Sitting in my easy chair
By the double windows
Happy just to be here
In my ratty old bungalow.
But happy doesn’t cover it.
It’s really dreams come true.
I have my own place here.
No roommate to suffer through.

It’s Saturday afternoon now
The sun slowly going down
Painting my walls colored
Like the face of a happy clown;
Reds and whites and yellow
Bouncing off the green lawn
And making art of my home
Until the sun at last is gone
Yet I still remember every tone.

Some days I sit under my tree.
I ate the avocadoes you know.
And I planted it right here
No idea that it would grow
Into this magnificent tree
It is twenty five feet or so;
A beauty that calms me
Just watching it grow.

Rain on the roof
Distributor of peace
Of rest and sleep;
A blessed release
For what better to do
What stronger proof
Than taking a great nap
With rain on the roof?

I’m sorry if you wanted something else;
A rubber stamp, a milquetoast or a sap.
I’m sorry my independent nature is
Like giving your face a hefty slap.
If it seems I am apologizing for myself
To make an excuse for the way things are
Trust me when I tell you what I am sorry for
Is that I have let this thing go on this far.

Dressing up in formal clothes
Won't make us into something fine.
As long as we believe a fantasy
Soon we will cross some kind of line.

I apologize for not recognizing the signs
That told me how you felt about love.
The idea that the two of us are equals
Was a thing you could not rise above.
You couldn’t accept truth was important
And only make what we had implausible.
The kind of relationship you wanted
Was not only wrong, but was impossible.

I guess it got easy for me to fake it
And walk around in a huge pink fog,
Pretending you were a handsome prince
And not accept you were another frog

I don’t believe the truth can be hidden
For but a very short while if at all.
To base a relationship on dishonesty
Will ultimately make the thing fall.
Yes, I ignored the messages you gave me
I’ve been through enough of this to know
That I was part of the reason we failed;
That this is the way it would have to go.

I can’t let you completely off the hook.
Your answers to my questions were a ruse.
I am not equipped with a fairy godmother.
I never had a pair of enchanted shoes.
But I was never wishing for a magic life
Just a hope that love could turn out real.
But one of us can never do it all alone;
Half of it will be about how you feel.

Dressing up in formal clothes
Will not make us into something fine.
As long as we believe a fantasy
Soon we will cross some kind of line.

I wrote a poem
And two thousand
Two hundred and
Thirty one people
Read it.
That right there is poetic.
It may not be politic
To brag, but I’m waving the flag
My own flag
Because it’s not a gag.
It’s real.
And it makes me feel
Like I am doing something
Right;
Like I am winning the fight
Against those who scoff
And cough and make fun.
I feel like I have won.

I love you more than chocolate fudge
And even more than cheesecake.
Even more than the finest meal
A Cordon Bleu chef can make.
I love you more than Disneyland
More than my birthday celebration.
More then the most beautiful work
Of the very finest artist's creation.

I love you beyond the most distant star.
I love you best when we are together.
I love you always wherever you are.
And I am going to love you forever.

I love you more than a brand-new car.
So much more than fancy new shoes.
Multitudes more than a diamond ring.
I love you more than an ocean cruise.
Lucky is not a strong enough word;
More than fortunate is how I feel.
I love you so much my darling
That it seems almost beyond real.

I love you beyond the most distant star.
I love you best when we are together.
I love you always wherever you are.
And I am going to love you forever.

Like a magical romantic movie
Bells can ring and rainbows appear
And in the middle of it all will be me
Smiling widely from ear to ear.
This bit of my own poetry may be
Pie-eyed and even a bit sappy.
But I can find no other clearcut way
To say how much you make me happy.

I love you beyond the most distant star.
I love you best when we are together.
I love you always wherever you are.
And I am going to love you forever.

We marched because
They told us we couldn’t march.
We loved because
They told us we couldn’t love.
We married because
They told us we couldn’t marry.
We ran for office because
They told us we couldn’t run.

Freedom is for everyone
Not just for the few.
If any group is left out
The word is not true.

We applied for jobs
When they said we could not
We applied for loans
But they tore up the applications.
We manned picket lines
When they said they’d **** us.
We put in for promotions
When they told us we wouldn't win.

Freedom being for everyone
Should not be a dream.
We should not have to explain
Why things aren’t as they seem.

We heard the words
That said Land of the free,
We heard the carols
Peace on earth to all men.
We read the Constitution
That we all of us were equal.
We remembered our schoolwork
That, segregated, taught these words.

Freedom is for everyone
Not just for the few.
If any group is left out
The word is not true.

*******. I really love having them,
I have no trouble raving about them
And have categorized them accordingly.
Just a few have ever affected me boringly.
But mostly they were those I did alone.
Still I managed to get into the right zone,
Later, if I didn’t like the outcome of the game
I really only had nobody but myself to blame.

But it is always better when there are two
Then some cuddling and kissing when through
And if there seems more we want to do
We can start it up all over again, anew.
Of course if an ****** is the entire focus
We may not prefer a repeat with the both of us.
Still, it's possibly good to strongly suggest
A another college try turns out the best.

Who can deny that great feeling one has
When the activity changes from waltz to jazz
And two people manage to forget everything
And let the muscles and the juices sing;
Take our minds gratefully to another place
A blissful, mindless, animal kind of space,
Appreciation of what it means to be a beast
And be glad for that moment then, at least.

Those who tell the young kids to beware
And do their well-meaning best to scare
The young from being what they really are
Are following a teaching that is bizarre
When it tells you some crap about god
Thinking *** is something sick and odd.
People should get on with what they need.
The Puritans were wrong, so pay no heed.

(From Ireland, a novel by Frank Delaney)

     "As you probably know, nobody can actually write a poem. There's no such thing as writing a poem. That's not how poems are made. Oh, yes, there's the physical business of pen, ink and paper, but that isn't whence a poem comes. Nor may you send out and fetch a poem from where it's been living. No, like it or like it not, you have to wait for a poem to arrive.
     The people we call poets, by which I mean true, real poets-they're merely very keen listeners who've learned to recognize when a poem is dropping by. Then they copy down what the poem's telling them in their heads."

Don't let the door hit
Where fatigue makes you sit.
As people like to say,
Don't go away, mad, just go away.

These crusty old adages
Are better than biblical messages.
No meaning suffers loss.
Because the point comes across.

You hide behind double talk
That does not match your walk.
So down the road you go.
Find some other fools you know.

Preach your lies to all of them,
Because the point comes across.
Most know well who you are
And you are no shining star.

Steal from taxpayers and ****
We’ll gladly play back the tape
And show the world that can think
Just how badly the G.O.P. stinks.

You cheat and lie and brag about it.
Frankly we can all do without it.
The only supporters below you
And the people that don’t know you.

Most of your support come from bigotry
And some gun nuts in their zealotry
Who don’t yet see the picture clearly;
You cheat and victimize equally.

When the tally is taken at the end
You’ll find Republicans have no friends
Except those with millions to give.
Who care not if the rest of us live.

As I sit here in my easy chair
Watching life pass me by
There are people in the world
Who do greater things than I.
There are great minds at work
Studying the world and space.
Not me, I’m afraid, I just sit,
Watch TV, a calm look on my face.

I have not written an opera
Or an awesome symphony.
I have not written great poems
To be read by more than me.
I have not waxed political
With rhetoric that will astound.
I have not created grand products
To be taken from the ground.

I did not engineer a vehicle
That will run on just ***** air.
And, yes, I painted for a while
But found few who would care.
All I seem to be able to do
Is to survive my horrendous past,
And I thank all the gods that be
That the horror did not last.

I answered, as a young fellow,
When people asked to my face,
“What do you want out of life?”
I quickly answered, “My own place.”
Now that I am adult and that
Has finally come to be a reality,
I can’t seem be anxious to comply
When life demands more of me.

I lost a tooth.
I was quite upset.
But I got a quarter
So, I understood.

I fell off my bike.
I scraped my knee.
I admit I cried.
But, I understood.

The neighbor boy hit me.
I believe he hates me.
I hit him back and he cried.
Then I understood.

I got the measles.
I had to stay in bed.
Missing school was okay.
Easy to understand.

I broke my leg skating.
It hurt so much, scary.
I had to wear a cast.
I totally understood.

Two guys attacked me.
I had to fight both of them.
They leave me alone now.
Then they understood.

I fell in love with a girl.
She is from the Middle East.
My friends hate her.
I’ll never understand.

ACTING OUT

Trackdown, smackdown
Hit them with the facts.
Showdown downtown.
Teach them how to act.
Outloud, outproud
Backing down no more.
Outloud our crowd
Now we know the score.

It used to be we had to
Keep quiet about it or lie.
They could even jail us
So we didn’t even try.
We changed the gender
Of lovers when we shared.
We could say we married.
Nobody even dared.

We made up these stories
About roommates we had
Wanting any more than that
Could only leave us sad.
So, we used euphemisms
Like confirmed bachelor
To create a smokescreen
For our nosy neighbors.

Trackdown, smackdown
Hit them with the facts.
Showdown downtown.
Teach them how to act.
Outloud, outproud
Backing down no more.
Outloud our crowd
Now we know the score.

Nineteen seventy
Came up suddenly
And a few million of us
Wanted to be free.
So, we hit the boulevards
And sang the marching songs.
Out of the closet, into the streets
And millions more came along.

Trackdown, smackdown
Hit them with the facts.
Showdown downtown.
Teach them how to act.
Outloud, outproud
Backing down no more.
Outloud our crowd
Now we know the score.

Brent Kincaid
6/3/2014

I’ve run the gamut
From plus to minus
From nearly the worst
To among the finest.
But there was an actor
I’d love to date again.
The incredibly attractive
Richard Chamberlain.

Richard Chamberlain
You magnificent man
I blush to write a poem
But I will do what I can
To get the point across
That you’re one of a kind
To think otherwise one must
Be deaf, mute and blind.

I am just old enough to
Recall young Doctor Kildare.
I am sure with cable now
It always plays somewhere.
But, for a young gay kid
I immediately lost my heart.
I could not convince myself
You were just playing a part.

To me you were the doctor
That could heal where I ailed.
No matter that at this time
What I felt could get me jailed.
I just went on and pined for
This beautiful man on TV.
Every word he said seemed
To be music to young me.

So when I got the chance
To spend an evening with him
Dancing at a nice party
Thrown by a mutual friend
I jumped at the chance
And broke a cardinal rule
I told him of my crush on him
I am sure I looked the fool.

Thus, it really wasn’t a date
More of an amazing evening.
That kind of happy accident
I still have trouble believing.
But it counts as a date to me
When a delightful, classy man
Spends the evening chatting
With an obviously smitten fan.

Addiction offers so many
Glamorous ways to die.
It’s total wonder to me
Why everyone doesn’t try.
You can get almost all of the
Diseases known to man.
No other kind of dissolution
Gives what addiction can.

There’s diabetes, and then gout
And pancreatitis too.
All these devastating kinds
Of hell are there for you.
You lose your toes and hands
And maybe you go blind
Or maybe your very guts
Begin to commit inner crimes.

You lose all morality
And rob those you love.
You hold the drug you take
About fifty miles above
Any care or real concern
For those you may destroy.
You become a liar and a thief
Just a typical growing boy.

Nobody trusts, they run away
And leave you to suffer alone.
Life then turns itself into
Your personal Twilight Zone.
Suddenly your companions are
Just as ******* as you.
You are the lowlife you ridiculed
Back a just year or two.

So go right on calling it
That drinking game you do;
Partying and social stuff
Until you know you are through.
That may not be until they throw
The dirt over your casket.
For now, have fun on your trip
To hell in a hand basket.

I miss those wonder-filled days
When watching clouds was fun,
As well as watching movies
And more than only just one.
Two movies, a serial and a cartoon
Was the Saturday morning fare
With greasy popcorn and sodas
If we could find fifty scents somewhere.

My brothers and I loved picking
Through those illegal dump sites
That lawless neighbors often used,
Near us, in the middle of the night.
Once I found a Buddha statuette
And didn’t know who the guy was.
In Christian America of the fifties
Knowing such things had no cause.

Brother Jim found a tricycle there
Almost completely okay to ride
And Dan found a kind of wood box
With a handful of coins inside.
He got to pay for the movies for us
But Sam didn’t find much at all.
He did manage to slip at the time
And take a pretty hilarious fall.

Maybe it was easier then, those days
For kids to stay so entertained.
The only thing that might spoil our fun
Was if nature chose to make it rain.
Many times our fun was exploring
And rain could make it a weary slog.
It caused some unpleasant journeys
Through some unattractive bogs.

We built go-carts out of some junk
We gathered on our treasure hunts,
But usually they were contraptions
My mother definitely did not want.
Mom was like that, careful with us.
Worry-wart that she was back then
It didn’t stop or really slow down
Us four adventure-minded children.

I’m a deeply religious person
And though I don’t believe in cursing
As a spiritual individual
It will do no good at all
To try to take my rights away
By telling me how I must pray
And who I have to pray to.
You couldn’t if you wanted to
Because I have the Constitution.
So make a New Year’s resolution
To shove those thoughts, however dumb
Right back where you all got them from.
Consider this great advice of mine
And shove them where the sun don’t shine.

Free is the way for me.
How much better can it be.
Freedom in perpetuity
That’s what you can do for me.
Get all the rich folk taxed equally
Leave all the rest of it up to me.

This country started long ago
The founding fathers made it so
That nobody could push us around
Or run our beliefs into the ground
And yet for several hundred years
Some were beaten about the ears
Because we did not drink from the chalice
Is somebody else’s golden palace;
Of preachers in their fancy duds
Who hang with well-connected buds
That make the laws that work to pry
Our freedom away and let us die
By collectively saying and assuming
If we aren’t their church, we aren’t human.

Free is the way for me.
How much better can it be.
Freedom in perpetuity
That’s what you can do for me.
Get all the rich folk taxed equally
Leave all the rest of it up to me.

Have you ever wanted to meet
Christopher Columbus just before he sailed?
Would you like to have chatted
With Oscar Wilde while he was in jail?
Or maybe you could discuss with
William Shakespeare about young hamlet?
Discuss modern religion with Buddha
Precisely to see if he could even handle it?

Maybe see Cleopatra herself
To check if she was as pretty as they said.
Go back and see old Saint Paul
To see if there was a halo around his head.
And Thomas Edison, was he a ****
Or the amazing genius we all say he was.
Was he or was he not guilty of
Blithely trying  to steal Tesla's good work?

Wouldn't it be great to see
Josephine Baker dancing for all she was worth?
Take a trip back in time and see
What really happened at Jesus's birth.
If anything really happened
Or if the disciples just made it all up.
And what about the holy Grail?
Was there or was there not that famous cup?

Am I am the only one who wonders
What all the legendary stuff was really about?
Did Mahatma Gandhi the man
Ever feel the need to scream and shout?
Did the USA founding fathers
Really care about the common populace?
Did Carlos Castaneda have
Any useful message for the rest of us?

I wonder. I truly wonder
If telephones had been invented then
Would any of them have answered
If I could have managed to make the call?

I’ve got a lot to be thankful for
I want to waste no time in *******’.
I may not drive a fancy car
I have no mansion to be rich in.
But I got fingers
And I got toes
And sometimes that’s
Just the way it goes.
I wake up in the morning
And jump out of bed,
And just be thankful
That I’m not dead.

I’ve got clothes on my back
And shoes on my feet.
A place to lay my head
And enough food to eat.
There’s plenty in my life
For which I am grateful.
And absolutely no reason
For me to feel hateful.

I see a lot of people now
Gripe about what they want.
I’m sure when they’re dead
They’ll want a better house to haunt.
It seems they waste their time
And they fail to appreciate
The hundred times a day
What they have is truly great.

I’ve got a lot to be thankful for
I want to waste no time in *******’.
I may not drive a fancy car
I have no mansion to be rich in.
But I got fingers
And I got toes
And sometimes that’s
Just the way it goes.
I wake up in the morning
And jump out of bed,
And just be thankful
That I’m not dead.

I’m all for freedom of speech for everyone
Without pardoning you for things you’ve done.
Here’s something you don’t get to say to me
You don’t get to tell me I may not disagree!
You who plan constant genocide and invasion
Make pacifists like myself rise to the occasion.
We refuse to authorize you buying a warship.
You act as if that word is very like worship!

Too many scary cowards setting precedences.
In your overstuffed, gadget-filled residences.
You’re issuing orders to send youths to die.
Since you’re not going, why bother to ask why?
Some bribe-taking elite snobs in costly suits
Tell you to send kids overseas in combat boots.
If you rebuke them they bring out the dramatics.
Their reason is their bookkeeper’s mathematics.

In the USA, we waged war after disastrous war
And few of us asked why, and what is it for?
We invaded people’s lands and destroyed it
And there never was a reason to deploy it
An international revenue generating machine
****** thousands on both sides, nice and clean.
Then demand we buy coffee, seven bucks a cup,
If we think of objecting, you want us to shut up.

After all, it’s just one more war, wrapped up to go.
What’s a two or three million dead people or so?
The point it, there’s a bottom line to adhere to
So what it affects or kills someone near you?
Don’t be unpatriotic and ***** with fate.
Genocide is lucrative and an  American trait.
Just look what we did to the natives here.
Read that story. What we’re doing is clear.

I’d love to have a magic wand
Then all Republicans would be gone.
I’d wave my wand once again
And fill their chairs with honest men
And women who could serve
Without trying to get filthy rich
And could manage to see through
Any hateful racist political pitch.

I think we should fire them all
Take their wealth as restitution
For the attempted ****** of
The United States Constitution.
Put them into a prison where
They do their time breaking rocks
And teach them some education;
A twenty year school of hard knocks.

We can do it by arresting them all
For abrogating their office vows.
They don’t understand honesty
So we should teach them how.
We’ll take every word they said
And print up an itemized sheet
And fine them for every false word
Wouldn’t that be totally sweet?

We could denude them of the riches
They gathered while on the job
And turn them loose on prison gangs.
Let them lie to that angry mob.
And part of their punishment could be
Digging ditches down at the dump.
And joy, oh joy, they might luck out
And work beside Donald John Trump.

How are things at the country club?
Was the glitter group too much?
Was that hot young rock star there?
Did you try to get in touch?
Did you catch the ear of
That famous new playwright?
Did the paparazzi catch your act?
Did you do your thing tonight?


Who got mad and who got drunk?
Give me all the dirt.
Who got ****** and struck a blow
And, oh yes, who got hurt?
You see now I understand;
I’m your after dinner lover.
When you’re going somewhere publicly
You find yourself another.

And I guess that’s just not good enough
To keep me satisfied.
To be the after dinner rose
You tried so hard to hide.
So call up Central Casting
And find yourself another.
For I am not content to be
Your after dinner lover.

The old man said to me
“Although it may sound strange,
Time will have its effect on you
And your focus will surely change.
Right now getting naked means
A shower or some **** fun.
But when you get to be older
*** is no longer number one.

You see, life has time limits
And then, that’s all there is.
You start out good at things
A sure enough veritable ****.
When young we race around
And later we have to walk.
Early on we are doing things
Later, we prefer to sit and talk.

There is less time for us
To make sure promises are kept
Than the nimble candlesticks
That always have to be leapt.
There are candles that refuse
To stay lit from both ends
And far too soon, we find
That clocks are not our friends.

So celebrate while you can
And sow your own wild oats
Because all that is left is stink
When you deal with old goats.
Having said all that he turned
And looked me in the eye.
Still when the time comes, you
Probably won’t want to say goodbye."

Brent Kincaid
4/19/2015

I’m waddling around with wattles.
Nothing in a bottle will change that.
Not buying a better looking hat
Or a brighter, tighter shirt.
My childhood left in the dirt,
I’m an old man! I do what I can
To not look like a wino under a bridge;
A smidge of aftershave so I don’t stink
And people don’t think I’m decaying.

What I’m saying is, I’m getting old.
Graying smudges among the gold.
This is me. This is what I see daily
When I glance gaily into my mirror
Expecting the guy as young as I feel.
He isn’t real. An old guy sneaked in
Again, and I wish I hadn’t peeked.
Oh well, this isn’t really hell.
I have never thought I was hot,
One of those handsome lads that had
Everyone’s heads turning for them.

I had dim hope there for a while
But, no matter how much I smile
Nothing wins like smooth skin
Broad shoulders and big pecs.
I mean, I was not a wreck, but not
As I said, even a little bit hot.
Oh well, I got what I got, true?
Can I or you ever defeat genetics?
Like father like son, and mother,
Creates another generation of us;
Nice guys and gals, but plain,
And this old man is what remains.

It ain’t like ahm a teacher ner nuthin.
Ahm jess a regular person, nothin spayshul
Ah ain’t no docterr of rocket science
Ahm jess a working guy, and kinda playful.
Ah half tah admit, ah do get things wrong
And sometahms ah can make a big mess
But ah do have minny, minny good points
And ahm a rilly good person, irregardless.

But things like writin’ readin’ and
Readin’ writin’ and sech lack that stuff
Ah stopped carin’ ‘bout at twelve
‘Cause ah found it more than kinda tuff.
Ah mean, it ain’t lack ah ain’t never
Gunna need to know reedickaluss stuff lie cat.
Ahm jess gunna graduate and then
Ah’ll go to work with Dad and drahve a bobcat.

Ain’t nobuddy needs algebra for that
Er fer workin’ at the factory line ever day either.
And it sher ain’t like ahm a teacher ner nuthin.
Ahm jess a regular person, nothin spayshul
Ah ain’t no docterr of rocket science
Ahm jess a working guy, and kinda playful.
Ah half tah admit, ah do get things wrong
And sometahms ah can make a big mess
But ah do have minny, minny good points
And ahm a rilly good person, irregardless.

But things like writin’ readin’ and
Grammer and other sech borin’ stuff
Ah stopped carin’ ‘bout at twelve
‘Cause ah found it more than kinda tuff.
Ah mean, it ain’t lack ah ain’t never
Gunna need to know reedickaluss stuff lie cat.
Ahm jess gunna graduate and then
Ah’ll go to work with Dad and drahve a bobcat.

Ain’t nobuddy needs algebra for that
Er fer workin’ on a factory line ever day either.
Ah sherr don’t need it to work digging
Er runnin’ sewer lahns er plummin’ pipes neither.
So, folks can jess give up on tryin’
To turn me into some kinda egghead scholar.
After all, it was good enough for my dad
To go to work, and work hard to earn a dollar.

You are like a beauty contest
Where nobody is keeping score.
The clothes make you beautiful
But I like you naked even more.
You’re a hot hunk of manhood
From your hairline to your boots
And you look a lot better naked
Than some men look in suits.

Yeah, I have to admit it here
It was your looks caught my eye
But as time went by I discovered
There was much more to you, guy.
There’s poetry and wit and then
That ever present sense of fun.

At first it was just infatuation;
A fan sitting close to the stage.
But later it turned into something
Beyond a **** picture on a page.
I found out there was more to you
Than the beauty that stops hearts.
There is something special there
That sets you delightfully apart.

So, I hope I can be forgiven
For being such a rabid fan.
I have excellent taste in things
Like the looks of a hot man.
I have heard so many call you
One hot, **** son of a gun.
Of the members of your fan club
I’m sure I am your number one.

It’s about my husband Alex,
He’s a truly wonderful man
But I fear Alex has gone
For a trip to Wonderland.
He works hard, and long
But lost some of his grip
On reality as it really is
And seems to be on a trip.

Ice trays that fill themselves,
Self-closing cupboard doors,
And magic laundry chutes
That puts clothes back in drawers
Ketchup bottles with 1/10th ounce
And leftovers never consumed.
And of course automobiles
Driven but never get tuned.

In Alex’s fantasyland
He lives across a chasm
Where only he gets hungry
Or gets to have an ******.
He doesn’t answer doorbells
Or incoming calls on the phone.
And, when he’s watching games
He is demands to be left alone.

Presents given out by him
In his fairy tale existence
Are often gift certificates
After a round of insistence.
And, don’t ask my husband
For the date of our anniversary
Or the dates our children
Showed up in the nursery.

I am only mentioning all this
Because I totally understand.
I have read quite a few books.
I have been to Disneyland.
But what I don’t understand
And can’t get into my head
Is why he hasn’t heard me yet,
Or a ****** word I have said.

It isn’t like I haven’t complained
Or told him what I wanted.
But he looks around like maybe
He thinks the house is haunted,
Because he is hearing voices
That he can’t quite understand.
See? What did I tell you?
Alex lives in Wonderland!

ALFONSO

Ours were the balmy evenings
Just two of us, languishing
Listening to your poetry singing
Telling me personal stories
Of days I did not know you
Before I met you, knew glory
And grandeur that comes
When old pains go numb
And I begin to believe again
In life, love, you, the word ‘begin’.

Lately I have smelled the season
As it changes, rearranges leaves
And settles peacefully on me
Here in this warm region
Which I have given myself
Like a gift as big as a county;
Living rural life here in the city
Shopping monthly, frugally
In this one bedroom home
And now not alone any more
This, what life is for.

You didn’t like movies or TV,
A constant staple of life for me
So I honored your preference
Out of deference to other joys.
Your desires were not ploys
Employed to sway me, ******
Abuse or misuse. I could see.
They were how you lived
Independent of us or me.
It was simplicity and homespun.
Thus our life together had begun.

She sprays her hair a lot
Doesn’t care about the climate
She says it keeps her looking hot
And she doesn’t even need to diet.
She drives to school driving
Her daddy’s fancy gift car.
She goes happily because
That’s where cute boys are.

She’s the Great American Co-ed
And intelligence is not important.
Someone saying ‘no’ to her are
Words she finds most discordant.
She only likes to hear ‘yes dear’
For her life to being going fine.
Everyone just has to understand
And then they must toe the line.

She’s a grade C student
Because she doesn’t like books.
But, she has no trouble
With boys because of her looks.
She is a willing target as well;
She likes any guy in pants.
Maybe even a rich guy who
Will buy her expensive implants.

She knows she will be
The most popular girl around
If she can just get her blog
Going strong and off the ground.
She has lots of cool photos
Of her in her bikini bathing suit.
She also has her phone number
And her measurements to boot.

She’s the Great American Co-ed
And daddy has paid for University.
She is afraid she might not get in
Due to the law about racial diversity
But she is sure her daddy will
Call in some markers owed by friends.
He’s done it before and she bets
He’ll gladly do it one more time again.

Profligate pundits and
Philandering plutocrats
Promulgating pusillanimous
Pandering polecats
Put partially putrescent
Punks and pettifoggers
Past pitifully puny pollsters
Pushing the party politics
Of petrified pashas.

Disgusting demagogues
Dealing delayed death
Deeming democracy dying
Deny diplomacy daily
Deftly develop departments
Defending discrimination
Dividing deities from devils
Draining dedicated duties
With disgusting dictatorship.

Sorrowfully sublimated
Citizens of society slide
Swiftly and sequentially into
Sibilant session of silliness
In which similes scintillate
Signifying sensitivities
Of separate sensibilities
Subtly smiting the senseless.
Sauce for the stunningly stupid,
Champagne for the saboteurs.

It will be fine with me
If I finally end up to be
An annoying buzzing bee
In the ear of a society
Sated on complacency
And gluttonous dependency
On the masters of larceny.

It is for the future to see
If the rhymes that come from me
Help heal the national infamy
That passes for propriety
When the heads of society
Treat celebrity notoriety
As conditions of acceptability
And even some kind of laudability.

With sad and appalling sincerity,
Maddening sycophantic celerity
And unfortunate lack of probity;
And what seems to be jocularity
All pretense of care or integrity
The villains in Washington DC
So constantly convince me
That we need my kind of poetry.

Platitudinous, pusillanimous,
Pulchritudinous, posterior
Poseur, postulating pus bag
Posing as plenipotentatious
President POTUS, posturesome
Proudly putting paws on *******
Publicly preposterous woosie
Pretending propriety: a putz.

Eternal egregious eccentricity,
Endless empathy-less publicity,
Effectively inbalming ethnicity
Eviscerates any essential nobility
Excluding even existential energies
Of expectations of excellence
Instead enacting evolution-free
Economical inimical extortion.

Hourly horror holler hate,
Both houses holding hotheads
And hundreds of houris
Honoring honor-free hopes
Hesitation-free horrible haste
Hosing hope and helpmeets
Who have inherited helplessness
From heartless halfwit hoydens.

Boisterous ***** and boors
Beat beauty and belief badly
But beg and bawl for bounty
Bathing in bastardy and blood
But beyond bowing to betters
Banquets and bowers of berks
Badly bent beyond blessing,
They’re best boxed for burying.

Does anybody know the time?
Thanks, but a.m. or p.m.?
We sent Romer out for beer
Has anybody here seen him?
He’s got our money and my car
Doesn’t it seem like a long time?
Or am I losing track of things here
And all my reason and rhyme?

Put another song on, guys
I am sick of the Grateful Dead.
I’m thinking it’s all the same song
Running right through my head.
Freakin’ Truckin’ making me crazy.
I like the song but jeez, guys
There must be another one
You can find one if you try.

Does anybody know the time?
Thanks, but a.m. or p.m.?
We sent Romer out for beer
Has anybody heard from him?
He’s got our money and my car
Doesn’t it seem like a long time?
Or am I losing track of things here
And all my reason and rhyme?

It seems like a few hours ago
Just hours of Hotel California;
The Eagles singing loud, us too.
Dancing, nearly getting a hernia.
And didn’t someone say something
About some tacos and some guac?
If I don’t get something to eat soon
I’m going to get up and try to walk.

Does anybody know the time?
Thanks, but a.m. or p.m.?
We sent Romer out for beer
Has anybody heard from him?
He’s got our money and my car
Doesn’t it seem like a long time?
Or am I losing track of things here
And all my reason and rhyme?

I am sharing this opus
It's more of an onus
Of just how things went
But were not really bogus.
I earned my life lumps
Racing over speed bumps
Trying to outrun cards dealt
That were not quite trumps.

Still I made it this far
And while I’m not a star
I suited and showed up.
Things are what they are
And I can debate them
But I can’t dispute them.
It would be a big lie
If I tried to refute them.

So my doddering totter
Gets odder and odder
Telling me loudly
I am Grim Reaper fodder.
Some bridges burned,
Another corner turned
Dealing with the effects
Of the lessons learned.

Now an irascible rascal
Far too frequently wrathful
Warring with too-small print
I am the long-retired radical
No longer marching around
Supporting causes I found.
No longer a crusader, I am
A kind of sad circus clown.

I never expected to have it made
Like a grandee in the shade
Sipping my iced mint julep
Rich from making the grade
But  with youthful short sight
I never saw it in this light
That I would fall so short
Of playing things just right.

Still, I have to cut some slack
When I sit here looking back
At where and what I was.
The view is not so black.
While superstars never came,
My lottery dreams were lame,
I feel I did all that could
To honestly play the game.

You enticed me, your neighbor,
Newly moved in right upstairs
With aromas of your cooking.
And you invited me to share.
We started then to get close
Like brother and sister were we
That had different parents
But still becoming family.

I ******* about all and sundry
You smiled and said let it go.
I complained about the heat
You laughed and told me “Go
Down to the beach and play;
Get wet and come on back
Then remember Missouri
And see what little you lack.”

And, nobody laughed so,
Delighted with my every jest.
Never remembered punch lines
Yet swore mine were the best.
If I passed near her doorway
I was urged to come inside.
This was the very doorway
Where camaraderie did abide.

So, for a decade we took
Samples of what we cooked
Up and down the stairs
To each other and each took
That deep and abiding pleasure
Of having someone upstairs
Who had that cup of sugar
Or that butter we could share.

I live today with gratitude;
I was blessed, for however long
To listen to the lovely music
Of friendship’s gentle song.
I will miss the coffee shops
And boulevard people watching.
I need to stop this for now as
My throat seems to be catching.

The wind whispered his name.
He lingered, but he did not listen.
The sun shone it's bright face
Warmly upon his disgrace
And made his skin to glisten.
Bright leaves spun and danced
Taking every momentary chance
To entertain a sullen passerby
Who never did lift his eye.
He was not destined to know
Because he missed the show.

He didn't hear the music of birds,
The crickets all went unheard.
The sun might have been dim;
Rainbows were unseen by him.
He took no joy in a warm breeze
Unless it made him sneeze.
No human could catch his eye,
He was aware of no passersby.
There was no color to his sorrow
No yesterday or tomorrow,
Just the sameness painted gray
That he lived in every day.

The artist that is every day life
Painted his world with palette knife
And every kind of artful brush
But could not interrupt the hush
Of he who looked but did not see
Anything real in his reality;
His discourse with the world
Had become a sad soliloquy
He created his own catastrophe
Sculpting his world without mastery.

His sins bore him sorely down
Bent over nearly to the ground.
A painful stoop to his shoulder
He rested on a nearby boulder.
Replaying his dreadful history
He vowed to keep it a mystery.
He would refuse to bear witness
Certain there was no forgiveness.
He felt he was no better than sod,
Was a disappointment to God,
And in all there was in creation.
He was unworthy of salvation.

He worked, all bent
And sweat of brow.
It's how his life went
He remembers it now.
He was told consistently
Since his early childhood
“Hard work earns rewards.”
He believed as a child would.

He believed in the dream
And worked hard most days
Saving whatever he could
Economizing in many ways.
There were no vacations
No brand new automobile.
He was sure in time he'd see
His debts brought to heel.

He bought a modest shack
For his wife and their children.
Nothing fancy, rather tight,
In no way was it modern.
But it was a roof, and safety
A harbor at the end of day.
That sadly came to an end.
The economy took it all away.

He still wants to believe
The dream he believed in
But now he and his family
Have no house to live in.
He feels someone lied to him
And they are doing so still.
Now he is angry at those
Who wrote such awful bills.

Gooder and Badder
Bedder and fadder
What are Americans saying?
Boddle of wadder
Mudder and fodder
What is this game we are playing?

Funner and betterer,
Pitcher and ledder
They expect folks to unnerstan
Gimmes and wannabes
Mundees though Sundees
A hunnert and ten grand.

Gooder and Badder
Bedder and fadder
What are Americans saying?

Reedikullis and eeleegull
Furrin kinds of peepul
Should learn American English
Even when it’s ignernt,
And sounds  a bit differnt,
A definite ***** to distinguish.

Boddle of wadder
Mudder and fodder
What is this game we are playing?

Inneresting innerlopers
Drunky ***** goat ropers
That’s what they think strangers are.
Our dippy high schoo dropouts
Don’t care what education’s about
And only care about today’s sports stars.

Gooder and Badder
Bedder and fadder
What are Americans saying?
Boddle of wadder
Mudder and fodder
What is this game we are playing?

Bellicose beer-belled bad-*****
Bawdily belting down brewskies
Usually, boozily, bruisily beating
On weaker, sleeker funseekers
In the bar where they are, far
From anything like maturity
Hip hip hooray for unhip USA.

Ballyhooing big screen viewing
Myopic eyes watch others exercise
Freedom-hating grouch on a couch
Itching, *******; psoriasis and sloth
Unread armchair Brother of the Cloth.
One of the minions of opinions,
Hardened against morality, reality.
Saying it every day: USA, USA, USA!

Hating, bating, aggravating, skating
Right past solutions, conclusions
Preferring propaganda, ***** Miranda,
Stop mollycoddling, bottling up anger
Christ in the manger should be law
But they guffaw at reading The Book;
They took their religion from TV.
Freedom for me, not thee, in my USA.

Got mine, ***** yours, rights immune;
That tune don’t play here. No queers
No browns, yellows, Hindus or Jews.
I’ve got news you can use, I abuse
And oppress guys in a dress, yes!
Even if he’s white, it still ain’t right.
The Constitution is old, it just teases.
Mine is Republican Jesus for the USA.

A pigeon for old time religion and God
Everyone else is odd. I saw the movie.
It was groovy and pretty. Went to the city
Saw it in Imax, no blacks in the theater
Thanks to The Creator that gave us all
The intelligence to call things right.
Hip hip hooray for being lily white.
Hip hip hooray for the KKK USA.

I’m sure it has happened
To many other people before.
There comes a moment
A feeling one cannot ignore.
A want, a drive, an impulse
To have, to hold, to own
Something, someone or
A moment that is yours alone.

At a party, a face appeared
And our two eyes connected.
It seemed we were talking;
A dialogue was being erected.
A relationship of mere moments,
It seemed powerfully right.
And at just that one moment
Nothing could be more right.

We left the party immediately
And went to my place to see
If followers through with feeling
What just the right thing to be.
It was all a wonderful adventure.
I am sure we had no kind of fear.
It was an accident of timing,
One I would suffer for years.

Twice more and we were broken,
Never to be together again.
No thoughts about if ever
Not a question about when.
And after the last evening
I knew things had moved on.
When I looked into my wallet.
All of my money was gone.

All because of impatience
And not wanting to be alone
I let myself fall into a kind of
Rock and roll Twilight Zone.
Why didn’t I ask more questions?
Because in that single moment
I wanted a fantasy romance.
Nothing was more important.

It was months later I discovered
In a routine visit to my doctor
That I had contracted a disease
That would ruin my life forever.
They didn’t know what to call it
In those days before the name.
Those were the days before AIDS
And it’s horrific kind of sick fame.

And they had no way to treat it
So, most of us just quickly died.
We had no ability to resist it.
We had no resistance inside.
We lost all our friends and lovers
Because for one single moment
That one evening with a stranger,
Nothing was more important.

I fell into a frenzy of not caring,
Drugs and drink and debauchery.
I felt I had lost all hope in life
And lost all my chance at dignity.
Of course that made me sicker
My resistance went down further.
I no longer wanted to live like that
I was sick of my life altogether.

I am writing this to you, today
So you can share it with others.
Tell people that getting laid
Is not the same as a lover.
Point to me and advise them
We may have just one moment
For valuing ourselves as a person
Nothing must be more important.


(This is dedicated to many of my friends over the decades that suffered from *** and AIDS related issues.)

Waiting all winter here
For summer to arrive
So we can go on every ride;
So good to be alive.
No more cold weather
Summer’s here, so are we
From morning until night
Playing continuously.

Hershey bars, bumper cars
Popcorn and a coke.
Maybe the operator
Will go out for a smoke.
Leaving us up high again
Way up on the top
Making us wish this all
Will go on and never stop.

The Fun House is just that,
As is the Tunnel of Love,
And the parachute ride
Drops us from above.
The House of Mirrors
Shows who we are not
And distorts our views
Of the bodies we’ve got.

Hershey bars, bumper cars
Popcorn and a coke.
Maybe the operator
Will go out for a smoke.
But first stop it high again
With us up on the top
Making us wish this all
Will go on and never stop.

Throwing ***** at targets
Like famous baseball stars
Wins us some ugly toys
We take home in our car
For some goodnight kisses
And after a perfect day,
Wish as hard as we can
That it would never go away.

Hershey bars, bumper cars
Popcorn and a coke.
Maybe the operator
Will go out for a smoke.
Leaving us up high again
Way up on the top
Making us wish this all
Will go on and never stop.

You gossiped around
And you put him down
Since he wasn’t as rough
Was in no way as tough
As other guys were acting
You continued the trashing.
Bullying is always in fashion.
Alawys some wimp needs mashing.

His clothes were impeccable.
You found that despicable.
He kept himself neat and clean
You did with that something mean.
He was good at sport games
You reviled him just the same.
He got high grades in classes
Still you all acted like *****.

He won awards, your taunts tripled,
It couldn’t be worse if he was crippled.
We can see now his incipient fame;
You never let up with the ugly names.
An A student, who never did wrong
You let bullies lead you along,
Another poor schmo for you to dismember;
What do you suppose he will remember?

Will you suddenly call him friend
When school and the torture ends?
Will you go see his lectures and shows?
Isn’t that the way it always goes?
Suddenly the bullies are good guys?
And you think nobody ever catches wise?
Go on and hope that is how it goes.
He’s an elegant guy. So, who knows?

Yes, I am angry, *******,
******* and spitting
For people who annoy me
And really deserve hitting.
I rage against people who
Never did a thing to me
I want to jail some of them
And never let them free.

I’m angry because here I am
Getting older and I’m paying
For loafers and immigrants
Do you hear what I’m saying?
Trump said it right out loud
We pay more taxes than anyone.
So we can have a lady president?
Only fools would want that done!

Women and swishy guys
And bums in the streets.
You gotta be kidding me!
Wouldn’t that be sweet?
Taking all my money so they
Don’t ever have to work.
What are they thinking?
That I’m some kind of ****?

And here I am driving in
A ten year old automobile
When some welfare mom
Is driving brand-new wheels?
And now they’ve got colored folks
And gay shows on our TV.
That sounds like communism
And socialism to me.

So, yes, I am super mad
That only the GOP cares
Dems makes up lies and create
A bunch of libtard scares.
Our country seems worse to me
For the past ten years
And is busily pulling our great
Country down around our ears.

(I wrote this because I know
By first and last names
Acquaintances and family
Who preach this kind of shame.
They get their news from outlets
That are financed by the few
That give the gripers false issues
Then they do what they're told to do.)

I am autumn and you are spring
If any of this folderol even means a thing.
I’m a Virgo and you are an Aries sprite.
And somehow the combination fits just right.
If I chose tarot cards and you I Ching
That did not make the wedding bells ring.
Whatever the fates had in store for us two
Is exactly what we are dedicated to do.

You threw a coin into the Trevi fountain
We saw the future on a nearby mountain.
We knew we were matched together for life
Happy newlyweds, two husbands, no wife.
After six months asking important questions
We were sure this was the right proposition.
Some people warned us to take a full year
But we read the signs and they were very clear.

We saw or talked to each other every day
Diving into the words we heard the other say.
It was essential that we learned everything;
Who the other really was and would bring
To a lifetime relationship for two individuals
Determined to keep the relationship in the middle.
There seemed to be nothing there to reject;
We were both what we needed, imperfectly perfect.

We were equally determined to stay ourselves
And put the fairy tales on a childhood shelf
And not expect the other one to ever change.
Some people implied to us that idea was strange.
My friends saw traits in him they urged me to stop.
The same was true of him, but we were not cops.
Instead I cherished the person I saw as great.
He did the same so we did not need to wait.

Now, today, it’s twenty eight years of love
As if we had the blessings from above.
It’s like planets aligned and are blessing us
In some kind of personal Age of Aquarius.
We've had to climb over some gnarly spots
But we're more than happy with what we got.
We got a partnership, love that lasted a lifetime.
So, we wanted to share it with you in this rhyme.

It has been a year
Exactly one year to the day
When we decided to say
I do, again, forever, together.

And never a day goes by
That I don’t try to hold you
And tell you again how much
You mean, your voice, your touch.
The only things that matter
Are these smatterings of moments
Like hugs and kisses good morning
And the same at bedtime at night.
These things are right and the best
Better than all the rest in life
Worth any strife, any price,
Several steps beyond nice
They are what fuels my hopes
And my peaceful dreams.

It seems that sometimes quickly
There are tickly moments to bear
Like a bolt out of somewhere
That must be suffered through
But as I do, there are you
Smiling saying it will pass
And just that fast, it does.
What it was is then a memory
And no longer vexes me
Because what is important is us
And not a sorrow that once was.

So, here is yet another toast
To what matters most, you and I
Learning from what has gone by
And building toward a great future
That is the two of us together
And never a regret that we are
Who we are, not wishing on a star
But accepting and reveling
In what we have now
And happy with how
Things can work out for two
Like me and like you.

He’s got wrinkles instead of pimples,
That’s the way the story goes.
He’s outgrown growing
Except for his nose.
His memory works fine for things
That happened years ago
But what he ate yesterday
He doesn’t seem to know.

He used to sing and dance a bit
And now he just walks
For a couple of miles a day,
As he passes by folks
He stops and talks.
He catches up on how they are
And what is new with them.
But for what they said
His memory grows dim.

It’s not important to store the tales
They tell him of their lives
Of children’s accomplishments
And the health of their wives.
The important thing to him is more
To not be alone that day.
He passes time and smiles,
And enjoys life that way.

His hair has gone almost to white,
Without nearly as much pep,
His voice has gotten reedy
There’s a halt to his step.
But he has time for people and life
And he still writes his stories
That he tells to his friends
Who care to hear his glories.

An old man’s eyes
So much they have seen.
Actors and extras
In some memorable scenes.
Dim with time, perhaps
Yet they’re working still.
Seeing all the landscapes
But, from over the hill.

Happy young children
Playing with jackstraws,
Sliding down hills and
Riding on seesaws.
Growing up quickly
And thinking about cars
Becoming too busy
For looking up at stars.

An old man’s eyes
Saw the ages go by
Learning the lessons;
By unsuccessful tries.
Trying so hard to be
Just one of the guys
Growing old gracefully
And hopefully wise.

Singing songs of sixpence
Not knowing what it was
Echoing parent’s politics
Not understanding the cause.
Hearing about god-fearing
Never reading the book.
Not retaining a word said
In the courses we took.

An old man’s eyes
Can be fooled at times.
It doesn’t work out like
In old nursery rhymes.
The wolf gets the grandma
The houses blow down.
And beneath the old eyes
There was often a frown.

Going into the military, then
Looking but not really seeing,
Ignoring people without my luck
Selectively blind way of being.
Told there were people who were
Not part of the world we live.
Gathering mulberries while I could
Not having extra I could give.

An old man’s eyes
So much they have seen.
Actors and extras
In some memorable scenes.
Dimming with time, perhaps
But they are working still.
Seeing all the landscapes
But, from over the hill.

You’re doing it again
So get yourself prepared.
You’re moving into the future
So, do not be scared.
You’ll be a year older so
We’ll get out the old jokes.
You can take it because
It’s love from great folks.

We’ll sing the usual songs
And by all means have a cake.
Bring on your birthday cheer.
Let’s do whatever it takes.
Maybe go out dancing
And have a lot of smiles
Like it’s not the age the tires
It’s all about the miles.

And of course quips
About being over the hill.
Somebody always makes one
And it seems they always will.
But others will remind you
That you don’t look that old
As they check you for wrinkles,
And gray hair and mould.

Let’s have great good fun
And all at your expense
Because it’s traditional
And only makes good sense
We always make those jokes
When others had a birthday
So now it’s your turn as you’re
Having another birthday today.

Do you love me?
Yes, he lied,
And thus left
The door opened wide,
That soon left
Only lonely me inside.
Oh, I wanted him to stay
But regardless how I tried
He pushed me aside
And rushed outside
Free of my needs
As if out of the weeds
And into tomorrow,
Not a moment of sorrow
For my hopes or tears.
That had not worked for years.
He was completely free,
But not so with me.
I was left with what I feared most,
A love affair with an uncaring ghost.

Yes, begging is seedy
And I knew being needy
Was as making me unattractive
But my fear was active
And my lack of self-esteem
Made my tears seem to be
Righteous temptation,
Not abomination.
At least to me,
As far as I could see.
Not then.
Is wisdom ever given to men
When they need it most,
Like when in love with a ghost
Of my own desperate creating?
It’s probably not worth debating.

At the risk of being critical
You’re nothing but a criminal.
You take what you want
And even stop to flaunt
You thinking you are pretty
Makes you have no pity.
You take all personal pride
From how you look outside.

You’re as deep as a saucer
And before I go further
Let me lay this fact on you
Most of us are on to you.
We expect so little of you,
It makes it hard to love you.
There’s so little more to see
Than your superficiality.

To be sure your looks served
To attract me so I swerved
And ran along beside you
To learn what was inside you
But imagine my great surprise
To find nothing behind your eyes.
As far as I soon came to tell
It was like I was talking to a well.

But it is okay, cutie, it’s all fine
I’ll just move on down the line
And find someone with a soul;
A personality that is whole.
I will find a person who cares
About more than clothes and hair
You can move on and have fun
With some other image-oriented one.

Don’t bring your Bible
To convince me of your choice.
Pick another atheist.
Because this one came with a voice.
This one came with something
That I choose to call a mind.
I don’t like walking around
Intellectually deaf and blind.

Don’t bother telling me what a
Four thousand year old man said.
He either never really existed
Or he is many millennia dead.
I dig that you are reaching for
Some answers as to how and why
And you prefer the old tales
About a big dude in the sky.

But the second round of magic
About walking on water and things
Is far less exciting than tales of
Dragons trolls and magic rings
Since all of those wild yarns
Don’t claim to be true stories
And don’t ask us to blindly believe
And hope for only heavenly glory.

Many decades ago I stopped
Believing in superstitious twaddle.
In stead of some tasteless wafers
I much prefer a decent waffle.
If the contradictory book you sell
Is any clue as to lifelong serenity,
Half of what the preachers say
Is nothing but pure duplicity.

Don’t bother telling me what a
Four thousand year old man said.
He either never really existed
Or he is many millennia dead.
I dig that you are reaching for
Some answers as to how and why
And you prefer the old tales
About a big dude in the sky.

I want leaders who know how to lead.
I want people I can trust to be legal.
I want people who don’t sell off forests
And pull the feathers of the American eagle.
I want to hear from Presidents and those
Representatives who are not criminals.
I don’t want to see people get elected
With moral codes that are not despicable.

Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to feel
That our country still looks out for us
Instead of making us want to cry all day
And shout aloud and wail and cuss?

I want to know that I can go to sleep
And wake in the morning in a free nation
Where no laws have been changed that may
Legalize inequality, theft and alienation.
I want to see crooks, no matter how high
Go to prison and stay there for years
And not let them out, no matter why.

Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to feel
That our country still looks out for us
Instead of making us want to cry all day
And shout aloud and wail and cuss?

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if elected folks
Would be held responsible for lies they tell?
Wouldn’t you like to know for sure that
Even famous crooks and killers would go to hell
And spin on some deep level with the devil
With no chance to ever talk heir way out?
Yes, I’d love to see them fined and jailed,
But going to hell? That’s what I’m talking about!