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Brent Kincaid Dec 2016
You idiots!
You unconscionable poltroons!
Your minds have the intelligence
Of helium filled balloons!
You had a chance to save us
But when it came down to the wire
You chose to let a circus clown
Win the race and play with fire.

Who could know you have learned
Nothing at all from before
When you elected those two morons
Run the show while you snored?
Who could guess that people who
Claim to be so Christian and good,
Would act like from the ears up
They were made entirely of wood?

You imbeciles!
Do you not see what you have done?
You chose a man who seems to think
Lying and embezzling are great fun.
You did not choose the candidate
With experience and knowledge;
You chose the guy who swindled those
Who signed up for his bogus college!

Millions of us with wisdom predicted
This man who praises Vladimir Putin
Would want to start World War Three
Because he is so fond of shooting!
He thinks, without a bit of experience,
He can simply put on another act
And all the rest of the world will
See his mad delusions as facts.

You chowderheads!
You have sold your country out!
Later when it all falls apart
You'll blame someone else and pout.
Now you cheer and chant USA,
And pretend you are so ****** brave
The rest of us fear for the world
And hope there is something to save.
Brent Kincaid Dec 2016
Disgusted now that America is busted
For voting in sewer rats and gone to bat
For making this into an autocracy,
Working to gut democracy and replace it,
Deface and deforest all of the best
Then sell off the rest of the planet
From the water to the granite
Leaving only inedible gold
Shoved into the the wallets
Of the national pickpockets
And liars while they set fires
And burn down the country
With their hatred and bigotry
Unchecked by the lazy populace
Too stupid to know what danger is
While it is marching into their homes
Making every state a danger zone.

The traitors who own the industries
Hold a gun to journalist monopolies
So that artificial realities are sold
As socialized necessities
To people who prefer tabloids
To history books and crave bromides
For this time it is the Christians
That fiddle while Rome turns to ruins
And ashes surrounded by those who fought
While a complacent half of America did not.

I am sickened at the laziness,
The political father of craziness
Has let this horror happen to this,
The country of which I was always proud,
And sick of how loud the rats are
That they have taken destruction so far
That we may never recover again
And start to elect countrymen
Instead of men to own the country
Without a scintilla of modesty
And treat fine people shoddily
Merely because they can.
Who needs that kind of man?
Brent Kincaid Dec 2016
What are you,
All you foolish humans
That **** each other
Everywhere, every year?
What good is it,
All your mad efforts
That you live and die
To generate hopeless fear?

What have you done
All you foolish humans
That live by rules
But not by laws for peace?
Where is the pride
In what you create
In all your short, sad lives
If the genocide will never cease?

What of the children
Insane selfish humans
That go to sleep
Perhaps never to wake again?
Who in the world
Which of our fellow humans
Can we put our trust upon
If it is not the most powerful men?

What is learned
With your **** and pillage.
Are you much better
Counting up your evil rewards?
Now you have murdered
Robbed and imprisoned
All those who live by the plow
Laughed at by those with swords.

We are the fools
If we think might is right,
That strength is shown
By money in the pocketbook.
We only need to
To take a simple body count;
To slow our greedy rush, and
Take the time to take a second look.
Brent Kincaid Dec 2016
My dictation program has an accent
It types out the most unreadable things,
When I say something like " my bunion stings",
It types back to me about onion rings.
There have been embarrassing moments
When I was chatting along quite normally.
I found myself feeling very thankful
That I hadn't been chatting formally.

The conversation needn't be special,
Nor use any esoteric phrases.
But some of the crap this program prints
Astounds, stultifies and amazes.
It can't be brushed off as an accent thing;
My speech is quite non-dialectic.
Sometimes it seems that Apple, Inc
Wants to render me apoplectic.

But, the way it is I have no human beings
That I can focus my frustration on
When something that company sells at a store
Turns me into an unwitting pawn.
As it is it's an iPhone and I can't pity it
When I hit "send" too fast and seem an idiot.
It’s possible I am asking far too much
Of the current reach of technology.
Even though our phones seem part of us
They aren’t really part of our anatomy.
Brent Kincaid Nov 2016
Irregardless, years ago
I had double pneumonia,
But, like, you know,
It is what it is, and like
I dunno, kinda like
It takes what it takes
Know what I mean?
It’s prolly a mute point
But I turned three sixty.
You know? I mean
I’m kinda like, I dunno.

It is what it is, like
I mean, whatever.
It’s all good, isn’t it?
You get what you need
And it ain’t no thing.
I mean, go big or go home.
Try to stay in the zone,
You know. I dunno.
No biggie, though.
Keep a cool tool
And don’t be a big fool.
Know what I mean?

It’s like I was saying
Don’t give up praying
Because God does not
Create garbage, you know.
He didn’t bring you
This far to dump you.
I dunno. I’m in for
The whole game.
It’s all the same.
You know, way to go.
Give it a chance.
Get up and dance.

Know what I’m saying?
I ain’t playing with you.
It like, you know,
I’m so sure, dontcha know?
Way to go. I don’t know.
It’s like, I’m so sure.
Whatevs, whatevs!
It’s so dope, sick, cool.
There must be
Some kinda rule.
I dunno, it’s like, you know,
It’s the way to go.
Give is your best shot.
It’s the bomb, the ****,
It’s totally hot.
Maybe I am hot too,
But you know, I dunno.
Brent Kincaid Nov 2016
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.
Brent Kincaid Nov 2016
You can't save a loser
They have to save themselves.
No matter how you love them
You can’t breathe for someone else.
You can’t pay their emotional bills
With the love stored in your heart.
You can’t be with them 24/7
So it’s best for you to start
Waking to reality’s demands
And wash your hands
Of this self-destructive fantasy.
Soon, even they will understand.

And if they don’t see wisdom
In what you are trying to do
Let them go on and ruin their life
But it won’t be because of you.
Maybe you think it is too late
Because you spoiled them already,
So now they need your guiding hand
To keep their courses steady.

If you’re strong enough to realize
You’re not helping them a bit
You can gather enough love
And strength enough to quit
Babying someone who today
Is no longer just a little child.
Let them find their own rock bottom
At the risk of being totally wild.
It’s really the only thing to do.
So, if you are the wife, the friend;
Sister, father, brother or mother,
You will find you have the time
For you and the loser to recover.
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