Black And White

The world is rarely,

Black and White

The answers,

Are hardly every clearly written out,

For any and all to see

And I try to do things right,

Most of the time,

But it seems we were all given,

Different levels of acceptance,

Different amounts of tolerance

My right is hardly your right

And the world is as unclear,

As an early morning for,

The rules weren’t written,

In black and white,

Right and wrong

They weren’t written that way,

And neither were we

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

Waiting Room

I sit with her in the waiting room

I’m here for support and the ride

I wish that I could be anywhere else

A bar, a boat, a beach,

A storm drain, a funeral,

Almost anywhere would be better

I have a deep hatred for waiting rooms

Magazines scattered everywhere,

Not a single one I would read

Woman’s Day, Ms., Glamour,

There are two other men in here,

And not a single magazine on sports

All four walls in here,

Are covered with bad contemporary art

It looks as if they’re posters in cheap frames

And, of course, the Bose ceiling speakers,

Which puke out barely audible elevator music

We’ve been sitting here for almost an hour,

When her name is finally called

“Be right back,” she says,

In her best ‘I’m not nervous’ voice

Then she slips though the door

And I’m left there,

With only boredom to contain myself

Thirty seconds later and she’s back

“Ready?”, as if she needed to ask

Then she slipped out the front door

An hour’s wait and a thirty-second visit

I have no idea what went on back there,

But something tells me,

It wasn’t free,

And I probably choose the wrong profession

© Dicky J Loweman 2015




Tonight Is One Of Those Nights

I sit at this computer

Filling lines with useless words

Some days/nights I can write a lot

But nights like this, tend to get me down

I fill line after line

Write word after word

But in the end,

After all the typing,

I haven’t created anything I like

This, to me, is worse than

Having written nothing at all

Be it from writers block or laziness

At least I can lie to myself with those

Convincing myself that all those words

Would have been good,

If only I had typed them out

It’s a simple lie,

And I’d buy it

But, no

Instead, I’ve got lines

After miserable lines

Filled with nothing truthful

Nothing of interest

Not a thing I like

It’s times like this

When a drink is required

Tonight is one of those nights

I’ll take mine straight

And make it a double

© Dicky J Loweman 2015


Once in a while life can slow down to a halt

It freezes, right then and there

I can look around

And see everything at a standstill

The wind stops blowing, the sun hasn’t got warmth

People stuck,

At that very moment in time

This sounds like it might be fun,

A little charm to the day

And maybe a way to pass some time

But, it rarely tuns out to be a good thing

When all of life can be broken down,

To a still frame, a nanosecond,

All the truths and ugliness can come pouring out

The people walking, only staring at their shoes

Or even worse, caught up in the electronic world

Of phones and tablets

The air fills with a vapid taste

A complete lacking of wanting simplicity and happiness in life

There is no sharpness, no flavor

This frozen life-frame is insipid, dull and flat

I think it’s the reason

I’m always on the move

It takes just one of these ‘lucky’ glances

And I want out

I, in general, have a real distaste for people

I think most are out of touch,

Boring and just like all the others


Yes, that’s it


Like cattle or sheep

Always in a group, longing to be or do,

What every other cattle or sheep is or does

Vapid people all crammed together

In a lifeless world

Where mundane and grey and boring

Are looked at as excitement

And I wonder why I always feel the need to get away,

To the mountains, the ocean, The desert

I don’t think it’s about the places I go to

I think it has more to do

With the places and people

I long to leave behind

© Dicky J Loweman 2015



Sometimes I think my life can be summed up in one word:


A complete and chaotic and unpleasant situation

At least that’s how it sometimes feels

I’m heading in the wrong direction

Walking head-up,

Facing the wind, facing the rain


And all the glorious problems, Which so willfully follow,

Close behind

Take right now, for example

I’m stuck on a bus

Which has broken down

On my way to Olympia Heights

I’m not too sure what the problem is,

But it’s taken out the A/C, along with my ride

I sit next to a fat man, who seems not the least bit worried

No, place to be, I guess

On his shirt it says


What a life

And the letters keep coming to me,

Asking me why I’m down

Asking if I’m ok

I could write them all back

But all those return letters

Could be summed up in one vile,

Uncaring and ugly word:


© Dicky J Loweman 2015


Counterfeit World

It’s not always as it seems

And rarely turns out the ways you want

But that’s life

This is what we’re given to work with

You got the liars

The cheats

The low-down, no-goods

The special ones, who won’t explain the rules

But don’t worry about it,

Because they don’t play by their own rules, anyway

They like to make it up

As they cruise along

As long as it works out in their favor

That’s how it’s going to be

The fakes, the thieves

And just so you’re not surprised,

They’re everywhere

They’re the ones who sell you

Tickets to the show,

Fed complete with all the lines,

All the bullshit

And the world is full of them

The counterfeit producing,

Bullshit artists

The ones with the pretty smiles

And the swaggered walks

So take a look around

And if you start to pay attention

You’ll see them everywhere,

Spread out

And sucking on the life

Of this beautiful,

Counterfeit world

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

Where No Good Angel Would Go or What I Write When Nothing Comes To Mind

Somehow it all fell out-of-place
There was no instruction book as to how it should be put back
The greens now ran quietly next to the reds,
Then the reds with the blues and finally to the greens again
Put away for safe keeping
It can’t be said that it will be needed again
But, of course, for most it will
Try to put it out of the mind
For the reaction to this mess will have consequences
Possibly dire or all together bliss
Pleasing to anyone who might stumble upon it
But packed with as much danger and mistakes as one could ask for
Yet this seldom lasts
And with care and precision and time, it gets easier
Nothing here last that long
Just like the girl next to you with flaming hair
And the girl with the fire hair looked lost
So she threw up her arms and screamed out words never heard before
Ranging as far and wide as birds could fly
Sparking trembles and fear to all those within its reach
An exciting yet not entirely new idea
For such release is often a need as much as a want,
Which is justified on the presence of your time alone,
But which is not justified in those lost soul cries
To do what you will
But be warned that you will forever live with your choice
Think deep and hard
Peer through the layers and peel away the coverings which seem to make sense
Let it all rise to the surface, then let it boil over in pain
And an understanding will come quickly, followed by soothing peace of mind
Bringing you a smile which has traveled hundreds of miles
Along with answers to this mystery, which has finally been solved

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

The Etiquette Of Navigating A Corkage Fee

Twenty-five dollars

That cock-sucker of a waiter

Wants twenty-five god damned dollars

What for?

For nothing

He did absolutely nothing

I brought the wine

I opened it, even though I knew not to

He said there would be a corkage fee

I agreed

But twenty-five dollars?

The whole bottle cost only thirty

Perhaps we can work this out, I thought

Finally, I had the answer

I put my money, for the meal, in the checkholder

I pretended to go to the bathroom

But slid out the kitchen, instead

Twenty-five dollars?

Suck my cock

You get none of it, garçon

© Dicky J Loweman 2014

* Number 3 from Muses and Other Gauche Thoughts


A call out
A summons to engage
A contest of skill
Of strength
By its very nature
This serves as the battle call
A special effort put forth
A contest to test
There is a demand for explanation
A challenge to look past the expenditures
The treasure
The outcome of it all
There is difficulty in it
An undertakeing which will stimulate to no end
But to what end?
And will it be worth it?
From this distant angle
It doesn’t appear so
© Dicky J Loweman 2015


Readily perceived by the eye
Or the understanding
It’s all too evident; obvious, and apparent
plain gesture
Not without love, but lacking sentiment and depth
All in error, but covered up, quick and neat
Everything relating to conscious feelings, ideas, and impulses
Have been thrown to the fishes
That contain repressed feelings and untouchable voids
To make this clear or evident
Requires smoke and mirrors
So, to the eye or the understanding
Nothing is exactly as it should be
Nothing can be shown for what it truly is
Instead, sculpt your approval with a hearty and heavy laugh
To prove and put beyond any doubt, or question
The evidence of the guilt 
Which drips at the ports of provident destinations
Nothing more than a list or invoice
Marked for your approval
© Dicky J Loweman 2015