Day to day

I wonder if you’ll tide me well

I choose no for more

but ask little in return

but you think otherwise it


In the end it comes out

of your budget,

never to be redeemed but

always asking for


In taking my time I

ask little more

for no small change

can make this


seem brief.


Try to turn and take a

part in the whirring of sound

as it strikes the ground

and know it doesn’t really matter

whose Eiffel Tower you strike.

For the man who loves to drive

it’s a manner of sakes to beyond

the palour to be able to make

the red and the green meet

again at the outset

of him in his ways

about town last evening.

In the frogmarching time

when no one knows who is about

the realising of thread there is

one who decided not to tread

but to run all the way

home like Piggy.


The choice is the sun.

The time is the done thing.

Time is no more,

the use of time is the time

of right thinking about

the right of more things

that do not hold firm,

for they ask what to do

with the waking of Lord God

who is making their fem

tice and to do.

It is not for them to know what

is regular and soft for the word

is not frere it is brother

in sconce and some of them know

it is not in the hoe but

in the plough for we have no

Duke but the time is fast soon here

where they all shall not

pass before they all do the one

and the same



It will take a long time

to open the door to the right time and property.

It took no one to measure the length

of the broad strap

that closes upon the word of the song

and dance man, who knows little

beyond the white and red

and the author of those who know

it well, beyond the hoarse and call of

the near and the loose to you.

In the end it is not about

the right of all to see them in the world

but only the word of man in kind

who knows only he is fair and not

supposed to know when there

is time alone on the scale

of one to ten.

The time is here and no one knows who is

supposed and who is not

against the power of right

and wrong.

Use of it does not purport

to make the rye seem like the host

to your luck, but all becomes sin

in the light of dawn

when the ruck comes through

the right and stops it fully

being understood for many do

ot know it but many do

and so it is they ask

why are they hunted

here in the west of the land

called Nod?


To say nothing is to open your heart❤

to the sayings of No and Yes.

All the right words come at

unexpected times when

the race is all but over

and the men have been returned to

their boxes. It took a while

but no one knows who is

beginning the chimes on the clock,

making them go ringing over

and over

again. It takes two

minutes to make them

give out their news about the

strong and the weak and their

struggles of temper and venom.

copyright ©️

I wrote to you today

to ask about the word you use

for the way in which you take away

the mouth from my either and or.

You do not take long to make believe

that you are rarely in the mood

for love and making my

wishes come true.

The way you kiss has stopped

me daily from asking truly

who do you believe

and I know it’s true

There is no evil in this

world except to know

you are not coming soon

to meet the one who

Loves you like no other.


You write like a wind-up doll

telling love you need to be alone

when all you want is to live

in my head like the man who knows where to

be, along with the words of God

who knows not what it means to

be alone with himself

like you do

and that means all the love in the world

is his to own and he does not give

it back to you once it is given.

He realises it is about the words

of his Jesus not him

and that alone makes him King

when no one else knows how to make it

to the end of the Bible without being in the end of Faith

which is about the ruins of evil and the start

of the Golden Age which he does not know

when he does most of it

by Himself. In the end of time it is about

writing and knowing and not going

and that makes the word of man about the right

of the world to be here and not in the end

of the worker who knows not if the end

is coming or not.

Bruce E Saunders is the name but

after I see you in your bed

feathered with gnomen and men

I shall not see you again

for only you understand that it is in poetry

that we all see the end of the world

which does not start

in the beginning but in

the end.


The end of the world is upon us

and no one can see the true nature of the worry

just as you begin to feel that all is about

to fail, the end of the world

is about to come alone and see

that all the work of time

is about the work of you and me.

I want to see that there is place

for you and me in the tale

of the world about to end

and see that you know that all is here

where the night begins to fall

and the sea begins to air the were of might

into the pace of the where and the when.

I want to see the end of the world

where no one can tell what it is about

but the right and wrong cannot see

the end of time where they do

not want but ask for the word of God

to make them feel that there is word

for the right of their father to make

the decision and not the man on the end

of the telephone.

I woke today and saw the end of time

and saw the work of the words they see on their working


and they all seem to find it is not

going to be here but there where

they all begin to see that no one can tell

what is about to end and what

is about to see the end of time again.

It is not about the rule of the aged but the young

here on earth and they know not how

to send their thoughts to the men of

the world who ask them not

to see again and that is why

they do not know

how to make it to

the weather and the end of time

is here again for it is not about the right

and the rule but the doing of good to

make all see that no one

knows how to finish without

knowing the end of time.