david-divine-brooks
I am a singer,painter,writer and documentary film freak .This blog started out as a place to put some of my poetry and it ended up inspiring me to gather up all my notebooks full of writings and write a book about the stories that started from the poems here .The book is a work of fiction called The Gothic Poet and it is a great experience to write.I compiled the notebooks over a ten year period touring the world with a band and the hundreds of stories I collected on those tours. like many, I always felt most inspired while in the gothic streets of Barcelona and other areas of the world surrounded by it's art and hope to one day publish this work.A slice of my story is featured in Douglas A Cox's book on c.d. Taking Command and is available on his site. thank your for your taking time to visit and look forward to discovering your work as well peace always David. Contact [email protected] ,daviddivinebrooks/wordpess.com
I have made a relatively
Large mistake
In that
I have taken any of this
Insanity seriously.
For many years
I was tricked into
Playing along with this
Phenomenally ******* up
Box of stones
Being sold
As silver.
Beauty is abundant
And I will live my days
With it.
I will ignore the demons
Who wish to abolish it.
War ******
Greed
Slime
And pukes.
I will no longer
Associate with you.
To me you do not
Exist.
You have lost the battle
For my mind.
You could not capture it with
Television
Propaganda
Schools
Churches
Drugs
Or fictional accounts of history.
You could not contain it with
Science
Institutions
Math
Taxes
Or hysteria.
Although I do posses embarresment
And a little shame
For having paid attention
To you,
I wash my hands
Hold up my head
Adjust my hat
And continue to walk
With a little faith in the soles of my shoes.
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 3:43 PM UTC
The marble stairway
Winding like a snake
From my room on the second floor
To the lobby in the hotel
Which carried on out into the street
Where I would follow for city blocks.
Waiting there with the tapas and beer
Was a drunk poet,
Ready with the words to fill any empty space
With a lifetime of thought.
The verse, not unlike the architecture
Screamed aloud
Cried out to me
For it had been waiting decades
For someone to view it
To lick its breast
Penetrate the long abstinence
Of mind and body
Finally one with the forgotten thought patterns
That died with the others.
Once again to be kissed
And lay there with gently stroking fingertips
A lover
Longing to be held
Remembered
Tasted lips.
The deliverance of hope
Through the eyes of the wanted
Those often written about
Painted on sturdy canvas
In immortal bliss.
Soaked in olive oil
Each tattered step
Beloved in wisdom
Breath
A beep chance of being.
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 3:41 PM UTC
As I arrived to my second floor hotel room
i looked over the walkway rail
down to the pool
where I saw two beautiful *******
sunbathing women with large breast
and neon thong bottoms,
laying there in full glory
absorbing the Italian sun.
I briefly thought
I should send them some drinks and wave
but then I quickly decided not to disrupt the spirits
turned and went in the large dark brown door
threw my key on the desk
opened a beer
had a few sips
and took a nap.
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 3:39 PM UTC
Poetry,Beauty and Beer(enough with the madness)
I've been many times to Italy I like the wine
I've been many times to Spain I like the wine there too,
both places also have great
olive oil
and beer
I've been to South America,and there you will find wonderful wine
beer
olive oil
and an incredible glacier
I've been to Sweden,
England
and Scotland
they all have beer
wine
olive oil
and fine people
I've been to Japan
they as well have these things plus beer in vending machines.
The list goes on and on.
And they all have beautiful women
you can even find some here in the U.S. But the most miraculous thing
most of the people
in all of the countries I've been
have in common
is that they
want
to
live
in
peace.
They just want the beauty
enough is enough
with corporate greed.
Poets have warned it
for centuries.
Stop the money counting
and breath
look up
thats the sky
notice it for the first time,
take control of
yourself.
Darwinism,
religion,
racism,
all props to try and control something you have never possessed in the first place.
Beauty is everywhere in the world.
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 12:52 PM UTC
http://amzn.com/1484818814
Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 10:18 PM UTC
Tantrums Of Genius
Tantrums Of Genius
Stay away from The - Mart
and it’s shopping cart
with a bad wheel,
Write on paper with
disbanded,forgotten
outlawed cursive,
not staring into
a computer with pop up adds
and trivial social media,
Have Tantrums Of Genius
Sip on a beer
or some wine
and close your eyes
in silence,
listen to the thoughts
twirl in your mind
like a Van Gogh painting,
paying attention to detail
as the thick blue colors
swirl into each other
creating a vibrant sky.
Listen to Mozart
softly inducing stimulation,
master’s calling through
space and time
telling you
of their frustration
in finding anyone
to listen to their message.
Read Ezra Pound
and all the others
the poet’s
who had the knowledge
the insight
to warn you of
a place with no creation,
filled with people
without imagination,
those who never had
Tantrum's Of Genius
Feel the emotion
as you start to pace
the floor,and look
out of a window,
and for the first time
realize that you
are surrounded by beauty
and you have ignored
every flower
and all of the color
that has not been recognized.
Maybe with anger
or with regret
have a
Tantrum Of Genius
As the truth
softly show’s itself
like gazing into
a Dali painting
slowly discovering
what it is you are looking at.
promise yourself
to often have
Tantrums Of Genius.
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 1:53 PM UTC
The Gothic Poet
Chapter 1
Looking down at this bar with its variously brown stained boards beneath its
glossy finish reminds me of a surfboard I wish I could just get up on and ride a
wave out of this place.This place full of people with their devil horned hand
gestures and uneducated mouths uttering ridiculous thoughts to me.constantly
coming after me with their thoughts about rock & roll,heaven,hell,love and
deception.The real deception is that there's life in this bar where I find
myself time and time again.There might as well be bars instead of walls,we are
all jailing ourselves I think as I take a big sip of draft beer to momentarily
ease the brain.but just as soon as I replace the glass to the coaster paying
careful attention to return it to the wet circle mark where it had rested before
the thoughts start again about the crowd I am not only surrounded by but am
among one of the abused and scared running away from the truths we have
desperately locked away in places as obvious as the lyrics of our songs,cowards
confronting no one,nothing except beer drenched microphones and crowds just as
loathsome to stand there and watch us and are repetitive garbage we
unidentifiably call art. Theodore why are you sitting here I think to myself as I
light a cigarette and take and take a deep drag,a drag that seems to relieve me
for a brief second from the anger and desperation.Theodore Francis Boone why am
I called this,what could my parents have possibly been thinking,were their
intentions to high,could they have been thinking I may be a discoverer,hold a
seat in the senate,fast talking lawyer with a phone full of numbers of people
that want to be around me,well Theodore you are none of things tonight here atop
your ripped fake leather barstool here tonight.I clicked the bar three times
with my lighter took a drag and as I did I felt a tap on my shoulder Reluctantly
I looked over at an oddly attractive girl standing there with a sort of perky
stature and my fears were loose as I anticipated what she could possibly
want. She mumbled words that at the very least I could care less about especially
with them being drowned out by the music being played at decibels better suited
for an outdoor venue.Great show she said my name Tabby can I by you a
drink.Tabby I thought for a second looked at my beer clicked it twice with my
fingernail took the last **** on it and then gave her a quick look and said
thanks and then returned my eyes to my empty glass.I turned my head back around
to her and said I'll have a draft,just a draft she replied? absolutely I said
just a draft.With guitar distortion consuming the smoke riddled air like a buzz
saw I felt her tap me on the right shoulder just as my draft arrived on fresh
coaster and she proceeded to ask do you guys play here often?I don't know I
added as she relentlessly continued with the questions.I one worded my way
through them until finally she let up for a few minuets and I returned to the
draft she had bought me.As I took a sip I thought maybe she was getting the
picture that I didn't need a Tabby or anyone else for that matter in my life who
felt like talking about the band or how often we played here in this prison.
But just then,just as I thought it maybe over I felt another tap on my shoulder and
as I turned she handed me a torn in half bar napkin with her phone number on
it.As I folded it she laid the other torn half in front of me and asked if I
could give her my number and I wrote it down thinking to myself why would she
want to talk to me again ,I had been pretty lousy company.She the torn paper
with my number and placed it in her purse.I took the last pull on my beer paying
close attention to finish every drop then stood up tapped Tabby on the shoulder
and made my way out of there. As the door closed and I was now on the outside the
ringing in my ears became apparent while making my way down the street in an
almost silent peace.This was always my favorite part of any day the quiet of the
night walking with little distraction.The city seemed so much more beautiful
when it wasn't full of people aimlessly wandering around it.Sure there was the
occasional drunk or druggie but they didn't bother me and I didn't bother them
most of the time ,it was sort of a mutual respect at this hour of
night.Generally it was the blaze of the daytime when the distasteful wanderers
where most displeasing.The boss's the politicians all those daytime degenerates
those are the ones to worry about,the bankers and the such.Those that think they
got it that think they are ahead of the game and got it beat,they always seem
way to persistent on getting me involved uncreative tasks,No none of them where
out here tonight to bother me and I could enjoy my walk home.
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 1:14 PM UTC
Chapter 1
Looking down at this bar with its variously brown stained boards beneath its
glossy finish reminds me of a surfboard I wish I could just get up on and ride a
wave out of this place.This place full of people with their devil horned hand
gestures and uneducated mouths uttering ridiculous thoughts to me.constantly
coming after me with their thoughts about rock & roll,heaven,hell,love and
deception.The real deception is that there's life in this bar where I find
myself time and time again.There might as well be bars instead of walls,we are
all jailing ourselves I think as I take a big sip of draft beer to momentarily
ease the brain.but just as soon as I replace the glass to the coaster paying
careful attention to return it to the wet circle mark where it had rested before
the thoughts start again about the crowd I am not only surrounded by but am
among one of the abused and scared running away from the truths we have
desperately locked away in places as obvious as the lyrics of our songs,cowards
confronting no one,nothing except beer drenched microphones and crowds just as
loathsome to stand there and watch us and are repetitive garbage we
unidentifiably call art. Theodore why are you sitting here I think to myself as I
light a cigarette and take and take a deep drag,a drag that seems to relieve me
for a brief second from the anger and desperation.Theodore Francis Boone why am
I called this,what could my parents have possibly been thinking,were their
intentions to high,could they have been thinking I may be a discoverer,hold a
seat in the senate,fast talking lawyer with a phone full of numbers of people
that want to be around me,well Theodore you are none of things tonight here atop
your ripped fake leather barstool here tonight.I clicked the bar three times
with my lighter took a drag and as I did I felt a tap on my shoulder Reluctantly
I looked over at an oddly attractive girl standing there with a sort of perky
stature and my fears were loose as I anticipated what she could possibly
want. She mumbled words that at the very least I could care less about especially
with them being drowned out by the music being played at decibels better suited
for an outdoor venue.Great show she said my name Tabby can I by you a
drink.Tabby I thought for a second looked at my beer clicked it twice with my
fingernail took the last **** on it and then gave her a quick look and said
thanks and then returned my eyes to my empty glass.I turned my head back around
to her and said I'll have a draft,just a draft she replied? absolutely I said
just a draft.With guitar distortion consuming the smoke riddled air like a buzz
saw I felt her tap me on the right shoulder just as my draft arrived on fresh
coaster and she proceeded to ask do you guys play here often?I don't know I
added as she relentlessly continued with the questions.I one worded my way
through them until finally she let up for a few minuets and I returned to the
draft she had bought me.As I took a sip I thought maybe she was getting the
picture that I didn't need a Tabby or anyone else for that matter in my life who
felt like talking about the band or how often we played here in this prison.
But just then,just as I thought it maybe over I felt another tap on my shoulder and
as I turned she handed me a torn in half bar napkin with her phone number on
it.As I folded it she laid the other torn half in front of me and asked if I
could give her my number and I wrote it down thinking to myself why would she
want to talk to me again ,I had been pretty lousy company.She the torn paper
with my number and placed it in her purse.I took the last pull on my beer paying
close attention to finish every drop then stood up tapped Tabby on the shoulder
and made my way out of there. As the door closed and I was now on the outside the
ringing in my ears became apparent while making my way down the street in an
almost silent peace.This was always my favorite part of any day the quiet of the
night walking with little distraction.The city seemed so much more beautiful
when it wasn't full of people aimlessly wandering around it.Sure there was the
occasional drunk or druggie but they didn't bother me and I didn't bother them
most of the time ,it was sort of a mutual respect at this hour of
night.Generally it was the blaze of the daytime when the distasteful wanderers
where most displeasing.The boss's the politicians all those daytime degenerates
those are the ones to worry about,the bankers and the such.Those that think they
got it that think they are ahead of the game and got it beat,they always seem
way to persistent on getting me involved uncreative tasks,No none of them where
out here tonight to bother me and I could enjoy my walk home.
Dec 10, 2012
Dec 10, 2012 at 11:22 AM UTC
I took a walk one day
And I guess I just forgot to go back
Where I started from wasn't that bad
I just got lost in the beauty
I began to get addicted to things
The further away I got
Things like words written by bukowski
And paint drippings by *******
The hotel Durante haunted by Dali
And Ezra pounds thoughts
Floating through St. Marks square
The bullet train carried me only one way
No I never returned from the sights
Or the sounds of a glacier losing a chunk
Of ice into the ocean
The magnificent blue of the glacier ice
Chilling the whiskey I sipped as I starred
I believe the artwork just ****** me in
I slowly became a word in the pages
A drop of paint in the masterpiece
Out there on that walk
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 3:59 PM UTC
Twenty feet off sunset
It's kind of quiet
for a saturday night
in Hollywood.
I wonder where the crowds gone?
my friends must have went off
to drink.
It's better that I stayed
There's quit alot to write
I promised myself
That I would.
The hotel room is quiet
except the ringing in my ears
from the amps
and the crowd.
Here in room 227
the loud has dripped to empty
alone at last,where I feel normal
almost.
My thoughts and memories
have always been too big
not shallow
not empty.
I wouldn't rise to watch others fail
Compassion really did me in.
A pounding heart,and brain
I couldn't stop neither
And Iv'e surely tried
they just got stronger.
Although 227 would appear empty
It's filled with many others
who have influenced me
to rid the sedation.
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 2:00 PM UTC