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Brent Kincaid Oct 2017
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.
Brent Kincaid Oct 2017
If you want freedom to fail
You’re the one should be in jail.
Wave the flag and bang the drum
Let’s make changes to support freedom.

If you hate because of skin
You’re the one preaching sin.
Set your course upon the Constitution.
Make your mind up to show your resolution.

If you think rights are about race
You’re the one we should replace.
Play the fife and set the marshal rhythm.
The time has come to march right over them.

If you look down upon the poor
You’re a disease we need to cure.
Search your heart and let’s agree,
We must enact the rules of propriety.

If you sneer because you’re rich
You’re the caste we need to pitch.
We’ve seen it throughout our history
What comes of those who practice infamy.

If you think you’re superior
That’s solid proof you’re the inferior.
No matter how the bigots drone,
By their actions they will be known.

If you feel you must beat your child
Then you are still and animal in the wild.
If you use your fists to teach.
Your righteousness is out of reach

If you feel you must beat your spouse
You are truly not a man, you are a mouse.
Truth before and still this year.
Beat me and you've nothing I wish to hear.
An argument isn’t fairly won
If they have to reach for a gun.
Some may say might makes right
But that can’t stand up to the light.

Government and church must be
Totally separate now and for eternity.
Two words that deserve derision
Are these two words: state religion.

Our human rights simply have to be
The undisputed rule of law universally.
We know it’s true, we all saw
Billy clubs and fire hoses, used by law.

If you think equality is wrong
You’re the reason for this song.
And we sing it loud, hear, hear!
And we will sing that song as a jeer.

If you hate because of skin
You’re the one preaching sin.
Somebody surely must have lied
When enemies claim god's on their side.

If you think rights are about race
You’re the one we should replace.
You think racism is heaven-kissed
You can move away. You won’t be missed.

Progress is a gift from the wise.
It cannot happen if we worship lies.
Our home will fail to stand
If we build the foundation on sand.
Brent Kincaid Oct 2017
It’s a **** good thing
I didn’t have a rich dad.
I would probably have
Had more woes than I had.
I would have missed
Opportunities to learn
And how many ends of
A candle one can burn.

I might have bought
My way out of mistakes
And would have skipped wisdom
One gets from bad breaks.
I might have gotten out of
Some lessons one needs
And given myself over
To haughtiness and greed.

A rich dad might have relished
Values that shouldn’t be taught
Like cheating and swindling
And the fun of not being caught.
I might have learned lying
About who and what I am.
Maybe how to look good outside
While inside being a total sham.

I might have learned to be
Like the in-crowd and flaunt;
Revere the rich and the famous
And deride those in want.
I had my troubles as it was
And managed to ***** up enough.
I rose above my shortcomings
Possibly because life was rough.
Brent Kincaid Oct 2017
Helpless, when so many have died.
Can we do nothing but hurt inside?
Those can’t go home, no matter who cried.
Yet we never set those guns aside.
We listened while politicians lied
And even when some of us tried
Too many took up the other side
And insisted they were on the right side
The godly side, the intelligent side.
But they too were wrong or just lied.
And fifty eight, so far, have horribly died.

So, who is in the right here?
We ask year after year.
Why do we sell illogical fear
To allow weapons to be sold here
That are not used to shoot deer
Or game for food, but it is clear
They are for shooting people here
In our own country, not in Tangier
Or Kabul, killing strangers for fear
They’ll take away our freedom here
And very much like some King Lear
Trust all the wrong people. It’s clear.

Every eight years, we go insane
And let America’s worst bane
Take over what still remains
Of a splendid land that retains
The intentions and words of the sane;
The founders of our nation, and again
Give it all away “to elect for change’
Without consideration for the pain
That it took; the blood and the pain
To fight those who hate freedom’s name
And then to elect them back in again.

They are only too glad if we ****
And maim and destroy at will
As long as it's the poor we ****
And not their beloved on their hill.
That is too bitter of a pill
For them to take, so they shill
And subvert and always will.
They’ll approve the crazy skill
It takes to sit up on a hill
And shoot people at will.
They never quite get their fill.

So, when will we people get wisdom
And ban those repeating weapons
Being sold ***** nilly in the kingdom
Of hate, greed without sound reason?
When will we see that we are with them?
Just another human like their women
Brothers, fathers and even their children
That can be erased by their bad decisions
To let more nameless, brainless buy weapons
That have no good solid application
Except a bullet to the brain of our nation.
Brent Kincaid Oct 2017
It always makes me wake up when it hits;
When a rivulet of sweat runs between my ****.
I wake up thinking some bug is walking there
Because it tickles my manly bit of chest hair.
Guys are built much different than the rest.
We are not supposed to have issues with our chest.
But here I am trying to get some sleep
Suddenly aware my cleavage is too deep.

Stuff is happening backwards that should not
What we supposed to do with this mess we’ve got?
Something’s got the world all upside down.
God must be a freaky circus clown.
Regardless of some nasty radio rants
I have no problem with women wearing pants.
And in life today as I have always seen
The woman is often the boss, big and mean.

And I have heard, in current affairs and state
That men can even, in time, learn to lactate.
But this one situation in which I have *******
Threatens to unhinge and drive me a bit loopy.
I guess, with time, I will someday get accustomed.
And I know some old ideas need to be jettisoned.
But I never expected that this would be a year
For me to go get fitted for an absorbent brassiere.
Brent Kincaid Sep 2017
Dumpatrump
All the Trumps
Make them live
At the city dump.
Take their money
Every single clump.
Get rid of that
Ugly orange ****.

Now we all know for sure
What greed sounds like when it talks.
We have no more doubt
We know how it looks when it walks.
But some people still need
More lessons in crooked politics.
They need more time
Being beaten by the Trump Stick.

Most of us only need
To mash our head against bricks
For a couple of times
Before the lesson finally sticks.
But Trump followers need
To be knocked totally unconscious
Or something harsher until
They take their functions serious.

Dumpatrump
All the Trumps
Make them live
At the city dump.
Take their money
Every single clump.
Get rid of that
Ugly orange ****.

So many fools involved
And so much money and power
They make the world worse
With each hour by scary hour.
It sometimes seems as if
They think we don’t see them.
Unfortunately, some don’t.
I sure don’t want to be them.

The selectively stupid
And the carefully politically blind
Are driving this country down.
And by saying that, I’m being kind.
The average person is weak
In the head if not in the back.
It is going to take miracles
To get our injured country back.

Dumpatrump
All the Trumps
Make them live
At the city dump.
Take their money
Every single clump.
Get rid of that
Ugly orange ****.
Brent Kincaid Sep 2017
Keep singing your song!
Some may not like it
But nobody else can do it.
You are the singer, sing!
Do it loud and proud,
Your own thing. Sing!

And if they sing along
Then you’re not doing
Anything wrong. It’s your song.
And they can go right along
Or find another tune to sing
One that brings them as much
As your song brings you.
They joy will shine right through.

The story is in the lyric
Sometimes it is mystic
But singing it out is cathartic
It lets the music out of you.
There’s nothing better to do
Than to hear your own music;
Know it’s fantastic
Realistic, authentic.

Then be brave enough to share,
Let your song out into the air.
Bounce your sound off walls
And if people hear you at all
Maybe they will want to do
Exactly the same as you, too,
And keep on singing their song.
How can that ever be wrong?
Keep on singing your song!
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