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680 · Oct 2017
NOT KNOCKING KNOCKERS
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.
679 · Jan 2017
MISS AGNES COLUMBUS
Brent Kincaid Jan 2017
Miss Agnes Columbus
What are you doing?
What is your calling?
What path are you pursuing?
Your mother wants a teacher
Your father wants you married.
Poor miss Agnes Columbus
Now wonder you are harried.

Miss Agnes Columbus
What are you doing?
What is your calling?
What path are you pursuing?

Unlike famous Christopher
You don’t travel in the world.
You stay home all the time
And set your hair to curl.
You read all the magazines
And know all the styles.
What makes you happy Agnes?
What makes you smile?

Your mother wants a teacher
Your father wants you married.
Poor miss Agnes Columbus
Now wonder you are harried.

You write inside your diary
That nobody ever reads.
Your mother and your father
Doubt where it will lead.
Whoever will hire a poet,
A creator of hidden rhymes?
You are not Emily Dickenson
And this is not olden times.

Miss Agnes Columbus
What are you doing?
What is your calling?
What path are you pursuing?
Your mother wants a teacher
Your father wants you married.
Poor miss Agnes Columbus
Now wonder you you are harried.
678 · May 2018
A FREE SPEECH
Brent Kincaid May 2018
I’m all for freedom of speech for everyone
Without pardoning you for things you’ve done.
Here’s something you don’t get to say to me
You don’t get to tell me I may not disagree!
You who plan constant genocide and invasion
Make pacifists like myself rise to the occasion.
We refuse to authorize you buying a warship.
You act as if that word is very like worship!

Too many scary cowards setting precedences.
In your overstuffed, gadget-filled residences.
You’re issuing orders to send youths to die.
Since you’re not going, why bother to ask why?
Some bribe-taking elite snobs in costly suits
Tell you to send kids overseas in combat boots.
If you rebuke them they bring out the dramatics.
Their reason is their bookkeeper’s mathematics.

In the USA, we waged war after disastrous war
And few of us asked why, and what is it for?
We invaded people’s lands and destroyed it
And there never was a reason to deploy it
An international revenue generating machine
****** thousands on both sides, nice and clean.
Then demand we buy coffee, seven bucks a cup,
If we think of objecting, you want us to shut up.

After all, it’s just one more war, wrapped up to go.
What’s a two or three million dead people or so?
The point it, there’s a bottom line to adhere to
So what it affects or kills someone near you?
Don’t be unpatriotic and ***** with fate.
Genocide is lucrative and an  American trait.
Just look what we did to the natives here.
Read that story. What we’re doing is clear.
677 · Sep 2015
HELL
Brent Kincaid Sep 2015
There are a million kinds of hell
And they show us what we’re worth
More than a million paths to hell
And hell can be right here on earth.

Hell can be the job you choose to take
Or maybe it’s the place you choose to live.
It can be the lies you tell to others
And times you chose to take and not to give.

Some know stories all about the devil
And think that hell will come when we die.
But look around the world at those who suffer
And you may cease to question where and why.

There’s the hell that lying binds you,
And the hell when lust will blind you.
There’s a hell when envy grinds you
And when absolute riches find you.

Sometimes hell is exactly what you make it be.
Something you’re not strong enough to duck.
Others have their hell ****** upon them.
Maybe it’s all not much more than luck.

Hell is when you feel your life is suffering
And nothing ever will come set you free.
Giving up all hope of any rescue for you
How much worse can the Bible’s hell be?

There are a million kinds of hell
And they show us what we’re worth
More than a million paths to hell
And hell can be right here on earth.
There’s the hell that lying binds you,
And the hell when lust will blind you.
There’s a hell when envy grinds you
And when absolute riches find you.
676 · Apr 2015
MS TROUBADOUR
Brent Kincaid Apr 2015
She sits on the courthouse steps
Playing songs she herself wrote
Every word she sings she means
Her heart there in every note.
She sings of the pain she sees
In the world that passes by.
She sings to you and to me
Her music makes you cry.

(She sings)
We who have so much
Give little to the others.
We let our children starve
And do not help the mothers
And the fathers who work
To make their daily bread
While rich people won’t help
Keep a house over their heads.

She manages to choose chords
That sing of lonely suffering.
Her angelic voice softens up
The accusations she’s uttering.
She tells of squandered glory
In the wasting of our lives
While the overfed rich people
Go home to their gilded wives.

(She sings)
We who have so much
Give little to the others.
We let our children starve
And do not help the mothers
And the fathers who work
To make their daily bread
While rich people won’t help
Keep a house over their heads.

Few listen to the troubadour
Who tells us all our name.
They may drop in a penny
To soften up their shame.
But every day they pass her
And soon they do not hear
The wisdom in her lyrics.
They do not feel the fear.

(She sings)
We who have so much
Give little to the others.
We let our children starve
And do not help the mothers
And the fathers who work
To make their daily bread
While rich people won’t help
Keep a house over their heads.

Brent Kincaid
4/18/2015
675 · Nov 2016
HOLIDAY TRADITIONS
Brent Kincaid Nov 2016
Once I believed in Santa
And the north pole was real.
The lights on the Christmas  tree
Could change the way I'd feel.
The standard kind of carols
Still make me reminisce
When everyone got friendly
And cheeks were happily kissed.

Sure, as I got to be older
Most of my gifts were clothes
But there were still lovely things
For eyes, and ears and nose;
The smell of turkey baking
And pecan and pumpkin pie.
Christmas music on the radio
Those Christmases gone by.

And later we went caroling
Some friends of me and mine.
We sang in lovely harmony
We all sounded very fine.
Back at home with egg nog
We often played  Monopoly.
We laughed and told jokes
A happy Yuletide family.

As time went on we changed
And some old traditions fell.
We threw out the silver tree
And tinsel went away as well.
We started to add to our growing
Collection of handmade things.
The colorful lights still twinkled
But the angel no longer had wings.

Times have gotten busier
So tempting to avoid the trip
But it’s only this once a year
So we don’t let this visit slip.
We keep these memories going
And talk about them each year
When the family comes back
For the holidays from far and near.
675 · Jul 2017
LETTING MYSELF HATE
Brent Kincaid Jul 2017
I let myself hate some people,
Just this once, without remorse.
It isn’t that they couldn’t be better
But they certainly couldn’t be worse.
When I see someone hurting others
Just because they know they can
I begin to doubt if they really are
Still what we could call a man.

Or a woman, it’s that way too.
I have seen both happening
And their womanhood doesn’t really
Spare them the awful labeling
As monsters no less than seen
In the worst of horror flicks.
You don’t have to watch them long
To recognize that they are sick.

Why would anyone with everything;
House, toys and outrageous food
Find themselves so evil and resentful
To get into a robbing, killing mood?
Yet they do, and spend great energy
Finding ways to steal and maim more
And more of people they don’t know
And then call themselves sweet names.
What does it take to make people be
All hyped up on these kinds of games?

And why do others applaud them
And act like they are something great?
Go ahead, come up with some excuses.
I’ll be patient and sit and just wait.
What could make a person believe
That genocide, embezzlement and theft
Are they only ways they can have fun?
That there is nothing more fulfilling left?
674 · Jan 2016
GEDUNK
Brent Kincaid Jan 2016
I love Twinkies,
The sweet food, not the guys.
I love how they taste
And ignore the chubby thighs.
Gedunk.

I really dig pizza,
The kind covered with stuff
I eat it every day.
I just can’t get enough.
Gedunk.

Ice cream is great
I can eat it by the tub
And then I look like one
A human tub, there’s the rub.
Gedunk

It’s a US Navy word
For tasty stuff I like to eat;
Anything high sugar
Low food value and very sweet.
Gedunk.

The kind of stuff I like
When I’m at the movies.
Sweet, greasy or salty.
Sometimes even hyper meaty.
Gedunk.

Food value no need,
Just something to munch.
Nutrition and such
Just leave that for lunch.
Gedunk.

The same with politics
I usually kind of go along.
If the issues are annoying
Well that’s just wrong.
Gedunk.

I want someone who talks
About stuff that’s easy to hear.
Like football, and sports.
Politics doesn’t go with beer.
Gedunk.

I want to hear simple things
Like blaming others for what’s wrong.
See? I just vote my gut
And kind of just go along.
Gedunk.
672 · Aug 2015
PLAYING GOD
Brent Kincaid Aug 2015
I made you love me
With treacle, tricks and tonsure.
I was so sure of myself
I could dissuade you from anyone else
And elves would come
In the night to bewitch you more deeply.
Sleepy, sleeping, not seeing
You would fall under my loving spell.

And well would I use you
Truly dragging you along unaware
Of my witchery, jiggery-pokery
Jokingly, or seductively
Instructively guiding you to please
Easing you into your role;
Solely in charge of the play
Saying sweet, flattering words
Heard in clutches and hugs
Drugs for the lonely, the needy.

And you became convinced
Since I am so good at my craft
I drafted you into my dream
Seemingly all your idea.
My Galatea of sweet, smooth skin;
Sin for me to commit gladly,
Madly, I did not care what you wanted
I flaunted my talent brashly
Trashily uncaring of the scorn
That might be born of my ego;
My need so ugly to see:
Me, playing god of love.
671 · Oct 2015
CALLING ALL ANGELS
Brent Kincaid Oct 2015
If there are angels where you are
Can you ask one of them to come see me?
There are things I want to know
How do I live without you beside me?
Life with you was perfect for us
Now I have no idea what to do with my days.
I didn’t realize how much of me
Depended on you in so many wonderful ways.

Calling all angels.
I really need you here with me.
Guardian angels.
Sometimes I think I need three.
I’ll be here waiting,
Maybe not exactly patiently
But when you get here
I will be grateful as can be.

I know you’re in heaven
You were an angel here on earth
I always felt it;
Not only I knew what you were worth.
You made me stronger
So I have not quite fallen apart
But that is a miracle
Because I have lost half my heart.

Calling all angels.
I really need you here with me.
Guardian angels.
Sometimes I think I need three.
I’ll be here waiting,
Maybe not exactly patiently
But when you get here
I will be grateful as can be.
671 · Oct 2018
VOODOO DAYS
Brent Kincaid Oct 2018
These are voodoo days
When monsters have their way
With the good people alive
So the evil people can thrive.
This is a time when madness
Roams the land to pillage
And rename the boundaries
Of our fine global village.

Children once went to school
And we made sure they learned
What had happened to us all
When dissenting books were burned.
Then too many scary people
Got by with lying to us a lot.
They didn’t have us in mind,
And didn’t care what we thought.

So, their Halloween costumes seem
To only be visible to the eye
When you listen to their chants
Instead of just passing by.
If you listen closely to the words
And not just campaign speech,
You quickly see dictatorship
Is not far out of their reach.

When your friendly candidate
Starts sounding like a Mussolini
Standing up and calling them out
Does not make you a ******.
No, it makes you more of true
Patriot caring for your country
Than guys in expensive suits
Who only care about their money.
671 · Oct 2016
MONETARY MOAI
Brent Kincaid Oct 2016
The Monetary Moai
Standing on the shore
Making sure you worship them
Making sure they get more.

More of your offerings
More of your respect
Even if the have to take you
And hang you by the neck.

The Moai are important
With their grant-faced stare.
You may or may not like them
But they don’t have to care.

They are the gods to you,
And you the fools that revere them.
You put them on their pedestals;
Stop others from coming near them.

You, the ones who refuse
To question them and their power
Have made them the gods they are
Right up until their final hour.

It they ever revert to the truth
As just strange hunks of stone
Maybe then you will leave them
Ignored, disintegrating and alone.

But as long as these monoliths
Represent something good to you
There is nothing that the rest of us
Can, by resisting them, can ever do.

We can talk and chant and rant
And tell you that you are all fools
But it was your hands that put them up
Your effort, superstitions and tools.
670 · Oct 2016
HALLMARK MOMENT
Brent Kincaid Oct 2016
Things are much better now
Then back in days gone by
When I was always lonely
And love songs made me cry.
I no longer get depressed
When couples pass me by
Seeing two people happy
Made me wonder why.

Was I some kind of loser
Or someone undeserving?
Love just kept avoiding me
I found it most unnerving.
I questioned everything about me
Was I really so unloveable?
I could find no answers then.
I only knew I was miserable.

Friends tried hard to fix me up
But nothing seemed to work.
It was like I was a circus clown
Or some kind of social ****.
I smiled and laughed and I
Was oh so very polite
But somehow everything I tried
Did not seem to work out right.

So after such a long time
I decided to give up trying.
If I said I wasn’t nervous then
I would totally be lying.
Once I gave up self-pitying
I began to enjoy every day.
I guess I looked a bit better;
Things began to go my way.

One day a conversation
Turned into a relationship
And all those safeguards
And fears began to slip.
They dropped off and suddenly
I found it easy to feel love.
This was the kind of feeling
I was hearing so much of.

So, the sad times were gone
They had slipped into the past
And out of the blue, unprepared
I have something that lasts.
I am smart enough to know
I should not ask myself why.
I am just delighted that today
Love songs don’t make me cry.
669 · Nov 2016
GIDDY DITTY
Brent Kincaid Nov 2016
I heard the wind speak your name
I enjoyed the aroma of your scent
Though you had gone for hours.
And I knew what these things meant.
I heard your voice in the breeze
And saw your face in the clouds.
I wanted so much to see you again
That I needed to shout out loud.

I am that slap-happy person
I made fun of only yesterday.
I would look at me and laugh.
But not anymore. Not today.
If you haven’t had it happen
Someone changes everything,
Then you won’t understand
Any lyric I am choosing to sing.

Days were once just long hours,
Time endured begrudgingly by me.
Then you changed them to music;
Measures of beats and melody.
It was so easy to sing from then on
And to dance instead of walking.
I found myself making poetry
Rhyming instead of just talking.

So many of the things in life
Chores I once found tedious,
Like going outside in the rain
Or waiting for the next bus
No longer even bother me
Now that symphonies play
Like a movie theme song
To accompany me on my way.

I am that slap-happy person
I made fun of only yesterday.
I would look at me and laugh.
But not anymore. Not today.
If you haven’t had it happen
Someone changes everything
Then you won’t understand
Any lyric I am choosing to sing.
666 · Apr 2016
MEMORIAL
Brent Kincaid Apr 2016
For you who served
So others might live.
Some of you gave
All you had to give.
We lost some of you
And it broke our hearts
But, live or die you all
Stood up to do your part.

For those of you who served
When some could not go
You overcame obstacles
That we will never know.
But because you stood
And fought against villainy
You have an honored place
In our country’s history.

No stones can be stacked
High enough to balance
The mothers who lost
Their children in battles
And no speeches made
Can ever appropriately say
What your sacrifice has meant
To every one of us today.
665 · Oct 2015
LIFELONG LEGACY
Brent Kincaid Oct 2015
The ringing of a telephone
A simple knock when I’m alone.
Someone just calling my name
And screaming seem the same.
A loud noise when I am sleeping,
Someone throwing open my door,
A car backfiring close by home,
The sounds of steps across the floor.

These are the normal sounds
The symphony of people living.
These sounds don’t normally
Carry terror along with the giving
Like someone living in a war zone
A place with mass invading troops.
They are isolated common things
Unless they arrive in huge groups.

Yet these things still bring me
A painful pounding in my heart
And it goes on for too long
From the moment it starts.
It is the gift of abandonment
Of childhood neglect and abuse
And is viewed by most adults
As ridiculous and abstruse.

But many survivors of childhood
Of threat and pain and fear
Will tell you the horror remains
After the passage of many years.
It has to do with the inner self
Being robbed of a basic trust
Of life itself by their care givers,
By God himself, if you must.

Because there feels a solid knowing
That truly, deep inside the child
There is nobody to save them
From creatures near and wild.
Nobody will come to rescue us
When the bad things come to bite
And everybody knows they come
In the deepest part of the night.
665 · Mar 2016
THE F WORD
Brent Kincaid Mar 2016
I’m the Caucasian black guy
Crying out for equal rights.
I’m the white faced coolie
You murdered in the night
So you didn’t have to pay
His salary on the railroad.
I’m the unrelated relative
Of Faulkner’s Tom Joad.

I’m the underappreciated
The **** of many quips.
I’ve known the well of bitterness
And have taken countless sips.
The names they’ve called me
Seldom amounted to praise.
I’m the one they passed over
When giving out a raise.

I was told to not expect
To advance in any job.
I was told to just agree
And to let my silent head bob.
I knew all the best was there
For a man who had a wife.
Otherwise I must do without
The rewards in everyday life.

But we must sleep and eat
And have a roof over our heads.
So we cut up and act the fool
And eat the cheapest breads.
We act like the jokes don’t hurt
While we bleed inside our souls.
We make the best of what we have
And compromise our own goals.

Yes, we’re the modern house slaves
Regardless of the color of our skin.
We’re expected to be satisfied because
They think God has made us from sin.
It’s one of those shameful moments
That blot the history of our planet.
We’re dealt with as if we were ****
And told we simply must stand it.
665 · Nov 2016
DEATHLESS LOVE
Brent Kincaid Nov 2016
I’ll keep on loving you
Long after you start to
Look like your mother
Though she looks much
Too much like her brother.
I’ll keep on laughing at
The groaner puns you make
And eating the cakes
That taste like meatloaf
From Blavian yak ****
Because that is what,
To me, true love is.

It doesn’t take a wiz kid
To see what nature did
And I am sure I will be
A cartoon version of me
When I get to that stage
Where age has altered us
To having rear-ends like a bus
And skin like the spin cycle
Before the dryer gets there.
We’ll have hair like lint
To match the laundry bent
Of the last four lines.

And I know I won’t mind
Because it’s you I adore
And that is what love is for
To help us ignore the stuff
Like belly button fluff
And farting unashamedly
Even though we are blamedly
Guilty as recharged, stinking.
I am guilty of thinking
Things will continue to get worse
Until the nurse considers ******
When nobody heard her.
665 · Jan 2017
WISH LIST
Brent Kincaid Jan 2017
I want to be where people love each other
Where trust is the way things are.
I want to practice everything I preach;
Learn to love folks for who they are.
I want to get up and be very glad I’m here
That I have food and clothes and shoes.
I want to sing praises for the life I lead
And to replace everything I use.

I want to see all the people that I know
And let them know I cherish all of them.
I want to consider thoroughly before I speak
And not insist people follow my whims.
I want to hear all the music the world plays
And sing along when I know the words.
I want to share with the people I know
Every helpful thing I've ever heard.

I want to laugh every day and not be sad
Unless some poor soul I know is hurt.
I want to contribute to make things better
Even if in the end I lose my shirt.
I want to be strong enough to speak up
If someone is trying to tell lies
To take things from those that own
And the victims don’t even realize.

I’m going to raise my voice and celebrate
When the downtrodden manages to win.
I will applaud and shout “Good for you!”
If they trip, say “Get up and try again!”
I want a world when money is not
The final word in every dispute.
I want to know there is no one who says,
“You must do what I say or I’ill shoot!
664 · Apr 2016
SLEEP MESSAGES
Brent Kincaid Apr 2016
When I dream
I find myself in places
I never go to awake
Taking chances
I never take
For fear I will break
Or stumble.

So instead I grumble
That I never go anywhere
And let myself scare myself
Out of doing what I need
To do in order to be true
To the person I am
When I am awake.

I fully flimflam and take
The easy, the coward’s road.
I hop away like a toad
Then whine to myself
In my dreams.

It seems ineffective.
But it seems inelective.
It’s like I have no choice
But I still listen
To my sleeping voice.

Someday I may stop
And drop this bad habit,
Choosing to have it my way;
Me on the highway, walking
Instead of lying in bed talking
About how good it could be
If I were the dreaming me.
663 · Feb 2017
THE CON IN CONTEMPT
Brent Kincaid Feb 2017
I saw a woman on the bus today
She was scowling for all she was worth.
I found it impossible not to think
She had looked that way since birth.
She was openly starting and frowning at
A young woman less than half her age
Whose manner of appearance and actions
Seemed to set the woman into a rage.

The young lady was with her friends
But she was the happiest of the lot
Yet somehow her expressions of joy in life
Seemed to make the older woman hot.
I could tells he wanted to say something,
A coarse and disapproving kind of remark.
But she appeared to prefer to keep quiet
Even though here thoughts were obviously dark.

I sat next to the older woman and asked her,
“Do you know that girl standing right there?”
She frowned and told me, “Certainly not
I’m sure that type has nothing much to share.
Surely nothing godly or proper or polite.!”
I asked her why she felt that was the truth.
“There can be nothing good to come to her.
She’s obviously a major waste of her youth.

Look how she dresses and flaunts her ***
And don’t disregard how she makes up her face.
She doesn’t care if everyone knows that she
Is an embarrassment to her folks, a disgrace.
It’s disgusting how she wiggles her ****
In front of all of these ***** men to see.
She’s a ******* in the making, it seems.
At least that’s what she looks like to me."

I had so many things I wanted to say to her
To defend a young woman I did not know
But I made an instant decision that I
Would say nothing and let the moment go.
After all, the older woman had no regard
That times and changed and passed her by.
Nothing anybody had told her in life
Had made a difference, so how could I?
662 · Oct 2015
MANDAMUS
Brent Kincaid Oct 2015
Why are you shouting out loud?
Are you saying I am too proud?
Do you think I am undeserving?
If so, it is completely unnerving
That you don’t want me to own
What you see as yours alone;
A sense of dignity and hope.
You must see me as a dope
Who can’t see you getting rich.
You are one shallow sonofabitch
If you think just calling me villain
Will somehow make me willing
To give up my own free voice
So that only you have a choice
About how much I will make
And which decisions I take
About my own home and body.
Can you really be that shoddy?

Well, yes, I have learned you are.
You think you are a superstar
And are immune to decency
That your star is in ascendency.
Well, I really hope that it is not
And that your tail gets caught
In the door before it slams
And we see the last of your scams
And your nepotistic buddy deals
And get back to what is real
And proper for our poor nation
Instead of graft and intimidation
That makes wealth for a few.
Nothing for me, all for you.
661 · Dec 2015
JUNKIE
Brent Kincaid Dec 2015
I was a certifiable ******
With the classic monkey
Riding squarely on my back
But I had no needle tracks.
I was almost undetectable
As my addiction was respectable.
No, I was not a rock musician.
I got my dope from my physician;
An almost never-ending source
Offered up with no remorse
I only had to mildly complain
That I was experiencing pain
And the cornucopia opened wide.
It held my immediate future inside.

I was off to party with friends
To the cabaret that never ends;
That free-wheeling waking dream
That made everything in life seem
As if nothing mattered that day
But that we should all stay and play.
And if something was getting tiring
It was time to retune the wiring
With a few more clever little pills
That cured all my temporary ills.

If I was exhausted or had an ache
It was time to take a little ****** break
Or, maybe not just that dosage alone.
Maybe better to take some Oxycodone.
Then, I can keep on night-club dancing
And backseat, hyper-speed romancing.
And later, needing sleep; a downer
Is good for an out-on-the-towner
Who has needed some rest for days
But the normal drugs and party ways
Wouldn’t quite let me get to sleep.
I felt that above all else, I had to keep
On doing what I was doing: having fun.
There was too much ******* to be done.

But every kind of candle has two ends.
There’s the one where the thing begins
And when I was trashing around a lot
Thinking of the other end was really not
The kind of thought-process I liked.
I wanted to do more of the kind that hiked
My awareness and my stamina to the max
And “injects my existence with what it lacks”.

While today I shudder to remember my words
At that time they were the best I’d heard
Since chocolate cake and butter cream icing.
None of that workaday stuff was to my liking.
It would be nearly twenty nearly deadly years
Before I found myself on a sidewalk in tears
Asking myself where things had gone wrong.
And while I am sure you are sick of this song
At the time it was a sad music to my ears.
Today, it’s the only music I want to hear.
661 · Apr 2018
AUNT BERTHA
Brent Kincaid Apr 2018
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?
657 · Sep 2015
ONE WISH
Brent Kincaid Sep 2015
I just want five hundred grand
Is that too much for me to ask?
It is a lot. Probably too much.
But I am prepared for the task
Of spending that much dough.
I have it completely planned out.
I know where every dollar goes.
It’s all over but the last shout.

Right away, I want a house
And a decent one here on Kauai.
I also want a brand new truck
For my husband to drive and try.
I also have a few trips to plan
Like floating down the Rhine
And then up by train to Denali
That would suit us both just fine.

That ought to do it, I believe;
A secure home all paid for
And decent new cars for us
And a world out there to explore.
That should spend that money
And have a bit of change left over.
Satisfying the homebody I am
And the man I married is a rover.

I am very willing to write a book
And have it sell a million copies.
I have several started and am sure
They would each be a hit in shoppes.
There can be about eight books
Carefully edited by me, for sure
Those alone should make my rep.
That would be my poverty cure.
656 · Jun 2018
LOVE JUNKIE
Brent Kincaid Jun 2018
Love ******
What else can I say?
Addicted to love
I’ve always been that way.
It’s an actual fact
Not just the way I act.
It’s the way I feel
And every word is real.

All should accept it
I take every single chance
Whenever I think this
Is the time for romance.

Yes, love can make me
Act like a monkey in a zoo
But trust me when I say
For me it’s nothing new.
I am totally enraptured
Like I’m as high as a kite
Each time I get captured
Happy all day and night.

All should accept it
I take very single chance
Whenever I think this
Is the time for romance.

I’ve been with those
For whom it’s all just play
And while it can be fun
I’m just not made that way.
It’s not about appearance
They can be thin or chunky
The point is that I am
An unrepentant love ******.
656 · Jan 2017
THE TRUE CROSS
Brent Kincaid Jan 2017
(Warning: this poem is not for the religiously inclined.)

For centuries, entrepreneurs
Have been selling slivers
Of the True Cross of Jesus
Promising how much it delivers.
Of course, if they were any part
Of the real True Cross at all
The weight of all that wood means
The cross was thirty feet tall.

Still, it is only meant to be
A symbol of The Son Of God
Who got murdered and transformed
Into a deity, but that's odd.
It’s like all the Romans making
A ****** dagger their sign
Of the purity of Julius Caesar;
Revered if not quite divine.

Or maybe worshipping the bullet
That killed Kennedy or King.
Are we sure that kind of devotion
Is the right way to the right thing?
But fonts full of holy water did
The trick for many centuries.
So, maybe the faithful don’t care
About ecumenical vagaries.

Yet I don’t hold much hope out
For businesses of spirituality
Who put up golden castles
In zones of the most abject poverty.
Anyone who thinks a god
Needs to look down on glitz
Promises not much more
Than a dogma from the pits.

We need to celebrate what we have
And not so much what is lost.
What has all the jewels and gold
And superstition added to the cost?
I prefer to keep my integrity and
Check out who’s the real boss.
Knowing that it might upset those
Who get weepy about a cross.
655 · Apr 2018
WORSERY RHYMES 2018
Brent Kincaid Apr 2018
Winking, Stinking and Clod,
Each with a gross ugly ***.
Each a miserable  thief
With greed past belief
And all were hatched out of a pod.

Two hundred silly baboons,
So like unfunny cartoons,
Overpaid and mindless,
They call them a congress.
We won’t be forgetting them soon.

Floppy, Tipsy and Cottonhead
Three bunnies talented in bed.
They rake in the gold
Doing what they’re told
Repeating to no one what’s said.

Hakey fakey Doctor Duck,
Gives glowing reports for a buck.
Not much they’ve done
Was anything like fun
But his hush money fills a truck.

Liar, liar, pants on fire
How does your bank account grow?
We hastily must warn
The banks are foreign
So Americans have no way to know.
655 · Oct 2016
CREEPY LULLABY
Brent Kincaid Oct 2016
Rockabye baby
Up in the air.
Nobody questions
How it got there.
Who would put babies
Up high in a tree?
That sounds like
Child abusing to me!

People have sung this
For hundreds of years
Contributing little
But compounded fears.
They should rethink it
But they feel they must
Later they wonder
About lack of trust.

Like many stories
And songs sung to kids
Some scary stories
Are not so well hid
Like kid-munching witches
And following crumbs
Small wonder they fear
Wicked things come.

So don't put your babies
Up high in a tree
Not even lower
Like branch two or three.
Think up a ditty
That might help them thrive
And grow up happy
That they are alive.
655 · Jan 2016
CALL TO BATTLE
Brent Kincaid Jan 2016
Fools blather about the glory of the fight
And don’t hear the mothers crying at night.
The wives of those marauders on the roam
Cry because their husbands can’t come home.
The children of these battle-addicted men
Go away, eyes ashine, never to return again.
And still the moneyed few, urge on toward
Yet those godlings never pick up a sword.

Mandates from government palaces abound
But not as many as the dead on the ground.
People are expendable to the military,
There are no pensions in the cemetery.
It’s all about honor they tell the press.
Leaving someone else to clean the mess.

Fight for liberty and freedom, they say.
They really mean die for them every day.
It’s all about profit and always was.
It’s that and no more noble cause
When a nation not being attacked
Falsely claims they’re striking back.
Then goes on to leave thousands dead
So they can wear a crown upon their head.

If you see no words of shame in this
Then you have found what is amiss.
These people are not motivated by grace.
They have the look of evil upon their face.
They already own most of what is here
But they keep a running tally all year.
As too much is not enough they crave,
Even if that puts us all in our grave.
655 · Nov 2017
HEY DIDDLE DIDDLE 2017
Brent Kincaid Nov 2017
Hey ****** ******,
Some stars gotta fiddle
Just like a Catholic priest.
We have to give them credit,
God saved them when they did it.
And blessed them at the least.

Hey ****** ******
Fat Trump has to fiddle
With women he can control.
He pretends he doesn’t know
What that word simply shows
Since the last syllable is troll.

Hey ****** ******
A high powered fiddle
Is always powered by cash.
But, Mr. Diddler
Unlike a talented fiddler
You are nothing but overpaid trash.

Hey ****** diddledick
We all hope your fiddlestick
Falls off and lays on the ground
Then you could stop it
And the women could stomp it.
And kick your skanky *** around.
653 · Apr 2018
LIBERATION CELEBRATION
Brent Kincaid Apr 2018
I am glad when each
Patriot says “impeach”!
It will be perfectly all right
If they also say “Indict!”
Then jail him that night.

Truth returns when he’s gone.
Just goodness from then on.
And then people of all colors
Will re-learn to work together
We can make that last forever.

There’ll be a celebration
Clear across this nation!
Then the Republican side
Will need to run and hide!

We’ll hold our heads up high
And bid him a loud goodbye.
We’ll jail him and his pets
And be sure to never let
Americans ever forget

We’ll take away his pension
And never even mention
His name without spitting.
He’s lucky we’re not hitting
Or kicking where he sits!

There’ll be a celebration
Clear across this nation!
Then the Republican side
Will need to run and hide!

Take his awful brats when he leaves
They did whatever they pleased;
Their morals are so small,
Those ugly acorns didn’t fall
Far from the tree at all,

He’ll sit on his golden throne
Except for ******, him alone
And tweet his ignorant tweets
While the lawyers beat feet
And sound a loud retreat.

There’ll be a celebration
Clear across this nation!
Then the Republican side
Will need to run and hide!
652 · Jun 2017
THE LADY OF ALOT
Brent Kincaid Jun 2017
THE LADY OF ALOT

Estatic when she's shopping,
The boughten things she's got;
Right proud of all her purty stuff,
She's The Lady Of Alot.
Alot of costly Chinese stuff
Imported hear by Walmart stores.
She useta shop at I Magnums but
She don't like them ones no more.

Irregardless, she believes she
Ain't not no ordnary ****.
If she'd of got haffa chance
She'd of voted twice for Trump
And the strait Republican ticket
So The Donald can fix are country
Like he exhaled in his own companies,
Making lots of good clean money.

In her sweatshop-made clothing
She shouts allowed she can't wate
For the Grand Old Party and Trump
To agin make Murrkuh grate!
She feel she's happy in her ivory tower
With all the treasures she has got.
She sees nothing wrong with this country
The dense, nearsighted, Lady Of Alot.
649 · Feb 2016
REPULSICAN RAP
Brent Kincaid Feb 2016
Don’t expect evil men to do good things,
They are sick and twisted and addicted
To the bastardy they do. It’s up to you.
You must block them and defrock them;
Throw them out of your political party
Give a hardy heave **, so they know,
Because any word but ‘no’ means yes,
And to them even no can mean okay
If their party pays enough money today
So they can say whatever they want
They’ll flaunt lies as the people’s choice
Unless you give voice to their crime.
They will repeat it each and every time.

Ride them out of town on a rail if need be,
Their seedy behavior will justify it.
They will deny it in face of film footage.
The usage of many lies they will coin
Showing those who are paying attention
That any mention of truth or honesty
Will get instantly reversed and wielded,
Fielded like a pop up ball, by lawyers
And spin doctors on their political team
To make it seem like the good guys
Are not as wise as the black hats
And that will be that, if you don’t stop them.

So beat them, defeat them; turn it around!
Those clowns can only lie for so long
If you don’t go along and okay their crap
Then slap them into jail when they cheat.
Knock them off their feet, depose them
Compose the right paperwork to reverse
The worse things they do and then more;
Even the score by sending them home.
Comb the laws they wrote for corruption
And the interruption of human rights.
Fight fire with fire. If they holler, you shout
And leave them out of the next round
Of sound logic because they have none.
649 · Apr 2018
CATACLYSMIC CATECHISM
Brent Kincaid Apr 2018
Hypocritical catastrophe,
Irreverent duplicity,
Luminarial ludiocrity,
Nonsensical impetuosity.

Flippy floppy, slippy sloppy,
Blamey gamey, shame, shame, shame.

Constitutional incongruity,
Jesuitical dictatoriality,
Oxymoronic partiality,
Nepotistic surreality.

Materialistic abnormality,
Monetaristic conviviality ,
Ritualistic mediocrity,
Histrionic philanthropy.

Gotten rotten, misbegotten
Seldom truthful, lie, lie, lie.

Misdirection genuflection,
Malefaction justification,
Incarceration implication,
Resignation profliferation.

Prevarication reiteration,
Damnation indication,
Malefaction direction
Undetected discretion.

Flippy floppy, slippy sloppy,
Blamey gamey, shame, shame, shame.
Gotten rotten, misbegotten
Seldom truthful, lie, lie, lie.
648 · Sep 2015
JACKIE'S GIRDLE
Brent Kincaid Sep 2015
Jackie come sit with me
I have been waiting so long.
Come hold hands with me
Then I’ll know nothing is wrong.
I will try to do better this time.
Jackie please try not to be
Seethingly angry and snippy;
Completely ******* at me.

I know I should have thought
Before I laughed loud like I did.
Now I wish I had closed my mouth
And had gone someplace and hid.
But, can’t you see that sometimes
Not laughing is quite a hurdle?
Especially the way you look when
You wiggle into your old girdle.

I’ve told you many times before
I prefer your body without one.
But you insist on wearing the thing
And won’t quit until you are done.
So, that’s all fine and very good
If I am not in the room with you.
You insist on dressing in front of me
And you can’t claim you never knew.

Because I giggle and laugh at it
Every time because it is funny
And I can’t help myself, even though
I know your mood won’t be sunny.
Telling you I have never liked girdles
Or things like those awful ***** hose
Doesn’t seem to mean a thing to you
So, that’s just how it all goes.

Every time you put that thing on
And when I laugh you get mad.
And I am ashamed to admit it
But it’s the best time we ever had.
You wiggle and I giggle, and then
You finally get it on and glare at me.
It makes no sense that you insist
On forgetting our marital history.
648 · Nov 2016
I, THE JEREMIAH
Brent Kincaid Nov 2016
I call all prevaricators liars.
They’ve set the world on fire
They’re walking on a wire
And I’m their jeremiah.
Our government is bad
The worst we’ve ever had
When it is fixed, we’ll all be glad.
And thus my jeremiad.

I shout my warnings aloud
Be not so blindly proud.
Our country lives under a cloud;
And we all wear a living shroud.
Snoozing through a pack of lies,
We should wake up if we’re wise
Look at what is before our eyes.
Heed what’s in the common cries.

Are we living behind barbed wire
Only seen by this jeremiah?
The time is now, the need is dire.
We’re threatened with a funeral pyre.
If freedom for all is a major threat,
We haven’t got democracy yet.
Rather than struggle under regret
WE fight a war, don’t forget.

I, the jeremiah, I make you uneasy.
I want the oppressors to be queasy
I want all of them to tease me
To change their ways to please me.
I won’t be polite, use kindly words
I gladly tweak the pompous overlords
I will continue to use my vocal chords
And call them out across the board.
647 · Feb 2016
PIDDLY RIDDLES
Brent Kincaid Feb 2016
Apple core, Baltimore
Some people know the score
They know very well what
This little verse is for.
I don’t have a clue, you see.
It is totally a cypher to me.
It’s a snappy verse, obviously,
But is nothing more than poesy.

Icky wicky bother and blame
Practical jokes are bad games.
Ask me once I’ll say my name;
Every time it will be the same.

It’s a kind of little kid rhyme
That lost its meaning over time.
Parsley sage rosemary and thyme
Kept up with the chronological climb.
But the other is one of those things
Like popsicles and onion rings
That living in the USA brings
But leave me standing in the wings.

Bumpy jumpy, bouncing around
Trying to stay on solid ground
Is chancy at best, I have found.
Its reasoning is not that sound.

Olly olly oxen free is another
The invention of someone or other
To help kids call in their brothers
When the game is curtailed by mother,
Or someone decides it’s done,
Or maybe just no longer fun,
And those hiding one by one
Can come in home on the run.

Icky wicky bother and blame
Practical jokes are bad games.
Ask me once I’ll say my name;
Every time it will be the same.

Pinch you owe me a coke
Is another sadly unfunny joke
Created by some sadistic bloke
That should have got his nose broke
But turned into a game that’s used
Whenever people become amused
By saying the same word the other used.
I don’t like games that leave me contused.

Icky wicky bother and blame
Practical jokes are bad games.
Ask me once I’ll say my name;
Every time it will be the same.
Bumpy jumpy, bouncing around
Trying to stay on solid ground
Is chancy at best, I have found.
Its reasoning is not that sound.
646 · Apr 2016
I DON'T WANT TO PLAY
Brent Kincaid Apr 2016
Wrap up all your games
And take them all away.
They might be fun for you
But I don’t want to play.

Sometimes what we think is luck
It isn’t that at all
It’s a series of bad decisions
That lead us to a fall.
You never seem to grow
Out of this kind of crap.
And smiling while you cheat
Is another kind of trap.

I don’t want to play
Take yourself away
Don’t come back here
Any other day.

You seem to believe
That finding the right words
Means your lies disappear
Like they were never heard.
You never get embarrassed
At the ugly things you do.
But it turns our stomachs
And embarrasses us too.

Wrap up all your games
And take them all away.
They might be fun for you
But I don’t want to play.

It’s almost like a game
You used to play as a kid
Where all of us were meant
To ignore the things you did.
This is not a playground
And we are not in school.
Once it might have been cute
But now you’re just a fool.

I don’t want to play
No matter what you say,
Today or any day.
Find somebody less aware.
I don’t want to play.
646 · Feb 2016
PRETTY PASTORALE
Brent Kincaid Feb 2016
I’d sing to you soft songs
If you walked along with me
By the sea, harmonizing;
Eulogizing each wave before,
Ignoring the temptation
For libations and viands.
The sands would demand
As hand in hand we stroll
And roll with the moment,
The foment feet way
At the end of this day.

I’d revel this all with you
New waves making lights
That night tries to hide
While inside we create
The greatest love and joys
Toys for the fates, caress
And dress us as royalty.
Loyalty and gratitude transform
As we form into a pair.
The wind ruffles our hair.

But clouds don’t talk out loud
And tell you all this about me,
Or rout me out of my dream
Not as real as they seem to be
These illusions often delight me
But rightly, dissipate in the breeze
Then, on my knees, I pray
There will be another day
That is just like this one
That has just begun.
Until then, I thank my luck
That what a buck can’t buy
Has just passed me by
Bringing good fortune
And a clear sky
To weary eyes.

I’d revel this all with you
New waves making lights
That night tries to hide
While inside we create
The greatest love and joys
Toys for the fates, caress
And dress us as royalty.
Loyalty and gratitude transform
As we form into a pair.
The wind ruffles our hair.
646 · Jan 2017
HELPLESS HARBINGER
Brent Kincaid Jan 2017
I cry beware, there's danger there,
But nobody is listening.
I raise my voice and twist my face.
There are tears glistening.
I can see it coming like an ugly beast.
Why the hell can't they smell it at least?
This is going to be like a four-year tsunami,
But sadly, one that won't go away.

All the things we know to be destructive
Are waiting in the wings.
The freedom of us and our nation
May not survive this thing.
While promises of greatness resonate
The putrid smell of recent history
So impatiently waits the doom
While fools bemoan their misery.

The train wreck of modern life
Reverberates in the ears of the wise
And distractions abound in media
While lies are waved before the eyes
Of those loo lazy to leave the couch
To vote or attend meetings or speak;
To stand up for the rights they have
Or find the peace they say they seek.

The national criminals are thrilled
Meanwhile, we are trained to wail
And call evil names about trivia;
About things like someone’s email
And who stands or sits at a game,
Or who is fornicating with who
While, for some, there is nothing
Too immoral some other person can do.
643 · Nov 2016
DEPRESSION PROGRESSION
Brent Kincaid Nov 2016
I can’t watch the news anymore
That ugly orange man is a bore
And a pompous *** and a ****.
Him in charge? That’ll never work.
We are in such trouble, so deep
It’s a wonder any of us can sleep.
I find myself in a constant depression.
It’s like Americans didn’t learn the lesson
In the last of several pointless wars.
We were all taught now and before
When we sent our young off to die
And we weren’t even really sure why.

We brought many of them back in bags
Left the living in dumps and rags
Because we stopped acting like better men
In taking care of our sacrificed veterans.
And did we invest the money wisely instead?
No we chose to obscenely feather the beds
Of people who were never under threat
And we haven’t wised up. No, not yet.
We keep on throwing good toward evil.
Like feeding cotton fields to boll weevils
We elect criminals without recompense.
So little leadership today makes sense.

The land we live in today is so strange.
Right and wrong have been rearranged.
We are lied to and we cheer them on
Until almost all our rights are gone,
Make heroes out of thieves and crooks
Mostly based on fame and their looks.
Half of us don’t even know the issues.
The rest of us reach for the tissues.
Our only solid hope was for us to vote
The sad thing is we’re in the same boat
And no matter what the right is thinking
Our sick national boat is quickly sinking.
643 · Feb 2018
HOPSCOTCH CHANT
Brent Kincaid Feb 2018
Hinky Jinky, Stinky Pinky
The One Percent will play.
Squirrely Shirley Hurly Burly
In the full light of day.
Hop them, bop them;
You can’t stop them.
They’re never going away.
Crying, trying, always lying,
They count on your ignorance.
Hinky Jinky, Stinky Pinky
Wham bam, thank you man.
Daffy, laffy, slappy happy.
What’s the hap? What’s the plan?

Cooked books, buncha crooks.
Loosie, goosey, where’s the noosey?
Flakey, fakey, jump in the lakey.
Take and take, oil of snake,
How much of this can good people take?
Scream and shout, let it all out
Stick it, we’ll show up and picket
You’ll try to trick it, we’ll buy you a ticket
On a rail, feathered, or off to jail.
Subliminal criminals, sentences too minimal
We’ll feel best if you and the rest must
Sell your houses and cars from behind bars.
641 · Aug 2016
SCHRODINGER'S SPAT
Brent Kincaid Aug 2016
Will we end up where we have been
Will anything important have changed
If we were to start all over again?
Or will we end as lovers estranged?
Or will we do it different this time
And make some better choices.
Maybe better words can come
From formerly unsuccessful voices.

After all, we are no longer who
We were before we became
The who we have become now.
We are definitely not the same.
We didn't know then the things
We take for granted today.
We no longer look at our lives
In anything like the same way.

But still we let our feelings
Get away from us so badly
That we began to look at ourselves
And regard each other sadly.
It's like we were someone else
Two different people for sure
Suffering from a kind of illness
For which love had no cure.

After all, we are no longer who
We were before we became
The who we have become now.
We are definitely not the same.
We didn't know then the things
We take for granted today.
We no longer look at our lives
In anything like the same way.

Things were said that seem unreal
When we look back on them now.
We have turned into strangers
But it's like we don't know how.
How did we perform this trick
This sleight of hand without magic?
Why did it take so long to fear
That this would be so tragic?
640 · Mar 2015
Little Baby Lullaby
Brent Kincaid Mar 2015
LITTLE BABY LULLABY

Poor little baby
Your Daddy doesn’t care.
He’s still around someplace
But we don’t know where.

Hush little baby
Your Mama doesn’t care.
She ran off with someone
From the Renaissance Fair.

Precious little baby
Light in someone’s eyes
We pray that your parents aren’t
Immune to all your cries.

Annoying little baby
Your country doesn’t care.
Go find your food and drink
But find it all elsewhere.

Boohoo little baby
Your teachers don’t care
They have tests to pass out.
No time for them to share.

Lonely little baby
Jesus is your savior
As long as you truly are
The right and proper flavor.


(Repeat until it is no longer accurate.)

Brent Kincaid
3/30/2015
638 · Oct 2017
ANNIVERSARY 2017
Brent Kincaid Oct 2017
I am autumn and you are spring
If any of this folderol even means a thing.
I’m a Virgo and you are an Aries sprite.
And somehow the combination fits just right.
If I chose tarot cards and you I Ching
That did not make the wedding bells ring.
Whatever the fates had in store for us two
Is exactly what we are dedicated to do.

You threw a coin into the Trevi fountain
We saw the future on a nearby mountain.
We knew we were matched together for life
Happy newlyweds, two husbands, no wife.
After six months asking important questions
We were sure this was the right proposition.
Some people warned us to take a full year
But we read the signs and they were very clear.

We saw or talked to each other every day
Diving into the words we heard the other say.
It was essential that we learned everything;
Who the other really was and would bring
To a lifetime relationship for two individuals
Determined to keep the relationship in the middle.
There seemed to be nothing there to reject;
We were both what we needed, imperfectly perfect.

We were equally determined to stay ourselves
And put the fairy tales on a childhood shelf
And not expect the other one to ever change.
Some people implied to us that idea was strange.
My friends saw traits in him they urged me to stop.
The same was true of him, but we were not cops.
Instead I cherished the person I saw as great.
He did the same so we did not need to wait.

Now, today, it’s twenty eight years of love
As if we had the blessings from above.
It’s like planets aligned and are blessing us
In some kind of personal Age of Aquarius.
We've had to climb over some gnarly spots
But we're more than happy with what we got.
We got a partnership, love that lasted a lifetime.
So, we wanted to share it with you in this rhyme.
I made a couple of corrections after this got posted.
637 · Aug 2017
THE ALT-RIGHT
Brent Kincaid Aug 2017
Our way is the right way
Just like ****** has shown.
We will carry automatic weapons
And you must leave us alone.
Keep your liberal mouths shut
Give KKK politicians a pass.
If you don’t our President will
Okay thugs to kick your ***.

You had your own way too long
With jerks like that FDR guy was.
We have taken over everything now.
Haven’t you heard the buzz?
We don’t care about equal rights
And **** and blacks and Jews.
We have plenty of Republicans
And Fascists we can use.

We’re going to beat you up
We’re going to **** your kids
We’re going to blow you up
’Til you agree with what we said.
Our way is the right way
Yours is a piece of crap.
We will walk all over your rights
And give The Constitution a slap!

We can take those stupid laws down
That tell us to agree with you
Or hear you or behave ourselves.
Any time we don’t want to.
So quit all your sickening whining
About the things we have done
Like rioting against you wimps.
Your day is over, we have won.

We won because most of you
Like the Germans of the forties
Let spread our righteous hatred
In murderous, cleansing sorties.
So don’t look for magic tricks
Played by a powerful evil elf.
Everything that is happening now
You can only blame yourself.

We’re going to beat you up
We’re going to **** your kids
We’re going to blow you up
’Til you agree with what we said.
Our way is the right way
Yours is a piece of crap.
We will walk all over your rights
And give The Constitution a slap!
636 · May 2019
SHOW PONIES
Brent Kincaid May 2019
A small platoon of beauty,
Lovely boygirls with tiny *****
Posing like Vogue models
And doing dancing tricks
So, hot. So pretty, but not
In the slightest masculine;
No attempt to be butch,
They revel in being feminine.

They’re better at it than girls
Being more of a success
Than all the ** movie stars
In ten thousand dollar dresses.
Such pretty smooth faces, traces
Of ancestry and cool breeding
For thousands of screaming teens
Wishing they were breeding.

They wish these boys were closer
So they could caress and kiss
Close enough so they could not
Avoid, so the teens could not miss.
They want to carefully tarnish them,
These angels of flashing bright lights,
And cuddle them, snuggle them
If only for one youthful, sensuous night.
636 · Jun 2017
DONNIE AND VLADIMIR
Brent Kincaid Jun 2017
Donnie and Vladimir
In a dacha by the sea
H. U. M. P.
I. N. G.
They’re ******* freedom
And democracy.
Sooner or later they will
Get to you and me.

Vlad likes people
On their knees the best.
And Donnie will do
Anything for a
Family crest.

They both want to become
Dictators for life.
They already believe they
Get to ***** your wife.
It’s only their divine right
They wonder “who could blame us?
After all, we deserve it.
Because we’re famous!”

Vlad keeps a secret
He thinks Don a fool.
But Donnie isn’t bright so
Vlad gladly takes Don
Back to school.

Vlad knows Donnie is
A ***** for acclaim
And public adulation
Which is pretty much the same
So why not use this clown
To accomplish his goals,
And steal all the money
And everyone’s souls.

So, there they are
Each gambleaholic whales
Lording it up and robbing us
When they should be in jail.
The fools that let them rule
And the ones who are to blame
But we have to sift the ashes
While the world is in flames.
636 · Mar 2016
GARBLEDYGOOK
Brent Kincaid Mar 2016
Costume clowns
And closet clones
Clutter up my world.
Simulated simians,
Both boys and girls,
Ricochet like rifle shots
In the hallways of my dreams.
Honeyed hectoring
Always more than it seems.

Missing messages
And mumbled grumbling,
I find it quite humbling
That my rhetoric is glistening
To discover nobody is listening.
But be assured, at its root
Disdain will not make me mute.

Despite the confusion
Created by collusion,
And the babble of rabble
That grapple inside my brain
What will remain after
This noisy war is done,
It will definitely be won.
The race will be run
Because I am number one!
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