I recorded this years ago, but it's still funny today.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UMpjsFkALLM

I just want it to happen
Like it's a work of magic.
Like some kind of miracle
That cancels all that is tragic.
A spontaneous kind of thing
Without me saying a word
As if you read my very thoughts
As if somehow you heard.

It's a hope I've had all my life.
The perfect lover comes along
Saying exactly what I need to hear
Never puts one foot wrong.
Someone proud to be by my side
That I never have to show the way
And stay beside me as I sleep
At the end of every perfect day.

Because I can't stand any more
Of the things I've had to bear.
The many kinds of disrespect
And the obvious lack of care.
I need that someone special
Who has the gift of giving.
Who sees in me perfection
Your world, life, and everything.

I've had too much of the rest
The other kind of love affair
Where I am just a stopgap
They didn't ever really care.
The love I am looking for
And who you just have to be
Is the soul of romanatic essence,
Absolute perfection, like me.

White man, right man
Seriously uptight man
Black man, whack man,
Cutting him no slack man.
Red man, dead man
Never be the headman.
Brown man, down man.
Treat him like a clown man.

Stereotypes, stereotypes!
Notice how it rhymes with hype?
The habit of the ***-wipes
A bitter fruit that’s always ripe.

Poor man, for sure man,
Can’t afford a ***** man.
Waiting on the shore man,
Sweeping out the store man.
Broke man, stroke man
Too poor to smoke man.
Struggle under yoke man.
**** of every joke man.

Stereotypes, stereotypes!
Notice how it rhymes with hype?
The habit of the ***-wipes
A bitter fruit that’s always ripe.

Fey man, gay man
Nothing more to say man.
Please just go away man.
No equal rights today man.
Liberal man or little man
Nothing but a middle man.
Playing second fiddle man.
Never solve the riddle man.

Stereotypes, stereotypes!
Notice how it rhymes with hype?
The habit of the ***-wipes
A bitter fruit that’s always ripe.

Nobody marching toward us
Their guns making us die.
No tanks are come clanking
No bombers in the sky.
But our Congress and generals
When oil or bases seem needed;
We appear armed and threatening
Peace and love talk not heeded.

No country has attacked us
With troops and lethal artillery.
But our leaders expect us to
Go open up their arteries
And **** their women and children
And laugh while they all die
And we are expected to do this
And never think to ask why.

It’s almost like big companies
Were sad when WW2 ended
So they started attacking countries
We really should have befriended.
We let Russia have free reign
To **** and ****** and steal
Almost as if their aggression
Wasn’t really true or even real.

We looked around and made them,
Those evil old warlike excuses,
That some country threatened freedom
And we pretended they weren’t ruses.
We attacked Korea and Vietnam
We were just supposed to observe
That they were yellow people there
And think they got what they deserved.

We didn’t stop there, as Reagan took
A duly elected leader and put him in jail.
If any country did that to our country
The conservatives would howl and rail.
Then the Bushes tried their best to take
Iraq to steal their oil and punish them
And created an era of stronger hatred
And anti-American outrage and mayhem.

No foreign country has attacked America;
So, the point bears repeating once again.
We need to stop acting like bullies here
And start acting like decent statesmen
And women who have the bigger picture;
The growth of peace in our battered world
So, other countries will not take their guns
And shoot our flag when it’s unfurled.

My sisters have witchy feet.
Their words, not mine.
If someone else puts them down
I firmly draw the line.
When they are laughing,
Just because they are together,
The joy I hear from them
Seems to change the weather.

It might be chilly or gray
But today the clouds evaporate.
Inside it’s all warm and cozy,
And I do not exaggerate.
They manage to find something
That they can all laugh about
Even when that laughter rises
To the level of three sided shouts.

It usually starts when one dances
And turns it into a wiggle.
Then all three of them break out
In wild, uncontrollable giggles.
Or a memory will get triggered
Of something outrageous
And the laughter takes over.
It is immediately contagious.

I am always rewarded by this
Circus of the instantly absurd
That turns into the best of all
Sounds I have ever heard.
May I wish all of you have
What has happened to me;
To have such close members
Of our often silly family.

I love chocolate chip cookies
Be they soft or be they crunchy
They are my favorite munchie.
I love them by the pound.
The best snack around.
My love for these cookies
Surpasses my love of ice cream.
They are more than what they seem.
They make my day and then more so.
Even though they make my **** grow.

Chocolate chip cookies
They are my very best friends.
I am sure these cookies
With stick with me to the end.
I can count on them to please me.
Cookies never ever tease me.

I love chocolate chip cookies
Whether they are baked at home
Or just purchased on the roam.
If they are professionally made,
Gifted to me or I have paid.
Nothing else tickles me so much.
I start giggling when I first touch
Those delightful little sweet plops.
Don’t bother calling the calorie cops.

Chocolate chip cookies
They are my very best friends.
I am sure these cookies
With stick with me to the end.
I can count on them to please me.
Cookies never ever tease me.

I love chocolate chip cookies
I know it started when I was a kid;
What those rolls of dough did
To me was transform me instantly
Almost to carbohydrate insanity.
I could eat as many as I touched;
I loved them just exactly that much
And it continued on into adulthood.
Chocolate chip cookies are that good.

Chocolate chip cookies
They are my very best friends.
I am sure these cookies
With stick with me to the end.
I can count on them to please me.
Cookies never ever tease me.

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.

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.

We talked about fun
A night of one and one
Two adults out dating
Not a lady-in-waiting.
Two people holding hands,
We didn’t have any plans
Not saying words like never
And always and forever.

It’s an unwritten verbal contract
With just the one signature.
The expectancy of longevity
Is more than a bit premature.
It is important to recognize it
When it’s all about fun and games.
It keeps temperature from rising
And avoids the calling of names.

Then it all got turned around
And quite suddenly I found
There were rules for me to obey
Like staying out too late in the day
And things I had to do with you
If I wanted to demonstrate I was true.
It was no longer important to you
It was not enough just loving you.

It’s an unwritten verbal contract
With just the one signature.
The expectancy of longevity
Is more than a bit premature.

I am a prisoner in your heart
When did my sentence start?
How long will I have to serve?
How did you get the nerve
To change a delightful love affair
Into something that would scare?
Sorry, I have to call a halt
You know it’s all your fault.

It is important to recognize it
When it’s all about fun and games.
It keeps temperature from rising
And avoids the calling of names.

We only had a few short dates
We barely made it to third base
And yet the thing is totally shattered.
You’re out looking at china patterns.
There were no promises ever made.
I do not mean to be throwing shade
But this is not the thing I agreed upon
Whatever we once had is now gone.

It’s an unwritten verbal contract
With just the one signature.
The expectancy of longevity
Is more than a bit premature.
It is important to recognize it
When it’s all about fun and games.
It keeps temperature from rising
And avoids the calling of names.

Dating gay guys works
For women now and then.
You might end up dating them
Over and over again.
Many are good dancers
And dress in current style.
And while you won’t get laid
You’ll have fun for a while.

After dating all those jerks
You’ll surely wonder why
You never had the idea of
Going out with a gay guy.
You can dress pretty and
Never need to wear a mask.
He won’t make a move on you
No matter how you ask.

Dating gay guys works
For women and gay men.
You might end up dating them
Over and over again.
Many are good dancers
And dress in current style.
And while you won’t get laid
You’ll have fun for a while.

Your girlfriends will see you
With a guy who is lava hot.
And if he isn’t to femmy
They won’t ask whether or not.
They’ll just see you at bars
And dancing the night away.
They’ll never think to ask
If that big hunk is gay.

Dating gay guys works
For women and gay men.
You might end up dating them
Over and over again.
Many are good dancers
And dress in current style.
And while you won’t get laid
You’ll have fun for a while.


And the girl talk you can have
About all the smoking guys
About their gorgeous bodies
Their smiles and their eyes.
If you pick the right guy
You can find out right away
Which other guys in the club
Are actually secretly gay.

Dating gay guys works
For women and gay men.
You might end up dating them
Over and over again.
Many are good dancers
And dress in current style.
And while you won’t get laid
You’ll have fun for a while.

Pretending a day is forever
Then watching you hurry away
It’s a game we play together
We are strangers in the light of day.
I’ve learned to lie with my eyes
To act like we never were lovers
When I am nobody you ever claim
We won’t walk in sunshine together.

The love of my life is a stranger
And this is the price I have paid
I smile when my heart is a wasteland
And, my life is a dance masquerade.
I’m dancing with a shadow
It looks so very real.
It moves with the rhythm
It does everything but feel.

I can only get so much reward
From rewriting each scene
From what it really was today
To what it might have been.
I am settling for a fantasy
Of what love is really about.
Picking up the scraps of dreams
That anyone else would throw out.

The love of my life is a stranger
And this is the price I have paid
I smile when my heart is a wasteland
And, my life is a dance masquerade.
I’m dancing with a shadow
It looks so very real.
It moves with the rhythm
It does everything but feel.

You weren’t listening to me
I know it to be true you see
Because you could not hear me
And not be in love with me.
I have told you carefully
What you have here in me
A person of total loyalty
And outrageous personality.

You could not have been listening
Because you were not hearing
The wonderful things I’m telling
And the joys that are here waiting
Waiting patiently and languishing
In the shadow of your evening
As the sun has begun lowering
And the moon has begun rising.

I sit in the shadows and I’m sad
Missing all the good times we had
Knowing something cannot be bad
When it has made me so very glad.
If you only missed me just a tad
I would be a much happier lad.
I fear our love was just a fad
And it’s serving to drive me mad.

I know you weren’t listening to me
Or you couldn’t behave callously.
You would be enchanted totally
And drawn to me quite helplessly.
Is it something else completely?
Some magic spell not from me?
Some disgusting magical sorcery
That drags you away forcefully?

Girls played hopscotch
While boys played ball
To some of us kids
It made no sense at all.
What if a girl had a
Powerhouse right arm
Would you want her staying
Back home on the farm?

Blue and pink
Pink and blue
Does all this insanity
Make any sense to you?
Hammers and nails
And puppy dog tails.
And all the nonsense
That nursery rhyme entails.

And what if a boy
Had balance and agility?
Would you look on him
As having a disability?
Girls had to take cooking
Boys had to take shop.
Why does this sexism
Never come to a stop?

Boys get a box of toys
Girls get some dolls.
Sometimes that makes
No real sense at all.
Girls take lessons on
How to dance and live.
Boys learn to ridicule
Not to take, but to give.

Blue and pink
Pink and blue
Does all this insanity
Make any sense to you?
Hammers and nails
And puppy dog tails.
And all the nonsense
That nursery rhyme entails.

Spring sneaks by the door to the ghetto.
That's okay, they can't afford the seed.
Trees take too much room from the rentals.
No one saw the end of ghetto weeds.

Ghetto weeds once grew up sudden.
They took the food of those in bloom.
Ghetto weeds we're awful sorry,
But we haven't got the room.

Yesterday a man sold his garden
Bragging how he made such a deal.
Bought himself a high-rise apartment.
Who can tell the fruit by the peel?

Ghetto weeds once grew up sudden.
They took the food of those in bloom.
Ghetto weeds we're awful sorry,
But we haven't got the room.

What about the children of the ghetto,
Do they have the playgrounds they need?
Have you seen the children how they're growing?
Don't they shoot up just like a ****?

Ghetto weeds once grew up sudden.
They took the food of those in bloom.
Ghetto weeds we're awful sorry,
But we haven't got the room.

You must be understanding
Of his demons
You’re never going to see him
On the weekends.
He’s just what you found perfect
As long as he was in bed.
It turns out every time, the romance
It is all inside your head.

Even though he knows you’re hurting
He can’t do a thing
You really should have known this
When you saw his ring.

Even in the deep heat of summer
You’re out in the cold.
It isn’t like it never happened before
This story is old.

You must be understanding
Of his demons
You’re never going to see him
On the weekends.
You think of you and him as a couple
That can never be
He has lied to her, why not to you?
This is your reality.

Maybe you decided this is better than
Being all alone.
What you think is love for you is like
The Twilight Zone.
He has a life without you and you knew
There was no ‘us’ or ‘we’.
You’re always the villain, homewrecker;
Innocence is but a memory.

You tell yourself each time he leaves
That is it, no more.
Then change your mind by the time
He closes the door.
Regret for what you do to his life
Is not your problem.
Like me, she has to learn the punches
And learn to roll with them.

You must be understanding
Of his demons
You’re never going to see him
On the weekends.
He’s just what you found perfect
As long as he was in bed.
It turns out every time, the romance
It is all inside your head.

MAMA DON’T ALLOW

Mama don’t allow no carpetbaggers ‘round here
Mama don’t allow no carpetbaggers ‘round here
We care a lot what Mama will allow
Carpetbaggers ain’t no good no how.
Mama don’t allow no carpetbaggers ‘round here.

Mama don’t allow no gerrymandering here
Mama don’t allow no gerrymandering here
We give a hoot what Mama will allow
Leave districts right where they are right now.
Mama don’t allow no gerrymandering here.

Mama don’t allow no poll taxing ‘round here.
Mama don’t allow no poll taxing ‘round here.
We don’t need Jim Crow no more
We know just what that is for
Mama don’t allow no poll taxing ‘round here.

Mama don’t allow no warmongering here
Mama don’t allow no warmongering here
We care a lot what Mama will allow
We’ve had too much war, don’t start no row.
Mama don’t allow no warmongering here.

Mama don’t allow no segregating ‘round here.
Mama don’t allow no segregating ‘round here.
Mama says we all take a breath
We all got born and all face death
Mama don’t allow no segregating ‘round here.

Brent Kincaid
5/15/2015

I know from my past, gym class
From locker rooms, I learned fast
That lots of guys have winners
But my sausage is from Vienna.
I got a little bump, a tiny little lump,
Like a hamster has taken a dump.
Nothing bulges my shorts at the crotch.
Not much there for anyone to watch.

But our society puts the emphasis
On just how big your business is.
If you have a tiny peter, my friend
Many kinds of applause will end.
Go read the writing on the walls,
Because you will inherit the catcalls
And no matter how much you moan
They come through no fault of your own.

Regarded as less than a man; sick
Or perverted to have a small ****.
As too often I have been told
Since as a kid and not very old
Amid laughter and cruel jests
I have learned a big **** is best.
No matter it’s something I can’t change,
Apparently a small ***** is strange.

In time I left behind those taunts
As I left behind adolescent haunts.
The pain has become only a taint;
The scars of bullies with no restraint,
But I am sure I never will fully be
Free of their thoughtless bigotry
As I reach the age of an old codger
Dealing with life with a not so jolly roger.

I like cussin’
I even researched the word.
It ain’t cussin’
There’s an R that is not heard.
We’re talking of cursing,
The taking of God’s name in vain,
Back when it was blasphemy.
Those days will never come again.

It ain’t the same way
Like it was back in those times
When spitting on the sidewalk
Was a jailing crime
And black people had to walk
Down in the gutter.
There were words back then that
Decent folks didn’t utter.

Well, I ain’t religious.
I don’t go to any church at all.
It ain’t that I am evil;
I’m not riding for some fall.
But there are times
Like when you hammer your thumb
That saying “Oh fudge!”
Sounds just plain old **** dumb.

I am not sending
Anything or anyone here to hell.
It’s just helps
To say hell or **** or fuckaduck
When you have to yell.
A shuckydern don’t fit the bill like
A shouted “****”
When you are *******, raving
Ready to spit.

I totally understand
That some words have a place.
Calling people *******
Can be seen as a huge disgrace.
But I still insist
That many times in a conversation
The word *******
Just fits the momentary occasion.

So, scoff if you will.
I’ll try to play by your nicey-nice rules,
But there are people
What are nothing but ******* fools.
I do hope you pardon
My not liking any more pleasant words
When someone says
The dumbest **** I have ever heard

The old saying talks about
Being snug as a bug in a rug
But how can you feel that way
If you never ever get hugged.
If you hug your loved ones
They may not need drugs.
It’s an inexpensive medicine;
The basic household hug.

Worse things could happen
Than to catch the hugging bug.
It’s a better remedy than you
Can find in an apothecary jug.
It doesn’t require prescription
And is no big weight to lug.
You always have one handy,
The standard loving hug.

A hug can be the cure for you
When you are in a purple fug
And your face begins to look
Like a rather dyspeptic pug.
Somebody wonderful arrives
And gives your heart a tug
By giving you the all-time best
Wholehearted, loving hug.

We never really know
What happens in a person’s home.
We can’t really know
What happens when they’re alone.
It’s every block and street
Even from those we trust to lead.
Too often parents turn
And simply refuse to even heed.

Crying and waiting for the rainbow
After seasons of so much rain.
It’s a heartbreak one must suffer
Waiting the rainbow to come again.

Not one in a million
There are far too many suffering
Not one in a thousand
Even if parents don’t know a thing.
Not one in a hundred
That is only one small percent.
They are the victims
And they never gave their consent.

Crying and waiting for the rainbow
After seasons of so much rain.
It’s a heartbreak one must suffer
Waiting the rainbow to come again.

Many think it’s a seldom thing
Yet it is too large a fraction of the whole
Robbing the children of youth
And taking away the basis of their soul.
They don’t want to admit it
But if they care about them, they must
Because abusing children is
A vile way to steal from them their trust.

Crying and waiting for the rainbow
After seasons of so much rain.
It’s a heartbreak one must suffer
Waiting the rainbow to come again.

I dreamed I was at work
And everyone was naked but me.
A bunch of naked co-workers
As far as my eyes could see.
They were pointing at me laughing
The moment I walked through the door.
They behaved as they didn’t
Know was clothing was for.

Pointed at my chest area
Right were my ******* would be
And at my crotch as well
And asked me “How do you ***?
All of that material there.
It really must get in your way.
So, what’s the big idea
Why did you come to work that way?”

I mumbled and I stumbled
And bumbled my way to reply.
I told them I really didn’t quite
Understand all of why
They were all naked here, and
I was wearing a lot of clothes.
I finally told them all that
Sometimes this is how it goes.

They started laughing again
And one girl tried to make amends.
She said the pants I had on
Gave me a very cute rear end.
My face turned red, I said thanks.
And some said I was blushing.
I headed back to my desk, trying
Not to look like I was rushing.

I woke up still kind of giggling
And yet had a feeling of unease.
I remembered the embarrassment
Feeling being dressed was a disease.
Usually it’s the reverse, of course.
I am the one walking around bare.
But something in this dream that night
Helped me see some of the meaning there.

It was supposed to be
The dawn of a new age;
A new set of dialogue
On a more balanced stage
With better lines for
The actors to deliver.
It was supposed to start in
The sixties and last forever.

We didn’t really know for sure
What this Aquarius stuff was
But it seemed to us to be
A metaphysical enough cause,
To change the way we acted
And to shout down the rest;
To face the demagogues
Then put them to the test.

We stopped wearing uniforms
That said we went along
With the hard-assed leaders.
We put a lot of it in our songs.
We called them what they were
Greedy warmongering ******.
We protested and picketed
And promised so much more.

We spoke out loudly on TV
And in crowds in the streets
That we were through will genocide
And would not accept defeat.
We cried out that our government
Had assumed the role of villain
And was murdering for no reason
Not just men, but even children.

But, we let it all die down;
We let the government slide
On investigating the truth
And keeping the truth inside
A carefully chosen batch of
Criminals in public office.
We let them go on making war
And making money off us.

We let them cheat and lie
And re-write acceptable laws
To support their bloodthirstiness
And we gave up on our cause.
Maybe all that protesting gave
All our marching feet limps.
Or maybe it’s because all along
We were just a bunch of wimps.

Looking up, seeing you again
It makes me feel so tired.
Here you are to ruin another day
How can I ever be inspired?
Now every time I see you makes me wish I was blind.
Because you stimulate no peace of mind.

You make me feel
You make me feel
You make me feel
Like a ****** old woman!

Years ago, you and I ran aground
Wiping out on love's breakers
I tried to fix things, tried to wake you up
But all pleas fell on deaf ears.
Sometimes a couple can turn into a joke
Impossible to fix something so badly broke.

You make me feel
You make me feel
You make me feel
Like a ****** old woman!

Rap is crap
Can be written while napping
By simply slapping words like zapping
Up alongside trapping and wrapping
And suddenly you’re a rap star
Driving an expensive car
And before your coffee is cold
You are draped with gold
Maximum bling
But it doesn’t mean a thing
Other than money because honey
If your ‘song’ lyrics are still known.
When ten years are blown by
And you are no longer a famous guy
Whose words are forgotten
It is because they are misbegotten
And liked by the current batch of airheads
Who think this is music when instead
It’s a beat they can feel in their feet
And if they don’t read the words
Printed in the album, what is heard
Is a lot of screaming and percussion
Not worth discussion in Billboard.

Someone could cut the microphone cord
And all anyone could hear would be drums
And the audience spilling their beer,
And nothing worth humming;
Lyrics for the dumbing down of the race,
A major entertainment disgrace
That destroys the ears and means nothing
That will ever be revered like Sinatra
Elvis or The Beatles have done.
It may be number one today
But when time passes away
It will be nothing but the shouts
Of a bunch of untalented louts
To an audience one has to fear
Was born with a tin ear.

Brent Kincaid
6/1/2015

I used to live in a country
That was based on liberty
And where just anybody
Could achieve prosperity
That with assured equality
And working diligently
One could expect definitely
To succeed economically
If you saved all the money
Left over from your salary
To save to bring your family
A step closer to solvency.

Not an impossible proposition,
It was based on the condition
Of a grand national institution
Which promised that stabilization
By taxing us and corporations
With an equitable correlation
Between folks of humble station
And the larger organizations
Working in happy syncopation.
A welcome feeling of elation
Would descend upon our nation
And keep us from stagnation
Or going into nationwide deflation,
Or just as scary, a huge inflation.

Now I look upon our history
And see decades of misery
Laid upon us by calumny
By those meant to fortify
And build up our security.
The constant forces of calamity
If we accept less than probity
From those who have no honesty
Choosing leaders based on beauty
A national cult of personality
Then permit political chicanery
By people with no dignity
Only a greedy criminality
That pretends to propriety
And a devout base of spirituality
When what we have is actually
A kangaroo court of dishonesty
Without a care for the citizenry.

He can’t explain the pain
Like boot prints on his brain
And it only seems to subside
When she is beside him.
Then, it begins to slowly dim.
When she is not around
He can be found on the ground
Screaming just like his head,
Full of frenzied villagers instead
Of what everyone else feels
And thinks, as he again sinks
Into that swamp of horror
And anguish. Moreover,
He knows he is alone in this.
This is not from her kiss
It is from its absence.
He’s not addicted to absinthe
Like some Victorian poet.
He’s insane now and knows it.

But she can calm mind
In the deluge he always finds
When she goes away a while.
First he loses the desire to smile
Then he can’t talk any more.
He forgets what words are for.
He only howls and raves.
He knows nobody can save him.
He has but to swim to shore
From the wreck that is his peace.
It is his only real release.
It’s all that heals his soul.
She has become the goal
His only purpose in the world
Is in the hands of this one girl;
This woman, elevated to deity.
His only true reality.

How can this happen, he cries.
He doesn’t understand the whys
And wherefores that turns love,
Completion and fulfillment
Into horrifying derailment
Of all his hopes and dreams
And fills his heart with screams
Like a little boy on a wrong bus.
And nobody there to discuss things
To help him see what is happening
And why the one thing he cares for
Doesn’t fulfill him anymore
Unless she is here to hold his hand.
He fails completely to understand.

Brent Kincaid
2/13/2015

Mirrors are all traitors
As in them I can see
Just what a monster I am;
That I will always be.
I have lumps and and spots
That make me unloveable.
And everything I eat is
Another bite of trouble.

Why can’t I ever look
Like the models in the book?
Why is it that I
Can’t look myself in the eye?
No one will look longingly
At the gorgon I turned out to be.

I don’t watch cartoons
Because what I see is me
What did I do to deserve
To become so **** ugly?
Did I cross the path of a cat
That was an omen meant to warn
And I ignored it so now
I inherited this awful form?

Why can’t I be the kind
With a beautifully formed behind?
I wish it was my history
To stimulate evil jealousy.

I want to look like a dream,
But instead I must surrender
A fragile wish, as it seems
An unfilled hope altogether.
Some friends are sweet to me
They say I look fine to them,
But I know what I can see
And I deserve no diadem.

We have heard the words they preach
The Gospel carpetbaggers teach
That some of us can make their own rules.
Any white people that don’t are fools.
They redefine the meaning of equality
The gladly withhold my rights from me.
They choose what part of good is good
And happily red-lined my neighborhood.

Don’t wave your seditionist flag at me/
I believe in liberty, equality ad fraternity.
Your rhetoric is a disguise of old John Birch.
If I want to hear your hateful sermon
I prefer to have to go to your church.

They think us blind and cannot see
That they openly abhor equality.
They say one thing in the South
Up north they use another mouth,
And speak with a totally forked tongue
And push half the race down a rung.
They cry like they have all been hurt
But it is they who treat the rest like dirt.

Don’t wave your seditionist flag at me/
I believe in liberty, equality ad fraternity.
Your rhetoric is a disguise of old John Birch.
If I want to hear your hateful sermon
I prefer to have to go to your church.

There is no difference from your chant
And the Inquisition’s deadly cant.
These punishing words out of you
Are ages old, they are not new.
If Jesus were here to hear you start
This ugly talk, it would break his heart.

Don’t wave your seditionist flag at me/
I believe in liberty, equality ad fraternity.
Your rhetoric is a disguise of old John Birch.
If I want to hear your hateful sermon
I prefer to have to go to your church.

Where are those killing fields?
They are wherever we see
The Master Race ignoring
Peace, love and equality.

If you’re not white
And your state is red,
Don’t be surprised
If you end up dead.
As maybe some one
Will beat on your head
And demand to know
What goes on in your bed.

If you are any race
But Holy Caucasian
Like African or Inuit,
Mexican or Asian
That includes Islam
And all such nations
The bigots will hate
On every occasion.

Where are those killing fields?
They are wherever we see
The Master Race ignoring
Peace, love and equality.

In World War Two we
Fought against fascism
And now we entertain
An unholy American schism
In which Americans plan
With gleeful fanaticism
To make every effort
To maintain totalitarianism.
For over two centuries
We have sung of equality
And the inalienable rights
Of American humanity.
We continue to fight now
But it has become a calamity
Because now we are fighting
Within each of our families.

Where are those killing fields?
They are wherever we see
The Master Race ignoring
Peace, love and equality.

We were the ones,
Self-chosen ones,
And we had seen enough.
And we had heard enough
To be tired of the drama;
The games that our mamas
And our Papas played
The plans they laid
That so often did not work.
The pensions and the perks
That so often left them bitter
Mumbling curses about quitters
As they argued over parking spaces
And carefully averted their faces
When people were denied rights
Because they were not white
Or sometimes because Jews
And non-whites could not be
Members of their sororities
And country club amenities.

They demanded no dark skin
And objected to what we dressed in
And wanted us to cut our hair
And go find a decent job somewhere
To start an acceptable career
And get a decent nine to five
To work as long as we were alive.
We knew they were trying to protect
To drive us to the life they projected
That would help us get a salary
And develop the kind of misery
And sense of hopelessness;
The exact kind of mess
They were living
And they weren’t forgiving
When we rebelled and fought
And shunned the trinkets they bought
That they thought would tempt us
To buckle on the harness;
The long-term promise.

We rejected the temptation
To join the workaday nation
And get into the drinking
Nine-to-five way of thinking.
We swapped the whiskey
For something they found risky.
We smoked our marijuana
And talked about nirvana
In our love-beads and batik
We left family homes to seek
And ultimately to find friends
Who wanted the same ends
And would work with us,
And they would walk with us
To the love-ins and protests
And help us pen requests
For marches and gatherings
To demonstrate our misgivings
About who got what
And who did not
And how and when
And which were not seen as men.
But we saw poorly disguised slaves
We knew we wanted to save.

We were going to fix the world
So, we waded into insults hurled
And high-powered fire hoses.
They broke our arms and noses
And trod on our signs
And drew a line
Between us and the public.
We were criminals and suspects
In crimes they invented;
We patchouli oil scented
Hippies wearing Birkenstocks
Without any socks
And jeans with protest patches
Singing our snatches of songs
Like “We Shall Overcome Someday”.
They couldn’t hear a word we would say.
They just cursed us and objected
And made sure we were subjected
To as much stonewalling as the law
Could put up against us all.

We were going to fix the world,
And we got LBJ on our side, like Jack
He went on the attack
And changed things for the better
Still not to the letter of the law
But a bit more spirit
Began to exist in it
Because blacks were acknowledged
And could finally go to college
In white schools
Adhering to the rules
The bigots had always ignored.
And unlike before, the police
Actually kept the peace
Unless it involved demonstrations
Against the crimes of our nation
Against another nation
That never attacked us
Never even threatened us.
These protest made us criminals
And that is what the cops thought of us.

Yes, by the time Nixon was going
After everyone began knowing
What a rat he was and because
He got caught, we saw
Him get on the copter and leave
And without a thought to grieve
We wanted our country to cease
Being some kind of insane police
In an Asian country few of us knew.
To stop what they put our troops through
And bring the people back here
So they could end the killing and fear
That our country was generating.
The debating was through
And the country started anew
By ending that situation.
Peace descended on the nation
And we took credit.
We did do some of it.
Then, we quit.

We started small companies
Selling handmade gifts and soaps
Not becoming the dopes
We fought our parents not to be
But more the people we ought to be
Living in hippie enclaves
That turned into yuppie enclaves
And we got fatter.
But that didn’t matter.
We had our memories
And we had our old war stories
Of marching, and protesting
And they were interesting enough
That we lost the will to be tough
And let the objections slide
And hid inside our mini-farms
And ignored when people were harmed
By many of the same atrocities
That fueled our animosities
Just a generation before.
We decided it was not our war
And sat on our hands.
And drifted like the sands.

Justin Bieber is no big deal
I’m not even sure he is real.
He started out as pretty decent
Have you seen anything recent?
He looks like a kid who is trying
To join the gang but is only crying;
Sitting on the sidelines sniffling.
Dressed up in gang stuff and everything.

Poor baby Justin, as rich as a king
Isn’t quite satisfied owning everything
Has to cover up his body with tattoos
Like all the real-life gang members do.
Wears a hat too big for him all sideways
Plays in the sandbox where big kids play.
Wants to look all gangster and rough
But looking like a lesbian makes it tough.

Poor Baby Biebs with his millions of fans
Three pairs of underwear and baggy pants
Grinning like he’s bashful, we know he’s not.
Far too often he has proved himself a snot.
Some of us were worried when he was a kid.
We worried nobody was careful of what he did.
So Baby Justin Bieber is a bit of a wreck
Sort of like the words crawling up his neck.

Justin Bieber makes the young girls scream.
They don’t care he’s not the angel he seems.
If only he would misbehave with them, they think.
They’d let him act the fool, smoke and stink.
Because, after all, when you’re a teen-aged star
It doesn’t really matter just how fake you are.
The thing is be to be fashionable the youthful way
And let them get a glimpse of you every day.

I dated a girl, a pretty gal
I dated her and her pooch pal
You had to like her dog Pogo
You had to, or it was a no go.
She took the thing everywhere
And never in a pet carrier.
It was sort of a turnoff to me;
A kind of no-intrusion barrier.

Scoochie up to poochie
Or you I wouldn’t  get no *******.
Otherwise I was a pimple.
It was really just that simple.

She had the ugliest mutt
That I ever saw before
Like a brown **** rug
That was left outdoors.
It snuffled through teeth
That were hideously parted.
I thought it was stuffed
Until the creature farted.

Scoochie up to poochie
Or you I wouldn’t get no *******.
Otherwise I was a pimple.
It was really just that simple.

I got nothing against animals
And I really do like dogs
But they should look like pups
Not chimera or warthogs.
I’d overcome the boundaries
Whenever I got the chance
But that ugly canine lump of fur
Put the kibosh on romance.

Scoochie up to poochie
Or you I wouldn’t get no *******.
Otherwise I was a pimple.
It was really just that simple.

To some it’s all conjectural,
Philosophically conceptual.
You think you’re intellectual
But your reasoning is ineffectual.
Reviled both by heterosexuals
Insulted as well by homosexuals
And some ugly issues contractual
We are the besmirched bisexuals.

While it is the opposite of equality
It is the essence of our reality,
A warped straight-centric morality
Based on a Christianist plurality.

The straights tell us we must decide
Then put the other gender aside.
The complaints range far and wide
Even gay people opt to deride.
We don’t feel welcomed anywhere inside.
Why doesn’t tolerance coincide
When nobody seems to take our side?
It’s freedom, get on the bus and ride.

While it is the opposite of equality
It is the essence of our reality,
A warped straight-centric morality
Based on a Christianist plurality.

We know, after years of research
Gender choice is not learned in church.
It can be shaped with rods of birch
But those are better for birds to perch.
Denying us freedom is an ugly lurch
Past including truth in a morality search.
Back to when we were ruled by a church
And any variance was besmirched.

While it is the opposite of equality
It is the essence of our reality,
A warped straight-centric morality
Based on a Christianist plurality.

Freedom is a natural right
Those who take it are criminals.
No excuse is good enough,
And every occurrence is evil.
Some try to tell you a big lie
That it is all for the better good.
If you fall for this brand of talk
Your head must be solid wood.

Knock on wood
Step on a crack
Try to get your dignity back
After you sold
Your own soul.
You are totally lost
You’re stuck in a hole.

Too many of us live inside a
Bankrupt daily existence.
We all work hard pay bills
And offer no resistance
To those who change rules
That never hurt themselves.
They only worry about their wealth
And never about anyone else.

Knock on wood
Step on a crack
Try to get your dignity back
After you sold
Your own soul.
You are totally lost
You’re stuck in a hole.

No, it doesn’t have to be this way
We can stand up and fight back.
We can change the twisted laws;
Get ourselves onto the right track.
But that means we cannot accept
The dangerous fear of status quo.
We have realize that this is not
The way things just have to go.

Knock on wood
Step on a crack
Try to get your dignity back
After you sold
Your own soul.
You are totally lost
You’re stuck in a hole.

Enemy training, one, two three
Is notable for its simplicity.
You just arm yourself thoroughly
And shoot people with alacrity.
Don’t worry about being wrong
Or whether an action is right.
That they don’t want you to shoot
Is enough to start the fight.

Please take this as truth
That this is how it is done
If you see someone as enemy
You cease to see a human.
The fact that they are armed
And don’t like who you like
Is enough to create words like
****, ****, ****** and ****.

Enemy training, one, two three
Is notable for its simplicity.
You just arm yourself thoroughly
And shoot people with alacrity.

Line up the opposition forces
Against a bullet-riddled wall
And shoot them many times
And see how many will fall.
The ones who do not die
Must be minions of the devil.
They are the enemy, you see.
That’s all. That’s on the level.

Don’t worry about being wrong
Or whether an action is right.
That they don’t want you to shoot
Is enough to start the fight.

And those people that don’t
Believe in your own form of Jesus,
Like Aerabbs and Jews and such,
Shoot them as much as it pleases.
Because they won’t go to heaven,
And are just heathens anyway
Like them Buddhist dingdongs
Like them ****** lesbians and gays.

Enemy training, one, two three
Is notable for its simplicity.
You just arm yourself thoroughly
And shoot people with alacrity.

And people in foreign countries
Well, you can guess how that goes;
Take a look and easily compare
Canadanians to them from Mexico.
The French are Frogs, Spanish spics.
None as good as us Americans.
And nothing good can come out
Of any **** place that is African.

Don’t worry about being wrong
Or whether an action is right.
That they don’t want you to shoot
Is enough to start the fight.

Now if you find some of this offensive
And if this is revving up your motors,
Just bear in mind, this is what goes on
In the mind of the average voter.
Want to change this, make life better?
Drop your representatives a letter.
Tell them you are on to their villainy
And see them as supporting the REAL enemy.

I want to sing love songs to you
And recite poetry all I can
But I must not and I won’t
Because you are a Republican.
I want to sit at the shore;
Watch the gulls and pelicans
But that isn’t going to happen
Because you are a Republican.

We could go out to a bar
And sing old favorite songs.
We could sing and dance
Our friends could sing along.
But that won’t happen for us
Because hope for it all I can
The bottom line to all of this
Is you are still a Republican.

If they took a twisted family tree
And put it into a cheaply built can
Then added some bile and lies
You’d have canned Republican.
You could open it and pour it
Away from good, decent Americans
Because we’ve had it hard enough.
We don’t need more Republicans.

There’s a brand of human mutant
Arises when times are better than
The starvation and degradation
When the nation went Republican.
These mutants make war with poor
And unemployed and dependent man;
Blame everyone else but themselves
Mutants mentioned here are Republicans.

I want to sing love songs
And recite poetry all I can
But I must not and I won’t
Because you are a Republican.
I want to sit at the shore;
Watch the gulls and pelicans
But that isn’t going to happen
Because you are a Republican.

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 ***?

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.

I wish you all the happeiness
I wanted for myself and more.
I wish you find that one person
You can appreciate and adore.
I wish you songbirds at dawn
And cool breezes at night
I hope all your fondest dreams
Will turn out to be just right.

If wishes were waterfalls
And dreams were butterflies
I would want them all for you
Unfolding before your eyes.
If love could make magic
I would say the secret words
And grant you everything
The moment they were heard.

I wish you romantic dinners
And walks along the river
Under twinkling skirts of stars
And long, loving talks together.
I wish the joys one finds in love
And being close to each other.
I wish you mutual respect
And that it goes on forever.

If wishes were waterfalls
And dreams were butterflies
I would want them all for you
Unfolding before your eyes.
If love could make magic
I would say the secret words
And grant you everything
The moment they were heard.

I wish you what I'm sure love is,
Which is that I want for you
That all the best should happen
And my wishes will come true.
I wish you all the best of life,
And the heaven it can be.
I wish wondrous days for you,
I just wish it were with me.

If wishes were waterfalls
And dreams were butterflies
I would want them all for you
Unfolding before your eyes.
If love could make magic
I would say the secret words
And grant you everything
The moment they were heard.

The time has come
As it does every year
To contact all your friends
And send them some cheer;
To bundle up some wishes
And presents if you can
And hope they achieve
All their wonderful plans.

Some say Merry Christmas,
Others say Season’s greetings
But they all share the spirits
Of love and good wishes meaning.
They all have the meals that are
The ones they always have made.
They sing the appropriate songs

Many have bought or they made
Presents that will make it clear
That the people they give them to
Are the ones they hold most dear.
Even for those people too poor or
Or far away for gifts to be sent
Make sure the people they love
Know what their love has meant.

So, this is the time for me to say
Those things I so love to hear
That I am always thinking of you
And you are who I hold dear.
I hope you have all the joy
And best wishes from every one
That you think about every day
And a season full of holiday fun.

He’s a spoiled rich kid
In the land of the one percent.
He feels no remorse for
Those who can’t pay their rent.
He’s popular with fools
And a bunch of toothless boozers
All the while laughing
And calling them all losers.

The favorite son of the GOP
Says nothing with specificity.
He just makes vague promises
He has no idea what his platform is.
He only knows if he stirs up hate
He will win certain delegates.

He won’t be held to the fire
Half-truths work for him just fine.
He’d prefer you not inquire.
Nobody makes him toe the line.
He is paraphrasing fascism
Like he’s the one who invented it.
It’s like Germany in 1930s
They could have easily prevented it.

The favorite son of the GOP
Says nothing with specificity.
He just makes vague promises
He has no idea what his platform is.
He only knows if he stirs up hate
He will win certain delegates.

Here’s the way to make it
Work the best for a new dictatorship.
You take the populace along
On your traveling one-man ego trip
After your party has published
Scurrilous big lies about the opposition
Then spread a lot more rumors
Which gives the voters their ammunition.

The favorite son of the GOP
Says nothing with specificity.
He just makes vague promises
He has no idea what his platform is.
He only knows if he stirs up hate
He will win certain delegates.

I used to believe in Santa Claus
So jolly and red and so fat.
I was a big fan of Christmas
No holiday was as great as that.
Not Easter with those funny eggs
Not even Halloween with candy.
No, that thing about tons of presents
To me, that was fine and dandy.

And we even got two weeks off
Nobody had to go to school.
Then coming back with new clothes
That made me look so cool.
Nothing compared to Santa Claus
The flying reindeer, ** ** guy.
I used to try to stay awake
So I could see him flying by.

It was such a great reality
To know that dude was up there
In the frozen north pole air
Making stuff for kids everywhere.
That was the world I reveled in,
Where everyone celebrated.
I knew I was not the only one
Who sat by the tree and waited.

I don’t remember being confused
By the Santas in department stores.
Santa had lots of helpers, I knew,
And this guy was just one more.
I did have a problem with chimneys
And a bag that he could lift
That carried things for all us kids;
Every size and type of gift.

But kids have a way of helping folks
To maintain a pretty fantasy.
We just ignored things that didn’t fit.
We went about it very easily.
But one day, and I remember when
I got let in on the confidence game
And Santa Claus was quickly gone,
Never to come to our house again.

The sad thing is nothing can ever
Replace the joy I once felt.
Santa was not supposed to be
Like Frosty and too quickly melt.
So, I have to make do with having
The grownup toys I buy myself.
Oh, how I could use a flying sled
And the help of a brace of elf.

They call her Truck Stop Tessie
Out I-forty a ways.
Usually you can find her there
Most sunny days.
And even if it’s raining
I am sure if you tried
You still will find Tessie
At the café inside.

She calls herself a housewife
But that would be a lie
She doesn’t ever clean the place
She can’t cook a pie.
She only gets dressed up
To go out on the town.
She a big old mess unless
She’s messing around.

They call her Truck Stop Tessie
Out I-forty a ways.
Usually you can find her there
Most sunny days.
And even if it’s raining
I am sure if you tried
You still will find Tessie
At the café inside.

She’s an old fashioned ******
In a new-fangled dress.
She makes out she’s a lady
But she’s a bit of a mess.
She dropped out of high school
To ride in boy’s cars.
If they make a round-heel movie
She could be the big star.

They call her Truck Stop Tessie
Out I-forty a ways.
Usually you can find her there
Most sunny days.
And even if it’s raining
I am sure if you tried
You still will find Tessie
At the café inside.

She was going with another guy
When it all started out.
He wouldn’t take her dancing
So she started to pout.
Then, he slapped her face a bit,
I stepped in to defend.
I probably should slap myself
Make this nightmare end.

They call her Truck Stop Tessie
Out I-forty a ways.
Usually you can find her there
Most sunny days.
And even if it’s raining
I am sure if you tried
You still will find Tessie
At the café inside.

Do you only touch in anger?
Do you have the habit of hugging your kid?
Or do you prefer not to
Just like the parents of criminals did?
Do you think hugging
Will make your child turn out to be soft?
With nobody home to turn to
Would your child then be better off?

Does your son or daughter
Go without being touched in love for years?
Is the only emotion allowed
Obedience and silence, never any tears?
Does your perfect child idea
Amount to something like a stuffed toy?
Does your list not involve
Things that are normal for a girl or boy?

Is everything else important,
But not the issue of your child’s happiness?
When your child asks questions
Do you treat it as just smart-mouthedness?
If your child questions bad ideas
Do you take that as a personal attack?
Do you find yourself thinking,
And saying, you want your freedom back?

If any of the above is true
You are not being a loving kind of parent.
If your child’s image of you
Is of an angry person given to swearing
And calling them names
That should be reserved for enemy,
Then wake up and realize
That’s not the right behavior to use on family.

I am glad I lived this long
So I could be on the internet.
I always wanted a ****** life
And though I haven’t got there yet
I am close, I can see it now
Throngs and hordes of ***** people;
Hundreds want to ****** me.
Several sites want to enlarge me,
I blush, nobody wants to reduce me.

I get fifty or so messages a day
Telling me how hot they are.
They treat me like I am a king
Or a kind of ****** superstar.
Calling me like sirens on rocks
They do, at least, until I get
To the part where I must pay
To get laid on the internet.

I have asked enough questions
Some of them embarrassing
To get the idea and understand
Why it’s me they are harassing.
By even clicking on their site
I’ve proved that I am a fool.
They say to themselves, I’m sure
“Will you look at this gullible tool?

Oh, and the promises they make!
They will rock my world with a word.
They will tell me the hottest things
That a schmuck like me ever heard.
But to clear the air, when they ask
For card numbers I don’t make a peep.
I am as ***** as a drunken rabbit
But first and foremost, I am cheap.

(I’m) talking about
Freedom!
Peace and liberty
A land of
Freedom!
Love and equality
Freedom!
Is what we need to see!

Maya Angelou said it
So, it has to be
The caged bird sings
But it is not free.
Pretending for money
Won’t make it be.
There is no substitute
For being free.

Freedom for you
Freedom for me
Freedom!
For every ethnicity!
Freedom!
For both gay and straight
Freedom!
For all, we can’t wait.

Always there are thieves
Who would steal your rights.
They exist on the left
And they exist on the right.
They get paid to rob you
And never let you be
If you aren’t vigilant
You’re never really free.

Freedom!
Before someone kills it.
Freedom!
Because the country wills it!
Freedom!
Saw The Liberty Bell crack.
Freedom!
It’s yours if you take it back.

Democracy is a concept
And we have to protect it.
Money-making crooks
Will try to make you reject it.
They tell you everything
Will end up just fine
Because freedom cuts in
To their bottom profit line.

(I’m) talking about
Freedom!
Peace and liberty
A land of
Freedom!
Love and equality
Freedom!
Is what we need to see!

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.

You made me hate you.
You must love to do it,
You’re acting like you knew it.
You made me hate you.
There’s really nothing to you.
You’re loathed by all that knew you.

You are disgusting sometimes
And times you’re worse.
You really need drugs and
A doctor and a full time nurse.

You always lie so
The truth seems to evade you.
It’s like the devil made you.
I wish you’d just frack off.

Gimme, gimme, gimme
What I long for
A better kind of behavior
I can’t write a song for.
You know you made me
Hate you!

When I say I’m a nudist
I am told I’m disgusting
But then, I keep forgetting
It’s that “people don’t ****” thing.
And people don’t ****
And nobody ever craps.
They just keep their napkin
Tucked safely in their laps.
They don’t belch, not ever,
And nobody picks their nose.
It’s the way of polite folks
And that’s just how it goes.

Well, let me remind you
Where you were born,
And where you came out of,
And that you were shorn
Of any kind of clothing
Both mother and the child.
You were born like the animals
Both domestic and wild.

You are naked one assumes
When you shower your body
So, please quit acting like
****** is something shoddy.
Your parent put such madness
Inside of your innocent head;
Things like getting re-dressed
Each night when you go to bed.

The insanity of Europeans
Who came to American soil
And wore LAYERS of clothing
In the heat while they toiled.
Then they went to other lands
And warped the people there
With the strange brand of madness
They had been taught to share.

They were taught to be ashamed
Of what god had given them;
That their private parts were evil
And turned you into a golem.
And when asked for a reason
For this weird kind of crazy
They started talking about god
When their logic got all hazy.

So you “people don’t ****” folks
Can just kiss my naked ***.
That thinking might work for you
But for me it won’t pass
For anything but brainwash
And the programming of the sick.
So wake the hell up, the rest of you
And get on the natural stick.

If I want to be naked all day
And you want to wear clothing
That should be each of our choice;
A personal ‘go or don’t go’ thing.
I mean, for a perfect example here
Think of laundry bill savings
So, you can just stop harassing
And gnashing and raving.

Brent Kincaid
4/12/2015

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.