The journey of a poet recorded over nearly 60 years. If you remember Frank Zappa or lament what we may have lost but believe there is a brighter future you will love edenbray and what he has to say. Homespun philosophies moulded by history, a desire to face the challenge of humanities mistakes and a youthful willingness to adapt and change, while clinging steadfastly to the things that still mean something in this digital age. Self-taught, sometimes radical but always delightfully human – edenbray’s edits might make you laugh or cry but it may also renew your vision and your hope for tomorrow.
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Guernica grey blood shivers runs through my veins where are the brothers of your tortured canvas wiped with a paint-rag to your Spanish bull like an ass wipe of Richthofen’s bombers greeted only by mothers, lovers their children who lay dead your greyest colours and lifeless shapes a dead horse
By the turnpike we stopped off at the corner whispered stories to the wind my spy glasses slipped and fell you crushed them under foot
Sondelique no more secrets any more in the glass menagerie we’ve all been seen before scrutinous applies to change of circumstance
Natural desires are not required to be human once affinity embarks upon a journey we trace our steps and find confusion lust for life minimalist, extremist, parabolic
The escape trucks speed past my window rain and spray, the sound of distance can we meet again, say things better as in letters I bow my alligator head to sleep
I ain’t going to truck with war no more I ain’t going to fuck with my depression my anxieties, my addictions, Ive laid them out upon the floor my disillusionment is pure
…. 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 induits 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
The intoxication, purity linseed oil of turpentine creamy ash the palette your peacock feathers fronds, alien and falling from the wet-warm night sky and in the morning I build again a stairway startling, parting airwaves concave to your heart birds-foot gentility sensitivity in a garland arabesque, exotic filled with intension
buildings grow from scaffold lines indian red and maroon-esque squeezed out from the landscape a bedrock of social-ution collusion
and there the dark prince comes tripping upon the telegraph wires architects shading traced on the diagram of lore and magnetic fable
tectonic plates that move endlessly while fancy-nancy rhymes his words in equal measure of bitterness and scorn opens wounds with vitrio-lastic gunk
revolving pictures and film spill over a dumb waterfall of suggestive thought laced with mammaries, social grime tik-tok come into view you imposter
mankind once built sewers, church spires constructed bridges from timber, stone masonry and steel things that were real in stormy weather with oatmeal for brekus’
.. It was meant to reflect on contemporary society – its obsession with building human dolls houses, tik-tok and women’s jugs at the expense of community, re-building the fabric of our world and culture which are both crumbling unattended and uncared for without regard for any traditional values – society will implode if we ignore history and tradition entirely in favour of jingoistic lightweight pallatives which excite momentarily but ultimately fail to deliver – like eating endless buffet on a train that is on its way to oblivion ~ EDENBRAY 18.02,2023
Dogwalkers of the World Unite (and take over) .. .
Learn to love me, as I walk your dogs Now, today, tomorrow and always Although I have no dog of my own And they are only borrowed Do not despise me, I always carry the can Take full responsibility for each one My only weakness is Oh never mind, never mind Oh precious dogwalkers of the world Unite together and take it over Don’t forget to hand them over To their owner, to their owner Your pooch is their pooch after all Just remember, hand them over, hand them over Love me, love my dogs, in so many different shapes Now, today, tomorrow and always While they lead their doggie walkers around Like they are aliens and we are only hounds My only weakness is when I can’t find The mess that they have left behind At that moment I am blind Dogwalkers of the world Unite and take over, you must Hand them over, hand them over A heartless hand upon my shoulder A leash, yet you must hand them over They are not yours Try living in the real world instead of in a dog pound Before I even began I was bored Now I never can be bored Working as I am, as a dogwalker Your local, loyal dog worker Dogwalkers of the world Unite and take over Dogwalkers of the world Unite and take over Dogwalkers of the world Unite and take over Dogwalkers of the world Take over ….
after Morrissey of the Smith’s –
‘Shopwalkers of the World Unite’ – circa. January 1987
..
..
Author’s Note:-
This is included purely as a piece of flotsam and a jibe of fairly acerbic fun – ‘after’ the songwriting of Morrissey and more especially his – ‘Shoplifters of the World Unite’ composition from January, 1987 – The Smiths caught the changing mood of youth during the 80’s and became a cult-band within a cult as conscious younger people became increasingly unsatisfied with the level of opportunity that the seemingly ‘got it sorted’, ‘say no to drugs’, ‘make the most of what we’ve got’ sub-culture of that day assented to and therefore exuded. Morrissey tried to look one half-level deeper or maybe sideways and would explore anomalies and wander off-track from accepted limits and therefore he appeared somewhat randomly more subversive and less easy to categorise than the basically ‘safe’ or acceptable side of that Oasis/Blurr Brit-pop generation. He managed to find a darker, possibly a ‘puce’ core that eventually made him something of a maverick anti-hero within that era and among ‘alternative’ thinkers – ‘a loose cannon’ you might say and the song I have borrowed for my poem exemplifies this more clearly than many.
edenbray 06.01.2022
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HERE ARE THE LYRICS of
Shoplifters of the world Unite .. . to compare notes
Learn to love me, assemble the ways
Now, today, tomorrow and always
My only weakness is a list of crime
My only weakness is, well, never mind, never mind, oh
Shoplifters of the world
Unite and take over
Shoplifters of the world
Hand it over, hand it over, hand it over
Learn to love me and assemble the ways
Now, today, tomorrow and always
My only weakness is a listed crime
But last night the plans for a future war was all I saw on Channel 4
Shoplifters of the world
Unite and take over
Shoplifters of the world
Hand it over, hand it over, hand it over
A heartless hand on my shoulder, a push and it’s over
Alabaster crashes down, six months is a long time
Tried living in the real world instead of a shell
But before I began
I was bored before I even began
Shoplifters of the world
Unite and take over
Shoplifters of the world
Unite and take over
Shoplifters of the world
Unite and take over
Shoplifters of the world
Take over
..
..
Remember well full histories homeland, where we learned and lived as children born to cultures sworn both Russian as the czar, severe the priests incense-driven, strict religion
I learned to play piano for you astride the mercy-seat un side- saddled like Catherine the great ply the wounded soul of a nation harmonise musical notation to parody character, pain and conflict
Romanticise, canonise our history illustrious, full of slavic mystery paint pictures in the air with sound dark red the colours of the ground where bloods and passions mingle hearts, hands, severed senses tingle Sergei, come home now darling boy where we may plant your embers foster life, nurture furrowed seed whereby sentience and reason bleed shall we ever return to former honour expunge the deaths of evolution’s terror
. .. there are good people that live in Russia and outside who lament its sad, moribund, recent history as should we all regret our own nation’s frailties and atrocities however small or large but hope must eventually seek to find a pathway, however painful, to a peaceful restoration, if only for the sake of the children and future generations .. . I believe Sergei Rachmaninov regretted the political directions his homeland took during his lifetime but never failed to love his country or to support those wounded in defence of his nation who finally did play a major part in deterring the nazi threat .. .
Six minutes or three of daylight every day zipping away closing in it is a bird of wings and flutters a bird of prey surrounding caustic phobia caught in traffic going nowhere deadlock cannot be unbroken as the bond between peoples as the nimbostratus the light is fading suffocation withdrawing from our gazetteer entwined in convolvulus weed stifling the life of free speech and honest living in retirement as we forfeit giving to the really needy while the Bezos’ and the greedy absorb more of the daylight bundles of notesand cash oodles of noodles cryptos of currencies digital manna in the new world of the new – new testament which falls by the day not by night in the creation of another age by avoiding the constraints of the nextneo-capitalistic sensation the tyranny of the masses the endless titanic struggle of the poor and working classes throughout the middle ages until the day of the dawning technologies revolution denying pollutions solution like a second-hand sun appearing on the horizon of change which is a water melon in Sheffield it is an iron lung in Shanghai an orange mist in Honolulu a puddle of warm blood rise up rise up 0 mighty oceans spread your banks you raging seas it is these people who must arise rebuild the nations of honour taking back your frail humanity from earls and barons modern day financiers charlatansof terror in a chair who have taught themselves not to care – hard-nosed closed-off to compassion I am maybe Watt Tyler on a blistered road a subsiding camber warning the lights had changed long since from green to amber festooned in armour of a different kind you red-eyed charmers have made me blind to real need I hear starlings fall in their chirpy even domestic animals are alarmed they hear the silent call of nature’s warning
authors note ~ I had to write this – it is not doom and gloom but my reality – pity me but do not laugh me out of court – a new and darker middle ages is fast upon us – we have become too used to the ‘fantasy’ of a post-apocolypta to recognise the bomb exploded way way back and the fallout only just descending .. .
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 induits 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
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