featuring Nico .. .
Around this woollen ball, this puff of life
jangled strings zip, zang across the bridge
echoed voices caught tap tapping on the backboard
white noise an alternating love song
Did you get inside Picasso’s head or Blake
Hockney’s swimming pool remote and lonely
emulsioned out for all to see, not for posterity
who knew the tempera here was set politically
I heard voices in the wild wind ever closer
then revolution was not so a dirty word
violence, obsequious, fabulous, absurd
ampersand the currency of other lands
Safe, narwhaled from our pleasant sundays
village greened, cosied into thirties constructs
like cricket whites b-4 adopting denim jeans
markered CND’s upon angst-filled dreams
Hardwood stage, the age, loose-fit abstract
queen Nico, minimalist, name-checked as an entity
symbolism birthed, seeded by some advertiser’s junk
boys q’p’s, girls capital V’s, coin-slot teasers
Happy to be, therefore I am, persuaded by a Cambells can
or a gym shoe, art’s pale face peroxided over
who took up the mantle or a cudgel to the head
these were artist’s who by art systematically bled!
We were constantly drifting, our life-raft listing
leave me with my bands, my ties, my addictions
I was once like you, a son, fair full of constancy
my meat hung low but rose to all occasions
Now I am meat for the wagon that can never know
where it might end, discarded like a banshee’s wail
in sunny climes, Andalusian, stoned, harpooned
washed up, in the year of getting your shit together
I am a statement written out in purpled blood
shored up by virtue, consecrated, left for dead
I float east where the water turns mauve to angry red
and yellow, orange, white, psychedelic blue
We together formed forever the perfect group
remembered by our perfect name, our Dada beat
icons signatured at Caffe Bizarre on West 3rd street
audiences dazed and damaged when then departed
©edenbraytoday03.12.2022
Like this:
Like Loading...
edenbray ☢︎ - a BEAT POET 
AURORA-METEOR FLASH LIGHTS UP MY SKY .. .
Aurora Meteor Flash Lights Up My Sky .. .
.. .
…. when late skies of the aurora part
there is no feeling in my hands
no senses running through me
death is a dim cloud descending
like cold water trickles down from the mountains
from the mountains of Araz-kana
where there also are wild ponies, goats
serpents under rocks and smallish, brown birds
that climb the rocks and trees their beaks are curved
jammed full of insects, ants and splendid nectar
these are the high plains of our civilisation
where the enduits once roamed
on stellar journeys clothed in animal fur
soft, rancid skins cut from seals
that in the morning make you retch
I too am a sharman
not to touch the earth or its trees
not to see the sun or categorise
the energy of this constant storm that rages
within the intelligence of all peoples
we are born waiting the solitary night
wailing at the morbid separation
from our mothers skin, her open pudenda
thrust into a dream we cannot divine
we embark upon a journey with no end
each one of us is a nimbus, a Columbus
a Ghengis, a warrior as a snow leopard
focussed on her awesome kill
under the star-filled night with dancing lights
my wild love goes ridin’ she rides all the day
©edenbraytoday09.03.2023
Share this:
Like this: