Andy Brookes Poems

Heaped heads ashes fall
reciting renditions of sins passed
our litany too long to remember best left forgot
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truth is, I don't know what truth is anymore,
elusive and slippery it coils from unclean mouths
the truth they say sets you free
but it entangles wraps around and strangles.
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Each time a poem is ignored unread
the words disintegrate and enter the void,
no escape.
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was it a day or a year ago I smiled?
I don't remember
was the sun shining at the time?
funny I thought the lights went out
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The poet's portion is served cold on plain porcelain platters
like congealing old gravy, yet the synonyms vary.
so here we smash plates like Greeks for Plato is reaching out from his cave
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There will come that certain day
when the old bald guy won't see sunrise
nor hear bucks sparing in their fray.
The light will be gone from green eyes.
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so you write your own book of life, we all do.
others may people it, like a cast of characters in a play
but only from your perspective.
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Between the first and second clause
the claws dig deep.
stuck between words lachrymose
agony and ecstasy
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I read a poem by a poet that said.
I read a poem by a poet that said
he heated up the handles of a pair of scissors
and watched while someone picked them up.
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we swerve missing her
cat looks remorseful
no, detecting a sneaky grin
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