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 May 2017 Bob B
Brent Kincaid
I have watched you cheat and swindle.
I’ve listened to your shallow lies.
I have seen what passes for integrity
In the avarice that shines from your eyes.
You don’t seem to be able to talk much
Without over-exaggerating the truth.
You speak like the infamous cookie-jar kid,
But, you don’t have the advantage of youth.

It doesn’t take long to recognize
That you are just a fake and a crook.
You can’t avoid exhibiting behavior
Of every villain in the story books.
All you need is a handlebar mustache
And a damsel to rope to the tracks
For us to know exactly who you are;
That Snively Whiplash is back!

But alas we have no Dudley Doright
To come along and vanquish the foe.
The heroes have all died out, it seems
And we only ever had eleven or so.
The rest are cowards, covering ***
And hiding behind wimpy excuses
That let the gang leaders do their worst
And heap on us further abuses.

As always the way with dictators
They need the people to lie down
And let themselves be driven over
By a huge car driven by a clown.
Those are the wimps, and the marks
Who quit learning in elementary school
Who can’t tell a statesman from a crook
And applaud when listening to a fool.

But not all of us are hornswoggled;
Some of us can read the danger signs.
We scream and shout all the way through
To idiots that seem deaf and blind.
In vain we insist of those not too bright
That the leaders should go by the book .
No matter how stupid you think we are
We’re not all as dumb as you look.
politics, Trump, crooks, GOP, cheats, voters
 Mar 2017 Bob B
Gidgette
Cyanide
 Mar 2017 Bob B
Gidgette
You pick my soul as the buzzards do a corpse
Tearing it with your great beak, into a million pieces
Scattering those tiny shards to the wind,
as you've not even the good graces to swallow them
The times you've lain hands on my flesh,
Etched into my memory,
Like names on tombstones
Only never to fade with passing time
As I am timeless in my curse
And so,
my soul may well be your feast
But I,
Shall be your
Cyanide
~A
 Mar 2017 Bob B
Graff1980
If perchance
we stumble in
to this mortal dance
and swing
and dip
across the tip
of life’s ledge,

If we dare
to venture on
beyond
simple reflexes
past poor pretenses
will we meet
and dance
in poetry?

Sweetly
and discreetly
we will bend in
words that mimic
ballet movements;
Feathers flapping freely.
I see you before me
and I adore thee
as a true friend
as a poetic compatriot
because you are great at this
sharing the depths of
our heart that write and love
all the world
below, around, and above.
 Mar 2017 Bob B
Brent Kincaid
They’s times when I
Jess cain’t say it good
And times when I am
Jess plain amazing;
Then teachers and snobs
Seem to all agree and
Subject whut I say to
Harsh degrees of hazing.

It seems like they ain’t never
Said the wrong word before
Whatever, they jess don’t
Seem to put me on ignore
And move to importanter things
Than grammarical stuff;
As fer me, I’m jess turnin’ them off
‘Cause I have had me enough.

I only had me an education
Up to the eleventh grade or so
A whole buncht of that silly stuff
I got told  but I still don’t know.
My dad and my mom too
They got taught just like me.
And I talk good enough for them.
Change my perfectly acceptable talk?
Really now, the chances are slim.

We say ain’t and cain’t and acrost
And other such acceptable words.
And some of the more ‘proper’ things
Ain’t nothin’ but jess plain absurd.
Like widdershins and tatterdemalion,
Sequipedalian, octogenarian as well.
If I’m expected to talk like that
Y’all can just go straight to hell.
 Mar 2017 Bob B
Brent Kincaid
Pretty girl,
Started out a fellow
All alone there
Hiding in her cellar
Went to the church
The priest said to confess
The scummy man
Then asked her if she dressed.

He said to her
It it was her holy duty
Then he called her ****
And grabbed her by the *****.
Pretty girl
****** now and confused.
It never occurred
That she had been abused.

But she had
A friend living next door.
That was me
And I knew she was not a *****.
Just a kid
Who in those times
Was reviled
Her gifts from God called a crime.

I took her out
Rollerskating and to dances,
As a girl.
I believed in second chances.
She left school
And started life as a fashion model.
No longer did she
Hide her soul inside a bottle.

A lovely tale
One that could have been so sad;
She stood up
From then on life was not so bad.
Pretty girl
Started her life out as a guy
But much of her
Was too wonderful to deny.
 Mar 2017 Bob B
ADS
Playing in the the summertime air
Placed our minds at ease
While our imaginations made a scene
Swinging in the breezy
Smiling and laughing so gleefully
Oh the silly games we use to play
Hide and seek until we couldn't see
Scrapped knees and bee stings
Made me sing mom please help me

Sitting outside in the summertime air
Makes me my mind uneasy
While my imagination screams please
Let me see my computer screen
Anxious to see my apps dance so playfully
I hold back my tears so painfully
I can't see why my parents hate me
They don't buy me anything
No matter how much I scream help me
The other day I was at the doctors and I saw this child who couldn't be five years old crying because his iPad couldn't connect to the internet. Made me think about how great my childhood was compared to what most kids have nowadays.
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