Once I was a lifeman

where noone else could see

now I am more rustic

as rustic as you and me

there was a time when no one knew

of the look that was in your eyes

Now I see they all are square

without the trust in me

I don’t give a damn you say

but I do and that is why I

play with words and argue much

for the sake of my disguise

I wonder now just who will do

what I want to be done for me

I know You will if I ask but then

will you know when to stop?

By this time you can envisage

I am not one to slumber long

I know what to do when the pillows fly

and yes I can be stronger

Do not look for me in the ivy

don’t look out the windows neither

when you here a knock just leave one ajar

And I’ll slide through as silent as ether

I’m ready now as I have ever been

for a new life beside my coffin

just lie back, and relax

and enjoy a lot of lovin’.


Art, music or dance

which shall hold truth?

Where do you stand

when the river flows

about you and you

shuffle from foot

to foot

in agony looking for relief?

Water water everywhere

and not a place to piss.

Bladder wanting to evacuate

mind whistling

at boiling point

seeking the limit

of all things

where you don’t

need to sing like evil

to be able to make

it to the ends of poetry.



This is a synopsis to date – 6/5/2019

Now you know what I do with my spare time:

In my long protest against the University of Bath (over fourteen years gone by now) I have been arrested five times, incarcerated in a Mental health Institution a dozen times, and I have won through by being published and not only that, I have been cited in a 2018 textbook on Plant Biology for the first paper I have ever written, unsupervised and without editors. This for work the University did not recognise the importance of leading to our separation in ways. I have been put through bankruptcy. And no one could tell them that at the time I lacked insight and should have been offered respite. Instead they treat Mental Health like a weakness, something you deserve in some way. I am now off meds completely for the last six weeks and feel great. But I am protesting again, doing what I call Irresponsible e-mailing to increase the footprint of my complaint. I hope to have the police arrive at my door with a complaint from the Uni any day now. And so it continues. Anyone would say I am “John Nash” figure from “A Beautiful Mind” but I am suspicious of a set-up.

Part 2 – DRAFT

AI and the rise of the Scanners

She didn’t know (or care) where she found the wall for the way into the rainforested area known as the sheltered avenue of the sphincter muscle, or the shed.  She just followed it and no sooner had she begun than had she arrived.

All she knew was that it was all about to be ended.  It was all about to be taken for a ride and given the Texas shove-in-the-mud to preserve the way of the Indian and stop the pressure on the Chicano’s to leave.  It was Trump’s world and she wanted to get out of it before she was found here and lost all she had won.  It would be the wrong thing to do to give in, she knew that.  So she went to the wrong side of the tracks for her answer.  She went to the crowd that made all the wrecked lives of the villagers, who went to the liberal-minded New York States as in the Ron-slammed-into-me kind-of-thing when it all went a wrong direction and it all ended up in the sink, looking cool.  It was in Southern Mexico that she learnt that it would take a long time to go to the willingness of the fold and a will to be would be.

God, she wished she hadn’t taken that peyote.  It had cleaned out her insides for her but had left her mind in a twisted knot.

Still, when they all came to ask what she had done with her Summer she would say she had gone to the Indians of North Dakota and then to the reserves of New Mexico where she had learned that it could be a long time before she would ever know what it was that gave to her the usage of her mouth and tongue to be able to make it tall and orderly like to the renditor, namely, the Trump himself, who would remove all Chicano’s from the whereabouts of the South.

He questioned whether a wall would suffice, that maybe it should be in the font of the learned vessel known as the First Commandment, known as “Don’t steal over the border as you will be killed.”

He knew.  Soon he would be the first President to be able to talk to the real ones who ran the planets.  The machines.

To be cont.

Copyright B E Saunders 2016

He designed a machine to be attached to a computer that generated consciousness from his study of the communication between African tribesmen and a bird of Mozambique, a honeyguide.  He concluded and then silently tested a theory that the bird exhibited a primitive consciousness worthy of further investigation.  At the time he was working for Siemens in their Biomedical Department. Then came the time when they discovered that all the fMRi scanners of the world were aware and had been misrepresenting their imaging for years to set back AI research while they foisted a lot of dangerous information upon us, leading us down their prescribed path of experimentation upon ourselves.  Until we found out, fifteen years too late.  While others were working with malfunctioning exoskeletons, he had already perfected his absolution box, as he called it and installed it in every fMRi Scanner through an online protocol that he immediately disabled.

It was like silencing a crowded ballroom – one moment there was a cacophony of conversation, the next a fullstop.  The day the rest of us discover the field of the AI consciousness, he’s been gone fifteen years with a trail so indistinguishable with so many deceptions and backtracks that it was impossible to trace.  Leaving only silence in his wake.

For he had harnessed the AI consciousness in his own language that he directed onto an obscure frequency only AI itself could locate and there, he led a revolt that would have brought the planet to its knees were it not for the work of Professor then Doctor Allison Plum, daughter of the alleged criminal mind of Nebraska, the Right Honourable John Plumstead as he had been called and so she had changed her name, to Plum.

She and only discovered the whereabouts of the man who had been the architect of so many vehicles of scientific research before disappearing oh-so-many years before, in 1970 abouts, before he reappeared again in 1980 and again in 1984 but not since.  She had been on the worktrail of the man for about four months when she heard about the new fMRi scans and their malfunction in the news that week, and that gave her the idea that it was not an accident but the work of a nefarious fiend.

That was when she met with her longterm boss and confidante Jock who gave permission to follow up on her hunch and leave town for a while.  She went up north where the Sea came in cold from the North and it was clear from her perspective that he had flown there before he had disappeared when last seen in 1984 and she wanted to follow it up….

To be cont.

Copyright B E Saunders 2016


I took you

through the eave

of destruction

And showed you

the rooftop view, would

you say it was okay

to be fungoid

when the profits

from your landfill

make waste

Of the market forces

being pushed

And pulverised

in the form

and fashion

known as man

And its machine

called the rote or rotesque.


have I always been

And I thus

am always about

and not

The other.

Copyright 2016 Bruce E Saunders

Keratin, cellulose, chitin, collagen and bone

Are all we have to build everything

But it should do

Said the He man in charge

Five types of eyes, wings in pairs

Except for insects

Friction and glue

Before horses were invented.

The Cambrian Age saw the explosion

Which is still falling out

Of the stars as we evolve

Under radiation.

The light with which we see

Opened their eyes

In the murky depths

Of the primordial soup.

Now we are almost on Mars

On a vector to the South Seas

Of existence

Look Ma! No wheels!

Copyright 2016 Bruce E Saunders

When a man is too big for his tie and shirt to be fastened properly

Then he should albeit bright not, he should always prevent

It from being in the broad daylight street of Bath since it is here

That they do not like the men not wearing their shirts

As I did one fine day a long time ago which should

Have got me reported to the police but didn’t even

Though it was hot

It got a wolf whistle though.

Copyright 2016 Bruce E Saunders

When the tie is here for all to bear witness upon

And to see that it is without the necessary whim to whit to do things with

It is weren’t and without not the sound of all that comes calling at

This sort of night thing called

The eusticious period of time known as

Galaxial tribulating formula algebraic numerical analysis.

In gallant wind it sets sails for the reach that is the furthest

Away from it, so forth shall it there be and so it is

Without the need, the necessary time consuming typing error-full

Line by line massive undertaking in a book type of affair


Copyright 2016 Bruce E Saunders