There is no time like the present

No time to call me the better man

I love you all but still you sin

You smoke like Dirk but hold your fin

Like an animal

You do not win

In absence of glory you do not tell

The winner is evil the sky the begin

Of pleasure inperilled

The arc of bin laden

Does not finish here

But there where you win

The aimless start of war can be

The anywhere else for you do not begin

The end does start to make it sin

You do not know where I cannot simply

Open your eyes to the title track

Of the lp

I love to play

10 to 1

Is not the time

It opens doors

Where love begins

I di not know where you

Cannot sin

Begin the where

When no one sins

Where your difference on the brow

And hold your crooked man

On the sow

Soo-ee, soo-ee

I love you more

Than pigs do in your final hour

Do not know me when

You power

I know you not

And love you nire.

Pyre is work I do not pleasance

Take the bow

The corner presence

Is open now

I cannot hold

You again.


Copyright Bruce E Saunders 2020

And they call them antipsychotics

Olanzipine makes you obese

Aripirazole makes you lactate

Clozapine makes you faint

But I’m not worried about the seniority of the doctors in charge

Who are too young to understand the sensitivity of the psyche

And its warrants to allow those with undue pressures to perform

To allow them to feel secure in the findings of medicine

They don’t understand the use of prescription medicine to help their cause

To understand feelings misjudging them as faithless beings

Inscribed with the factual and not informative.

I feel they are killing us successfully as they use their means to open doors they should leave shut and to close them is impossible once they begin their terror.

Picu is psychiatric intensive care which they do not do. They don’t care and leave you caged with your medicine until you adapt to their way of thinking.

It is sure to be the end of all thinking when they absolve themselves of all jurice prudence and allow the writing to say it all.

It happened like this. At two in the morning one morning I decided to go to South Africa. Then and there.  So I packed my bags and set forth, not forgetting to stash my computer with my now faithful friend Patrick.  I knew that I had the misfortune of an intruder in my household as close personal things had gone missing, like by a souvenir collector.

Someone has been gaining entry to my flat while I have been away and they have been trying  to get me evicted.  Except for one thing.  I have a protector who knows all about my condition and she’s thankful when I am quiet except on the internet when she thinks I am charming.

It is not my imagination and I gathered that it was the police some time ago.  Like the police who have occupied the flat upstairs.

This time it was accompanied by a doctor who had me assessed but did not apply the necessary authority – he showed me a warrant afterward that showed a warrant for search and entry and they came in with battering rams.  Six of seven heavily armed policemen in riot gear.

I was assessed under the Mental Health Act and sent off to a high secure unit in Stevenage. For five weeks.  And then released.  So it could look like I had been srrested.  But then released.  Off the streets according to someonse else’s important perhaps perception.

Later I complained.  I was unrewarded.  I kept record of my calls. They have disappeared. From my room, my bedroom.

You know how that feels?

Copyright B E Saunders 2016