WE HAVE WALLS OF SEPARATION .. .
.. .
humanoids, humanoids
down the rustic alley
the rusty alley
of grey green coppered slimey darkness
and mother’s intoxication
by their unobtrusive but irregular appearance
humanoids
within the descriptive allusion
their moist thighs
through an archway hungover
tantamount to daylight robbery
so says the local newspaper
before becoming chipped, fried, broken
we don’t see much of this at all anymore
they later found him or her uncertain
a crumpled slew
a devastated human
the serpent sirens caught deeply magenta local feeling
daubed melancholy upon graffitied walls
around this frightened town
they sat once lonely roundly rickety tables
playing with dominoes and each other
thinking of their impact on the whole world
clicking clacking clicking clacking
silently smoking capstan
rolled up in paper by machines
machines with yellowed fingers
machines set to rule the whole world
drinking stout from nameless glasses
clicking clacking clicking clacking
before the little Lowry’s
and the bent over peoples
women workers, hunched shoulders and hair nets
from the munitions factory
who journeyed home beside the walls
built like Churchill’s home erection
dressed warmly in checkered felted weaves
their rampant servant scarves and wetted hair
and the headlights sent to dancing
humanoids were blamed
humanoids
it could not happen before they came
humanoids humanoids
against the walls of your destruction
construction
abduction seduction
humanoids
who built these walls
walls walls walls
between you and me
it must have been humanoids
cliche cliche cliche
who built these walls of separation
..
ÌEDENBRAYTODAY13.10.2026



THE LAST BALLAD OF J.HENRY
THE LAST BALLAD OF J.HENRY
..
..
John Henry was a lucky man
his face was brown his palms were tan
he carried round no creedmor gun
nor ever shot his way to glory
John Henry was not a violent man
he fought his way to freedom town
wrestled with America until his blue
coat bled and thus they sent him home
John Henry wore his dungarees til they
wore through; he were a lowborn novice
who slipped the scheming fires
to celebrate with Jungle Jim and Alice
all night through the moon was ill
when John Henry turned a savage
his blisters and his stripes in truth
announced he never bore no malice
whether he beeth hero or he be villain
so the track groweth cold and soldiers old
will die with naught to feed their fury since
John Henry came yon member of yon jury
he marcheth best who wears his vest
buttoned up and seemly as all good
soldiers wear their britches tied into their
boots in case stolen by the enemy
o John Henry light of foot stand beside me
your people wild as cats must hide in caves
pick up your axe and deliver seismic fury to
set yon captives free n’ enlist all honest braves
in your heroic story
..
©edenbraytoday14.10.2026
Share this: