Andy Brookes Poems

'Sometimes I think.' she said 'Cynicism should be synonymous with tired.
'Often.' she pauses gathering her thoughts. 'You get to a point in your life where you can foresee an outcome but are just too damn tired to fight. to make it work.'

'No cynicism.' I reply. 'Is where you meet reality head on and wonder if its worth going forwards leaving the trail lying down and giving up. as the sometimes dreary caravan of life runs across the desert. the only relief is the oasis of life, where sometimes, if your're lucky, you can rest and drink your fill of love and joy.'
...

Nag, nag, not so much a trip trap, here you go again on your cycle
around the room in eighty days, I could have been a contender
a wail cinematic and counterproductive the world doesn't work the way you want.
...

No sleep to dream, the nocturnal owl, soft winged, hoots,
I lie listening startled by midnight chimes vibrating on the wind.
not all is well ad infinitum times feetmarch on;
the universes ever present master,
...

Bits and bobs some dross others gleaming
a bomb site of memory plugged in

fading shattered fragments
...

Sharp swords of loneliness
cut deep the inner fractions of my soul,
such are the eccentricities of a febrile mind.
...

Stray not from the way ward wind but sail full billowed
tacking on the spume of thought,
egos are bent but strive for nought.
write for writing's sake, for fame is but a transient wave.
...

Shall I know you beloved afterwards;
Springs fair flowers dead, brown upon your grave.
cut down fair youth upon deaths cruel sword,
where others less worthy, God did them save.
...

When dawns rosy fingers creeps cross windows of western coasts
in the cold wet emerald isle, set in its silver sea, night makes his boast.
and when the warm winds of California sweep across the Pacific blue
the cold winds from Siberia over England blew
...

look don't touch, watch me turn on my pedestal
white skin no blemish there but forbidden fruit.
bearing no imprint, do not touch, for I am robbed,
...