We saw the natives,
Stole their land,
Burdened their country
With a foreign brand.
Called them savages,
Burned their villages
Prayed to God
To help us pillage.

Knock the natives
To their knees,
Call them inhuman
Take what you need.
Never apologize,
Never confess.
They deserve no better.
Look how they dress.

They’re not decent people.
They aren’t even nice.
How could they be?
They don’t believe in Christ.
We sure don’t want them
To be our neighbor.
They'd not even be that
Much use as slave labor.

Let’s fix this country
Everybody lend a hand
We are all living
In the Promised Land.
Stolen from natives who
Knew what they were doing
Now we are letting it
Descend into a ruin.

You are that person everyone knows
Who ******* almost constantly
About everything that ever goes
Away from how you think it should be.
You have it worked out in your head
Who should get what and when
And how much is right or wrong
And exactly what kind of men
Should have luck and who should
Suffer a miserable fate.
And which people are no good
And which race is truly great.

Why do you take such joy
In making folks around you cry?
So much so that the best thing
They hear you say is goodbye.
Why do you choose hurtful way
To get yourself some attention?
Isn’t there something you can say,
Something nice you can mention
That will make people smile
And not run so quickly away
Then stay with you a little while;
Enjoy some of the things you say?

When did all this all nastiness start?
Is it something from your childhood
Made you take pleasure breaking hearts
Every single chance you could;
And if people are having fun
Makes you jump in and stop
The frivolity and joyousness
Like some kind of buzzkill cop.
Life might change for the better
If you returned the smiles you get.
You’re a big grump now, for sure
Be nice and people will soon forget.

The little boy who wasn’t there
Has playground dust all in his hair
Some other kids are gathered around
When he tries to rise, they knock him down.

The little boy who wasn’t there
Has no defenders anywhere
He doesn’t cry out, doesn’t speak
He knows the others think him weak.

The little boy who wasn’t there
Acted sad but nobody cared.
School blamed both boys in a fight
Did not find out who was right.

The little boy walks home alone
But nowhere is a safety zone.
They catch him just a block away
They call him ***, they call him gay.

The little boy can’t tell his Ma.
She’ll beat him and then tell his Pa.
They’ll both look at him like a freak.
Two more times he mustn’t speak.

The little boy goes to his room
And listens to the voice of doom.
Depression has become his friend.
He only wants this all to end.

How do you sleep at night
All the stuff you did ain’t right
You cheated and you lied
It’s known about far and wide
Every day more comes to light.

How do you hold up your head
You should be ashamed instead
You’re the cause of many quarrels
You have few detectable morals.
Your honesty balance is in the red.

We all know all we get from you
Is promises that won’t come true,
You don’t care about any one else
All the matters to you is yourself.
You’re outrageous trash in all you do.

So how do you live with yourself
As Santa Claus’s very nastiest elf?
Every rule you choose to break
Is based on whatever you can take
Regardless of hurting someone else.

Wishing you bad usually isn’t cool
But in your case I’ll break that rule
Since you so often serve up hate
What you deserve is that same rate.
I’m polite, but I am nobody’s fool.

So, I hope you get exactly what
The people you have cheated got
That you end up with just a stone
And spend your time all alone
With your hopes and dreams all shot.

Maybe after sighting
Each other buck naked
That ends the fighting
About whose is bigger
Or whose are real.
There ceases to be a trigger
Of envy, or competition,
As being clothes free
One is in no position
To hide behind frippery.

It is difficult to be snobbish
About your fabric and style
When all you are wearing
Is a sun hat and a smile.
Acting like you are a ****
Of taut body and shape
Wearing nothing but a sock
Makes you a target of japes
About getting over yourself
And maybe even getting real.
It really is that kind of situation;
That basic kind of reality deal.

Most of what is artificiality
Disappears when you’re ****.
It gets easier to face reality
And much harder to be rude.
We quickly see that we are
We are sisters and brothers
And we do not need to live
By rules of fathers and mothers.
They were taught to be afraid
Of body parts called ‘naughty bits’;
Words like ‘nasty’ and ‘stop that!’
You adults can say, ‘I want none of it.
I’m through with thinking my crotch
Is something evil, sick and twisted.
Take my genitalia out of the book
Where you have sinfulness listed.
I exist as nature has made me
And it is wrong of you to correct
The natural person as I was born
Being a ***** is just a side-effect
Of being raised by people who
Were never raised quite right.
Maybe if everyone were ****
That would end the need to fight.

When I was young high school kid
I wasn’t doing very well with girls
I didn’t know what to say to them
But I really wanted to give it a whirl.
So, when Mama saw me struggling
She saw me blowing my chance
She told me, “They’ll come around,
All you have to do is learn to dance.”

So, she showed me some rather easy
Stylish steps from her jitterbug days
I took them and danced to the music
That the deejays chose to play.

Mama taught me jitterbug
And that helped quite a bit
She won awards as a teen
I heard she was quite a hit.

I rocked and I rolled and bounced
My shoes got to moving with the beat.
Then I was snapping my fingers and
My body went along with my feet.
I twirled the girls I danced with and
Held them snuggly up close and tight.
And the girls started asking me to dance
Right away from that very first night.

Mama taught me jitterbug
And I very glad she did
It turned a geeky wallflower
Into a much more popular kid.

I learned the Stroll and Hully Gully
The UT and the Electric Slide
With a changing bevy of beauties
Dancing along right by my side.
This was before Twist showed up
Which everybody could learn to do
But even then I found that I could
Teach them another trick or two.

Mama taught me jitterbug
And that helped quite a bit
She won awards as a teen
I heard she was quite a hit.

Everybody told me
You think only of yourself.
There’s no room in your heart
For anybody else.
But just like every fool
Ever born or ever was.
I had to find out for myself
Because, just because.

Lipstick on the mirror
Gave the whole thing away.
I didn’t really understand
Until I woke up that day.
You only love yourself it seems
And I just didn’t see before.
There’s room in your life for you
And no room for one more.

I began to notice how difficult
It was to walk down the boulevard.
You kept looking into the windows
And seemed to be looking hard.
At first what you were looking at
Managed to escape my detection.
After I while I realized the truth.
You were looking at your reflection.

I knew you would not go outside
If your hair was not done quite right.
To try to say it was good enough
Was to encourage another fight.
Every detail of clothing must be
Perfection all the way through
That meant I had to be perfect
As I was an extension of you.

Lipstick on the mirror
Gave the whole thing away.
I didn’t really understand
Until I woke up that day.
You only love yourself it seems
And I just didn’t see before.
There’s room in your life for you
And no room for one more.

Now I look at the photographs
You have kept in a scrapbook.
I see that you have the ones of you
When you like the way you look.
The pictures of me are there
But only if you are also in the shot.
It’s easy to see that you matter
And easier to see I do not.


Lipstick on the mirror
Gave the whole thing away.
I didn’t really understand
Until I woke up that day.
You only love yourself it seems
And I just didn’t see before.
There’s room in your life for you
And no room for one more.

I used to be lysexic
But I’m betting getter.
I sometimes get letters
All gangled up totether.
I often lose tontrol
Of the taction of my ung
I had this tind of krubble
Sever yince I was sung.

I backed things saidward
It muzz wore than embarrassing.
It got me picked lot upon
Subjected to hate grarrassing.
Sometimes wumbers nould
Lood just like wetters
Back when I was lysdexic
But I am betting getter.

Not just lysdexic am me
But I Spoonerise tum soo.
And unce that sets started
There is lo sittle I can do.
It get’s ard to understand me
And it isses some eeple poff
I really bish I could weegin
To **** to stalk like a toff.

I used to be lysexic
But I’m betting getter.
I sometimes get letters
All gangled up totether.
I often lose tontrol
Of the taction of my ung
I had this kind of rubble
Sever yince I was sung.

It's the path to righteousness
Put a five dollar bill in the plate
Then be as iniquitous as you like
And your life will turn out great.
Put in a buck or two, maybe more
It's a method known since 1147
In an urchin's hand and you score.
Anyone can buy their way into heaven.

It's the fake as hell, flaky as well
Bend and stretch Holiness Twist.
Do what you like, namecall a ****
Cleanse with a twist of your wrist.
Donate a dime, go commit a crime
To church Sunday, be Jesus kissed
Suddenly resurrected, sins deflected
You're an ace at the Holiness Twist.

Appearances are most important
In the big holiness game of life.
You have to have the big house
The big car and flashy wife.
You have to have the perfect lawn
With the current rage of shrubs.
You have to wear the right clothes
And belong to the right clubs.

But the biggest thing to accomplish
To keep from seeming totally odd
Is you have to have the right and
Obvious choice for your god.
It has to be the right kind of stuff;
It can't be Eastern unless it started
Back when there were miracles
Like when the waters parted.

It's the fake as hell, flaky as well
Bend and stretch Holiness Twist.
Do want you like, namecall a ****
Cleanse with a twist of your wrist.
Donate a dime, go commit a crime;
In church Sunday, be Jesus kissed
Suddenly resurrected, sins deflected
You're an ace at the Holiness Twist.

I like to wear tiny shorts
On my big fat ****.
And little tiny tops to make
My ***** look big.
But if I catch you staring at me
And ogling my *******
I’ll suddenly get all proper on you
And call you a pig.

Beauty’s in the eye of the beholder
I run with a very different pack.
So don’t come crying on my shoulder.
I’ll tell you to step your *** back.

I love my hair bleached orange
With lots of dark roots.
I keep it long, and badly cut
Then wear a pony tail.
I walk like a linebacker
On the scrimmage line.
I think I look extremely cool
Like I just got out of jail.

Beauty’s in the eye of the beholder
I run with a very different pack.
So don’t come crying on my shoulder.
I’ll tell you to step your *** back.

If I wear a hat it is a stocking cap
And some boots I stole from a boy.
It all goes well with raccoon eyes;
The makeup makes it work.
I am so **** hot that I am sizzling.
If you object you are jealous.
So, I ignore your comments and sneers.
You must be a bunch of jerks.

Beauty’s in the eye of the beholder
I run with a very different pack.
So don’t come crying on my shoulder.
I’ll tell you to step your *** back.

Someday I’m going to learn to speak up!
I swear I’m going to proudly reach up
And take back what is truly mine
And that day will be fine.

Someday I’m going to tell all the people
What I think that the bad people
Should not  be allowed to do
Like commit crimes on you.

I’m going to let people know exactly how I feel
And not silently pretend things aren’t real
That are hurting, denying, robbing
My fellow human beings.

Today I am going to change things
And appreciate what life brings.
Listen when the birds sing.
And what poets are writing.

Someday I am going  to raise my voice and sing out
Whenever there’s something to sing about
Even when there just seems to be
Something important to me.

Yankee Doodle you’re a dope
And a brain-dead pigeon.
You elected a big mope
Who brought his villains with him.

Yank your doodle and keep it up
That should keep you busy.
Then we’ll all say look at him
He’s not worth much more, is he?

Yankee ******* went to DC
Just to make a fortune.
But his dreams of grandeur we
Found we can’t afford them.

Yankee Doodle is not one guy
Turns out it’s half a nation.
Now we have the piper to pay
And he will have his ration.

Yankee Doodle, bunch of fools
Easy to mislead them.
Now they have but fallow fields
And no good grain to feed them.

Yankee ******* feeds them lies
Says he’ll fix the whole thing.
Half the people said yes he will
The rest say who’s he kidding?

Yankee ******* is a man
Yankee Doodle's not one.
Yankee Doodle loves a fascist.
Omigod, they’ve got one!

My ****’s all sore
From *** kicks about my lifestyle!
My neighbor’s sore
From raising a child from ****.
Meanwhile the GOP and friends
Are thumping on their Bibles
And driving our country to ruin
Each  running around wearing a cape.

I’ve got a very bad case
Of the Republican Rash
A disease that is fueled
By their greed for cash.

My bank account is ailing
By a deregulating Congress
And a Supreme Court gridlock
That is just exactly as bad.
There are crazy people there
That should be in institutions.
Things are awful ever since
We got ******* by hanging shads.

The GOP is paid Big Money
To **** on us and steal
And then tell us it is raining
And our rights aren’t really real.

My wallet has fingerprints
Of Congress all over it
Not mine so much because
It does very little good to reach.
I work three times as hard now
To make what I once did.
I’m oh so glad I never did
Decide to go and teach.

I’ve got a very bad case
Of the Republican Rash
A disease that is fueled
By their greed for cash.

I’m all confused about things
Like where is up and down
And confusing stuff like
What is wrong and right.
The GOP has spent so long now
Saying they are the good guys
And what I think of as day
Is really the middle of the night.

I’ve got a very bad case
Of the Republican Rash
A disease that is fueled
By their greed for cash.
The GOP is paid Big Money
To **** on us and steal
And then tell us it is raining
And our rights aren’t really real.

Walking in circles
In my lonely room,
Talking to shadows
As if they were blooms
And blossoms of love;
Old friends and lovers
Cousins and brothers.

Running in circles
Through my many pasts;
Forgotten or misbegotten
Some fleeting some lasted.
Replaying old movies
That played inside my head
Of people and places
And things that were said.

Walking in circles
Through the phases of life.
Trying not to remember
Times that cut like a knife,
Trying instead to rewrite
My history to come out right
Where nobody was unhappy
And there were no fights.

Stumbling in circles
As my body was getting old,
Too hot in summer
And, in winter, always cold.
But still I remember
My wonderful cast of stars
That have come and gone
Through my life thus far.

I poeticize, proselytize
Punctuate and pontificate.
I write couplets and rhymes
And I really do it all the time.
I exacerbate and exaggerate
With no desire to intimidate.
I make similes and metaphors
Indoors and even out of doors.

There’s cussing and discussion
And sharp literary impressions
Through diversions, conversions
Allusions as well as conclusions.
And with luck, no delusions.
Just syllabically deft fusions
Of some deferential references
With a deft touch of reverence.

I rhyme thyme with fresh lime
And cardamom with cinnamon.
Sweetbreads and shortbreads.
Chicken bones and licking scones.
Rhyming pumpkins with dumplings
And matching up filets with filberts
Just as cocoa goes well with Kona.
Marmalade can be a good marinade.

I rhyme chrome wheels and automobiles,
Freeway off-ramps and Tiffany lamps.
Cellophane and vintage airplanes.
Flapper vamps and streetwalking tramps.
Also Cinderella coaches and cockroaches,
Nothing is unfair game to a busy poet.
As well as RCA Victors and boa constrictors.
Since I’m a poet, everyone should know it.

Some will call you names
Let them call you what they want
It doesn’t make them right to shame
It doesn’t make them strong to taunt.
It just makes them bigger fools,
And for that we all grieve.
That they don’t play by the rules
That they profess to believe

Some days bring us rain
Other days will brightly shine.
Sometimes the cookies burn
And others will come out fine.

We all know people who cry
If other people get more than they
Who find fault with almost anything
Some other people have to say.
It seems to be a lifelong thing
Said by overgrown adolescents
Crying because someone else got
What they wanted as a present,

If we never learn to count the ways
That we have had good fortune
How can anyone ever clearly tell
The butterfly from the cocoon?
How can we not look at the moon
And then enjoy a starry night
If we spend our time in tears
That somebody else isn’t right?

Some days bring us rain
Other days will brightly shine.
Sometimes the cookies burn
And others will come out fine.

I don’t call you crumpet
I doubt you taste very good.
But you fit the name strumpet
Like I was sure you would.
A better name would be porcupine
The pork part fits you so much
But it would be so very awful;
You’re a thing I’d hate to touch.

I’d call your crew a clown car,
But, while you are surely on wheels.
You are more of a slow train wreck
Based on the looks and the feel.
Some fools call you Robin Hood
But I reject that whole twisted pitch.
Robin Hood did not rob the poor
Just so he could give to the rich.

You think you’re a smart cookie
But, you are nothing but a crumb.
You think we are all of us stupid
But only your supporters that are dumb.
You’re a ****** cake that has fallen
With a poisonous coat of frosting.
You are not worth a penny of what
A disaster like you are is costing.

You leave a nasty taste in the mouth
Of those who have to be near you.
There is nothing about you at all
That would serve to endear you.
It really would nice if you would go
Live for decades in a prison cell.
That color of orange, for once
Would suit you so very well.

Stocked up, locked up
In my sanctum *******.
Got *** and cigs and cheap wine;
For me that makes a quorum.
I hope no friend comes by
Acting all hale and hearty.
They're not inside a moment
Then they call up Dial A Party.

Then suddenly my place
Plays host to all the bums
Who have nothing else
But the strength to come
And just sit on my couch
And then eat up all my food
Drink all of my *****
While slurring words like “Dude!”

Now, I'm not anti-social
But I am not Donald Trump
Who has plenty of cash
To entertain these humps.
If they only brought something;
A six-pack or some ****
I'd find an excuse for them;
Some lame reason or need.

So, these days I read
And keep the stereo off.
I don't turn on the lights.
Hell, I don't even cough.
I hide out in the bedroom
Just me and Sam *****,
Seriously reconsidering
The kind of friends I've made.

I want to paint a picture with words
So you can see what I see.
Let you see all of the art work
That hides here inside me.
The darks and the lights that glisten
I want to share colors and shapes
And the music, so you can listen.
They make up my internal landscape.

My canvas is time, sight and sound
And the aromas of my world.
I want you to see the way the smoke
And all the clouds get curled.
The hills and the valleys have views
That make you want to be there.
The trees and the flowers delight;
All inside my memories somewhere.

The stories would keep you transfixed,
And the people, creatures of fascination
Would make you laugh or maybe cry
If you could only see my imagination.
I am using rhyme and meter to depict
As the artist in me articulates dismay
That these simple words must transmit
As I can only tell you about it this way.

I never feared the monster hiding
Sliding out from under my bed
To grab me by the head and drag me
Into some dark, dIngy vicinity.
I had the real thing to fear. We all did
And it only hid when other adults saw.
The fear would gnaw at me forever
And I felt it would never let up.
A couple of times I felt I would die
Because I tried to stop it; to cry
To beg, to wheedle, to quake.
But I could not shake her hold.
I wasn’t all that old, but I began
To plan. I did her household chores
But she wanted more; laundry,
Preparing the meals she completed.
Defeated, I knew it was no good.
I had done everything I could.

I remember it. Oh, yes. Clearly.
Nearly every scene resonates
Grates and whips me relentlessly
Just as hard, and painfully as she
Whipped us; me and my brothers
Not acting like a mother, but mad.
Not so much angry as insane.
She was the bane of our existence
With no diluting of that phrase.
And it was not a phase, it was there
When we were home, alone
With her when she indulged her rage.
To that stage when she could not stop;
Not turn back and be the caregiver.
I still shiver. I feel the belts or sticks
Stripe across my back or my legs
When, begging, I tried to stop her;
Threaten to call the cops or something
But nothing worked since Dad was a cop.

The cops or the county would come by
When a nearby neighbor called on her
But when they heard our name, they stopped
And since Dad was a cop, they dropped it
And would sit and ask us in front of her
Whether she was beating us or whatever.
Never would we rat her out because
The claws would come out when they left
And she’d heft whatever she used on us.
And fussing and crying only made it worse.
Once a nurse turned her in to the school
And some fool from the county dropped by
To write down Mom’s lies and ask us again
In front of the woman from the welfare
And we were too scared to tell the truth.
We were in the beginnings of our youth.
How could we defeat a monster that knew
Where and when we slept. What could we do?

Listen my children
And you shall hear
How the USA
Went suddenly queer.
Not the kind of
Gays making love
But the kind the where hate
Rained down from above.

First there was Tricky ****
A special kind of an ***
Who robbed our fine country
Of any appearance of class.
Carter tried as hard as he could
In one term to put it all back
But all too soon started smoothly
Reagan lied him off the track.

With our economy in ruin
Reagan slunk off in fame
With voters with half a mind
Blindly, they fell for his game.
Eight long years later, then,
And we were nearly broke
With stupid citizens old and young
Still falling for the joke.

So, Clinton showed up and made
The Great Prevaricator look sick.
After seven years of fixing things
The GOP went after his ****.
Since they couldn’t fault his success
They really had no quarrel,
They made a manufactured stink
About Big Billy’s morals.

The Great Republican Lie Machine
Hyped up on twisted success
Decided things would be better
If their pet monkey made a mess.
So, they bought him an election
And the Middle East rebelled
So much that a few insane terrorists
Sent us a day of hell.

The second Bush, the monkey
A semi-literate hack,
To legitimize his father, chose
The wrong country to attack.
He decided Sadam Hussein
Would be his choice of foil.
We were not meant to notice
It was all about cheap oil.

Dubya started a war,
The Great Instigator
That is still going on today
And it’s fourteen years later.
Hiding behind blind patriotism
His band of merry crooks
Robbed and pillaged us all
And threw out all the books.

The Constitution meant nothing
In the Second Bush’s D.C.
He and his accomplices
Made short work of liberty.
The attitude was we deserved
The ******* that we all got
Because GOP were statesmen
And the rest of them were not.

As ridiculous as that sounds
The public ate it all up.
They happily drank and swallowed
The hemlock in the cup.
Not content with Dubya’s brand
Of sedition and of ruin,
GOP sewed seeds of greed
And knew what they were doing.

Hand-elected judges
Dubya left in the smoking wreck
Of a country that had become
An albatross on its own neck.
Suddenly the laws of the land
That gave us a meager say
Were sneakily nullified
Behind chants of USA, USA!
.


Right now in the USA
Only money is king.
Right, wrong, good, bad
They don’t mean a thing.
As long as bucks and lobbyists
Are left in the picture
America will choke to death
On the toxic mixture.

Barack Obama got elected
With promises that we can
Fix what had been stolen
Of freedom in this land.
For six long years he tried
With Republicreeps on his back
To get our ailing economy
Back on a healthy track.

And when he had done it,
GOP lies weren’t quite enough,
They shut down the government
And made conditions rough.
The Supreme Court decided
Rich Corporations were due
The advantages of human beings
And tax deductions too.

And then the Supremes removed
All chance of a reprieve
Five ninths voted that people
Could discriminate if they believed
In their heart that someone else
Deserved their rights to be ignored.
Suddenly the Supreme Court
Was where bigotry was stored.

So, tens of millions of dollars
And hatred right in our faces
The outrages began to rise
Like strife between the races
So bad that Obama had to
Do what Dubya did so badly.
He made some Presidential edicts
And he did so quite gladly.

Suddenly we had health insurance
Gays could finally get married.
Even the Supremes back that up
A vote for equality was carried.
The GOP decided then
Led by a lunatic fringe,
To take the Congress on a spree
A drunk with power binge.

They voted to shut the country down
They wanted charge of our bodies.
It’s almost like they wanted the right
To put cameras in the potties.
They hid behind the Cross of Christ
Quoting things he did not say
And that is where things are
To this sad embarrassing day.

We aren’t out of the Middle East,
That’s part of the horse trading
That goes on in the public swap
Of D.C we are all wading.
We have felt the boot of power
Bring down its mindless stomp.
We’re up to our *** in alligators
And the GOP drained the swamp!

Sounds rather risqué, right?
Like an unmentionable body part.
Not a person you might care about.
No the other half of your heart.
Not my partner or sweetheart
Not my husband or my lover.
Any of those titles above
Will appropriately cover.

No, they call me your friend,
Your little buddy, your ‘thing’.
That last one I always suffer
As particularly insulting.

But, not my watchacallit,
My whatever, or such euphemisms.
They hit me like less than kind
And disapproving colloquialisms.
I mean, how would you feel
If I referred to your wife like that?
Calling her your sidekick or
Something like a stray cat?

I have no problem with asking
How my honey is doing today.
After all, that’s really who he is.
He’s my sweetheart every day.

So, think for a moment, please
Before you begin to speak.
Your lack of sensitivity can
Only make you look weak.
Just because we didn’t choose
The path you chose to take
Doesn’t mean you’re better than I
So, give this bigotry stuff a break.

He’s my partner and sweetheart
He’s my husband and my lover.
Any of those titles above
Will appropriately cover.

She is a woman of power
Like few have ever known
She can take on the world
And manage on her own.
Without her friends and family
It would be a lonely road
But she doesn’t need the help
To carry her own load.

Strong women have a place
In the tales of all our history.
Some became a familiar face.
Some are shrouded in mystery.
But when evil does its worst
And comes to **** and rob,
Sometimes a woman is first
And the best man for the job.

She points the way to others
And show us how to act.
She’s no shrinking violet
And that’s an actual fact.
She’s stronger than she looks
But can be soft as down.
If you want to watch a winner
You should follow her around.

Strong women have a place
In the tales of all our history.
Some became a familiar face.
Some are shrouded in mystery.
But when evil does its worst
And comes to **** and rob,
Sometimes a woman is first
And the best man for the job.

The world has been structured
To reward and applaud the man,
But a woman of power will do
Whatever anyone else can.
Though some may even fear her
She will go to almost any length
To help her world get better
And benefit from her strength.

Strong women have a place
In the tales of all our history.
Some became a familiar face.
Some are shrouded in mystery.
But when evil does its worst
And comes to **** and rob,
Sometimes a woman is first
And the best man for the job.

Twinkle, twinkle, GOP
Scaring hell right out of me.
Platforms aren’t worth a crap
I’d like to give your face a slap.
All your antics have grown old
And your twinkle’s not from gold.

Twinkle tinsel seems to me
Not of diamond quality.
None is precious metal grade.
Fake as promises you made.
Hating is your stock in trade.
Embezzlement the game you played.

Missile epistle, you love war.
You forgot what we are for.
We were formed to protect
Not hanging nooses around necks.
Freedom was the reason why
Not to make foreigners die.

Swindle, chisel is your game.
Set the economy aflame.
Locking down the government.
We knew bigotry was meant.
Voters have begun to see
Your ranks filled with villainy.

Sizzle, melting is our wish
Just like Oz’s ugly witch.
That would be a perfect end;
Nothing but a smudge to tend,
Thirty years from now when we
Have repaired your bastardy.

Lippy Dippy the hippie,
Always so much to say.
Protesting, picketing
Never quite gets his way.
So much about us
The world and how it runs.
Someone to carry a sign?
Lippy Dippy is the one.

He started out with war
Calling out President LBJ.
The issues kept happening
Up to and including today.
Lippy and his hippie cohorts
Protested for human rights
Whether it be about gays
Or brown, black or white.

Get him and friends arrested?
That just may have to be
As long as law and lawyers
Practice their legal infamy.
He reminds of Dred Scott
And how the law of the land
Immorally took the freedom
And dignity of that poor man.

Too little water here
Too much water over there?
Veterans getting gypped?
See if anybody ever cares.
Lippy Dippy and friends
Will gladly show up at your place
And show you what you are;
Bad example of the human race.

Oh, they made fun of him
They called him many names
Including Dippy, so unkind
But it gave him a kind of fame.
It would be nice if maybe someday
There were no need for him.
Unless things change someway
The hope of that is very dim.

So, he and others like him
Which will, of course, include me
With stand up and protest
As long as we citizens are free
To gather publically and say
This sort of situation is wrong,
Then Lippy Dippy and the rest
Will come sing our protest songs.

You cringeworthy, evil pismire;
Your father did surely miss-sire
This personification of flatulence,
The embodiment of self importance
Overflowing with abject peccancy
Devoid of any sign of respectability
Replete with gross odoriferousness
Horribly and infamously unscrupulous.

You have reveled in misrepresentation
And tried to elevate your calumniation
Disinformation and deception exists
As capitalistic dissembling persists.
You’ve collected an evil government
Built mostly of human excrement
And have such a lack of veracity
That you speak in constant mendacity.

Sycophantic eructations of dogmatic bile
Issue from your unsympathetic smile
And your inauthentic glad-handed gropes
As if we all of us are unbright gullible dopes
That buy your fabrications completely
While you pilfer and prevaricate indiscreetly.
You are a Vaudevillian villain miscast as star,
But most of us know exactly what you are.

Deceit, deception, dishonesty; a tragedy
But not for you, for us and our country.
Distortion, evasion and fabrication the rules;
You despair of any other kinds of tools.
Falsehoods, fictions and forgery are your tricks.
You demand we build with straw-less bricks
Your erections that are planned to be palaces
Filled with your giant golden carved phalluses.

Those monuments, inanotomically correct,
Established to celebrate and somehow protect
A mountebank on the way to an overseas bank
Claiming to eradicate the scoria he creates
That decades of privation will not quite alleviate.
But you, the Great Prevaricator, will always blame
Other players in your sick, unconstitutional game
Instead of admitting your complicity and guilt
About the disgusting, putrid swamp you built.

They tried so hard to banish me
To eternal non-entity;
They resented my voice
They denied me a choice;
I had to be the type of soul
Adhering to their own goals.
The don’t care what we suffer
They speechify and don’t stutter.

They haven’t been secretive
About the way they’d have me live.
They bellow and bawl their mind
And little of it is anything kind.
They have no obvious compunction
Behind their every injunction.
They point and label me something odd,
Invoke a two thousand year-old god.

They drape themselves in our flag
And shout names like queer and ***
And tell us we are abominations
Not fit to live in Christian nations
But they forget that we all free
To choose what our religion will be.
In truth, they do not seem to care
About anyone’s opinion but theirs.

The hardest thing of all to bear
Is for all the venom they share
Is that this country has rules
That they ignore by being fools.
They want the right to tell us all
Who we can bring with us to the ball
And who we can love or marry.
What a heinous load for us to carry.

There may be nothing quite as egregious
As a congressman all sanctimonious
Who tells us we must not disparage
The sanctity of heterosexual marriage
Whether is his bride number three or four
That’s exactly what the Christianity is for
Because didn’t Jesus himself say
He didn’t want no homos today?

Almost all my most popular poems
Are the ones kicking Trump’s fat ***.
I know after November sixth for sure
This particular issue will lose gas.
While that will slow me down for sure,
It won’t make me loathe him less.
He’s a charlatan, a liar and a ****,
In almost every way a total mess.

Donnie, Donnie
You are such a creep!
Only fools would elect you;
Good people would lose sleep.
It simply doesn’t make sense
They don’t know what they’re doing.
A Trump-like presidency
Would bring this world to ruin.

So I will have to maunder around a bit
To find a juicier source of poetic satire
Than the Big Cheetoh has often been.
He’d open his mouth and spew hellfire.
He frothed and threatened and whined,
And for the most part the scorching
Ended up being his own big ****.
And never was an *** more deserving.

Donnie, Donnie
You are such a creep!
Only fools would elect you;
Good people would lose sleep.
It simply doesn’t make sense
They don’t know what they’re doing.
A Trump-like presidency
Would bring this world to ruin.

He’s arrogant and babbles lies
One of the nastiest people ever seen.
He only seems to make sure his face
Shows in photographs in magazines.
He has little understanding of the job
He thinks he wants to be chosen for.
He expects everyone to bow and scrape,
To compliment, effuse and to adore.

Donnie, Donnie
You are such a creep!
Only fools would elect you;
Good people would lose sleep.
It simply doesn’t make sense
They don’t know what they’re doing.
A Trump-like presidency
Would bring this world to ruin.

I’m not going crazy.
I’m not being lazy.
Please don’t be a grouch
If I want to lie on the couch
And do nothing much today.
Believe me when I say
It’s not what you think
It’s not from drugs or drink.
It’s not a neurosis
It’s Multiple Sclerosis.

I may seem to stagger
I can no longer swagger.
So, understand this please
I can’t command my knees.
I’m fighting back day and night
And I won’t give up the fight.
What looks like one thing
Can be a much worse thing.
It’s not a neurosis
It’s Multiple Sclerosis.

Life is so full of challenges.
The list of what the damage is
Sometimes seems to outweigh
The cost of living life today.
But, I will not ever surrender.
I must be my best defender
As nobody pays my body bill.
I fight despair and always will.
It’s not a neurosis
It’s Multiple Sclerosis.

I was the frightened little kid
Who got pushed against the wall.
I wasn’t terribly masculine
Had acne and was not very tall.
Or maybe it was my intelligence
Or artistic talent that drew the ire.
It was an ever-changing list
That drew my fellow student’s fire.

Maybe it was that my game
Was never quite there for sports.
Or maybe when I did not join
On jokes about **** and other sorts
Of woman demeaning quips
They had to have learned at home.
Parental misguidance one oh one
Not learned at school on the roam.

Whatever it was, I got beaten
And locked inside my own locker.
And I got called ***** and ***.
Now isn’t that a big fat shocker?
I got shoved around in hallways
And knocked out cold by a creep.
I didn’t even know the ****
But he decided to put me to sleep.

And when the faculty was called
I was suspended along with the guy.
The school’s policy it seemed
Was to punish both kids. Ask why.
I asked and I was told sternly
That the school really did not care
The attacker and the attacked
Had the same punishment to share.

Now, in this case, the attacker was
Known to be a ruffian and a miscreant.
And I was known to be a wimp.
So why give me unusual punishment
When I was already being punished
For not being some kind of snorting ****?
This was like the school system
Giving my jaw an extra and official sock!

It would be nice to say about this
That it was a totally isolated incident,
And that principals seldom pass out
This officially thoughtless kind of punishment.
But I heard that line so many times
I could have lip-synched right along with him
As the principal mouthed a policy line
From a time grown distant and dangerously dim.

School gym coaches called us girls
If we didn’t keep up with hand-picked brutes
Who enjoyed inherited musculature
And bigot approved physical attributes.
So those of us who were who we were
And could not manage mow down the men
At the line of scrimmages
Were called ‘lils’ and fairies once again.

Come, dark of night,
Be a lover to me
Cover me with peace;
The quiet of no sight,
With no light to annoy
No little girl or boy
Playing outside my door.

For I need the rest;
The best you can bring.
Sing me your lullaby.
Let me persuade you
To invade my slumber
With lumber enough
To saw logs that build
A fortress against the day
Threatening to come my way.

Soothe me, sweet nighttime
For I’m in need of calm,
The balm offered by sleep
That can keep me abed
Dreams in my head, instead
Of doing and going and saying.

Playing is all for tomorrow
And I don’t sorrow that I am here
With unconsciousness drawing near;
Nothing to hear that awakes me
Sweet nightfall come take me.
Let nobody shake me or make me
Climb out of this bed
Where I rest my weary head.

Don’t leave me yesterday
Turn the clock back please.
Twenty four hours went by
Much too quickly like a sneeze.
You can tell I am trying hard
To keep a sense of humor here.
But no matter how many jokes
You still aren’t anywhere near.

Twenty four hours is forever
When it’s all about yesterday.
I find no way I can be strong
Now that you are gone away.
So, I really want to do it;
Turn the clock back some way.
That way I can say to you
Don’t leave me. Yesterday.


Don’t say goodbye yesterday;
Those words hurt to hear.
Please come back to me today
And stay at least one year.
Perform a miracle for me, please
By inventing time travel
And do it quickly, love of my life
Before I begin to unravel.

Twenty four hours is forever
When it’s all about yesterday.
I find no way I can be strong
Now that you are gone away.
So, I really want to do it;
Turn the clock back some way.
That way I can say to you
Don’t leave me. Yesterday.


Change your mind yesterday
And let’s make future plans.
If you pack and leave yesterday
Today is out of my hands.
Stay with me, please, yesterday
And today and all tomorrows.
I crumble inside and want to cry
Overcome with my sorrows.

Twenty four hours is forever
When it’s all about yesterday.
I find no way I can be strong
Now that you are gone away.
So, I really want to do it;
Turn the clock back some way.
That way I can say to you
Don’t leave me. Yesterday.

I lived through it,
The up and down times
When I sold ***
And did other petty crimes.
I was there when
Hot girls were really guys
Hiding floppy secrets
Between their nyloned thighs.

I loved through it,
Saturdays that started
On Tuesday morning
When I first departed;
Two packs of cigs
And a week’s doobies,
By then a value
Almost that of rubies.

I laughed through it,
A **** *****, your jokes
Were so funny if
You were providing smokes.
I flattered and flirted
Whatever it would finally take
To score a bit of ****,
Even the skimpiest shake.

I lolled through it,
Lying buck naked in your bed
Or with your guests
Whatever you originally said
Because you scored,
You were the source of dope.
Without your patronage
I didn’t have a moment of hope.

I hitchhiked through it,
Long trips back from Malibu
When I had worn out
My welcome to the world of you.
I hope the ride might be
Another adventure; more ****,
Or some food and drink
To satisfy my every begging need.

I closed the box and hid it
So many years ago now
That I forgot all about it
But, I am not sure how.
It meant so much to me
Back when memory hurt.
I told myself I was a victim
And love had done me dirt.

It was only a short affair
Love lasting longer than the act.
I labeled it to myself and others
As the best as a matter of fact.
Prince Charming and all that;
The love of my life back then.
The most I had ever ventured;
The fullest my heart had been.

I only had to see my love
For all of my plans to change
To fall so fast and so hard
Never for a moment felt strange.
It felt so completely natural
To dedicate all of my dreams
And all of my hope for life.
Now, how crazy that seems.

But who can tell young love
How to behave and how to act.
It sometimes seems madness
As if I and the devil made a pact.
But it was more that someone
Looked and found love in my eyes.
When that is the feeling happening
Who stops to think of goodbyes?

I still have the love I felt then
And cradle it deep inside
And the box holds mementos
I carefully collected to hide.
Each item as I touch them
Takes me back to that day
And gives me back the love
I never want to feel go away.

Kaincha tok normal, ever sangle wunnaya?
Omina tellya diss. Nuthin lie kat is good.
Alla us oiz tok English good allatime
Ever day uhda world in mah neighborhood.

Us is sum, y’know, good tokken people.
Yeah, ain’t nobuddy speaks good lie cuss.
Lessen there from round here, ah mean.
We got eddycated good, no muss, no fuss.

We don’t need no college, no way Jose.
We gunna do jess lock are parents did.
We go to school every day till eitghteen
Jess lock dey did win dey was a kid.

Ever now and then, you can get ahold
Of sum buddy whose totally iggnent.
They stick there noses up in thuh air.
They think there better, sumthin differnt.

But really, it’s just a mute point, I mean
Irregardless of whut they bin sayin’
They jess turn stuff round 360 degrees.
It’s jess a nother word game there playin’.

Thuh important thang is to be understood
Not that thuh  people say everthang rite.
The important stuff to tok about is
To know whut is wrong and whut is rite.

Have you never told the truth
Even in your untrustworthy youth?
Did ever make a habit of saying what you mean?
You’re the biggest fake and loser many have ever seen.
When you look into the mirror, what is it you see?
Can you tell how far you’ve fallen from humanity?
You’re always lyin’, lyin’, lyin’!
So shove it where the sun don’t shine.


You make up crap so fast you can’t keep track.
So much sounds like it came out of the other crack.
You cheat and brazenly brag about your cheating.
At the Devil’s table you needn’t worry about seating.
You’ll be right there at Beelzebub’s right hand
And you’ll have friends there, won’t it be grand?
You’re always lyin’, lyin’, lyin’!
So shove it where the sun don’t shine.

The way you look and dress, and your awful voice
Makes me change the channel if I have any choice.
If the gym I go to has you on the cable TV
I switch the gym I go to as quickly as can be.
I never take kindly to liars and to bragging thieves.
I hope your crimes will match the penalty you receive.
You’re always lyin’, lyin’, lyin’!
So shove it where the sun don’t shine.

Brent Kincaid
5/20/2019

I want to go back
To Crackerjacks
And KoolAid on ice.
Ice cream sandwiches
And Chick O Stick candy.
That would be so nice.
Double feature matinees
At the local movie show
With cartoons in between.
Car crashes and then the
Cliff hanger serials
Were the best we’d ever seen.

Things like snow days, and
Skinny dipping swimming holes
Great on hot summer days.
And matchbook motors
On the spokes of our bikes
After school every day.
Snow cones and soda pop
Then we turned in the bottles
For two pennies to by sweets.
Snowball forts in the winter time
That were serious business
On every neighborhood street.

Things were so simple then
We each had a list of what
We wanted Santa to bring.
Some wanted ritzy stuff
And others only wanted
A **** Tracy decoder ring.
Life was almost all about
Going to school and then
Waiting for classes to let out.
And though there are joys
For grown girls and boys
It felt good to run and shout!

I drink wine before water
It’s better than beer.
Neither are like *****
They’re nowhere near.
Like beer, you can
Drink all of it you please.
It will never knock
Your life to its knees.

What? You say no?
You say they are equal?
This is a bad movie
I don’t want a sequel.
I have lived my whole life
Thinking wine is okay
And not contributing to
Alcoholism in any way.

I thought I could drink it
And party like a king
And the specter of addiction
Didn’t mean a thing.
Yes, I admit I ignored
Those drunks and hangovers
That woke me up feeling
I’d been hit by a Range Rover.

So, okay, maybe it’s real
This threat to sobriety
That is so accepted
And approved by society.
But now I have to find
A new way to celebrate
That won’t ruin my life
At some not too distant date.

Lift up your voice and shout.
Even if it feels a bit strange.
We know what we’re about.
Praying and singing for change.

Work and sing for change
Just as hard as politicians lie.
Call them out for their untruths.
Ask them when, how and why.
Don’t accept weak excuses.
They have far too many of those.
Make their equivocation useless.
Make them keep their lying lips closed.

Sing if you’re tired of defeat.
Sing if you are willing to try.
Sing to everybody you meet.
It may take some power on high.

Don’t forget what is needed.
Keep your eyes on the prize.
It’s hard to cheat the wary
By trickery  played on your eyes.
Keep on insisting on honesty.
Make them all stick to the subject.
If they don’t answer the questions.
You know just who not to elect.

Lift up your voice and shout.
Even if it feels a bit strange.
We know what we’re about.
Praying and singing for change.

Buddy Buzzkill
Waits ‘til nobody’s home
Jimmies a window, sneaks in
And is free to roam.
He smokes all the dope
Drinks all the alcohol
Eats all the food
Until none is left at all.
Then he sleeps in your bed
And sneaks back out again
He comes back; hears you moan
How somebody broke in
And robbed him when he was not home.

Buddy Buzzkill
He’s a special king of louse.
He pretends to like you
Then, sleeps with your spouse.
He’ll hit you up for money
Then he’ll borrow your car.
And you lend it to him
That’s the kind of sap you are.
What is it about this guy
That makes it hard to say no?
Why does it not occur to folks
To look at him and say, “Blow!”

Buddy Buzzkill
He’s a master at telling tales
Of people he has laid
And the times he was in jail
For some ludicrous reason
That is always the fault of others.
He tell you how much you mean
And that you are like brothers
And then one morning you rise
And your stereo is gone
And so is Buddy Buzzkill
It’s time for him to move on.

I want to write you a poem
That heals up your scars.
I want to send your hopes
Soaring up to the stars.
I want to clear away stones
From the path you take.
I want to be sure you never
Feel your heart ache or break.

I want to put that feeling
That you give me into a jar
So, I can feel it always
If you should travel very far.
I want to write a symphony
Of the music in your voice.
This is not loyalty or kindness.
I simply do not have a choice.

For you are what I prayed for
Before I ever knew you existed.
You are that magnetism
That I never once resisted.
You have always fit me
Like a split friendship locket.
There never was a moment
You didn’t have me in your pocket.

So, I want to do for you
What you have done for me.
I want to put a trillion stars
In your nighttime reality.
I want to let you know for sure
All that you have meant to me.
I want to share with you
Your gift of love and serenity.

HANDMADE CHRISTMAS

Do you remember back when
Christmas was making things
Out of stiff colored paper
Like chains of slim paper rings
That were so long we took them
And wrapped the a few times
Around the tree as pretty trim?

We made angels and snowflakes
From something called shirt boards;
Cutouts covered with aluminum foil.
They didn’t need extension cords.
And Mom showed us how to starch
String we dyed. We wrapped it
Around some inflated balloons.
When each dried, we popped it.

We made reindeers and Santas
Our of wooden clothespins
With pipe cleaner antlers or
Cotton beards for Santa’s chin.
Mom dyed an old sheet green
For under the Christmas tree.
Prettier than the store-bought kind
It has always seemed to me.

In school we made Gifts too
Things knitted or made of clay
To give to Mom wrapped up
With great pride on Christmas Day.
And that wrapping paper was
Was all Christmas color tissue.
It was inexpensive to buy, so
Using a lot was not an issue.

Some gifts were appreciated
Some maybe not as much
But in every case, we were
For the most part very touched.
You knew for sure just by looking
What care and love went into
The handmade presents that were
Made totally and especially for you.

Brent Kincaid
12/12/2015

Once I disliked having birthdays
But I really don’t mind anymore.
The secret is to enjoy them
And never, ever to keep score.
Don’t bother counting them,
Just enjoy the cake and gifts.
It’s looking back at how old you are.
That is basically the ugly rift.

You’re not getting decrepit,
Not older than dirt, you see.
You have gained credit in life
For wisdom and longevity.
They who say you have aged
Like a fine wine are correct.
So, don’t harp about the years
Like you have a flaw to project.

Instead look forward in life
To what the future will say.
What will you do with it,
This new chance every day?
Will you be that aging statesperson
The world will be glad to know?
As long as you’re still breathing
Let's wait and see how it goes.

So, call all your friends up
And meet them each for a meal
And let them know fears of age
Are not something you find real.
Let them toast your birthday
And sing the traditional song.
Let this be another of many
Happy birthdays to come along.

Some will make their home
Wherever they can
Get to with their feet.
Cardboard box houses
And pallets they find
By trash bins on the street.
The boxes work well
Unless it snows or rains
And then when they melt
It’s out to find a home again.

Go on home
Where the love is
Home to family
Go on home
Where you’re welcome
There is no home for me.

Cookie used to be a chef
He lives under that low bridge
He cooks in used coffee cans
That just how his life is.
Makes dinner when he has it
For us who have so little.
You’ll find him most days
Cooking delicious food
Halfway to the middle.

Go on home
Where your bed is
Home to wife and your kids
Go on home
And be grateful
And not living on the skids.

Some people gripe
When the waiter is slow
And some were once waiters
Themselves long ago.
Some people are full
After they have dined
Others only manage to eat
Whatever castoffs they find.

Go on home
Because you have one
Because you have a job.
Go home where no one
Call you a lazy slob.
Go home and thank God
You have a place to sleep.
Go home and be grateful
Go home and God keep.

Demons of change taunted me
If I don’t do what I always did;
Fear of being strange haunted me.
What punishment for what I hid?
Maybe things will be a bit better
And settle down a bit after while
But life doesn’t seem to work well
Like when I could wink and smile.

My looks used to get me a ways,
Where mornings could turn into nights
I could have fun and party for days
And everything seemed fun and right.
I started out drinking and using
To overcome all my social fears.
It was just for weekends, partying,
But then it turned into many years.

I bought the drinks and the grass
And suddenly I was a welcome guy.
Later I too publicly fell on my ***
And nobody even asked me why.
But I caught myself holding ****
And *****, and keeping quiet
So nobody would come knocking
To party hearty and to try it.

And then one day, demons came
And heartlessly showed the truth;
They showed me myself by name,
I was no longer a pretty youth.
Only those as bad as I had become
Could stand to spend time with me.
I came to and realized I was numb
That my life had turned into tragedy.

When I was just a little kid
I never liked a ****.
When I grew up it didn’t change
When I went to work.
I didn’t much like pranks and such
And  most practical jokes,
Whoopie cushions, pulled out chairs
And winking, leering blokes.

It was much more annoying to me
When the liars got to win.
It made me want to call them names
And kick them in the shin.
How anyone ever thought well of them
Made no sense to me.
They should have been taken to task
And called the enemy.

Schoolyard antics
Made me frantic
When they harassed the weak
The underweight, those in glasses
Those whose noses were tweaked.
Why didn’t their parents teach
These creeps to be more kind?
Or keep them home full time,
I’m sure nobody would mind.

Now I hate to watch the news
And see how many got elected.
If the average voter doesn’t know
At least they should have suspected
When billions of dollars disappear
And nobody is ever put in prison.
That means there are jerks out there
And that doesn’t take a lot of wisdom.

I sometimes wish Kafka was right
And the evil woke up differently.
Maybe they could be one foot tall
And not quite reach my knee.
Then we could see the crooks arrive
And lock them out of our conventions.
We’d just have to lglance to know
That they have dishonest intentions.

Schoolyard antics
Made me frantic
When they harassed the weak
The underweight, those in glasses
Those whose noses were tweaked.
Why didn’t their parents teach
These creeps to be more kind?
Or keep them home full time,
I’m sure nobody would mind.

Does anything ever mute
The sound of dying men’s screams
Who volunteered to defend
The righteous demands of greedy dreams?
The clouds roll quietly in
And who can tell if it is mist or smoke?
So, this pile of dead humans;
Are they enemies or a sick man’s joke?

Did they know what they were
When they piled into the planes and cars?
Did they have any idea why
They were ordered to march and fly so far?
Were they told they were fighting
For one thing when it was really another?
Were the coerced into uniform
By neighbors, teachers, fathers and mothers?

And when smoke clears each time
Do those that came after them to battle
Find some still lie there dying
So they can listen to the death rattle
Of one more brother or sister
Dying in the mud on their back
From a war that was started
When their nation was never attacked?

Glory and pride are words
That can be used to cover over lies
Like bandages over wounds.
But they don’t mute the mortal cries
Of those who died feeling tricked
About not defending freedom
But for money for the hand-picked.

Keep singing your song!
Some may not like it
But nobody else can do it.
You are the singer, sing!
Do it loud and proud,
Your own thing. Sing!

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

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

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

I love to be naked
Where nobody cares
About my fashion
Or who cut my hair.
I love being where
Many nudists are at.
They don’t call me names
Like Littledick and Fats.

I enjoy being out there
In the nature of life
Without any kind of
Negative social strife.
Nudists seem to accept
What the other person is
With a face full of scowls
Or some kind of quiz.

And aging for nudists
Is not a thing of shame.
Outside we grow different
But inside we’re the same.
We are still the people
Who enjoy living free.
And often that means
I don’t want clothes on me.

So, I will get naked often,
Really, every chance I get
And it might help you to
Accept that and not forget
That we were born naked;
Clothes may not be needed.
So maybe we can rethink
The rules we’ve always heeded?

Dinking too much whiskey,
Behaving sort of risky,
Telling lying stories,
Tall tales of former glories,
Laughing between the tokes,
At outrageously bad jokes;
We thought we were outlaws,
But were tamer than in-laws.

Out for a wild ride,
Living on the wild side
And howling at the moon.
The sun will be rising soon.

Honking horns at passing cars
Toking doobies under the stars,
Letting no cuties pass us by
Without whistling, my oh my.
We were certain we were cool
Too ****** to know we were fools.
Escapees from the workaday,
We ten-mile perimeter ruanways.

Out for a wild ride,
Living on the wild side
And howling at the moon.
The sun will be rising soon.

Out at night, no three-piece suits,
Sandals instead of fruit boots
Pegged jeans and rolled up sleeves
No fancy stuff with fancy weaves.
Prepared for whatever comes
Serenaded by engine hum
We told each other that we were hot.
Even though we knew we were not.

Out for a wild ride,
Living on the wild side
And howling at the moon.
The sun will be rising soon.