s good to start with a vodka tonic

From there the world is my oyster

Vodka martinis finish me off too fast,

So they’re better left for the bad days

Those days when things need to get done,

And I don’t belong in here,

On days like that…

Excuse me,

“Barkeep,

Make me a vodka martini”

“One of those days, huh?”

Something like that…

Something like that.

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

She Looks Good From Here

She looks good from here
She has on a nice sundress
Her legs are a calling bronze,
And she has the most beautiful hair
I’m a sucker for the hair
It’s always what seems to do me in
This Thursday afternoon,
Is no different from any other,
Save for this beautiful lady,
And a break from the heat
I want to ask her name
I’d like to spend the rest of the afternoon and my money with her
But after a little consideration,
I surmise my chances lie in that hated grey area,
Of not what I was hoping for
I’m drinking rum
She’s downing wine
I can’t imagine,
We wouldn’t be a good fit,
For each other
But then my conscience grabs me by the balls,
And I know to fight is useless
So the next time she looks my way,
I offer only a slight smile
A smile she returns as well
And that made it all worth while
Mental note to self,
Smile at strangers once in a while
You just never know who’s day you might make
© Dicky J Loweman 2015

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

Cynical Kisses

Sometime the cynical kiss,

Is all I get

It’s also often,

All I can muster to give

Some days I hit a hot streak,

Many more, I can’t find my way,

Out of a paper bag

And that rests just fine with me

“Why can’t you say nice things?”,

She wants to know

Well, I’d like to know, too

But that’s all I’ve got

The tank nears empty,

The streets are being washed,

In bile

Can I say something nice?

Sure, when the moment hits me

But that moment is pretty far off,

The sun of that day,

Has gone down

I’m onto sulking, now

I’m out of luck,

Goodwill,

And beer

These days,

These days

This is al I have to give ya

Cynical or not,

It’s the best I got for today

So there you go, love,

A kiss for you

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

$41.00

Spent $41.00 on a bottle of whisky,

Walked home with a light breeze,

And a step which reminded me of rippling waves

The sun was just setting

It’s very rays reduced,

To nothing more than a soft pink glow

The night in front of me,

Still holds promise

So much to look forward to,

So much anticipation and hope

There will be nothing worth while,

clogging up the television,

And knowing that ahead of time,

Will save me from the countless,

Circling of channels, which will offer nothing back

Instead, my speakers will spew musical notes,

Written in the language of jazz

Filling my ears, head and room,

With a glorious and fulfilling sway,

A quick change of tempo,

And a true heartfelt smile

Which no one but me,

Will be granted access to

No one but me,

Will be allowed to share

There will be writings of all different kinds

Some good, some bad,

Some even unreadable

But I will none the less carve my way through,

Conjuring up those mortal tales,

All the while, engulfed in smoke and laughter,

Distant thoughts and fond memories

All brought on by this easy and effortless walk home,

And a well aged, $41.00 bottle of whisky

Well worth every single penny spent

© Dicky J Loweman 2015