It ain’t the rhythm
It ain’t the hard-hat nor the swing
It’s the place your foot upon the kettle
And hold your home
To you, for it is the Time
For it to style no’ ping
And that means it’s time for Los Alamos
Again.
Bye!
The fullness of time
does not dissect
the rich tea biscuit
of lively conversation.
It does however
eat into the willing
program of light being
alpha numeric and
not particle. Proof
is the temperature at
which biscuit floats
when broken in
Two.
COPYRIGHT©️
I floss unwillingly to stop
the dross
of loss
and fulfilment
of duty
caused by the lack
Of dentists nearby
who can look
in the mirror
and smoke
like I can
without remorse
for loss of
enamel like
chipped plates
on a hot stove.
COPYRIGHT©️
Well sister, it’s been a long time.
Once we were close
but now I have forgotten
the light in your eyes.
oh I thought of you first
when I thought I was going to die
I asked for you to be protected
when I would not be there
to watch your back.
It seems I was the one
who needed watching.
who needed cowering
who needed covering, against
the rape and pillage
of the universe of stars who
owe me nothing in recompense
for their rapture at being good.
I know not where to be
Now
when so many are in between
the days rhythm and tomorrow’s
advance. I help not, for many can
see that today is the mystery
surrounding the look of many
Like you do. It is over there
where the look of many
Is assured against the following
wind. I asphalt myself against it,
tarred and not feathered light,
to be here where so many ask
why is it so in the morning
and not here in the day?
COPYRIGHT©️
It little lasts
the passing phase
of a riotous assembley of man
and his woe begotten time
alone under heading
of being in all time
the welp who angers not
the audure about the right
of his own kind
to prosper.
In the vacant pact
it is ardently forseen
that no one can be here
without knowing who is not
a liar.
COPYRIGHT©️
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
seems.
In the end it comes out
of your budget,
never to be redeemed but
always asking for
receipts.
In taking my time I
ask little more
for no small change
can make this
goodbye
seem brief.
©️
Can you tell the difference between real and unreal?
If not then I am writing to you
about psychosis and the difference between being the One
who isn’t and the one who is.
I must go to the Church today and see the one
who is in control of the baptisms of Bath
who asks not who is here
but asks when shall we notice that she
is?
Who is going to tell you about
the birthrates of the City of Bath
and who is unioning and who isn’t going
to shul as they are preparing for incest
against the woman they know as Mum?
All it takes is cognition.
No speaking in tongues is allowed here on
the page.
No spoken language can tell the tune again
of the world’s end and how I held
it in my hands for you to say
So?
COPYRIGHT BRUCE E SAUNDERS 2021
What’s the procedure for this
the time is nigh for a muss with the head
and a fuss with the heart,
a friend by the doorway
and a sustaining look at a key
to the door of your head
and the start of the words coming through
the keyhole like terms of endearment
but not without the worry of times
spent in the loosehead mob
of the court and higher learnings
where they do not know how
to find an answer when all is about to see
that no one hears the words of the Lord
who asks not for the antiques but the real
named person who gave Him a bad name
for he is without killing and no one
can surely find the way to him in a bearing
like they use on the bookshelves for indexing
the author of their wares. For even in the world’s
books are there no use for the way in which
we see our lives about to finish without
knowing why.
COPYRIGHT (c)
He shoves it to the left
and wriggles it back to the right.
The ball dances on a flipper
then sinks outtasight.
Judge Dredd, Ace of Clubs
multiball and more!
She tries to regain level
maybe make the highest score!
A target sinks under accurate fire!
Another goes and extra ball is lit!
She’s sweating now, reefer and beer…
A crowd has assembled
crushing close, pushing near.
She lets the ball bounce on a rubber,
subtle fingerplay shows off
her skill with the machine
she’s pissing him off!
TWACK! Goes the machine,
again for Specials lit
the metal ball is glowing
the flashing lights are getting hit!
Bump-bump go her hips
as she puts her body in
Two free games, no more!
The targets are all a-spin!
Finally she can do no more
her control has worn thin…
Over to you she shouts
do better! With a grin.
COPYRIGHT ©️
I lay so long on the open lawn
I gathered dew in my fist
Peppered by music in my ears
A solemn vow to be kissed.
The trees above they shed their leaves
falling about my mouth
The birds were crying against the clouds
long on their journey South.
The few begin the hard won Road
snatched from undergrowth,
the use of machetes tore at green
in silence they cut with stealth.
No machine out here
Upon the verge, of latent falling wings
the chainmail mist hung with the urge
to sample a knight’s last fling.
COPYRIGHT ©️
TOO LONELY TO MAKE SENSE - AGELESS POETRY - DADA 