A Journey
I went upon a journey
Set out to find myself.
I wandered long and lonely
My steps were onward bent.
I searched in every cranny
To find what I had lost
Searched every hill and valley
No matter what it cost.
I looked in highest heaven
Amongst the silver stars
And in the great deep oceans
In all the coral bars.
Across the dry baked deserts
Where great rivers once had flowed,
Upon the flat and fertile plains
Where natures bounty glowed.
It seemed I couldn't find me,
No matter where I looked.
So slowly back I travelled
Dissappointment I had brooked.
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poem by Paul Brookes
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Spare a Dime
You walk right on passed him everyday,
Stepping to one side 'cause he's in your way.
You look down on him making a clutter,
A poor lonely man down in the gutter.
A judgment is made upon this poor soul,
Fallen on hard times now in a hole.
You quickly rush by him and try not to see,
You think that you are better he.
You don't know his history or why he's there
And like many others you don't seem care
He's like the garbbage of no interest or use
Only fit for hate and abuse.
You walk right passed him, pretend he's not there
Yet he's still human in need of your care,
He once had a family and some one to love
Just give him your pity, heavens above.
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poem by Paul Brookes
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Melted Snow
Dead before you died.
Lying there eyes blank.
You whose eyes spoke volumes,
Struck dumb.
Their light dimmed
Your hard drive wiped,
No more that passionate embrace,
Now there was only passivity
Your passion had dissolved
In the acid that was Aids.
But not my love.
That was not eroded.
You had left many months before.
Blind to the pain you caused.
Heavy the guilt I sometimes felt.
I wished this burden lifted.
To be rid.
I wanted you to return, return
And inhabit that place you had, left.
Find a path back from the twilight.
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poem by Paul Brookes
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Hoping For Footsteps (Stream XV)
Her door ajar, I try to slide past
Know from the past
That she listens.
Lonely she listens,
Listens in hope,
Hoping for footsteps
Stepping her way.
She catches me on the stairs
Me stacked with laundry.
She expectant,
Stands with folded arms,
A shelf for her ample bosom,
Blocking my way.
'Done your washing then? '
'Um' I say noncommittally
But now she has her opening
And opening her mouth
Tells tales of progeny
And their progeny.
She lives her life vicariously
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poem by Paul Brookes
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Reversal
I remember
The taste of your
Smokey lips,
The acrid after taste,
The smell of tobacco
That clung around you
Mixed with Old Spice.
And the paper boats we made.
All the games of hide and seek.
Of catch ball.
The gentle bear hugs,
Feel of your whiskers
Which tickled my face.
Sips of tea out of your big mug,
Warm and sweet.
I remember how big you were,
How my tiny hand
Was engulfed by yours.
How you used to swing me high in the air
And brought me back down to earth
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poem by Paul Brookes
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Deviled
I'm deviled by angels
They stand by my side
The more I ignore them
The more they abide.
They're there to protect me
Of this I am sure
As if some allegiance
To me they had swore.
I see them them on waking
It makes me quite tired
Left up to me I'd have them all fired.
I'm deviled by angels
Both day and night.
The first time I saw them
I had such a fright.
I know they are there
To do me some good
To keep from harm
And out of the mud.
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poem by Paul Brookes
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No Guarantee
The only guarantee is,
There is no guarantee.
The manual is missing.
Only issued with one set of everything.
A Guaranteed obsolescence,
Built in redundancy.
A no return policy
Once it has left the factory,
Its cord severed it cannot be exchanged.
This does not affect your statutory rights.
Nonetheless most problems,
Any damage done,
Or injury inflicted,
The unit will self repair.
However any parts which go missing
Sadly, cannot be replaced,
As there are no spares available
So please look after it.
It can however self replicate
If joined with another unit
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poem by Paul Brookes
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