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Richard Brooks

Updated: Tue, 9 Sep 2008 03:35 pm

Contact via WOL

Biography

Richard Is a teenager in his twenties, studying tv and radio at Salford University. He has always had a love for writing short stories and films and his interest in Bob Dylan and more surreal storylines led him into the world of poetry. He was searching his family tree to see if he came from a parallel world when he stumbled across this website! Influences vary quite alot from blues and folk music, Jim Morrison, The Smiths, Oscar Wilde, and Metaphysical poets. My interest in writing poetry came from my love of music so I don't consider myself to be a Poetry Scholar just yet! Everyone and everything is an influence. You'll find some of my poetry quite dark, some surreal, some comedic and others Romantic. I just like to write what ever I'm feeling at the time, which I guess is probobly the same for everyone who has dared call themself a poet!

Samples

The Poet and His Muse A poet walks across the shore, Shoeless, reciting a song The beach is empty, the sea Crashing against the rocks, Washes up a beautiful woman She’s naked Golden hair, white skin, An English rose He hair covers her soft breasts He gives her mouth to mouth She coughs, chokes, Sea water leaves her lungs. She gasps and falls into his arms. Angel eyes look into his, His hands run down her face. They kiss. For a second time. They make love. Finally. The poet opens up a crumpled piece of paper, He rests it on her breasts, He writes her a poem, A masterpiece, His finest yet, The poet has met his muse Finally. On the beach they live, Time has stopped for them. They feed on what they catch, Their loneliness is bliss. They are the only two people in the world. Life loves them, They love life. Magnificent moon, Secret sun, Curious clouds, Omnipotent oxygen, Pure potency, Virility her virtue. Sex is sacred, Another climax, he needs her neck, It’s perfect. Months pass, Still she doesn’t know his name, Neither does he, Amnesia stole it And his past. His future lies in her fertile soul. And her womb. She bathes him in the calm sea, Under the skies watchful eye, He is baptised, The Poet. Finally. Lizard King Last night I shared a bottle of whiskey with Jim Morrison he brought acid to the table we may have been surrounded by indians his soul jumped into mine I had a vision of an ancient burial ground I saw chaeos He showed me a planet "They have yet to find this" he said He called it "Intemperance" "We bring no wealth here" He said "Wealth is good for one thing only. Dissipation." He introduced me to a world of impurity Events of debauchery Women sacrificing their chastity We danced around with creatures half human half inhuman I witnessed his death I couldn't watch He gave me a watch it had a snakeskin strap He said "It will give you any time you wish" another room faces the faces stared They said "Nothing is what it seems. The bus is waiting." My watch said it wasn't time The bus crashed into me He said "It is impossible to live in a world in which I cannot breathe" I told him he was alive Another room naked women sexually entertained they saw to my every wim they saw to his every wim We stopped at the morrison hotel its walls adorned with the painting he could not get out of his mind Napolian in exile A serpent at the desk Told me he was my eternal friend I had a vision of a vast dessert Ruled by a lizard who would be king gentle screams of passion souls over indulging in vices A staircase made of a a material not known to man Guards at the top dancing around on payote a poem by William Blake The door has been opened The end Memories A large room immaculately clean a single chair an imprint of someone who used to sit there The empty book case still the faint musky smell of old pages a loose bracket with a screw missing the unstained patch on the wall where a framed photo once glistened Flowered curtains stained by cigarrette smoke the room is silent, quiet you can hear the faint memory of unconditional laughter impressions on the carpet from where the table once stood nostalgic rings decorate the oak wood A cleared room still keeps it possessions a cleared room still has its memories intact a cleared room never empty with platonic love written on the walls invisible hand prints from when the child first crawled I wonder who will live here next? what colourful memories will they paint? what music and sounds will fill the silence? one last look, gently close its soft cotton eye-lids Welcome to the city part2 Welcome to the city city of angels of demons of men and women rapists, killers, con artists, scheming fraudsters and intelligent drug dealers they all share a secret they were once innocent as was the city before its beauty was discoloured her purity stolen by thieves of the night I want to see the city in all its grace in her naked form showing all stripped of its costume theres beauty in her madness like a lady killer in a white virgin dress and perfect breasts you would give up your soul for her to make love to her and the city there's lust hidden under her dress tucked away inside her gorgeous gates you want to plant your sultry seed in the palace and watch your love child grow but the city is a whore and her child a bastard the city has pointless acts like constantly running at a brick wall with your forehead in the hope you will smash through the straight jacket inflicts emotional self harm her streets and its dwellers the homeless man was once considered a child genious his broken home broke the fragments of his soul he found his calling beside the cigarretes in his local offl licence Can you distinguish between the smells of a quiet night and a night of restless ruin? wander her streets alone with your eyes closed see her trueness underneath the night sky the day quietly tucks away the truth under the curtains of her stage at night the stage comes alive a theatre for the insane do you know the script? scene 1 a prostitute falls in love with the night scene 2 the night is unfaithful scene 3 rescue the damsel in distress Intermission refreshments are available behind the door with a secret knock smell of sex in its toilets vomit on its dance floor a playground for the nymphos outside the smell of stale urine the clubber leaves her mini skirt in the alleyay and leaves for school Behind the city's cleansed walls lies the plot of a holy war their own streets will become the battle field defensless in battle her own soldiers waging war mutiny amongst the ranks The memory of a lost child looms like the black death people leave people return buildings stand like giants frowning at the machines who destroy the earths shield the doting mother sees her children to the school gates leaving for her part time job, her body pays the bills her sex puts food on the table who are her heroes? who are her villains? you have seen the beauty of its art the architecture that touches you as you walk past you have seen the used condom lying next to the take away carton you have seen the blood stains from last nights arrest you have seen the true britishness of the taxi driver helping the old lady to her front door you have seen her attacked by her own people restless city run from your captors and reclaim your territory bathe in your beauty the streets are yours to own do not allow the straight jacket and padded walls to cause you harm lie beside freedom, faithful freedom, lie with her in your untouched corners

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.

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Comments

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Jeff Dawson

Tue 14th Jul 2009 20:20

Hi Ric, great to hear from you mate and good to see you back hope the exams went well! What you been studying? It's a lot busier on WOL now so more to read, i put about one on every fortnight.

I've been dead busy too, you will see from my profile we are doing a poetry and acoustic tour, be good if you could make one of the dates, if you fancy any let me know, will put you on open mic, cheers Jeff

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Francine

Mon 27th Apr 2009 00:50

It can be... I suppose - but in what way if she appears to be so feminine?
Especially in this poem - how is she virile???
And why this choice of a word?
Am I making you think too much ; )

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Francine

Sat 25th Apr 2009 03:42

Really like your poem titled 'The Poet and His Muse' has a sort of fairytale quality...
She seems so feminine in every way so this line I find interesting in that I don't understand it's inclusion 'Virility her virtue.'
Care to elaborate?

<Deleted User> (5693)

Sat 10th Jan 2009 01:48

Hi Hun you are amazing I love the way you see life and your understanding of it fills my heart with a feeling of fire! My candle will always burn for you xx

<Deleted User> (5693)

Mon 29th Dec 2008 20:52

Hi Son I think you are an old soul someone who has been here before x Your poetry is amazing and I can empathise with the things you write, judging by your thought you are Humanistic working from your own phenomological feild love you always xx as I have always said you will go far in this life xx

<Deleted User> (4281)

Fri 5th Dec 2008 18:34

Hi, Richard

This is great NEWS!!!
Good Luck with you study, I am sure, it will be successful for you, the field is very interesting-All the best!!

Holidays Greetings
From Zuzanna

<Deleted User> (5646)

Mon 27th Oct 2008 20:24

Hi Richard,
thanks for letting me know what you're up to.
I had a feeling you were busy with study. Just wanted to let you know you haven't been forgotten.
Hope you found all the inspiration you need for your course work. Good luck with it.
Love Janet.xx

<Deleted User> (5646)

Tue 7th Oct 2008 22:04

Hi Richard,
Just a quick post.
Hope you're ok. I presume you are back into studying as we haven't seen anything new from you lately.
No pressure! Get some work done. ha ha.

Love Janet.x

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John Togher

Fri 19th Sep 2008 12:14

Yep, Robert Johnson. My favourite though, is Mississippi Fred McDowell.

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Jeff Dawson

Thu 11th Sep 2008 18:11

hi Richard, Carla's fine, think she's coming watching me at a gig I'm doing on saturday in Bolton!

Thanks for comments about my poem, will catch up with yyour recent entries soon, been busy and off to wigan tonight!!

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Tomás Ó Cárthaigh

Wed 10th Sep 2008 13:41

Its great how you managed to show the resuer as the one needing the help of the lady in the long run as he had amnesia...

<Deleted User> (5479)

Mon 8th Sep 2008 21:20

yeh john cooper clarke is my uncle babes

<Deleted User> (5646)

Fri 22nd Aug 2008 12:38

ps. it didn't transfer as i wrote it.
Not as easy as it seems. Must have to be copied from the computer i think.xx

<Deleted User> (5646)

Fri 22nd Aug 2008 12:36

Hi Richard,
Your anchor does look better, but i still think if you raised the first and last word one more time as well as raising again the ones you did, it would be spot on.

is it.
this owe
death etc. etc... etc... they


Great stuff, this concrete poetry though, and something completely new to me which you've inspired me to practice with. Thankyou.
Love Janet.xx

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DG

Wed 20th Aug 2008 19:53

Thanks Richard for you nice comments. I generally avoid the showcase (and it took a long time before I posted a profile) because I still bear the scars of mutual self congratulatory writers workshops where people write a complimentary comment on your poems and it is expected that you will do the same for them. That said, I genuinely do quite like a couple of the ones you've posted up here - with the hopping around from one setting to the next (urban street tableau to dark forest tableau to etc.) in the first one, and the lass who'd fallen off a pier and dragged down the coast to a waiting rapist in the poet and muse thing.

As to my attitude in the discussion thing - it's mostly put on. Mind you almost everyone else is being disingenuous in that thread so it's not just me. For all the "well I could call x a poem and I could call y a poem" (and so on and so forth), if those people were reading an article in the financial times and their significant other said "what are you read dear?" they wouldn't say "a poem". So, deep down, they sort of know.

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Jeff Dawson

Fri 15th Aug 2008 21:04

Hello Cir!!

You won't believe this, but you are only the 2nd person to use the name Ffej!!! A very good girlfriend of mine who I used to go out with, used to call me that all the time, it was very sweet, until we finished!

I still keep in touch though she works in Thailand now. Uncanny though because you couldn't have seen that anywhere!

If you go to any gigs in Preston let me know, if I'm free its no problem driving up Mway, be good to see you and do a couple of poems up there, cheers Jeff

<Deleted User> (5164)

Fri 15th Aug 2008 11:56

hiya richard

thanx for the comment
being compared to eminem is a major compliment,
thank you
i know i write angry poems about my mum
but i love her really lol

much love

sez x

darren thomas

Fri 15th Aug 2008 10:30

Hi Richard - Perform? Well, I got up on stage and mumbled a load of sprouts. I did the 'Making love with a size ten' which I posted this morning. I was the penultimate poet - which is another phrase for ' blind drunk'. Good fun though.

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Jeff Dawson

Thu 14th Aug 2008 20:09

Hi Richard, let me know how wigan wass if you went. I still havent been to that one yet but will get there, too much on this week.

Prob confused you, I don't play anything, just poetry with me, they had guitarists on before and after me, so quite a good night, hope to meet you soon, prob 2 poems at howcroft, cheers Jeff

<Deleted User> (5646)

Thu 14th Aug 2008 16:07

Hi Richard,
If you do decide to tonight, i'll be there too.
It'll give you a chance to get to know the people behind their poetry. It can be a real eye opener as well as a great experience.
Bring a sample with you just in case you get drunk enough to give you some dutch courage.
Love Janet.xx

darren thomas

Thu 14th Aug 2008 13:27

Richard - get your ass to The Tudor House tonight. You don't have to perform, just take it all in. Watch and learn. Learn what not to do - learn what to do and get blind drunk in the process. Apart from spending a night with Emily what's her name - I can't think of anyhting better.

<Deleted User> (5646)

Thu 14th Aug 2008 12:31

Hi Richard,
Yes, these discussion lines do get quite heated but they're all a really good bunch of people, most of them very well educated in poetic writing. They all seem to get on well together when they see each other at the gigs too.
It's great when you actually meet the poets in person. You should get yourself out to a few of them. Who knows? it might even give you that courage you need to stand up and read some of your own.
They're really informal and non- judgemental.

I see what you mean about getting Darren involved on your topic. I think you two would get on great, as he is studying and you have too.
He seems to love a good, friendly argument.
Maybe you could have a chat with him through the wol chat service, or start the line of discussion and see how it turns out.
Love Janet.x

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Jeff Dawson

Wed 13th Aug 2008 17:39

Hi Richard, Finity/Infinity - fair enough, doesn't take a lot to throw me, understand now! Yeah love the concept, life after death of some sort, or something after the 'end' of the universe - does my head in!

Yes, you will have to get to a gig, I'm doing loads now! I will be at Howcroft in Bolton this sunday and the boars head in Middleton next sunday. I'm also doing a gig supporting my mates punk band this saturday!

Doing a similar set to last week when I did a punk/acoustic night in Bolton. Did 13 poems incl some john Cooper Clarke, went really well! Hope to meet you soon, cheers Jeff

<Deleted User> (5646)

Tue 12th Aug 2008 20:47

Hi Richard,
Thanks for the comment to " I am me."
That word is "me " but i ended the poem like i did because it actually begins with " I. "
Do you see?

I've never attended writing classes but i stumbled on a link on wol which had a section about how to write a poem.
Played around with the words and ideas and that's what came of it.
Blogged it just for a bit of fun really.

By the way, did you see how the discussion link continued, which you started before you biked it?
The one about "what is poetry?"
Take a peek, i think it's still there.
Thanks again, love Janet.xx

<Deleted User> (4235)

Tue 12th Aug 2008 20:13

Hi, Richard.

Thank you for your comment on my poem, Fine Line. You hit the nail on its head with the existentialism and nihilism.

As for the soldier's life, it is something that I could never do myself, but I feel that these men and women should be recognized as heroes for putting their lives on the line.

Take care. :)

-Melissa

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alex iamb

Tue 12th Aug 2008 16:06

hey Richard, cheers for the comment, but don't worry - I didn't have to suffer for that particular piece, it was just for fun. Love the poet and the muse one - really good. cheers,
a
x

<Deleted User> (4725)

Tue 12th Aug 2008 13:47

Cheers for your comment Richard.
Haha well the book is a long way off yet, it is one chapter and a notebook full of notes!
But we must perservere I guess.
I love The Poet and his Muse. Please post a clip of you reading it!

<Deleted User> (5646)

Mon 4th Aug 2008 19:29

Hi Richard,
Sorry about the misinterpretation of your poem.
I read it 3 times and got the same feeling each time. It was as if he enjoys the silence of being alone but she simply feels lonely.
The bereft feeling i got was whenever he was about to leave.
I've just read it again and felt the same. Perhaps it's the punctuation or the way it's laid out on the page, but i'm certainly not the one to ask how it would read any differently.
Maybe other poets would see what is intended. But that's the beauty of good poetry. Each person who reads it will "see" something different, depending on how it relates to them.
Love Janet.x

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Jeff Dawson

Sun 3rd Aug 2008 17:42

Hi Richard, how's it going? What you been up to, not heard from you for a while?

Did you see my poems for July. The last one, about the man in the moon, was for my daughter, but the other two are very deep, the first one 'When will it pass' is personal.

Appreciate your thoughts if you haven't seen them, cheers Jeff

<Deleted User> (5164)

Thu 10th Jul 2008 02:04

'Depression was my friend
understood me so well
the time we spent
writing till he goes
his pain my prose'

you have a fantastic way with words

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