TALL TREES and TORN PAGES .. .

. .. TALL TREES AND TORN PAGES .. .

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alternatively #900 .. .
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to love, to thought, to sorrow
    at the window
to loss of life, to strife, to care
    as one we soldier on
we wait
    to see how things turn out
    and in the morning of the night
    we surrender dreams
    of savage themes
    our conflicts swollen
    dead lives stollen
    away, away from us
    by virtue of words never said
    nor prayers unprayed
emporium
    eclectic, vast, grungy
    as the grey dawn hides
    unimagined, uncontrolled
an alphabet of aged aspiration
    once held aloft as banners
    until as fleeting birds
    they turned contrails
    pulsating, droning vees
    caught up in the wind
    of mankind’s tomorrows
to victories
    weighed out in arrows
atrophy
    redshift, divergence issue
    those stars once lit all around us
    are moving away
    they like daddy Arbucks
    packed their bags
    preferring not to stay
entomb the sad landscape
    of your private mausoleum
    it is time to skip n’laugh
    leave behind the institution
    Master Salieri
Chlorophyll .. .
    eat only the freshest leaves
    reach out for higher branches
    broadest visions
    those given to giraffes,
tall trees and torn pages
    ring bronzy bell
    launch black and gold
the fuming steamer
    when summer’s gone
    forget the tawdry shiver
    plant one more orchard
    another twisted vine

..

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©EDENBRAYTODAY06.04.2024

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INSIDE DANTÉ’S PUNCHBOWL .. .

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inside Danté’s punchbowl .. .

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Danté by the lemon skip
with stencil letters 30 high
full of articles of life
dead microwave drained
two bags dried cement
a couch, a mattress
an old wooden chair
spilled of all its filling
of fine horse’s hair
quadraphonic recording
inside Diablo’s basement
bled by meanest sound
a broken ladder
discarded venetian blind

poet’s eyes scan
inside printer carnage
set to double-spacing
armistice addressed
mid war-torn plunder
spies lined up are shot
in sight of homeland
where cold rivers run
next to silos red
fed corn, blood and
bone, vented torment
owned of master race
raised by immunity they
garner poppies in the spring

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©edenbraytoday04.04.2024

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ZENITH’S SHARPENED MIND .. .

Zenith’s sharpened mind .. .

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alone with paper then of pen
  again thoughts ink to spell
  inside the dark well of night

conflict flows thru’ page’s river
  ice torn frost turns purple word
  crumpled, moist, soil absorbed

perch rimmed, salt-edged glasses 
  harrowed eyes, misted vistas
  plunder deep life’s cutting iron

waiting crows feed at earth’s finger
  burned crisp, day’s nettled sun
  till rolls of light then thunder

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©edenbraytoday02.04.2024

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DEEP SNOW .. .

deep snow .. .

..

in those days
when the condensation
ran down the inside
of the window
there was a silent chill
which permeates the air
a sullen atmosphere
that held its echo
stillness as a blanket
the bark of trees
wizened faces in the wood
their aged concern
etched in cardboard skin
enveloped all our reason
voices of another age
before the machine
before spinning jenny
or the locomotive
silver halide crystals
recording direct image
which controlled light
before we wore sewn boots
or marched to war
as if that were a mission
while through trees
their roots and history
we had wandered
children of another page
who sensed the trials
of time’s momentum
a nightshade spreading
simultaneously weak and strong
alongside running water
spilling over granite spurs
i reflect on them both
when we as before
held similar convictions
soft, yet firm as fallen snow
rivulets when forming
disappear as evening drizzle

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©edenbraytoday22.03.2024

Posted in BEAT, edenbray POMES, PROG-PROSE, THE ATIST'S SKETCHBOOK .. . | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

ON HEARING THE LAST CUCKOO TO SING .. .

on hearing the last cuckoo to sing .. .

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. .

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in the half light
of your incomplete stillness
there is a silence
i cannot quite discern

it distills upon us like a dew
of muffled noise
there are waves of darkness

i imagine armies gathering
to lay their weapons down
sounds and whispers
and a cuckoo

. .

. .

©edenbraytoday18.03.2024

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MORRISON ALERT .. .

MORRISON ALERT .. .

. .

treeism

treeism
i’ve been watching t.v.
sparks
there are adverts on the telly
voices
phrases repeat
and like jungle cats they gather
. .
i have been asleep
and on waking
hedonism and selfish abandon
cinema and the lizard
drives past my window
your ugly voices
hot and cold
. .
queuing in the street
for bread
in long winter overcoats
trains and long journeys home
contraceptive machines
thrills and spills
autopsy
. .
religious fanatics
monkish habits
the line of a comet
tumbling out of the sky
Ben-hur… Cecille B.DeMille
silverscreen shadows
Noah’s ark
. .
Jim Morrison meets
with Aldous in the lobby
a cornet… a hustle
Chaplin’s ghost
… types of genus
Sachmo and Zen
the Louisville Lip
..
time to begin over
Houston
the life of paranoia
where the sirens sound
and children play
in Arlington, Virginia
Cincinnati, Ohio
. .
six million jews
the body of the iceberg
catamarans
sea lions in San Francisco
friends
you may invite for dinner
and ice cream
. .
switch the t.v. off
the video on
carcinogenics
where the buffalo once roamed
anxiety
treeism
freestyle and falling
. .
stop making sense
of everything
the calabrese – the shortening
words
mutant sentences stand alone
the age of the drone
where nothing is sacred
. .
the moguls
their fancy cars
topiary
an island of regret
enter the shaman
he is a messiah
the director’s chair
. .

©edenbraytoday21.03.2024

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WOLF’S TAIL

wolf’s tail

GUILLEMOTS AS OBELISKS ©edenbray1988

Make way for the standing wolf who made his mark
in better times of government once broad
once strong and courteous in his-and-her land
the beauteous, the coven in which now we stand
to renegade upon the other yet strain to listen
yonder for his strident call who lifts tall the tail
to call us from the plains and fells once more
and gather thus and howl of all that we have lost
howl for the shopkeeper and the public house
the landlords, the independents, the working class
who worked for themselves – guardians of our freedom
howl for the schoolteacher and the nurse
who each day are victims of societies declension
howl for the disappearing poet strangled at birth
the worm of subversion riddled his verse
her sonnet garden lies tattered, forlorn
graveyards deserted, vitriol spewed upon her lawn
howl for your mother who was born to grief and sorrow
for the ambitious and zealous tormented
at memory of how much they must borrow
to pay the debt of the obsequious and hollow
howl for your brother who has given up the struggle
howl once, howl twice, howl for the sacrifice
of soldiers who die believing in honour
as nations collide betide their politicians lies
howl at the sea that rises to cover the land
leaving silty deposits written in sand
mene mene tekel upharsin
at the edge of time where seabirds cluster
howl for brother mowgli at traditions gate
the march of humanities enemy is change
for change sake which becomes one more atrocity
the education of children in school a hypocrisy
howl for your church of the faithful in confusion
at the purpose of faith or for why Christ died
as religions bluster over who God favours
their ministers labour for wealth or power
with no desire to save us, inspire us or love
no Lennon or the Beatles to set free the dove
peace a frightened bird exiled to la la land
alongside culture and history, art and belief
and tradition and mystery, intellect and reason
it is open season on anything of our vast past
stand upon the shores of Gulliver’s island
watch blandly the white whale whose name
Ishmael cannot remember shimmy past
howl for what we have lost

©edenbraytoday14.03.2024

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STOP TRYING TO RADICALISE .. .

stop trying to radicalise .. .

..

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fervent
          effluent
i believe it’s true
                        so should you
are you listening
                          the voices of the night
peace brother/sister
                                peace a cancerous blister
on the conscience of the weak
                                                have you forgotten how to speak
speak to me of sou’westers and rain
                                                        falling on the meek
the meek who inherit the earth
                                                stop trying to radicalise
investment, internment
                                    involuntary digestion
we imbibe what we hate
                                      poison
to educate
                is to unlearn
less is
          better
stop
      it

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DOLORES .. .

Dolores .. .

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call me back Dolores
by the which way we all travel
and the clouds black as oil
your voice that always made me shiver

i listen to the wind whistle
through your shot-blasted hair
how should we have ever known
when the sun ended and tomorrows began

scale those myths and stories
storms you never did by the half
what people wish to believe
more frightening than realities vice

i’m glad i listen to the infinite
to the bleeding lying in the gullies
to the insoluble vagrant in the gutter
to the nightmares worn like curls by demigods

the voice still lingers on
where there are no longer secrets
one more wound to the armour
one more reason to carry on

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©edenbraytoday02.03.2024

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BUKOWSKI’S OLD BOOTS .. .

BUKOWSKI’S OLD BOOTS .. .

my metaphors in tangles
similes wrapped round my balls
pinched a ciggy from a buddy
poets eyes settle upon
within the middle distance
where ideas come from
as bees visit wallflowers
extract meaning from the verse
hear voices clear as water
that tumbles from the sky
the roof of the planet
where black clouds gather
the horizon of my eyes
at the edge of the earth
there are razorbills and gannets
they jostle to be alive
the boots I wore have holes
Bukowski’s old boots
I left them by the door

©EDENBRAYTODAY26.01,024

 

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