No Pity.
Hear the anger of spoiled youth,
With their hard words.
They have no pity.
Spewing out their bile
To mangle and eschew.
We live with their forbearance.
We the old and frail.
Who once like them
Gloried in the sun,
Were gods in our day.
Now we moulder
Like staues left out.
Too long in the tooth
We peal and crack.
Split by iron frost.
Weathered by rain.
Worn down, tired, by
Untenable trials of life.
Ah but our inner lives,
There we live again as gods,
To glory in the sun.
P H Brookes Copyright 2012
poem by Paul Brookes
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When Death Finds Me
Elated I have dived to the depths,
Found the beauty in a leaf,
Bathed in the rainbow,
Gloried in the dawn,
Found solace in the rain,
Run with the wind.
I have heard the voice of the hills,
Seen a world in a blade of grass,
Sung duets with the birds.
I have let the stream of life
Whisk me away....tumbling
Wash me in the exquisite,
When death finds me,
As he does all,
I shall not be sad, .........
But content, for I have lived.
P. H. Brookes Copyright.2012
poem by Paul Brookes
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In The Lap Of The Gods
Ah ah ah ah ah
Leave it in the lap of the gods
Ah ah ah
I live my life for you
Think all my thoughts with you and only you
Anything you ask I do for you
I touch your lips with mine
But in the end I leave it to the lords
Leave it in the lap of the gods
What more can I do?
Leave it in the lap of the gods
I leave it to you
Leave it in the lap of the gods
Leave it in the lap of the gods
I want you to
Leave it in the lap of the gods
Leave it in the lap of the gods
Leave it in the lap of the gods
Lap of the gods
song performed by by Queen from Sheer Heart Attack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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August 1914
What in our lives is burnt
In the fire of this?
The heart’s dear granary?
The much we shall miss?
Three lives hath one life –
Iron, honey, gold.
The gold, the honey gone –
Left is the hard and cold.
Iron are our lives
Molten right through our youth.
A burnt space through ripe fields
A fair mouth’s broken tooth
poem by Isaac Rosenberg
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Trials Encased
Live your own version of reality
Find your way, not run with the pack.
It is better than the rabid hankerings
Of those who try to box you,
Squeeze you into an ill fitting hole.
Do not try to live up to others ideals
Their untenable rigid straight jacket.
Make some glorious mistakes
Even if you live with their shadows
At least you followed your own path
poem by Paul Brookes
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If There's A True God
If there's a true God that true God must be kinder
Than the Gods the billions kneel to for to pray
The selfish Gods that men do go to war for
And invade Countries from their own Homeshores far away.
If there's a God that God does not live out there
Your true God is your God who lives within
And if your God within is not philanthropic
Then you are one who is vulnerable to sin.
If there's a true God that God is not divisive
With the followers of other Gods he would not want us to fight
Your true God would not want you to others to feel superior
Or you to be looked on as a lesser light.
If there's a true God that God does have compassion
And that God believes in human equality
But sad to say the Gods many do worship
Are Gods who do seem to crave an enemy.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Many Gods
Gods are too many in one religion-
That is an asking of much distaste.
Gods are like religions of adjustment,
Lots of them would affect us in different ways.
Gods may produce laughter,
But Thor is no good with thunder.
Gods are not selling me objects,
Due to the weather and frame of mind.
I live with gods and goddesses
For I am a job to do with the highest ones.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Betrayal
This time caught out.
Your betrayal is as old time
You throw your time bomb
Choosing the time frame
With your usual bad timing.
Your excuses time worn.
Its not the first time.
I catch myself just in time
Time for a time out,
Stunned.
Time elongates.
Stands still, a still life
At my time of life
I should know better
Time to move on
No longer to give you the time of day.
Copyright P H Brookes 2012
poem by Paul Brookes
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Book Of Guidance
Book of knowledge,
Book of truth,
The book of old,
Contains the youth,
This book has plenty,
On lies and deceit,
This reveals how to get up,
After every single defeat,
This book of love,
Tell the story,
Of the beauty's dove,
And Gods glory,
This book of life,
Is the way to live,
Be free be true,
Be pure all the way through,
Be trustworthy have honor,
Live long and prosper,
Please God and love your father,
Have fun and be one with your brother.
poem by Jordan Moore
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Fallen Marker
A construct de-constructed
Scattered.
Demolished.
Marble carved words
Muddled now,
Muddied.
Problematic,
No translation,
An undecipherable code.
Soon the wind will blow
And the words will be dust.
Erased from memory.
Mixed in earth.
Lost.
P H Brookes Copyright 2012
poem by Paul Brookes
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Gods
Gods of the white man,
Gods of the black man,
Gods of the almond shade
all of these Gods
have done one thing,
made the people afraid.
Gods of the red man,
Gods of the brown man
Gods of the yellow hue,
all of these Gods
have done the same
divided them into
Separate people
who've been led to believe
their God is the holy one
to save their souls
and pardon them
and deliver them
from earthly sin.
How can there be
so many Gods?
Isn't there only one?
One for every single soul
born unto this earth.
He's every color that there is
since the world's begun.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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A Remorseful Plea
If I should drink from the nectar of the Gods
and return to my youth once more,
Would the Gods be with me
or would it be as before?
For all that I did was not enough.
My life was left undone.
Would the sweetness of the nectar
be accompanied by the sun?
Or would my life be a revolving door
making me atone
for all I left unfinished
and all I did bemoan?
As the bitterness that quenched my thirst
was not a pleasant drink,
still I drank and drank of it
and never stopped to think
of time I wasted on trivialities
which hindered my eyes
from seeing the most important of all
before a teardropp dries.
To become at home with all there is
to make me feel complete
and never wrestle with 'What should I do? '
with the sorrowful ones I meet.
Oh that the Gods would hear my plea
and understand how I feel,
they would offer that cup of nectar to drink
so that my soul could heal.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Gods Made Heavy Metal
In the beginning there was silence and darkness
All across the earth
Then came the wind and a hole in the sky
Thunder and lightning came crashing down
Hit the earth and split the ground
Fire burned high in the sky
From down below fire melted the stone
The ground shook and started to pound
The gods made heavy metal and they saw that is was good
They said to play it louder than Hell
We promised that we would
When losers say it's over with you know that it's a lie
The gods made heavy metal and it's never gonna die
We are the true believers
It's our turn to show the world
In the fire of heavy metal we were burned
It's more than our religion it's the only way to live
But the enemies of metal we can't forgive
Cause we believe in the power and the might
And the gods who made metal are with us tonight
The gods made heavy metal and they saw that is was good
They said to play it louder than Hell
We promised that we would
When losers say it's over with you know that it's a lie
The gods made heavy metal and it's never gonna die
We believe in the power and the might
And the gods who made metal are with us tonight
We're here tonight for heavy metal are you ready in the hall
They have chosen us and we have heard the call
Gonna tear the roof off with our sound
Crack the walls and shake the ground
Fight tonight for metal one and all
Cause we believe in the power and the might
And the gods who made metal are with us tonight
The gods made heavy metal and they saw that is was good
They said to play it louder than Hell
We promised that we would
When losers say it's over with you know that it's a lie
The gods made heavy metal and it's never gonna die
song performed by by Manowar from Louder Than Hell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As One Very Powerful Deity
Gods created the universe,
That's what numerous bibles state,
All life the creators did disperse,
Then they left us to our fate.
The miracle is the diversity of life,
Just how do we all survive?
Is it these Gods who give us strife?
Or do they help us to stay alive?
What came first the chicken or the egg?
I guess only the Gods can tell,
It truly is a question to beg,
It's like, is there a Heaven and Hell.
They must all be really clever,
As it was completed in six full days,
Work on the seventh, never,
That's their day to laze.
Could that mean that Gods needs rest?
Surely that can't be true,
I would imagine they'd all be full of zest,
Or I'd imagine chaos would ensue.
An endless cosmos forever evolving,
Keeping it safe is a major task,
Constant problems which do need resolving,
For our Gods help we all tend to ask.
They must be busy all year round,
Well apart from their day of leisure,
Wherever there's trouble to be found,
We all pray to our national treasure.
Humans believe in multiple Gods,
Yet religion can be so unforgiving,
That is why we are all at odds,
Dying is the reason we are living.
Before we pass we live in hope,
That to Gods Heaven we will ascend,
If we don't, how would we cope,
As past mistakes we cannot amend.
Who made them and who made their maker?
Or are they all just one big illusion,
If they are that would be an Earth shaker,
All that would do is create more confusion.
Myself, well I've been thinking hard,
If these beings are so high and mighty,
The creator of the Gods I would have to regard,
‘' As One Very Powerful Deity ‘'
No Obituaries
Hot words spat in anger.
Things he wished not said,
But genie like out the bottle.
Nipped from the heart.
It lay there between them
This last murdered piece of love.
To late for resuscitation
It lies dead and cold.
No obituaries needed.
P H Brookes Copyright 2011
poem by Paul Brookes
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Words
Words can wound.
Even those gently spoken,
But they can also heal.
Breathe balm.
Pain is a thread that runs through all lives,
Its lies entwined with the joy.
P H Brookes Copyright 2003
poem by Paul Brookes
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I Shall Soon Fall Prey To Rot
I shall soon fall prey to rot.
Though it's hard to die, it's good to die;
I shall ask for no one's pity,
And there's no one who would pity me.
With my lyre I won no glory
For my noble family name;
And I die as distant from my people
As the day that I began to live.
Ties of friendship, unions of the heart-
All are broken: from my youth,
Fate has sent me foes implacable,
While my friends all perished in the struggle.
Their prophetic songs were left unfinished,
They fell victim to misfortune, were betrayed
In the bloom of life; and now their portraits watch me
From the walls, reproachfully.
poem by Nikolay Alekseyevich Nekrasov
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As Intervention Is What God's Seem To Hate
Life can be cruel and hard to bear,
You're dead a long time that's a fact,
Why do our Gods not make us aware?
Heavens gifts are not myth but a fact.
Faith is what we are taught to believe,
Will guide us to our Heavenly domain,
If we knew it existed we'd have no need to grieve,
For eternity our lives would remain.
We live in the hope Gods paradise is real,
All our loved ones are on the other side,
It's cruel the way you make us feel,
Taking them from us is so hard to bide.
Then you have those who are left behind,
Their lives are left in tatters,
What kind of person could be so unkind?
To take from them everything that matters.
Those people who have never done any wrong,
You've let die in some terrible ways,
Why their agony do you prolong,
Where was your mercy when you ended their days.
Countless wars have passed you by,
Why did you not intervene?
Genocide and starvation force millions to die,
How could a God be so mean?
Your commandments you passed on to Moses,
States all of them must be obeyed,
This is autocracy and the question it poses,
Is why isn't our loyalty repaid.
Is it possible you are just a Dictator?
As criticism of you is classed as a crime,
You then brand us with the title of traitor,
Then say Hell is where you'll do your time.
Please put a stop to the killing.
End the fighting all over your planet,
Show us your people you are willing,
By engaging we know you could ban it.
We have so many Gods yet we're falling apart,
Pray tell us what is it you do,
Watching us die is not very smart,
I bet you'd change things if it happened to you.
Then again you looked on as your own son died,
You forsook him in his hour of need,
You watched as his Mother Mary cried,
That was truly a terrible misdeed.
For a person so holy you are very obtuse,
When it comes to looking after your own,
You sit back and do nothing about all the abuse,
You've watched as our misery has grown.
Of any conscience you must be devoid,
How else do you explain your behaviour?
The Bible does say you can get annoyed,
Is that worthy of the one called the saviour?
For someone so powerful you can be very cruel,
It's time you were taken to task,
Is there a way your decisions we can overrule,
That's a legitimate question to ask.
I'd be willing to meet you one on one,
To let you explain your side of this story,
Watching your creations destroying for fun,
Doesn't exactly cover you with glory.
I'd love you the Gods to prove me wrong,
But my offer I know you'll decline
In the realms of fantasy is where you belong,
As in your actions there is nothing divine.
I predict you'll do what you've always done,
Leave your world and all life to its fate
The fight against evil will never be won.
‘' As Intervention Is What Gods Seem To Hate ‘'
A brief tribute to George Seferis, poet
When the gods allot
a time, a place, to those so mortal
mortals whom they love to test,
is it a greater gift they give to poets,
to live in a land of honeybees
and sun and sea and heroes sung, a land
assured, content, of gods and marble,
temples, amphitheatres, history,
or in that land in times of tragedy,
starvation, misery, division,
internal war and conquered servitude?
Ultimate, the irony – how can the gods
think up such things? – to be
ambassador, to represent a land
from which to have been exiled half a life;
exiled from within and exiled from without.
The love the gods bestow (the Chorus cries)
is terrifying; strange; to be hard learned.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Filed Away (Stream IX)
Finished filing
They file out.
File down the street,
Out of the offices.
Finished the offices of the day.
The light of day fades
Like their lives,
Pale imitations
Imitating a life fulfilled.
Filled up
With empty promises,
Not fulfilling their promise.
Each day they become thinner,
More transparent.
It's apparent.
Until one day,
They fade,
Fade away,
Disappear,
Are tidily filed away.
P H Brookes Copyright 2012
poem by Paul Brookes
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Noir
Gradations of light,
Black on white,
White on black,
A monotone wellspring.
Unadulterated greys
Like weathered shingle.
A veritable placement
Atmospheric oddities,
Noir glimmers,
Flicker on the silver screen.
Taut tensions to tighten
The nightmare scene,
The sadistic thrill.
The hard boiled men.
Bomb shell blondes.
These major icons look out
From a bygone age.
Yet still they thrill.
P H Brookes 2012
poem by Paul Brookes
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