Robert Mutsaers Biography

In desire we sever,
With a long and short arm's keeper.
Grand and forever,
We whet the Beaver Heaver.
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This loneliness in me,
Drives on production to see,
Free associations and lure,
The passing temptation in amiss.
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Sense has one given merit,
When called burden beyond the opposite,
Like a mirror upon embellished pregnancy,
Translates our future work upon vengeance..
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I am, in the calmness of my sea,
Your pearl of beauty that longs within me.
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All dressed up for life,
All tailored to distinctly wave,
At common sense and strife,
To charter idea's for the brave.
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