FORSOOTH .. .

.

forsooth .. .

...

.

Branded by categories
paranoia on a train
heading east
where sandals divide toes
and sardines lie in tins

I memorise lines of Chaucer
not enough time to digest
all she wrote me
or candles I ever lit
at the sepulchre of meaning

Deconstruct things
maybe all this, is Picasso’s fault
we cannot see things
as once before
subtlety with hidden meaning

There is no reason to deny
we did not share a common tongue
as at Babel we once were one
until mechanics of division kicked in
and we assumed a destiny

Conscious, alternative spores
ingest soulless rhetoric of noughts
empty thoughts and guns
an invasion by the ones
contest a universal Binary

Language is a sphere we kicked around
but did not invent
there are no square planets
only square holes filled
with hate as hats in different sizes

Revolution’s mother
stepped aside in that golden era
bell-bottomed marines
marooned on a philosophical island
a desert not of our choosing

Om: the causalities of war
bestial and banal
creativities icons lay beside
a Naam road with refugees
carts; possessions; dreams

We who had a ticket to ride
and who did not care
began to care very deeply
except the flames of change
burn all things before the running

And to the vets set aside
watching wheels turn
numb spacemen in the bleachers
held arms to change the world
tear down our flag unfurled

.

©edenbraytoday10.01.2025

Posted in BEAT, edenbray COMMENT, edenbray MEMOIRS, edenbray OPINION, edenbray POMES, PROG-PROSE | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments

LEAF LITTER .. .

leaf litter .. .

..

i look down upon what has been
it sparkles in infinity
the order of life
tales of multiplicity
these chronicles of history

a broken fence lies abandoned
the sounds of dogs barking
echoes in the early evening
i stoop to avoid a dead branch
a swollen pool is still and silent

these leaves spent, pale gold
augustine; a splendent carpet
glimmer in half light
soft the footfall hidden
wait the night bird’s call forgiven

..

©edenbraytoday19.12.2024

Posted in BEAT, edenbray POMES | Tagged , , | 2 Comments

AT HOME WITH JOHN MARTIN .. .

at home with John Martin .. .

.

.

We wrung the neck of life
slashed the face off it
i stumbled around in the dark
reached out my hands
found sheafs of crumpled paper
by a match I read the words
that burned my fingers raw
yet so inspired by what I saw
lines of text so long forgotten
they were not even born yet
thoughts I had begotten
Isaac begat Esau and Jacob
who was the younger son
these words I read again
they became living bread
manna from out of heaven
I sensed a thing I must do
and falling down
behind the spring
I smote the rock
out from it blood spewed
sentiment and feeling
the elements of truth
they were to me
fearfully astounding
or that I ever wrote
these words at all
me with no poetic grounding
and the rain on my face
that became hot spears
I smote the rock again
the mountain crumbled
and there was the path
I had been looking for
for years on years
and then my tears
they became laughter
it seemed the vision cleared
the distant rumble of thunder
pleasantness after rain has fallen
the sky much brighter
I had sat with John Martin
for an hour or two
I had read Dante’s poem
seen Scott’s antarctic
heard VW’s lark ascending
it was enough for me
to have been in Martha’s kitchen
to have ridden stapled to Moby’s back

.

©edenbraytoday18.12.2024

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

BRITPOP AS A VISTA .. .

britpop as a vista ...

 
 
 
 

sad as I feel
my teenage duty laid aside
laid down and out on a level floor
our horizons reduced to lard

worlds recycled
in a toxic bin of sourdough and
aspiration dressed in sardine stripes
hollow memories of life

I considered suicide
as one more escape from reality
or was it a movie I had not seen
its ending tragic-misery

a gothic answer
to when bold knights were born
and faced with watching thriller
they fell on swords

la la la moving over
girls wearing dm boots
boys in smooth, fluffy jumpers
said no to drugs

things happened fast
nothing such as happy accident
9/11 revived the holocaust
which slandered all illusion

teeny boppers in
a teeny world of interlopers
split-screen cgi, imaginary spools
a speak n’spell etch-a-sketch

britpop fantasy vista vesta
take me back to the fifties
grandpa washed in a tin bath
sat in the crapper watching stars

sad as I feel I remember
in this old December how we
once rolled ciggies with yellow fingers
nostalgia in suspenders

..

©edenbraytoday09.12.2024

 

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

THINGS THAT ARE YEARNED FOR .. .

things that are yearned for .. .

.

.

There comes in time; the moment
  when you lose ability to be artful
you settle for the easy life
  lose agility to duck and dive
lose the jump and jive: your mojo
  the stealthy creature that is time
it’s been creeping on for years
  plays on doubts and fears
about your self; your thought life
  yonder marzipan moon, the
jaundiced eye; drawbridge down
  memory moat mostly empty
lost days of sexy love and plenty
  the only way is looking down
an abyss of your choosing; confusion
  so you choose another hobby
petition one more lobby
  to restore what you have lost
yet you have lost nothing
  but pride in your appearance
skill in dangerous living
  walk on, look up to the sky
you are pathetic looking at the floor
  wash your face, comb your hair
make yourself a double dare
  live for the day not yesteryear
shake off dull, grey lethargy
  start up project that is you

..

©edenbraytoday05.12.2024

.
. .. did the world know it needed one more desiderata?
. .. read Bukowski on hope and you will understand Bukowski .. .
“Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they must lead.”
― Charles Bukowski

.

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

beat poetry for the masses .. .

beat poetry for the masses .. .

..

.

.. . streams of thought running through
  a mountain of kinetic energy
I look for bravery in the writers I read
  bravery that unties bonds of slavery
slavery to form, prejudice or naivety
  but all I saw or see
  was ; is – confusion
  depression
  deconstructed disillusion
you have to fight for what is right
  even when your enemy
  appears to be in front
  even while running on a cliché
your enemy never totally human
  stands in the mist of tomorrow
  and of time
it is the thought
  you are of little consequence
  that attacks personal resolve;
  your constructive mind;
  impossible to define
write what is alive and living
  at the centre of your being
  with clarity and precision
  to be prepared to make
  the necessary incision
squander yourselves bravely
  not pander to yourself
  with choco-inventory
I have seen brilliant minds
  flounder and fester
  with unwholesome disease
  lethargy and boredom
I do not scar integrity’s face
  with rhetoric and poetic incest
  nor sully the writer’s dream
  his gift of imagination
  always a-sexual
we speak in the first person
  digest the themes of Hemmingway
  Descartes, the irony
  of Marianne Moore
we speak back to our
  bourgeois history and culture
  surface like Melville’s whale
full of paradox and uncertainty
  charged with the insolence
  of dynamic purpose
  write poet write
  and never stop

.

©edenbraytoday29.11.2024

.. .

‘beat’ by edenbray the publication is available to purchase from the author as either an A5 printed chapbook or an email download.

– please email edenbray at stepheneede689@btinternet for full details with your full postal address to receive PayPal details – printed copy is 7GBP to anywhere in the world. + email copy 3GBP

thanks for reading .. .

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

A TALE OF SAUCHIEHALL STREET, WEE WULLIE HENDERSON, A VISIT TO IBROX PARK AND OTHER RELATED STORIES …

A TALE OF SAUCHIEHALL STREET, WEE WULLIE HENDERSON, A VISIT TO IBROX PARK AND OTHER RELATED STORIES

An essay ~ written 26th March, 2012

Both a chronicle and a journal

… including a personal tribute to JACK KEROUAC

‘Jinkee’, there canny be any-wun-moor suited to tha’ wurd

Aye no-wun moor, than Wee Wullie …

Unless a’ course it wuz’ Wee Jummie,

Wee Jummie Jonstun’!…

but Jummie wuz’ playin for tha’ Celtic …

Oor Wullie wud’ never-a’ dun that?

An’ I saw both th’ wee men play! … 

at the same tame in sixty seven !??? …

the legendary Oor’ Wullie

… ’It was in about ’67 I first caught the 5.15pm Glasgow bus from Kings Cross with my Scots mate and we sped up the M1 and on and up through the cold, dark night and over the border and on and on to my first taste of ‘bonnie’ Scotland … After we ‘landed’ in Glasgow, I remember I was really cold and tired because my friend Ian and I had talked all through the night and we had queued for a tea and a pie and then a wee in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere … just over the border in this most exciting of places and later in the day I met his cousins Archie and Alec and all their very good mates and yes one was a ‘feenian’ and for 3 days I supported the Gers’ and we drank and we laughed, went out on the town and they loved my ‘cockney’ accent for that’s what they called it and I learned to speak in Scots and it was all ‘prutty brulliant’ … so here begins my own personal ‘On The Road’ – a tribute to a memorable weekend in Glasgow! …

     

… the famed and feared, Jimmy Johnstone, who played at the same time for Rangers arch rivals from the other end of town, the Glasgow Celtic. I was lucky enough to see both of these wee bobby dazzlers play on a few of my visits to Glasgow for Cup Finals during what is now considered a halcyon time in the history of Scottish football.

The sight of that wee duo, collecting the ball in the wide positions and jauntily taking on the full back has left an indelible impression on my football memory, primarily as a football fan but also as a surrogate Gers fan for those few games. I cannot help but make comparisons to those twin-greats of football history, who played only a handful of times together, on either flank, in their beloved Scotland national team, where both were adored by the travelling Tartan Army. Whenever I have watched a mini-marvel bamboozling defences with that deft sleight of foot and turn of speed, it doesn’t take long for my memory to kick-in and I can see either Wullie or Jimmie in my mind’s eye, on a mazy dribble down the byline and putting over a sweet cross to the far stick.

We have had our own wee men at Stamford Bridge and they have nearly all been Scots! There was Joe Fascione in the early 60’s, not many will remember him and then Charlie Cooke who was brought from Dundee later in that decade. There was the unassuming Pat Nevin, a real Scots dribbler of the 80’s and what about another forgotten wee man from that era, Kevin McAllister, or tiny John Spencer from the 90’s. However, probably Chelsea’s greatest wee man was in fact a humble Italian , one Gianfranco Zola. 

Just in case we need reminding that the Scots don’t hold the copyright when it comes to great small players there is currently a fiesta of them within the Spanish national squad. Midget-maestros such as Iniesta, Xavi, David Villa and Juan Mata plus, if we draw back the zoom-lens even wider and include all of football’s terrible tinies who have mesmerised defences down the years, where would you even start and where would you finish? Well actually, probably Argentina on both counts, as Lionel Messi would rank as many people’s best player of any height and any age and of course his national predecessor Diego Maradonna, at 5’5′ was no giant either.

So here is a list of a few more great wee footballers that I have seen. It’s not exclusive and definitely not in any order. Lets hope you recall a few of them and I’m sure you will think of many more:-

George Armstrong – Arsenal 60’s; Archie Gemmil – Derby Co. 70’s; John Robertson – N.Forest 70’s; Juninho – Boro’ – 90’s; Billy Bremner – Leeds U. 60/70’s; Alan Ball – Everton/Arsenal – 60’s; Ludovic Guily – Monaco/Barca 00’s; Paul Scholes – Man U. 00’s; Javier Saviola – Barca/Real – 00’s … I have cheated a little in this list by including wee players, not so wee and some that were not wingers at all. I have done this to make a subtle point – Willie Henderson at 5’4″ and Jimmy Johnstone at an incredible 5’2″ gave at least 1″, 2″ and an amazing 4” in height to many in this list of small greats, making themselves easily No. 1 and 2 of my ‘Small is Beautiful’ brigade, while adding a timely reminder of that wonderful concept book of the same name that was written back in 1973 by Mr. E.F. Schumaker.… and yes, I digress!

The tale I have to tell is not half-finished and is all the more complicated, due to the enormous financial problems the Gers face in the year 2012, which has resulted in the club calling in Administrators – Duff and Phelps on February 14th, 2012 with a reported £9 million unpaid tax bill hanging over their heads. At present, Rangers FC are hoping for a buy-out, made even more complex due to the sale of £24 million of future Season Tickets that was completed by current owner Craig Whyte via Ticketus in May, 2011 and which enabled a further £18 million of debt to the Lloyds Banking Group to be paid off and also helped finance the final purchase of the club’s majority shareholding from Sir David Murray.

These problems are made all the more emotive by the enormous history of this legendary club. Similar as it would be, if a famous club like Preston North End, Wolverhampton Wanderers or one of the  Sheffield clubs were to go on the rocks and in danger of sinking but due to my personal dalliance with the Glasgow Rangers those 40 years ago and whilst a guest of my Glasgow friend’s Uncle George, my concern is even more heart-felt and concerning. 

… so much history behind the gates of the famous Ibrox Park

‘… We took the bus from across the Park, near the Estate in East Kilbride where Ian’s Uncle George lived with his young family. He could not have been a kinder, more generous host …. We arrived in Pollockshores, where Archie and Alec lived, on the Saturday morning and I was impressed by the splendour of the tenement blocks in this mainly protestant area of Glasgow. The red brick facades, at least three or four stories high, suggested a previous opulence, though the people who lived there now were obviously not particularly rich … Ian was quick to point out to me, how important it was to keep your own polished, red-tiled, doorsteps spotless within the community … The shiny doorsteps ascended through large front-doors with shiny knobs, to aged, marble stairways. We climbed theirs to the twins high-ceilinged, wide-doored and roomy apartment which was gloomy and always dimly lit, despite large, picture, sash-windows…’ (trib. to JK)

… those regal tenement terraces in Glasgow

Ibrox Stadium is located on the south side of the River Clyde on Edmiston Drive in the Ibrox region of Glasgow and was officially opened on 09.12.1899… Only 3 years later it suffered the 1st of an unfortunate catalogue of disasters when some wooden terracing collapsed causing a massive 517 injuries but only 25 fatalities due to the fact that many fell 50′ on to other bodies …. The famous designer Archiblad Leitch, who left a legacy of stadium design throughout the British game with examples still viewable at grounds like Goodison Park and Craven Cottage, re-designed the stadium using slopes of earth instead of the wood terracing and this expanded the capacity to 63,000…. Further developments to the ground have since been preserved under a mantle of glass and steel but after three further safety issues, in 1961 when 2 died due to a collapsed barrier and in 67 and 69, Ibrox then suffered its worst ever disaster in 1971 when 66 people were asphyxiated due to a crush in Stairway 13 when leaving fans tried to return to the stadium after a late equalising goal … Massive re-development at the stadium has drastically reduced the capacity of the stadium but ensured those disasters will hopefully be a thing of the past …

Ibrox Stadium, home to the ‘Gers’

‘We were soon drinking pints with whisky chasers at a local drinking house where my ‘cockney’ accent was earning me a lot of rounds … the journey to Ibrox was no more than a haze but we still all stopped at an off-license to buy half bottles of Haigh’s that we could take into the ground … there were no security stewards outside and no searching of pockets back in ’71’ (tribute to JK)

‘ … we were soon drinking pints with whiskey chasers …’

At different times both Rangers and Celtic have put forward the idea of transferring their affiliation from the SPL to the English Premier League and only recently it was reported that Celtic had applied to enter either the Championship or at least Division One.. 

I know that at this time Scottish Football is not as popular in general with the English public as it once was and there seems to be no home for the two Glasgow clubs… The expectations of the respective fan-bases mean they require Championship League status but the financial rewards for winning Scottish domestic trophies are nowhere near sufficient to finance a budget to payroll a squad that could make Champions League progress… There is no doubt Rangers financial problems have developed in consequence of this circular situation … If there is no welcome from the English Leagues to these Glasgow giants then without a private benefactor with very deep pockets they will have no alternative but to downsize their ambitions and accept minor League status, similar perhaps to teams in Denmark, Belgium and Austria… My personal view is that we should honour the past value of the Scottish game to our own and invite both Glasgow teams into the Championship as we did with the top Welsh teams in the past. Rules are rules but there is no doubt in my mind their membership would not only aid the Glasgow teams but enhance our own national League status…

a famous Glasgow ‘fish’ supper

‘ It was great to see the famous Glasgow Rangers take the field and playing the ‘Auld Enemy’ too … Glasgow folk realy love their ‘fitba’ … The game itself for me was a little like watching an early game of computer tennis as the white ball pinged back and forth inside my head. The wing-play of jinky Jimmy Johnstone and wee Wullie Henderson was still recognisable even to my alcohol infused and blurred vision… Wee Willie Henderson was truly one of the most exciting players ‘on the ball’ you could ever hope to see with a distinctive and disarming sort of crouching style, almost awkward in the way he ran, with bursts of speed and deceptive sways and dribbles. Jimmy’s arms hung low at his sides which helped him keep that unique and amazing sense of balance. 

 At one point, the standing crowd around me cleared to allow us to urinate on the terracing in front of us before closing up again. This was common practise in those days of tightly packed crowds before seating was introduced…. The Gers scored twice without reply and the journey from the ground was jubilant … I myself perched on the bonnet of a car moving slowly through the crowd, which I am reminded of whenever watching the Cuba street scenes in the film – Godfather 2. The driver didn’t seem to mind and everyone was laughing … Later we went on to the Chippy for what Glaswegians affectionately call a ‘fish supper’ even when there is no fish in it… ’ (tribute to JK)

plenty of night spots to visit in Glasgow town

Today, this sprawling city on the River Clyde has half the population it once boasted, thanks to slum clearances and the creation of overspill towns – a policy that has not been altogether sucessful. The decline of traditional heavy industries led to serious deprivation and urban decay but a vigorous regeneration programme, beginning with Glasgow’s status as a European Capital of Culture in 1990, turned the tide. Historic Glasgow was focused on St Mungo’s Cathedral, one of Scotland’s few medieval churches and the old High Street down past Glasgow Cross intersection to the river. This fell into decay as the centre moved westwards. It is now bounded by a   motorway, based on a grid system. George Square is at the heart of the city, surrounded by Scotland’s most important retail area that includes Argyle, Buchanan and Sauchiehall Streets. This area is sometimes known as ‘The Golden Z’.

Most of Glasgow’s cultural venues may be found in the centre of this monumental Victorian city, though the old town is being developed as a trendy Arts Quarter, with luxury apartments, warehouse conversions, cafés and restaurants. It hosts the annual Merchant City Festival. The city’s better residential areas are to the west, as those who were able to get upwind of the industrial city moved outwards.

Today, the West End is a bohemian area of cafés, bars and clubs. It also contains some of the most expensive residential addresses in Scotland.

‘ … After freshening up. we were out on the town, in and around the entertainment area of the City, the famous Sauchiehall Street, where the clubs and bars seemed lively and progressive, well decorated, bright, cosy and comfortable … the young people mixed, in a relaxed and informal way, within sophisticated, themed surroundings … The twins friends were all out on the town with a few attractive girls and also their catholic pal, they jokingly referred to as ‘the feenian’ … the banter was good, certainly not hostile or racist but with the skinfull I had already had it didnt take many more to send me to sleep literally right in the middle of my ‘fish supper’ … the next thing I remembered was the smell of an ‘Uncle George Scots breakfast’ the following morning … there is nothing quite like sizzling eggs, bacon, black pudding, ‘tottie’ pancakes, beans and grilled tomatoes to revive that heavy ‘morning after’ feeling … ‘ (tribute to JK) 

 ‘… My trips to Glasgow at the end of the 60’s were exciting journeys into another world, where people lived truly different lives, spoke a truly different language and watched a style of football that was partisan, creative and passionate …. I am writing this piece to share the whole wonderful experience, a sort of scrapbook of memories, a memento, a memoir of an exciting dip into a different culture that for me was lost in a ‘Brigadoon’ style time-warp. Those wee Scots wingers were to me like mythical characters, possibly magical dwarves, playing in a dreamlike play that for just a few days was so very real and so very, very memorable! …’

‘…We left Glasgow at 5:30pm on the Sunday evening, more than a little weary, we slept most of the 12 hour return journey back to Kings Cross… more than a little sad to be leaving behind our magical weekend with my new and special friends, magical people, so full of character and life… and of course – wee Willie and the jinky Jimmy… We were already looking forward to our next trip to Glasgow and as a bonus, I had begun a personal love affair with the country that is Scotland … Since those days I have returned many times, not only to Glasgow but Edinburgh, Oban, Fort William, Mallaig, Inverness … but that 1st trip was like a branding iron that has burned and seared that noble country into my very soul…’ (my tribute to Jack Kerouac)

edenbraytoday

26.03.2012

Posted in edenbray ESSAYS, edenbray MEMOIRS, edenbray RETROSPECTIVE, THAT'S ME IN THE MIDDLE | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

NATURE CALLS .. .

nature calls .. .

smoke grey the backcloth             
  fallen out of bartered skies           
indigo philosophical, the heron     
  wings cut and curled             
      reverence to heaven   

bantam barred partridge
    woken from their fright
catapulted; gymnastic padres
    their habits traced in red                 
        natives bracken bred       

wind stalks the traveller       
    hooded, dull to sound
quixotic perceptions; bird-life
    encircle mystic minds
          culm grows out the ground   

aggregation of sensibility
    autumn chills bleak, unkind
conclude too much plenitude
    offers keen vicissitude
          to an artistic mind

nature calls; speaks
    patience her honest shrive
maximum immunity from conflict
    frees us of deception
          fake news, misinformation, lies

Ì

©edenbraytoday02.11.2024

Posted in edenbray POMES | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

OUT OF ZONE COMFORT

Out of Zone Comfort

..

Originality can catch the reluctant eye
A glint of sunlight on a sniper’s gun barrel
A photo journalist operational and far from home
Suddenly alerted by virtue of a surprise attack

It had seemed to me deftly ambiguous
That there was no clearer reasoning behind it
To speak of conflict or wander through and yet
Comparisons of her writing drew me in

Her style held a smile which intrigued discreetly
It was layered, one picture plate upon another
As if we, in a darkroom, with a red light shining
We’re watching transparencies turn into imagery

..

©EDENBRAYtoday23.05.2024

 

..

(concerning the life and poetry of V.R. Lang – a photo journalist and a poet)

Posted in edenbray APPRECIATION, edenbray COMMENT, edenbray POMES, OBITUARIES, WAR POEMS | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

LIFE WAITING FOR CHIPS .. .

life waiting for chips  .. .

.

..

the people came on Tuesday
then again on Wednesday
at the middle of the week
with their hands in pockets
minds trained upon the fishes
in paper packets

taters lay in bins of silver-grey
all the long day just soaking
waiting for the ladle, waiting
then in a frothing frenzy
taters fry as all good people
wait for them to do so

upon the day of Friday evening
Mother Mary she goes fishing
for a cod or a rock salmon
a halibut, a fillet plaice
a patty of roe; all dressed up
with fried taters to go

the kitchen staff arrive early
for their busy time at six
when people from their labours
form an orderly line for chips
impatient silences ensue
along the creeping queue

there’s a hush in the auditorium
chip potatoes in the fryer
are delayed and the players
dressed in blue striped blouses
caught in time avoid the eyes
of hungry faces in the line

they stand obliquely silent for
one breathing instant; a life class
of Hopper poses; real life stories
while yellow busses in the street
and men who walk their dogs
all go passing by

©edenbraytoday18.10.2024

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