Quiet Artist At Work Poem by Andy Brookes

'Trailing tripling tripe' he said 'He couldn't care less,
for everyone has detractors.' then taking a bite from his bacon sandwich he munches contentedly

well the facts are clear, write rubbish with arhubarb pen,
hey presto a poet on the make, making book, a bookmaker.
placing bets on how many times he can fool us, hoodwink us; evens or a three way bet.

'I don't.' he said. 'Understand criticism.' continuing,
'The fault is with the plebs not knowing art when they see it,
ART after all high art has always been misunderstood misinterpreted.'

Muddying the waters I ask the meaning.

He says, 'Whatever you like.'

'What if I don't like.' I said.

He just smirked taking another bite from his sandwich fat dripping down his chin,
superior at my inferiority.

'One day.' he said. 'One day.'And left the thought hanging.
Ironic because that's what I wanted to do to him.