of the Somme, Vimy Ridge and modern times .. .
Out where the two dykes cross
you could be in the desert
of Atacama as far as remoteness
we surprised a black-eared hare
He scuttled from his hiding place
disappeared at pace glancing
remotely over his shoulder as if one
outlying sniper unbedded from a ditch
The grass out there grows with the wheat
long since grown in warm weather sweet
long as the mane of brave Ardennes horses
their bloodline mixed Arabian and Belgian
Those horses shouldered gun-carriages
in the mud, where blood mixed heathen
bled european in the first war, the great war
the shit war of the Somme, a war to end all wars
my booted foot crushes down these grasses
as I consider the losses of men so young
whose sap rose sentient and earthy
whose conversation blithe remained cheery
I march my black dog, he that is melancholy
boundless he follows in my awkward steps
Tommy et les Francais advance to meet with Jerry
their khaki tunics crimson stained and ruddy
I step out at Vimy Ridge tufted grass under foot
sounds of the heaviest artillery attend our path
four divisions of the bravest Canadian corps
on the ground before us, men, the dog and I
shell-fire in the mid-distance crashes low
our hare bounding once more to show
running on the margins that bares the brunt
my mind racing back to the Western Front
the green-gold fields out here ripple swollen
as a sea full of corn yet ever those young men
lay in their carnage in blight of mud, weathered scorn
to wish tho’ breathing they might never have been born
.
.
edenbray ☢︎ - a BEAT POET 
TAKING BACK HARLEM .. .
. .. taking back Harlem .. .
.
I stood on the girder-bridge
where cold grey water passes
wiped my tear-stained face
tried to clear the mote stuck ote’ my eye
I have never been to Harlem
The Clyde she passes by the Gorbals
south-side of that pulsing city
out where the old slum sits
they dressed her in respectability
but she is a sow on heat with 14 teats
Swam long – the Rubicon
water shallow an’ ’twas muddied
of decisions laid long-side the shoreline
torn hearts and corpses bloodied
I have never been in Rome
Or sat by the banks of Purus River
where there is still sweet water
west of one unspoilt tree savanah
the axe is sharper when it’s clean
the worst murders – those unseen
Travelled to St Louis to see another river
laid my roots down by Maggie’s farm
strange that I reverse my decision to disarm
that day the bomb struck in Kiev
children died, others arms were severed
Floating down the Tigris River
with no desire to kill or maim
I noticed there a crocodile ‘ere teeth so sharp
a sign hung over his scarred head
It read ‘kill or be killed, till you are dead’
When I was young so full o’spunk
dreamed I to re-populate the earth
mama said ‘your balls too big for your head’
‘we all swam in that particular river’
mama’s words a shotgun to my head
I won’t swim the Harlem River
8 mile long it could damage your liver
outfits full a’blood with striped bass and the flounder
junk-business floats, it makes you shiver
I have never been to Harlem – no never
To trace the Yara to its origin
you will find it always muddy
upside-down and full of bodies
Yarro-yarro, indigenous, holy
sink a place of truth and dares
We squander liberty, forfeit heat
to journey up the Glåmaq
the vastness of Gudbrandsdalen valley
in the land of the midnight sun
to wear Norse legend and mythology
I must return to Shoreditch, to Botafago
to Harlem in the midst of where we left them
drug-lords prosper those rivers of convenience
turn the stone on this obscene prohibition
oust Custer needs be fifth amendment too
©edenbraytoday19.07.2022
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