As long as you sleep .. .


As long as you sleep
  I will watch over you
  to warn you of the crashing waves
  the march of time
  relentless in its disdain of life

Your caustic skin renews
  yet denies the eloquence of reason
  your appearance sequinned
  sequential of the order varinidae
  your horny back ’tis pressed
  hard against the wall
  of mankind’s duplicitous persuasion
  where magnets draw affection
  more by your quizzical expression
  per chance you acquiesce or quantify
  your scientific appropriation

We monitor this, we determine that
  the constructs of our dependencies
  while all nature suffers, struggles
  from our monstrous alienation
  anxieties are sick mothers
  looking over our shoulders
  for alligators in the sewers
  elephants unbidden to our quarters
  predators that wait impassively
  compulsive disorders and addictions
  wants that become needs, vision bleeds

and while you sleep
  I will watch over you
  wake the moon while it is drifting
  send beacons unto the planets
  announce your firstborn young

Impressively passive
  genus varanus merrem
  they hunt in packs
  like hungry dogs of war
  for mortal combat with teeth and claw
  they hunt to gather, stay alive
  as all species of the carnivore
  a most necessary absolution
  affords this gently generic reptilian 
  endangered, finely prehistoric
  limbs prehensile and grasping


Posted in BEAT, edenbray ANIMALS & BEASTS, PROG-PROSE, THE LIZARD MEMOIRS | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment


. .. picture postcard album .. .


. .. some are yellowed, some are straight
a few hardly come into view
they are lost somewhere in Jonah’s ether
at the bottom of the whale
in the slime that’s part digested
picture postcards leave a trail

a super sleuth, crack-hot spy
wearing those sunglasses
that really are – a camera
dirty postcards of flesh and limbs
barrel loaded, the polygraph set
record monsignor’s greatest sins

we have no need to publish
the public have seen it all before
nothing shocks or titillates him anymore
joe’s a broad-minded individual
made up of a thousand parts
a million or so picture postcards                                                                                                 

addresses have been scrambled
cancelled postage all ink-blazed
moments of impropriety catalogued
phone-calls and messages saved
a respected, socially communitive figure
once more has been caught in a lie

misinformation, deceit and outrage
decorate the album, line the walls
subjects of enquiry block all calls
aside the awesome realisation
treasured picture postcards
squeezed his life inside a vice

Jonah makes a rush for the exit
the plume of vomit is extreme
waters of Niagra falls of Victoria
are not enough gushing asperge
to wash away picture-postcard
incriminations mostly obscene

it all came out one summers day
amidst the pools of contrition
aside the mountains of regret
the souls of many Jonah’s
found bundled in a heap
a pile of picture postcards
never meant to keep .. .


Posted in BEAT | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment


iguana territory .. .


it is late
wind-chill factor
colder than September
in the late, dark night
the iguana ever bolder
does not venture out

the iguana
is a solitary beast
as spies pass messages to one another
before the dawn rise
they keep each other alive
afore the firing squad arrives

under the streetlights
where the homeless sleep
in the alleys
upon park benches
under newspaper blankets
and in stiff corrugated, cardboard boxes

the iguana, a solitary animal
loses heat by night
when the sun dips low
below the horizon
and the trees that line the way
on the boulevard in the city

beneath the receding skyline

the iguana brave
does not sleep
but only rests his eyes
until the sun lifts in the sky
until he opens wide
his eyes are round in their sockets

he sees an army approaching
baboons, monkeys, apes
who came before
the iguana
who staked his claim
on their promised land?


Posted in edenbray POMES, JAZZ POETRY, PROG-PROSE | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

the the

If I were born today
a newborn creature
hanging out from my mother
gangling on the floor
much like I ever was
when my mother birthed me
ugly, wet, covered in blood,
mucous, bodily functions
the effluence of my short life
I’m a writer, I am an artist
I write because I can
poems, essays, articles
reviews, opinion, comment.
among you, not above you

I want to see you in this huge world

I don’t need Bezos

who squanders our millions
beam me up Scottie

have a word with Captain Kirk
the bad, sad face of capitalism
tell him like us all he has been taken for a ride
I want to be someone you might learn from
I’ve done a few things, travelled a bit
Ive met a few good people

cleared up others shit
Ive got time left, the rest are the best of our days
Im going to spend those days
thInking about you and me so hang around
I am not Greta Thunberg

I’m edenbray the poet
like you I’ve seen baby’s born

my eyes have cried
my heart has been broken

by the of the torture of this world



I, as edenbray – my writers name – the day I redrew myself during CV-19 Lockdown

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment



the czars paid full price .. . 

the czars

. ..

Catapults and carnage
the winter solstice it is done
Michaelangelo performing
at the Duomo the dying swan

Auntie Edie hangs her washing
on her taught, rope-twine line
hides her knickers under jumpers
her chalk-line spies are out in force

peeping through net curtains
while making gossip notes
old men scratch their scrotums
young men spoil their votes

see yellow primroses on the hill
cousin Judy on her pony approaching
her semblance of disorder
has always been the same

they wrapped your vanilla ice-cream
with newsprint in a cardboard sleeve
grandma does not say much at all
rinses curly cabbage through a sieve

copper-headed, she is a blithe snake
collecting dripping under muslin
imagining it a classy dressing
especially spread on doorsteps

not so good for hearts or livers
those tasty wartime snacks
fat to stay alive and waiting
for the revolution to arrive

and when it came in earnest
women threw away good bras
men we all wore rubber johnnies
they often split, which was shit!

one million little tadpoles loose
in Blackburn, Lancashire
we slept on Sandown benches
there where we really learned a lot

waiting for the band to begin
we waited so long to hear them sing
when cousin Marvin learned their song
he’ll sing along, those words of love

days of freedom became a curse
rodents swimming to the shore
get on board acceptable vessels
capitalism wins, socialism dying bleeds

Arthur Scargill, Lech Welesa, Michael Foot
Tony Benn, JFK, all men who tried
to understand Marx as a philosopher
not a religion, not a schoolmaster

negative appraisal sets you back
to the struggle up the union ladder
if you don’t have an uncle who’s a printer
nor a working class hero, an inverted snob

I remember the days when Lennon was shot
and JFK, I cried that day for the first time
and the last time over politics
never again its never mind the bollocks

we grew up loving marijuana
claimed vehemently it didn’t harm ya’
but yes it did it opens you to coercion
then to addiction, it is a horse that’s trojan

we travelled once around the moon
and once the sun just like Yuri Gagarin
suddenly his name is not worth squat
he was born in the same country as the Russian

sanction Abramovich, sanction Solzhenitsyn
Nuryev, Tchaikovsky, Prokofiev and Yeltsin
Anton Chekov, Michael Bloomberg sanction
the history of Russia for the sake of one mad Putin

this is the social drama we join at birth
the eloquence of reason for living on this earth
find your place, stake your claim on this Galapagos
of peoples, extinct and struggling in the chaos




‘I do not demand recognition, rather I assume it, as a basic human right, like the right to pee in a bucket’           ~  edenbray

Posted in BEAT, edenbray POMES, POEMS FOR CHANGE - | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment


Running Towards Sadness


In the dark wood there are no sounds
above, the light of the headland shines

lay down moribund, lay down little starling
your white-light stars will never leave you

wear your iridescent cloke to ward off evil
live to belong with no catch nor malevolence

leaf litter soft as hot coals, as carpet, as grass
in utterance of your contradiction with the night

running toward sadness whatever lies beneath
magnetised by failure, drawn on by thy compass

executing, sorting, removing, merging into light
suffocation, warnings deny claustrophobic solution

suddenly anthemic sounds warm forgotten ears
rolling back shutters O’ consequence of bitter fear

eyes shut tight see red light white noise dancing
a golden dear in twilight her nose black, shining

she leads the way of delicacy, touch and feeling
she, who stirs the loins at human-kinds desertion

running toward sadness whoever runs beside
mother, sister, lover of us all in the deadwood dying


Posted in BEAT, edenbray POMES, POEMS FOR CHANGE -, PROG-PROSE | Tagged , , | Leave a comment


Insincere Intentions .. 

my addictions

I wrestle with my anxiety
who calls her Joanie
everyday there is someone new
something new
knocking at my door
demanding my attention
who tries to bring me to the floor
the cold, hard floor
we who wrestle on the floor
where I find all my best solutions
I miss my bottle, my jug of juice
my desire to get off my head
on alcohol
and miss the strife
do you miss me
as much as I miss you
I’m damaged, I have a fault
it runs right through me
like a seam of granite rock
a marbled steak
a root the size of Gibraltar
I’m Johnny Depp
she’s Amber Heard
cutest anxieties in the world
my desire is to be rid of you
till you are a bottle floating on the sea
a message written within
inscribed in lead
who calls her graffiti
who calls her graffite
a worthy message
that will maybe sink
or will it float
the rushing, salty sea rising
maybe dash my hopes
of rising to the top



In the case of Johny Depp and Amber Heard there is a bottle and the case rests alone on the spin of that bottle – if it is true then Depp is indeed a monster and if it is a lie then Heard is worse than a curse ~ edenbray29.05.2022

Posted in BEAT, edenbray COMMENT | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment


Schoolday windows .. .


boots 6


Jam on it…

Old boots drawn on a blackboard wall
  no creativity in the assembly hall
kids line up for their detentions
  who came late to the roundabout

when we were students in the forum
  ruled by slipper, cane and ghosts
we joked about it as we stood in line
  forget your p.e. kit – pay the fine

rule of law says don’t talk back
  boys turned men at initiation ceremony
press-ganged onto the ‘operating table’
  wartime values becoming unstable

like dynamite, the kids were not alright
  maleness corked, bottled, so uptight
fights after school not tolerated
  boys at back of class masturbated
next door the girls wore black tights
  while schoolboys debated their teats
learning the best adolescent behaviour
  ’till secondary schools eventually merger
sadists in tweed jackets, brillcream-cuts
  leather elbows n’cuffs no idea about children
junior teachers who constantly bungled
  stepping through the blackboard jungle

sash windows, grubby nine-inch panes
  tell tales of misery by classroom stains
a trashed chemistry lab, corridor fights
  keep you looking over your shoulder

the awesomeness of art still calling
  Mr Morgan not caning our asses
was now in the art-room drawing
  the most beautiful boots I ever saw

then came the old school reunion
  Dianne Seizer whose tits were huge
had died while swimming we discovered
  Richard and Susie now bedroom lovers


Posted in BEAT | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment



by Thom Yorke

Goddamn machinery
Why don’t you speak to me?
One day I am gonna take an axe to it
The pitter patter
What does it matter?
Where’s that love
You’d promised me?
I’m pierced by long nails
By coloured windmills
The soft sustain

I thought we had a deal
I thought we had a deal
I thought we had a deal
I thought we had a deal
I thought we had a deal
I thought we had a deal

You bastards speak to me
Have you no pity?
Give me a goddamn good reason
Not to jack it all in
You would’ve sold you
I’m daring you to turn yourself off
I thought we had a deal

(Could’ve loved me)
(I’ve had my fill)
(I’ve had my fill of hurt)
(Had had my fill of hurt)





Posted in Guest POMES | Leave a comment


This dream was the first .. .



This dream was the first
  it woke me alarmed and
covered in damp persuasion
  of believing myself 
a gangster on the run
  born to play Machieveli

I, who held my own,
  alone in downstate Illinois
put things out with guys
  from town who boasted
their family had worked
  the numbers for Capone

I rolled-over on my side
  to dream a dream so real
I might have borrowed long
  archived in black and white
a spool of Pathé-news
  a Time-Life story centrefold.

A technicolour epic-plot
  enter centre-stage right
a vision of a golden age
  when streets of Hollywood
became the focal point
  Cecile B.DeMille was sage

My dreams all now coloured
  who says they never are
from Maine, Chicago and Nebraska
  drawn together two by two
I rob a bank, I wander free
  movie-screenplays all i see

I became a full-time dreamer
  who has a skill of sorts
imagined myself a schemer
  I can cope with all retorts
yet now the sun is dipping fast
  this dream is nearly over

John Wayne leans against
  a door that’s open, Cagney
singing, dances off the set
  Gregory and Jean may settle
down in happy valley, Burl’s
  performance we forget
I wake to find it was a dream
  things bad as they could be
maniacal monsters, sharks
  still roam the earth and sea
Godzilla’s wearing afterbirth
  sick tyrants still walk free


Posted in BEAT, edenbray COMMENT, edenbray OPINION, edenbray POMES, PROG-PROSE | Tagged , , | Leave a comment