Archive

Poetry

How can I tell you how long I have waited?

Time means nothing without your ear

to the wall of my heart, listening for the sound

of my eratic path to your house of Joy.

Oh what am I to say of my trembling hand

upon your chest as I push for the try against

the odds of a team of players who know who

is going to win without costing the game

for the word is that all the real players

are about to resign their time for the working

man of God is here.

COPYRIGHT BRUCE E SAUNDERS 2021

Taking life a pace at a time

without time for a new kind of luck

to make it to the end of the road

without being blown away from a truck

The police don’t know how to deal

with the works of the gun and metal

they only know how to defend themselves

and hold our lives in their hands

but do not see it as a right and wrong thing

it is about the work of society in making

it evil to be black and not white

like they are in the days when no one

could look at you, who could look and

not be feared but coppers and their knowledge

of the course of events in cells makes it

sure nuff the best place not to be.

COPYRIGHT BRUCE E SAUNDERS 2021

As she sings the blues

with a cheap guitar bought

at the five and dime

Her voice lingers over

me as if to say

will you still love me

when we meet in the after

math of this bourbon

and dry?

Will you still love

me as my words float like

a noose above your head?

It’s easy to move on and slow

to move down the ward’s passages

looking for crazies to come

and wilt before the heat

of suns.

I will love you like a needle

he replies, like a depot

in the backside, unwilling or

no to your medication

you will find me here

basking in the warmth

of your rays.

What shall I do with

you now you are disabled

with love and no longer

useful to the pitch of

the crowd’s voice in the tiers

Can you no longer hear?

You fall over on the sidewalk

and sleep all the day

what do I do

when you start to drool out my name

running from your mouth

like accusations of love

unreturned? Listen to my guitar

it’s telling you to go

down that hard solitary road

of insanity and alcohol

I loved you once

but it is not here in the end

that we shall see the uses of our

needs being held open for the

warriors to see.

COPYRIGHT BRUCE E SAUNDERS 2021

You gave me your empty mailbox address

asked me to use it when I needed

forgotten times when things were easy

invisible entreaty to be mine.

I asked you about the house and car

and how to keep the kids fulfilled

not knowing when to come back

and find the woods on fire.

I cyphered off a reckless post

a distant laughter was kindled

of love of a vine so ever twisted

and gnarled for moist tongues

refreshening voices, singing out

in full valour of false and incoherent

dialects.

I speak in tongues and hide in the shadows

and show my heart to no one but thee

here in the darks of the web I imagine and

place the part of me that wants to be seen

but not available to all but some who look

and see me naked without wounds

for no one could volunteer

here without knowing that soon

it will be too late and they will

find out.

How to strip you bare.

Take a moment of solace

two moments of dread

lie down on the hard wooden floor

feel it flat and cold and non compliant

great friction suddenly holds sway

as no limb behaves itself before the mighty

insertion and its mitigant

the needle versed in prayer.

COPYRIGHT BRUCE E SAUNDERS 2021

Little Miss Smarty Pants

Have you seen your

Siamese Twin in the light

of the dawning of an

enervating age

of life without tanks

and love without rocks

to steer by?

Smugglers draw you

on their torch

while she hides her

face from the receivers

of cargo without knowing

that it takes a lot of time

to make it to the end

where the light stops

and her gaze sees you

in the papers about the rioting

of life against the impoverishment

of spirit that deigns to wander

about the nights and asks how

to open doors without touching?

COPYRIGHT BRUCE E SAUNDERS 2021

Fire at the po-lice van

Fire in the cells

Here the fire engine

Hear the Mission Bells

Another black psycho

who wouldn’t take his pills

another cultural victim

death can drink his fill

of the ten thousand and more

who resist with such assurance

they know their faith is sound

but no ambulance.

COPYRIGHT BRUCE E SAUNDERS 2021

BREAKING THE CURFEW

BREAKING THE CURFEW

Every night I go flying

through walls and ceilings for

the work of the One is

never done.

I will not ask

for the right

to assemble my deeds

for you here

but ask now for the time

to make the right

of all things

like the realisation

of consciousness

the precious two

inches

between eyes at the front

binocularly

and the centre

of thought

knowing the

difference

for them first time

when blindfolded

with the odour

of race.

COPYRIGHT BRUCE E SAUNDERS 2021

It took just one lazy eye

to track your movements across

the page

another to flow with arms

and legs

for the word of all creatures

is about to fail

and that means a long time

insignificance

to the laid down laws

of the gravity field

we feel through the tips

of our seats and our hands

don’t know when to stop

holding onto the world without

giving away the works

of mankind. For he is not

going to make the end of the word

without knowing who is in the hand

and who is in the feet of it.

Who feels the flutter of vibrations

and who steps lightly across

moonshadows of war and terrier

bedlam.

COPYRIGHT BRUCE E SAUNDERS 2021

Here come those window pains

drumming with water from the sky

the wasted days slide from my scalp

and clear the view to the day on the right

and the left is only here

where they do not play for a dime

but ask for nickels in store changed

items of clothing

to hide their stumps

of hatred.

Amputee

your virtual

hand comes in handy

when chatting to girls

online.

You lose your sight on the half

toned sepia of memories long past

but here it is good

and refreshed every moment of the day.

COPYRIGHT BRUCE E SAUNDERS 2021

Comes an age when you know

nothing of investment and return

But you sense loss

without knowing why

For you have lost a lifelong friend

You whose life has yet to be won.

Don’t you know the way

to get home from Church when

the time comes for just retribution

of sins? To lock the door and sin-like after

wards ask what to do with the core

of the sickness you envelope away from

the milk and sour-faced wait for the

journey to complete.

Alone you know not

the friendship of those lost

and the gathering grief for they that

are lost has no gathering except

here in the wonders

of time.

COPYRIGHT BRUCE E SAUNDERS 2021