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


Thou is a mine of art

Thine mercy is but a dwelling for my heart

There is no comeback for your glance or smile

For it is not a soothe it is a morning of flowers

It is a morning of flower and yet

It is a morning of fresh daisies that yet

Have unfurled from the night blossoming

And they shall be

So it is without the mercy of the grant

That I might have stood upon thee and murmured

I wish it to be and so it is my sweet

It is and so I wish it so and so it shall be


There once was a dream called the when

The when shall we be free dream of the outcast

The when shall we be free of the sonnet and the palm

That whipped us

There shall be a no free thing without said wasp

For it shall be the one who shall impregnate

The blossom once again for the fruit of the children

Who shall be the ones to get fit and well from it.

It is not the one it is the some that need nutrition and so

It is the some that need it and so

It is the some that need it and so it is that

The some shall gain it from the worst of all

The duiwel of the druid’s course called the end of the tyne

Where it shall have a new one called to be or not to be so

It is the one and so it is.

Copyright B E Saunders 2016