Archive

Poetry

As I write and postal address this

The Earth and you know it too, reader

you wonder if it avails upon the reader to like

or not

since she/he is the first to wonder

at the sense of the mission

at the time of reading – who would do these

strange devices and words and make

them all there when you ask:

“Who is Bioman/Microman?” and Exclaim!

When you find an entry on google

and then understand that you subsumed

and stood alone there

and asked it too:

 

 

“Why?”

 

 

COPYRIGHT BRUCE E SAUNDERS 2017

The fringe is getting thinner

the light is fading through

to a tulmestuous insult

a moist slap of grimely

woe-begotten.

 

An agent of fraudulent endeavour

a message in poetry

sent to the world

for form and sake of it.

On growth and form are the fascinating

use of dimensions to subject the real

to the wronged and the rowed

for it is about the use of it (time that is)

 

that we all seek to usefully endure

through feats

of comjunct

life forming and fearing

and tear forming too

 

(this is the end of it here

but you are too right Ronny

to think it is about laughter and not pain

so be it true to say that the

end of it is a croaking laugh, not a gasping

signing of death.)

COPYRIGHT BRUCE E SAUNDERS 2017

 

So you think I read minds

without keeping from you the source coded

urgent-timed missive that gives me to your fates and files and flies?

 

I send you all evilled useless

patentable issues to be learnt from –

to be here, there and everywhere

is to be light and fruitful about being in snobbery

a riot. A plum, is it?

 

Living in the sway, the rhythm of your walk

water slops from the tankard on your head

cascades down my back as I clutch onto

your spine.

 

Nothing said between the two most ivory

skinned yelfer and his mum.

 

 

COPYRIGHT BRUCE E SAUNDERS 2017

It only takes a momentary glimpse in time

to be able to make do

with it – all

the righted and wronged

put achafed away

from the desk light

of dawn’s prowling

fingering of your mind’s

view point of looking good

for dream’s purposes.

 

The waking moment is not

to be answered for but served

coldly before the glimmer

of unswordly light

and remonisances.

 

 

COPYRIGHT BRUCE E SAUNDERS 2017

I order in flushed terms:

the invitingness of the soufflé

does not beleaguer you

but asks: “Why not?”

as you began and begin again

the sort of behaviour that will

make for the right-ended flopping

of your love

all over the floor. It wouldn’t be so bad

but it does not worry you

that it could remorse me into

their useful tembre, the Deep

of the Ocean’s duping our eardrums

by peaceful slumbering noise and efflecting

novice termed lozenged viced capitol knowledge.

 

 

COPYRIGHT BRUCE E SAUNDERS 2017