I wake from sleep and I fear.
It’s like the years did not happen
And clapping my hands for light
Doesn’t dispel the long nights
When the fights still went on
And dawn didn’t erase the war
For the world is at it again
Men hating other men over skin
And ****** is no longer a sin
If it is done with flags waving.

The raving of insane rulers
Revelers in hate and genocide
Have again set aside the gods,
The ones they swear about
And shouted down all opposition
Taking the position it's fine to ****
And still claim the victims are godless
And the murderers are good.
Why don't they question any evil
That doesn’t cavil at hypocrisy
But jealously protects its power
And rains down hour after hour
Of lies and obvious obfuscations
To nations powerless to stop them?

Whims of evil men should be taken
As words to be shaken off, ignored
As if from bored, evil childish brats,
Not taking off of hats and bowing,
Plowing under civil rights like weeds
And laughing at the needs of the weak.
Speak up before it’s too late to deny
That kind of guy respectability!
We still have the ability, the right.
Fight so we don’t become **** Germany.
Don’t let that be our national destiny.

You’re a smack down
Kick-around, clueless clown
That tells unfunny jokes
And runs with the blokes
That put up with your antics
And your busted semantics
Because they think someday
Things might swing your way
And they can profit by association
With a human abomination
That enjoys investing atrocities
With scarifying velocity
On the halt and the lame;
Running opportunistic games
On those who cannot defend;
World without end, amen.

But heaven forfend
That you might have a friend
Who seems a holy prophet
But does not seek for profit
And acolytes to their cause;
A bogus Santa Claus
Who leeches from the people
In his church without a steeple,
Just microwave towers
Sprouting like ugly flowers
To spread out the message
So we can read every passage
That boil down to a sermon
To send money to this vermin
Your bund proclaims a messiah
When he is really a pariah
Nobody has yet recognized
He’s so well disguised.

But, be aware, polecat
Some know what your at
And what you are doing
I nothing more than accruing
That which you can bank.
You have nobody to thank
For the outcome you inherit
From the outcome you assume
When your calumnies bloom
Into the realities that appear
When the truth draws near
And tars and feathers you
And when your victims do
What they should have done along
Was reject your ways gone wrong
And found a rail lying around
To ride your **** out of town.

Are you still beating your babies?
Are you still punching your kid?
Are you still calling it discipline;
Not the worst thing you ever did?
Is it always a case of deserving
The punishment you mete out?
Where you teach them what is what;
Call them disgusting names and shout?

Break out the heavy leather belt
Go cut me a big switch
You kids are ******* me off
You’re giving me a big itch.
Bend yourself over here
Don’t run and make me catch you.
Remember this is all your fault.
You’re making me do this to you.

When you get in the mood to punish
Do dress in a special costume?
Does it have to take place in a woodshed
Or in some special kind of room?
Do you double up your fist and hit
Or do you have special equipment?
Does the physical treatment you hand out
Contribute to your fulfillment?

Break out the heavy leather belt
Go cut me a big switch
You kids are ******* me off
You’re giving me a big itch.
Bend yourself over here
Don't run and make me catch you.
Remember this is all your fault.
You’re making me do this to you.

In a world of deserving irony
You’d have to wear a disguise
So neighbors would know about you
And authorities could be made wise.
Then someone could call in specialists
To give some of what you give
And teach you eye-for-an-eye truth
About the way you live.

Break out the heavy leather belt
Go cut me a big switch
You kids are ******* me off
You’re giving me a big itch.
Bend yourself over here
Don't run and make me catch you.
Remember this is all your fault.
You’re making me do this to you.

Little Po’ Beep was fast asleep
When poverty came and found her;
She never quite saw
The Republican laws
Crash all her hopes around her.
The Beep's favorite daughter
Felt that she oughta
Be able to salvage a bit
Of the life she had
Before things went mad
And went reeling to hell from the hit.

Little Po’ Beep felt the cost was too steep
For taking a nap when she’s tired.
She truly believed
At least a few of the thieves
Needed to be indicted and fired.
She would gladly affect
A wring of the neck
Of the jerks in Washington who ground her
Like so much cheap meat
Starving dogs wouldn’t eat
No help from the dumb peers around her.

Little Po’ Beep wished she could learn
Some way she could turn
The slick words from Congress against them.
She’d take all their assets
And kick them where they sat
Then show them some tar and some feathers.
She’d set up a rail
Outside of the jail
And ride them from town in bad weather.

Regarding entitlement
What is really true?
Look at the contract;
What are you entitled to?
Who told you what,
When and where,
And why should anyone
Besides yourself care?

What are the terms of
This entitlement scheme?
Are they exactly as
Precise as they seem?
What was promised
That you feel cheated?
Is there an inheritance
That has not been treated?

Are you an heir or else
A member of royalty
And thus deserve to
Have absolute loyalty?
Are there lands and deeds
You feel are owed you
Or is it just that you feel
Everyone is below you?

It would help you and us
If you could narrow this down.
Do you feel you own everything
And everyone in around?
Do you feel we should bend
And bow as you pass
And that maybe we should
Kiss your noble ***?

A song of mad men, many bad men
Sung to sad men, to remind or warn
That trusting can be dangerous to you
Because, sometimes, Goliath gets shorn.
We have to pay attention to our heroes
If they are zeroes we can be misled
Thinking they were something good
With nothing good inside their heads.

It’s amazing how many villains exist
And are powerless to resist being bad;
Who’ll rob  you and cheat you, and love
To really enjoy the pain you have had.
They roam like packs of wolves prowl
And will tear you up if they only could.
So, it’s good to remain ever vigilant
And not be the baby lost in the wood.

They’ve taken over our government
Despite what the mad men have said
And with their total lack of sentiment
It’s like the night of the living dead.
The people who could stop it did not.
It happened quick, while we were asleep
Now we’re stuck with what they’ve brought
We fallen  from the top of the moral heap.

So this is a sad song, of what once was
And what it seems it’s soon to become.
Many citizens were rebels without a cause
And most of those were terminally dumb.
They believed change would be good
When we were doing especially well
Now those deluded heads of solid wood
Have created for us all a scary kind of hell.

I sang for you the summer songs
When days were long and warm.
I sang for you the autumn songs
In nights of rain and storms.
I sang you songs of patience when
The winter nights grew cold.
I sang for you when we were young
And now when we’ve grown old.

And now I sing to you of spring
And flowers bloom once again.
I sing of rebirth of the year
The same as I sang back then.
I sing the songs of loving you
And the fortune we have had.
I sing to you of happiness
So you will know I am glad.

Glad to be the lucky one
Who met you long ago
And certain that we have had
More luck than others know.
We’ve watched others break apart
And lose the love they knew.
They lost the gratitude it takes
To have a dream come true.

ATYPICAL GAY GUY

I am an atypical gay guy
I don’t match any mold.
I am not young any more
But not in any way old.
Too fem to be a he-man
Too butch to be a queen.
I am neither fish nor fowl
Always Mr. In-Between.

I do love my show tunes
And of course Miss Babs
And I do put a bit of product
In my hair, just a few dabs.
I don’t haunt the health clubs
Flexing on the big machines
Trying to bring to vapors
Our local workout queens.

I do like to cook a little bit
But, my house is usually a mess.
I don’t like angora sweaters
And would never wear a dress.
You couldn’t really peg me
By the way I usually walk.
I don’t lisp or squeal, so
It’s a manly way I talk.

I do cruise quite normally
When hot guys walk by me.
But, I try my best to do so
Undetected, and slyly.
My taste in men does not
Run to muscled guys.
When I see someone pass
I first look at his eyes.

It’s hard to get me into bed,
I am really rather choosy.
I don’t do promiscuity,
Not a backdoor loosey-goosey.
So don’t go giving birthday gifts
Of dildoes and leather goods.
You won’t find me in costumes
Like rubber and leather hoods.


I am an atypical gay guy
I don’t match any mold.
I am not young any more
But not in any way old.
Too fem to be a he-man
Too butch to be a queen.
I am neither fish nor fowl
Always Mr. In-Between.

Brent Kincaid
1/27/2015

Our beloved Aunt Bertha.
She didn’t see pixies and elves
She saw ******* and jerks
With no obvious perqs!
That's the breaks of being someone
That, all by themselves,
Can have arguments and fights
And even though it wasn’t right
That is who she was, unique;
Immune to other people’s pique,
Surrounded by unseen creeps.

But she loved us kids, she did.
And found us when we hid
And cooked cakes and pies.
The love in her eyes spoke clearly
And nearly bowled me over
Because it was not deluded.
Yes, her quirks intruded on us
But we let her cuss and rail
At invisible fools. Those the rules.
She couldn’t help herself a bit
And that was the end of it.

So, we listened covertly
And overtly smiled at her a lot
Knowing what we had got
Was the dotty aunt they put
In the attic in the old days
In less loving times and ways.
But we loved her and wanted
A place not haunted by wardens,
And nasty nurses robbing purses,
Where she could live her life.

She liked to sing and dance
And every time I got the chance
I danced with her, as thin as a zipper
I guided this middled aged aunt
And when she started to pant
We changed the music to slow
And right back she would go.
She sang the tunes from the war
And more from movies and shows.
Can anyone know how great it is
To share with someone impaired
And know the gift you have shared?

Auntie Ellen was already crazy
The day her brother moved her in.
She was not my relation but
Everyone addressed her like kin.
She was Auntie to everyone
And she got rather hollersome
If you didn’t call her that way;
She’d shout until kingdom come.

Rumor had it she met a fellow
When she did factory work.
He led her on and dumped her.
He was that kind of a ****.
Something snapped inside her
And she was never the same.
About that time, she started in
Telling people her choice of name.

She lived down the block, alone
And you could hear the music playing.
She’d wave when I passed her home;
I couldn’t hear what she was saying.
One time I started to walk closer
So I could hear the words she said
But she got very angry all at once
And chucked a dirt clod at my head.

We all felt sorry for Auntie Ellen
And didn’t think she was a threat.
The occasional dirt clod was not
Something any of us would sweat.
Her brother came around at times
To see how Auntie Ellen was faring.
I don’t think anyone ever understood
Her words to know if she was swearing.

She was sort of our neighborhood’s
Crazy person we kept in the attic.
She looked strange and sounded worse
And her behavior was quite erratic.
But she never harmed anyone here
And her dirt chucking always missed.
So, we just remembered her as
Auntie Ellen who was usually ******.

Stocked up, locked up
In my sanctum *******.
Got *** and cigs and cheap wine;
For me that makes a quorum.
I hope no friend comes by
Acting all hale and hearty.
They're not inside a moment
Then they call up Dial A Party.

Then suddenly my place
Plays host to all the bums
Who have nothing else
But the strength to come
And just sit on my couch
And then eat up all my food
Drink all of my *****
While slurring words like “Dude!”

Now, I'm not anti-social
But I am not Donald Trump
Who has plenty of cash
To entertain these humps.
If they only brought something;
A six-pack or some ****
I'd find an excuse for them;
Some lame reason or need.

So, these days I read
And keep the stereo off.
I don't turn on the lights.
Hell, I don't even cough.
I hide out in the bedroom
Just me and Sam *****,
Seriously reconsidering
The kind of friends I've made.

My car won’t work,
I’m totally *******!
It’s acting totally rude;
Imbued with a bad attitude.
Like a metal horse
That needs to be shoed
It’s behavior is almost lewd
Waiting around for a rich guy
To come and be the dude
I checked to see if the problem is
Lack of water or life-giving crude,
Oil that is, Texas tea.
It’s silly to expect wealth of me
Always broke, an automotive joke.

All I can do is sit and croak
Like the frog on a log spoke
And since my car chose to croak
I gave my mechanic a poke.
He decided my wallet was too full.
Now I’m in the thrall of a lull
With too much idle time to ****.
I’ll pay the bill, I know I will,
But still, this whole thing is a pill.
It’s not that I hate holding still,
It’s just that I have so few frills
And this is financially uphill.
I will make it work somehow
But for now, it’s back to the plow
That I’ll pull but don’t know how.
A result of the here and the now.

I may just be whining, not sure
But I see no ready-made cure
For now my sense of loss is pure
And there may be no sinecure.
I just have to grin and endure.
I walk and I wait and I cuss
Waiting for the ever-late bus
To ride with other unfortunates.
At least I’m not on a date
And being embarrassed to state
The case of my pauperish state.
Really, none of this is great.

AWESOME

Excited about our vacation
We knew it was going to cost some
But since it was to Hawaii
We were sure it would be awesome.

We went whale watching
And guess what, we saw some.
They were leaping up high
Out of the water, it was awesome.

The captain shared his tobacco.
I had always wanted to chaw some.
I hated the taste, but he didn’t.
He really believed it was awesome.

We went through a garden
And looked at each blossom.
They were beautiful to see
The colors were pretty awesome.

And the hospitality staff too,
We didn’t even have to boss ‘em.
They anticipated our wishes
They were all totally awesome.

We ended the trip with snacks
And we couldn’t wait to go nosh ‘em.
They call snacks pupus in Hawaii.
What can I say? Sort of awesome!

Brent Kincaid
4/6/2015

You didn’t notice
Because
You didn’t know us.
You were above us
Because
You didn’t love us.
You found us boring
So you were ignoring
As we suffered neglect
But yet
You demanded respect.
That we couldn’t detect
The love you didn’t reflect
Because
To you we were pains
All the proof that remained
When no profit was gained
Yet you moan about paying
Because
We're all still staying
Here around the family
Where there are no homilies
That save you from indignities
From being constantly haunted
By children you never wanted.

I know you tried to tell me
That he didn’t really love me;
That it was all a figment
Of my mind.
You said you had to tell me
You were only being friendly
That you were really only
Being kind.

I can do without the drama
Go gossip with your Mama.
Maybe she will like to hear
What you invent.
I guess you’re really jealous of
The love we have between us.
It’s the logical to think that’s what
You meant.

Since you don’t really know us
Just because you’re feeling jealous
You didn’t think we’d feel this way
For reals.
But we know what we are doing
And ignore your double-dealing
And we even feel sorry for how
You feel.

We both wish you will have someday
The love like we have found together
And get over wishing others
Will be sad.
Love is something beautiful
And not something to cry about.
And we know when you find it
You’ll be glad.

Sorry, dude. I must admit
I find it more than pathetic
That you experience life
With sorrow about some of it
That you don’t have a drug
To take to help appreciate
Something that is amazing
And really needs no chemical
To help you exaggerate
What is really going on
And pretend it is better
Or somehow transcendent
As if water can be wetter.

But it is as if time warped
And I have gone backward
To talk to myself about it
And then zapped forward
To see what a saturate
What a wet-brained fool
I was back then, it’s true.
I was a tin-plated tool.
I measured my existence
One dime bag at a time
Giggling with stoner friends
About my forays into crime;
Selling backs of skunk ****
When nobody else had any
Good stuff or bad stuff.
And I was the one with plenty.

Walking through Hollywood
With stoner friends and flakes
Singing as we stumbled along
About life and what it takes
To satisfy *** hounds those days.
***, drugs and rock and roll
And pride in our half-witted ways.
Learning how to roll pinners
Of a buddy’s stash on the sly
While he was taking a whizz
And couldn’t ask me why.
Learning how to properly treat
The remaining sticks and stones
And confiscating the roaches
When the others left them alone.

That was the cannabis coalition
The Sativa Society at its height.
We worked in the daytime and
Got ******* most every night.
And sooner or later, on the job
In the bathroom or on the roof.
I didn’t think of it addiction.
I still needed further proof.
I needed to try to buy ****
From a government man I met.
Fortunately I bailed on that
Before adding one more big regret.
Life has gotten better since then
No more outside dependence.
I quit before the drugs became
The entire focus of my existence.

I know I am a bad kid,
Things I did were awful
So I deserve every slap,
Every punch, every insult
Like “little *******” and
Sonofabitch. Everything.
Call me what I am as I
Have been appallingly bad
As a child, as an offspring,
An embarrassment to you.

Show me that ugly face
Of disappointment and hate
Because I was never a great
Reflection of your love,
Of your concern, your care.
After all, you feed me
You give me clothes and bed
And let me go to school.
I am a worthless fool.

I don’t deserve more,
And now, every smile hurts;
Not just desserts for crimes
Ones I committed all the time
Every day I now understand
Why your hand hit my jaw,
Slapped my face so often
I’m a disgrace, a shame
I don’t deserve your name
Or for you to look at me.

After all, look at me.
I’m horribly fat, look!
Those disgusting bulges
in my lower backside.
I disgust myself, completely
I look at myself and heave.
I wish I could leave and go,
Find someplace else
Where I can’t see myself.
So nobody else has to.

I can’t take back the wet beds
The expense you always said
Was too much, the touch
I craved back when I was young
The breath in even my lungs
Offending because I am bad.
I am a sad example of kids
And should be hid somewhere
So you never have to spare
Another moment on a bad kid.

I pity anyone visiting us with
A language besides English;
Who tries to understand the words
We like to use with relish.
We seem to say so many words
Just to keep our lips busy.
It occurs to me the so much of it
Has never graced a dictionary.

Upscaling, downsizing
Offloading the whole magilla
The whole nine yards, bottom liine
The big honcho, the whole enchilada
I was completely plussed and then
I had my self a hissy fit
I didn't know I had a flabber,
'Til someone went and gasted it.

Hanging out, kicking back
Into myself and whatever
***** it, man. I am like, wow.
And y'know, yodda yodda yodda.
Some mean kinda fudpucker
Betcher bippees, yabba dabba doo.
Mazoomas and headlights,
Totally hyped megabitch, too.

Talkin' about 'sup bro
Stufflike windas and winders.
Jammin and gittin widdit
And sumpinbout pillas and pillers.
So, I goes and he goes,
And I'm all jazzed and by golly.
It really rocks, rad to the max
Get down to some serious party.

Sixes an sevens, p's and q's
What's your point? Get real!
It's pretty much a ******
So, what's the big deal?
Too much, I mean it's tough,
And stuff, and really far out, man.
Twenty three skiddo old bean.
Just a flash in the pan.
It *****. It blows, It bites, big time
A wicked righteous mindfuck.
Get jiggy with it. Kiss my crank;
Slob my ****, Lord Love-a-duck.

When I was a little kid
My friends and I would play
At cowboys and Indians
In the barn with forts of hay.
We crafted guns from sticks
We found about the farm
And though we shot each other
We managed to come to no harm.

Bang, bang, bang! I got you!
No you didn’t, you missed!
The bullet whizzed by me!
You can’t see me in the mist!

Of course, if we were Indians
The same rules held true there.
You never managed to **** us
We never took your hair.
But, we knew we were villains
Because cowboys were king.
We didn’t even question it.
It was that sort of thing.

Bang, bang, bang. I got you!
Cowboys don’t ever cry.
We twist and dodge you redskins
So, don’t even bother to try.

Holding invisible reins, we rode
On our noble painted steeds.
We pretended it was the old West
Here in our playground of weeds.
Some of us had play weapons
Santa had brought to the lucky
But forcing improvisation only
Made us a lot more plucky.

Bang, bang, bang. I shot you.
You ***** lowdown rustler.
Oh, we thought of every dodge.
What young, clever hustlers.

Oh, my god! Barbra is in town.
My family bought me tickets
And it knocked me on the ground.
I laughed and cried, my eyes went wide
I called my friends, and again I cried.
I’ve tried for years, but never had the dough
This time the dream came true, I get to go.

I know I’m acting like a kid, I don’t care
She’s coming here and I will be there.
I’ll buy a shirt and a program if they sell
I have money saved, so what the hell?
I’m going to be sitting in the same place
With her and that famous voice and face.
It’s not like she’ll be singing just to me,
But that won’t shut me up, just wait and see.

Barbra is coming to town!
No, I’m not messing around
Trust me when I say, it’s true.
She’s coming to sing to you
But, to me too, I can’t believe it!
And I can’t wait to sit and see it.

I know I’ll scream and holler like a loon
The moment she walks out, and it’s soon,
I won’t swoon, but I’ll probably cry again.
I’m sure there will be many other men
Who also find themselves tearing up too.
At her concerts, it’s a thing some of us do.
Unashamed, in front of everybody
We, laugh and clap our hands ******.
Laughing and hugging all around
Because Barbra Streisand is in town!

So, just pretend it’s a championship game
And all of us fans got dressed up and came
To root and holler for our favorite team
But well be applauding the ruling queen,
The star of stage and screen, and pop.
She’s the best and we’ll never stop.
For some of us, it’s a lifelong dream,
We don’t care how silly we may seem.
I doesn’t matter how old we all are
For decades she’s been the greatest star.

Barbra is coming to town!
No, I’m not messing around
Trust me when I say, it’s true.
She’s coming to sing to you
But, to me too, I can’t believe it!
And I can’t wait to sit and see it.

His head and his body were
Bald as an egg for all to see.
His parents named him Harry
But he did not turn out to be.
As an antonymic masterpiece
His name is rife with humor
But in poor Harry’s opinion
It was taken as a social tumor.

Every joke that would be said,
No matter how crass was made
At work, at play by everyone
Beginning in the seventh grade
When his baby fine blond hair
Began to hide on back of head.
It hurt his feelings to frequently hear
The things his peers all said.

By the time he reached maturity
He learned to accept his fate;
Everyday friends could not resist
Making light of his name and pate!
While it’s human nature all of this
It’s a constantly rather bitter pill,
And though he learned to smile
It kind of hurts his feelings still.

Bare Harry, bald as a shaved baby.
Plenty of tacky hairless jokes to spare
Shouldn’t we cut him some slack maybe
And focus on something besides his hair
Or the obvious lack thereof on his head
And point out his forgiving personality?
But sadly, that is just not the way
Of the reality of the world’s humanity.

Brent Kincaid
4/29/2019

We battled for our freedom
What a shame to lose it now.
We need to fight again.
Make some swords out of our ploughs.
The enemy is within us
Look around, you’ll see them now.
Don’t let the crazies win!

Glory doesn’t come so easy.
Politicians can be ******.
*****, Grumpy Doc and Sneezy
Are brighter than our Congress.

Equal rights and freedom
Were the watchwords at the time
The founding fathers met
And made the opposite a crime.
Then rich men came along
And showed us how to act like slime.
Don’t let those criminals win!

Glory doesn’t come so easy.
Politicians like things ******.
Washington is getting wheezy
When corporations cheat!

They take away your rights
And make sure your vote will never count.
And say they are agreeing
With a bunch of no-accounts.
They’ll wait ‘til you’re not looking
And then legally they’ll pounce.
We’re **** near on the brink!

Glory be to God almighty.
There’s no time for being flighty.
They’ll leave us nothing but our nighties!
It’s closer than you think!

Hundreds of years have gone by
Since some guys in America
Wrote down some words, then gathered
In armed hordes; resisting, insisting  
On the rights of common liberty.
These centuries later, greater men and women
Have fought for our freedoms;
Written documents and laws
But still I am not free.

Life is still without certain kinds of liberty.
I am still stopped from being what I want to be.
I am still commanded,
It is still demanded
That I ignore the concepts we defended,
The ideas our founders intended.
Instead I am ordered to comply
With a religion that I do not worship.
I am not of their fellowship, no matter how many
So, accused of calumny, I am harassed,
Forces amassed so I finally am denied
The very freedoms inside our constitution.
Intuition alone should dissuade them,
Those ignorers of truth, but they oppress.

They chose to forget the mess this country created
When the land and courts defended
And supported the enslaving of humans.
Is this so different in a land dedicated  
To keep government and religion separated
Is it so noble to allow this social elitism;
The strong voices of the wealthy  
Tell our society what they can do with their bodies?

I found seashells and driftwood,
Cans and bottles and much more
Like diapers and picnic stuff
While walking along the shore.
I found cigarette butts and bags
And those horrendous soda holders
That catch on sea life and twist them
In their middle or at their shoulder.

I saw palm trees and jacaranda
Waving in the balmy breeze
And broken plastic lawn chairs
Leaning against the lovely trees.
I found six-packer carriers sitting
With all the beer bottles inside.
I saw pieces of bicycles and big batteries
And I swear I almost sat and cried.

But I had too much to do right then
Gathering up all that random junk.
I carried them to a ******* bin
And I threw it all in, kerthunk!
I wondered for the hundredth time
The parents these creeps had
That let them grow so ill behaved,
And so embarrassingly bad.

What kind of selfish brat can come
And look out on this lovely scene
And throw their ******* all around?
How can they be so mean?
It makes me hope for recompense;
That what goes around come again
And we can stash these human pigs
Into an appropriate kind of pen.

If every black person disappears
you will not be any richer.
If every Jew disappears from the country
you will not be any smarter.
If everyone brown person disappears
you will not lI’ve any longer.
If every yellow person disappears
you will not be any holier.

It wasn’t righteous then,
it isn’t now.

I like to wear tiny shorts
On my big fat ****.
And little tiny tops to make
My ***** look big.
But if I catch you staring at me
And ogling my *******
I’ll suddenly get all proper on you
And call you a pig.

Beauty’s in the eye of the beholder
I run with a very different pack.
So don’t come crying on my shoulder.
I’ll tell you to step your *** back.

I love my hair bleached orange
With lots of dark roots.
I keep it long, and badly cut
Then wear a pony tail.
I walk like a linebacker
On the scrimmage line.
I think I look extremely cool
Like I just got out of jail.

Beauty’s in the eye of the beholder
I run with a very different pack.
So don’t come crying on my shoulder.
I’ll tell you to step your *** back.

If I wear a hat it is a stocking cap
And some boots I stole from a boy.
It all goes well with raccoon eyes;
The makeup makes it work.
I am so **** hot that I am sizzling.
If you object you are jealous.
So, I ignore your comments and sneers.
You must be a bunch of jerks.

Beauty’s in the eye of the beholder
I run with a very different pack.
So don’t come crying on my shoulder.
I’ll tell you to step your *** back.

Watching black and white flicks
From nineteen thirty four
With overacting stars and
Rinky-tinky scores;
Heroines with painted lips
To make them twice their size
And everyone with black liner
Smeared around their eyes.

Those were the big old movies
After school in the afternoon.
There were even snappy teasers
That told us ‘coming soon”
But television was free to us
And movie shows expensive
So, my backlog memories became
Inclusive and extensive.

I still can name most of the stars
And even say the name of the flick
And name some supporting actors
And I can do it super quick.
Because that was the entertainment
In a family with no movie budget.
If a movie came on I hadn't seen,
You can be sure I would watch it.

Later TV went to color shows
And it truly made my life great.
I’d see a favorite was coming on
Like Wizard of Oz, I couldn’t wait
To see it in color! Well, at least
Once Judy and the house landed.
It was enchantment for sure
No matter how heavy handed.

But for a decade or more, I watched
And was perfectly content to see
And not have a clue about their hair
Or color that their eyes  might be.
For happy in a black and white world
Pleased the young, unspoiled me.
After all, those fabulous stars
Were there for greedy young me!

The white man was silly
He tried to buy the hill;
He thought it had gold
Like the superstition of old.
He said a Navajo chief
Had sold him a map.
So, then we told him
The map was crap.

Well, he laughed and then
He gave his knee a slap
And continued believing
He had a treasure map.
He bought some equipment,
About the price of his car,
But he hasn’t found anything
Like gold or silver so far.

Oh, hell yeah, we let him,
Once he ignored our advice.
After all we live here and
We were trying to be nice.
So, the guy from the city
Went to where it said dig
And set himself up a tent
And some kind of a rig.

He worked all day each day
And every day of the week
Knowing he was on the path
Of finding what he should seek;
That half-baked idea of his
Of getting filthy rich really quick.
And us telling him he was taken?
He wouldn’t let that idea stick.

So, we didn’t laugh later
When he came back into town
And sold his gear at half price.
We didn’t call him a big clown.
We treated him as if he were nuts
Or high on some bad marijuana.
And that’s why we call that hill
By the rude name of Belegana.

I like to play with your belly button
'Cause it makes me giggle and laugh
I'll let you play with my bellybutton
I bet it makes you giggle and laugh
Exactly as it does with me
It makes me laugh hysterically
I know it might seem rather silly
But I love to do it *****-nilly.

Sometimes I like to blow on your belly
And make that almost obscene sound
It's worth it to hear you laugh, really
Then both of us roll around on the ground.
We laugh and play like a couple of kids
And make no excuses for silly things we did.
Others make love your way and we ours.
We tickle and blubber on each other
And have our kind of fun for hours.

I really like the way you wrinkle your nose
It makes me laugh hard and not for nothing
It tickles me a lot that you wiggle your toes
When you let me play with your belly button.
I'm very happy to be able to testify
Some things in life are meant just for fun.
Belly button tomfoolery, I promise
Is one of the very best kinds of fun.

Wimps, whiners and data miners.
All gathered here together.
Crooks, embezzlers and free ***** guzzlers
And hookers dressed in leather.
Lying, cheating and some **** beating
And even some ****** games.
Walls at borders and restraining orders
And finding others to blame.


Cheaters, beaters and lying pig-men
Trying their best to succeed
In the race for worst ******* of them all.
One more ripoff is all they need.
Blaming, shaming and gerrymandering
Doing their best to become
Millionaires, billionaires, zillionaires
Ruling absolutely over the dumb.

Mewling, puking and crying out loud
Losing stolen funds they invested.
Society defeafened from applause and hurrahs
When the lot of them are arrested.
Ripping, tearing their thousand dollar suits;
Begging their thousand year old God.
They’re the twenty first century Washington batch
Of Wynken, Blynken and Nod.

I sit here and look at the sea
Just about a half mile from me.
This boy born next to Kansas
Never knew what an ocean was.

As soon as I saw it in front of me
I was moved by the peaceful sea
As wide as my eyes could see
And thought of the word ‘serenity’.

All my problems, worldly concerns
Were pieces of foolscap I could burn,
Multicolor ashes I would soon learn
Would blow away in own their turn.

So here am I now, moved away
From the world of my young day,
Nearer to the end as they way.
This is where I choose to stay.

It took decades from now to then
To live by the sea, beach and wind.
I feel grateful for the world I’m in.
An amazing place for my tale to end.

So, I’m going to stay right here,
In this very comfortable year,
Without worry or the old fears.
Gazing at the sea, it’s right here.

This boy born next to Kansas
Never knew what an ocean was.
I sit here and look at the sea
Just about a half mile from me.

You’re turning me on, now.
I don’t know what to do with it
If you’re not going through with it.
Now that I am burning up
You know that I’m really not
Confused about you being hot.

I am burning here inside
There is nothing I can do
The cure for my condition
Is completely up to you.
I’m burning, I’m turning
Into a shivering being.
And you are the reason
For visions I am seeing.

I’m smoking and I’m choking
From the smoke you are emitting.
A night I won’t soon be forgetting.
My ego is getting a stroking.
It’s like an internal bell is sounding
It’s only my heart that is pounding.

I am burning here inside
There is nothing I can do
The cure for my condition
Is completely up to you.
I’m burning, I’m turning
Into a shivering being.
And you are the reason
For visions I am seeing.

No doctor can ever help me
The cause for it all is you.
You are the only thing possible
To fix what I’m going through.
I’m stumbling and mumbling
I’m stammering and stuttering.
I am experiencing the feeling
Of an ecstatic kind of suffering.

I am burning here inside
There is nothing I can do
The cure for my condition
Is completely up to you.
I’m burning, I’m turning
Into a shivering being.
And you are the reason
For visions I am seeing.

You talk about agape
And leave me agape.
Really Beulah
Go peel me a grape.
At least you’d be useful
Because now you are not.
A bunch of superstitions
That is all you have got.

A badly written compendium
Of fairy tales for adults.
The kind of book of spells
A witch might consult.
Gobbledygook and folderol
All except the dead cats.
This kind of mumbo jumbo
Tells us exactly where you’re at.

If you came to me and said
I really dig Carlos Castaneda
And I want you to live by him
And his rules, I’d say, “Later!”
The same would be true if
You told me to dance in skin
Under the light of the moon
In the direction: widdershins.

If you came to me with a rock
And said the thing was breathing
You might as well claim it a baby
And tell me the rock is teething.
If you tell me waving your hands
Makes my bad mood go away
I might, out of pure courtesy
Not have that much to say.

But if you tell me I must talk
To infantile pieces of stone
And wave my hands at you
I’ll tell you to leave me alone.
The same thing goes for folks
That read misquoted old books
And when I say I don’t believe
They shoot me evil looks.

Be what you are!
Be a moving picture star
if you want to take it that far.
Drive a huge fancy foreign car.
Or write a great book
All about the chances you took.
Sit beside a picturesque brook
And immortalize how the trees shook.

Go on and tell!
Say who you are as well.
Don’t wait for the final bell
You won’t get to hear the knell.
Chose the right words.
Set them and you free as a bird.
Make people know what they heard.
Create awe with what has occurred.

Maybe you can paint.
And let people see what ain’t
Or the halo of a beloved saint.
Maybe just to trigger critical complaint.
Or maybe you carve things
Complicated stuff like angel wings.
Carve so you feel the joy that it brings;
To stir the inner soul with wonderings.

Be what you are.
Even if people stare at a scar
Or run away as fast and as far.
Those shallow folk will end up in a bar.
Or maybe you stammer
When something makes you stutter
And people laugh at every word you utter.
What you are made of is so much better.

BIG BUT…

I’m a tolerant type of person
So, I try to look at others leniently.
(But...)
You sent the fox to guard the hen house,
That kind of thinking doesn’t makes no sense to me.
I don’t know why you took the stance
That this was such a clever thing to do.
(But…)
Then with all the chickens gone
You tried hard to blame everyone but you.

You got to look out for that big but.
It gets in the way of so much you say.
You always seem to show that big but.
It’s gonna bit you in the end someday.

Your peers have chosen to trust in you.
They sent you to work to represent their case.
(But…)
You took it as a treasure chest
And ran amok, and now you are off base.
Your corruption is nearly absolute
You job is to care what the people think
(But…)
You lost touch with what you are
Right now you don’t know just how much you stink.

You got to look out for that big but.
It gets in the way of so much you say.
You always seem to show that big but.
It’s gonna bite you in the end someday.

Big Donald Stuckup
Always such a **** up
When it comes to limelight
He’s totally a **** up.
Big Donald Stuckup
Wants everything his way.
Claims he’s a slim youth
He can’t tell the truth.

Big Donald Stuckup
As honest as his hair
Likes other people’s money
Doesn’t like to share.
Big Donald Stuckup
Can’t keep his mouth shut.
Goes on Twitter frequently
Babbles incoherently.

Big Donald Stuckup
He doesn’t understand
If you think lying is fun
Soon you’ll run off everyone.
Big Donald Stuckup
Has no class at all.
He thinks his golden *****
Make him look less shoddy.

All the words you say should be listed as a crime
You can't seem to think and talk at the same time.
You babble like a brook after a horrendous flood
And look like an aging cow chewing her cud.
Somebody should have slapped a muzzle on you
Slapped your big **** a time or two.
If lying cost you money, it would be a great joke.
We'd all feel better and you would be broke.

You're a big fat liar,
Seldom speak the truth!
You're a total spoiled brat
Have been  since your youth.
You've got a lousy rememberer
But a very strong forgetter.
You will always tell the lie
When the truth might fit you better.

If words made things happen
You might have a chance to be
The big shot you think you are
Instead of the reality.
You're a tinhorn snakeoil salesman
Like they had in olden days.
You long ago discovered that
Lying far too often pays.

You owe all your successes
To the fact that people trust.
They see a man in a costly suit
And they let him go for bust.
But, bust almost always
Means for anyone but you.
You only ever make a dime
If too many of us are coocoo.

You're a big fat liar,
Seldom speak the truth!
You're a total spoiled brat
Have been  since your youth.
You've got a lousy rememberer
But a very strong forgetter.
You will always tell the lie
When the truth might fit you better.

You can’t afford to worship here
Our Jesus is not your kind of god.
Don’t bother to kneel or get comfy.
You are not worthy. You’re just odd.

You offend good people to worship here.
We don’t allow your kind in our place.
We have rules about parishioners
Of ****** preference, politics and race.

There are many ways to live decently
But they just apply to a special few.
It doesn’t refer to Middle East bloodlines,
Like Muslims, Arabs and even Jews.

You are too dark for voting here.
Too many of you vote Democrat.
Republican supremacists and bigots
That’s where the real America is at.

After all, God has told us all
To treat each other as brothers.
It doesn’t say anything about
Being nice to those ******* mothers.

We don’t have to appreciate those
Who don’t follow the American way.
They commit a sin if they happen to be
Dark, Democrat, non-Christian or gay.

So, hold up your head Supremacists;
We are here and have your back.
Our new President agrees and understands,
And will take our Caucasian country back.

I was raised by a pack of fools
Who proclaim Caucasians are the best.
And are glad to fight, at the drop of a hint
To put the whole matter to the test.
They have an entire joke routine
And descriptive names they repeat
In minimizing and insisting that
Their right to decent treatment isn’t real.

There are references to some animals
And unfunny comments about color.
The statements about characteristics
Of body and features always go together
With a special set of gross anecdotes
To cover any kind of non-Christian belief.
And the refusal to consider equality
As a decent attitude stands in bright relief.

Beneath all this horror, not very deep,
Lies a sickening river of hate and fear
That fails to improve as education is
Rejected year after disgusting year.
Pointing out the error of their ways
Might earn you a punch in the eye
But the bigot hangs on to their rage
And never gives fellowship a try.

The American Bigot claims to be
A staunch Christian all the way through
Which forces them to hate and cheat
And lie as much as Jesus would do.
Of course, we know that Jesus was
A preacher of love and acceptance
But it seems that bigots never quite
Made that Jesus’ acquaintance.

So, here we can see we need to add
Some terms to this kind of individual
Whose relationship to peace and love
Is at best slight, scant and residual.
We also need to append to their titles
Of masters of anger fear and prejudice
The unhealthy pallor of indecency,
Dishonesty, inhumanity and cowardice.

If:

There were no people of color, they'd pick on redheads.

If there were no redheads they would pick on people with glasses.

If there were no people with glasses they’d pick on fat people.

If there were no fat people, they’d pick on welfare recipients.

If there were no welfare recipients, they’d pick on non-Christians.

If there are no non-Christians around,  they'll pick on Catholics.

If there are no Catholics around they'll pic on Christians from any denomination except theirs.  

If there are none of those around, they'll pick on college graduates.

Obladee, obladah, yeah! Yadda yeah, the list goes on...

(The same thing applies with Non-Christian bigots. Just change a word here and there.)

Bigots are bigots
No matter what the name
The underhanded tactics
Are all just the same.
They are heartless and evil.
That’s the name of their game.
They are social criminals and
Look for someone else to blame.

Fame is a kind of addiction.
It can be a lethal condition
If taken with no restriction
Real life succumbs to fiction.

Elvis took too much stuff.
Janis fell for too much guff.
Jimi didn’t quit soon enough.
Morrison had to act tough.

It was all about being a star
Instead of being what you are.
Life is not a big expensive car
It’s what you have done so far.

Becoming a famous insufferable,
And ordinarily unapproachable,
Can make behavior intolerable
Rendering you reprehensible.

They turned away with a shrug
Went back to a favorite drug
Left a dead body for others to lug;
Their fame swept under a rug.

The pretty face won’t protect you
No matter how often they inject you.
In time your fans will neglect you
But the coroner won’t reject you.

The star insures that his crew,
Let him do what he wants to do.
Refuse him and you’re through
The star has no use for what’s true.

I want to find those liars
That call themselves statesmen
And smack their faces
And take by the country’s *****
Because they have stolen
The innocence of every one of us
And pushed us off a cliff
In their ******* conservative bus.

Tap, tap, slap, slap
Kick them in the ****.
Tap them, slap them
I will tell you what.
Beat them, cheat them
Show them how it feels.
Bounce them, trounce them
Knock them off their wheels.

It’s the work of the devil
To behave the way they do.
Doesn’t seem to be an end
To the crap they put us through.
They are minions of evil
Paid to make our lives worse.
I would push the magic button
And make it happen in reverse.

Tap, tap, slap, slap
Kick them in the ****.
Tap them, slap them
I will tell you what.
Beat them, cheat them
Show them how it feels.
Bounce them, trounce them
Knock them off their wheels.

There is something wrong
That they outgrew any conscience.
They point the finger at gays
But really, they are the deviants.
They re-wrote the holy books
So they come out the winner
And the rest of our country
Ends up as the dog’s dinner.

Tap, tap, slap, slap
Kick them in the ****.
Tap them, slap them
I will tell you what.
Beat them, cheat them
Show them how it feels.
Bounce them, trounce them
Knock them off their wheels.

The most pleasant of presents
Isn’t on a table.
Is the bountiful presence
Of the birthday angel.

The birthday angel
Has been here
And brought you the gift
Of yet another year.
Let’s hope it leaves you smiling
From ear to wonderful ear
Because your birthday
Is right now, right here.

It’s not something sold
In any kind of store
But you will know immediately
What this gift is for.
It is to help you make it through
Three hundred some days.
And to enjoy your life
In over three hundred ways.

It’s to help you count blessings
And to pull all the weeds.
To give your life garden
All the care and love it needs;
So that when next year comes
You’ll have done all you were able
With the gift you were given
By last year’s birthday angel.

There are many birthday angels
They are all around you now.
They teach with life lessons
And that will show you how
To recognize the angels
With or without the wings
And celebrate the gifts
All birthday angels bring.

Rooty toot toot,
Let's all give a hoot
Because today is your birthday!
Hip hip hooray!
It's your special day,
It's a wonderful magical thing to say!

Bring out the cake
Let’s all gather around
And raise up a musical
Birthday song sound.
Yippee hallelujah
It’s time to celebrate
We’re here for you
And we really can’t wait.

Rooty toot toot,
Let's all give a hoot
Because today is your birthday!
Hip hip hooray!
It's your special day,
It's a wonderful magical thing to say!

It’s always a good day
When your birthday begins;
The minute you wake up
Your birthday begins.
And if we are clever enough
And do it the right way
Your birthday continues
At least for several days.

Rooty toot toot,
Let's all give a hoot
Because today is your birthday!
Hip hip hooray!
It's your special day,
It's a wonderful magical thing to say!

I miss you and wish I were there
To celebrate the day of your birth.
I would toast to your continued health
And sing out for all I am worth.
I’d exercise my vocal chords well
So that everyone around could hear
That I am delighted for another year.

Three hundred sixty five and so,
The days since your last birthday,
When friends and family take the time
To give cards and cake and say
Congratulations to you, dear heart
And hug you ever so generously.
I wish I could be there with you
To give you one of those hugs from me.

I hope a hundred people call you;
Write and send you clever cards.
I hope they bring you tasty cake
And gifts enough to fill your yard.
Maybe that will keep you so busy
You won’t notice I am not there.
This little bit of rhyming rap
Is to hint at how much I care.

So, this will have to do, I fear,
A Facebook note in poetic form.
It won’t quench your sweet tooth,
But maybe it will keep you warm
When you realize that it means
The love I feel far too distantly,
But don’t let the miles apart
Let you for a moment, forget about me.

As a bisexual, I fear
Few will want you to be proud.
They will bend your ear
Saying things to you out loud
That would be better left
Totally, embarrassingly unsaid
Instead of rattling around
Inside the cathedral of your head.

Too many try to make it
Seem like a kind of venal crime
To want to make love with
Someone of your own kind
And maybe with the same
Gender with which you were born.
To some it is very biblical
And subjects you to public scorn.

Finding someone ****
With the same plumbing as you
It not only delightful
It can be a dream come true.
It feels correctly natural
And works like the other way
Even though people scorn
And use words like ‘***’ and ‘gay’
Or ‘******’ and even taco
Whatever that might end up meaning.
The important thing to me
Bisexuality is so powerfully appealing.

So, those who dislike me
And feel so righteously zealous
That bisexuality is wrong
Are very possibly just jealous.
Or maybe just uptight
Living by someone’s else’s rules;
Not what they’ve learned
And therefore are bigoted fools.

All cash must flow in only one direction.
All  must go to those who have a lot.
Alll POTUS tweets are used as misdirection
In Blame-a-lot!
The cabinet must all be legal morons
So they don’t see what POTUS has wrought.
Then they cannot be blamed for what goes on
In Blame-a-lot!

Blame-a-lot! Blame-a-lot.
It’s really much more than bizarre.
But in Blame-a-lot; Blame-a-lot!
That’s how conditions are.
In short there’s simply not
A much more likely spot
For shame and true chicanery
Than here in
Blame-a-lot!

His owner didn't quite know why
Maybe asthma or an allergy,
Maybe it was a cough or even a sigh.
He was a cat and that was no mystery.
He looked like a normal pet,
Colored just like a giraffe,
But, often at the strangest times
He made a sound just like a laugh.

One day a salesman came to call.
Bliggle's owner was a widow.
And sitting with Bliggle by her side
They watched him through the window.
The salesman knocked, she let him in,
He looked at her and Bliggle.
He told her all about his wares.
And the cat began to giggle.

The man went red and sweaty faced
And waved his hands and told her
She must buy his 'Whizzyclink'!
He would stay there until he sold her.
The widow said she didn't care
If the thing cost a buck and a half.
She wouldn’t buy the kind of gizmo
That could make a kitty cat laugh.

The salesman fumed and shouted then
So she opened up the door.
The salesman went all afluster,
Then he stomped across the floor.
The spoilsport then cursed at her
And called her 'an old bat',
And in his rage and fury
He tripped over Bliggle the cat.

Not hurt at all, the cat just sat
And stared at him awhile.
The salesman gathered up his goods
And Bliggle slowly smiled.
The salesman soon gave up his trade,
He could not live down the rumor,
That he lost his art to pitch a sale
To a cat with a sense of humor.

I used to be an avid libertarian
Now I am a vocal egalitarian.
I see that Republicans are
Rehearsing to acclaim a Tsar,
Contemptuous of anything agrarian.

My peers are equally divided bubbleheads
Half of their brain cells completely dead.
Their parents taught them so little
That they are caught in the middle
They believe each word their crazy leader said.

The USA is not a pure democracy,
The only thing pure here is hypocrisy.
Voters sit on their hands
And applaud the brass bands
Saying, ”What else can anybody ask of me!”

My peers are equally divided bubbleheads
Half of their brain cells completely dead.
Their parents taught them so little
That they are caught in the middle
They believe each word their crazy leader said.

The USA is not a pure democracy,
The only thing pure here is hypocrisy.
Voters sit on their hands
And applaud the brass bands
Saying, ”What else can be asked of me!”

My peers are **** near useless bubbleheads.
On voting day, three quarters stayed in bed.
They play a dumb political game
Saying both sides are the same
And let our country drown in the watershed.

Some rail and rightly blame the establishment
As if they understood what that really meant;
They know the country’s out of hand
But somehow they don’t understand
The folks they voted in are to our detriment.

My peers are equally divided bubbleheads
Half of their brain cells completely dead.
Their parents taught them so little
That they are caught in the middle
They believe each word their crazy leader said.

Does anything ever mute
The sound of dying men’s screams
Who volunteered to defend
The righteous demands of greedy dreams?
The clouds roll quietly in
And who can tell if it is mist or smoke?
So, this pile of dead humans;
Are they enemies or a sick man’s joke?

Did they know what they were
When they piled into the planes and cars?
Did they have any idea why
They were ordered to march and fly so far?
Were they told they were fighting
For one thing when it was really another?
Were the coerced into uniform
By neighbors, teachers, fathers and mothers?

And when smoke clears each time
Do those that came after them to battle
Find some still lie there dying
So they can listen to the death rattle
Of one more brother or sister
Dying in the mud on their back
From a war that was started
When their nation was never attacked?

Glory and pride are words
That can be used to cover over lies
Like bandages over wounds.
But they don’t mute the mortal cries
Of those who died feeling tricked
About not defending freedom
But for money for the hand-picked.