Pity the petty Democrats
As they pit themselves against adults
They fractionate and dissimilate
And blame others for the results.

They blow almost all elections
And sleep through their terms.
Their programs for the country
Are anything else but firm.

Pity the pitiful Democrats,
They defeat their own favorite causes.
For Republicans running for office
It’s like the Dems are Santa Clauses.

They blow almost all elections
And sleep through their terms.
Their programs for the country
Are anything else but firm.

Pity the pretty Democrats!
For all the best of reasons
I call them Dummocraps.
Their strengths are never in season.

They blow almost all elections
And sleep through their terms.
Their programs for the country
Are everything else but firm.

You elected a crazy person
For most of the offices.
You applauded a dictator.
And that is just what he is.
You cheered for a proven liar.
And failed to fact check him.
You voted for a misogynist
And against all of the women.

You elected a bankrupter
To handle all of our money.
You voted for an adulterer.
And seem to find that funny.
You voted for a cheat and liar
And ignored the facts against him.
You trusted a major swindler
Won’t vote him back to the pig pen.

You pretended he was a businessman
When his businesses mostly failed.
You ignored all his crimes in office
When he should have been jailed.
You made your stupid excuses
And stayed home instead of voting.
You listened to Fox and Breitbart;
Shared the crap they were quoting.

And for those of you who don’t
Find Trump to be pernicious,
He shows his *** to one and all,
I hope you find it is delicious.
For those of you who lived in
Dream castles of foolish hope
You have backed an evil man
A charlatan and a dope.

If you tried hard and long
You could not have done worse
And that is the reason for
This neener neener verse.
I can’t think how he could
Have warned you any better.
He promised things intelligence
Could discredit by the letter.

He said he would do stuff
So totally unconstitutional,
That made the rich richer,
And proved you were delusional
To trust a total ripoff guy
Who has been cheating for years.
Why did you think this fool
Would allay any of your fears?

But still you all waved high
His stupid Chinese-made hats;
Bought him gold and diamond studs
For his brand new fancy spats.
And now he’s in the Capitol
Laughing at all of you dolts
YOU gave him weapons to use on you
Instead of a thousand volts.

I’m a junk sale ******
As a matter of fact.
It has to be addiction
Because that’s how I act.
I just can’t help myself
I buy what I see.
It’s almost like the stuff
Is calling to me.

I drive by a yard and see
A ringer washing machine
And say to myself
Wouldn’t that be keen?
I could do my washing
And ring it nearly dry.
So, I buy the thing and
Don’t ask me why.

I’m a junk sale ******
As a matter of fact.
It has to be addiction
Because that’s how I act.

I once found a deal
On a gerbil habitat.
I bought it and took it home.
That’s just where I’m at.
That I don’t have a gerbil
Is a minor detail.
I just can’t resist a good
Price in a sale.

I just can’t help myself
I buy what I see.
It’s almost like the stuff
Is calling to me.

People have told me
If I ever get a bride
She’ll be someone
I met on the roadside.
But I quickly add that I
Might be the worst
Because I would look
At the sale items first.

I’m a junk sale ******
As a matter of fact.
It has to be addiction
Because that’s how I act.
I just can’t help myself
I buy what I see.
It’s almost like the stuff
Is calling to me.

The most pleasant of presents
Isn’t on a table.
Is the bountiful presence
Of the birthday angel.

The birthday angel
Has been here
And brought you the gift
Of yet another year.
Let’s hope it leaves you smiling
From ear to wonderful ear
Because your birthday
Is right now, right here.

It’s not something sold
In any kind of store
But you will know immediately
What this gift is for.
It is to help you make it through
Three hundred some days.
And to enjoy your life
In over three hundred ways.

It’s to help you count blessings
And to pull all the weeds.
To give your life garden
All the care and love it needs;
So that when next year comes
You’ll have done all you were able
With the gift you were given
By last year’s birthday angel.

There are many birthday angels
They are all around you now.
They teach with life lessons
And that will show you how
To recognize the angels
With or without the wings
And celebrate the gifts
All birthday angels bring.

It’s common in the human race,
They helped their son to death.
Might as well have covered his face
And robbed him of his breath.
They gave him everything he wanted
The dear child of their hearts.
But their bestowal of gifts, a bit vaunted
Were about them from the start.

The parents wanted everyone to see
How well they treated their kid.
But when it came time to say ‘no’
They went someplace and hid.
They ironed out the bumps in the road
So the kids never had to learn
What they should do when that road
Takes a sudden calamitous turn.

So, the kids, ignoring all good sense
Listened to their peers instead
And started finding external means
To fill up the inside of their head.
They learned life could be postponed
And so could ever growing up.
They could find some kind excitement
In something rolled or in a cup.

And who was there to stop their plunge
Into a kind of lost weekend life?
It certainly wasn’t their father for sure
Or his confrontation-free wife.
No, they didn’t want to **** the kid off
Because that would mean strife.
Let’s just leave the kid alone and watch
As she meets her demise over life.

It all started out when parents chose to
Become their kid’s best friends.
So, who was there to teach them things
Like hard work and discipline?
Who showed them the rewards to be found
In learning to postpone gratification
When they were sitting in front of the TV
Grossing out on mental *******?

The invasion of other countries
Has to come to a full stop.
You’re making us the Evil Empire
By playing at being traffic cop.
We are stuck in a sick cycle
Of meddling in the internal affairs
And financing revolutions and wars
In countries where nobody asked us there.

You’re evil
And even more so;
Pure evil
Because you don’t think so.
At least that’s what you claim
But you’re as phony as your fame.

You tell the voters one set of lies
And secretly agree on others.
Your backroom manipulations
Kills our sisters and brothers
While hiding behind patriotism
The overseas battles of duplicity
Are not about threats to us here,
But are about oil and ethnicity.

You’re evil
And even more so;
Pure evil
Because you don’t think so.
At least that’s what you claim
But you’re as phony as your fame.

You take advantage of the state
Of poverty out nation is suffering
That you politicians caused
By removing our safeguard buffering.
You are doing your best to remove
All the national checks and balances
So you can ***** our world at large
That has no recourse for grievances.

You’re evil
And even more so;
Pure evil
Because you don’t think so.
At least that’s what you claim
But you’re as phony as your fame.

Wishywashington
D.C., you see, consistently.
They flip and they flop
And they never seem to stop
Unless we are talking about blacks
Then they never take anything back.
They want our wonderful free nation
To turn back into a great big plantation
Where the only people who have rights
Are the wealthiest of all of the whites.

And nobody of any other color
Could ever be called a brother
Or treated with equality
Because the word free
Doesn’t belong to you or to me.
It belongs to the richest minority
Who still believe in the divine right
And translate that into might
And are prepared to fight
To keep those down
Who ***** around
With their profits.

They just won’t have it.
There will be hell to pay
And they mean to say, every day
As long as they have anything to say
About who gets the shaft and who gets the pay.
So, don’t go getting any ideas or plans.
Everybody needs to understand
This it’s a man’s world
And it is not for girls
Or people that don’t look like us,
Or those who don’t believe like us.
So, let’s not have some big fuss.
Just do what we say
And everything will be okay.

The two hundred pound waitress
Was smoking and patting
At her nearly two-foot-high hair.
The cook was scrubbing
The scunge off the griddle
Old Zeke was drunk in a chair.
A lonely song was playing
For the twenty third time.
The jukebox was just that old.
Young Biff was mopping
In the light of a weak bulb
He knew the water had gone cold.
Still he scrubbed at the colorless
Old linoleum floor, sulking
One more job to get through.
When the door to the café
Quite suddenly opened
And paper and napkins flew.

It was Biff's friend from school,
Most folk thought him a fool,
Jokey Jerry, his Dad and a girl.
His whole mind was taken
By the sight of the vision.
The most beautiful girl in the world.
When they sat at the counter,
Biff washed his hands
And hurried the waitress away.
He put a menu between them,
Between Jerry and the girl,
Asked what she would have today.

She laughed into her hand
And fluttered her lashes.
They were just for a moment alone.
Then his friend asked Biff
"Gimme change all in quarters
And where is the john and the phone?"
So, now with the mood broken
All too abruptly
He took all their orders and blushed.
He offered her some pie
That was made by his mother
Told her she must taste the crust.
The cook began to fry
The food they had ordered
As Biff gazed into her brown eyes.
His friend, the girl's brother
Sneaking behind them
Set fire to Biff's apron ties.
When the smoke rose enough
That somebody noticed
The girl let out a small sound.
Biff began to flail
At his smoldering backside
And wailed as he ran all around.

Quickly circling the room,
He stepped into his bucket,
Which went along with him as he ran.
Then bounced off the leg of
A customer's chair and they fell,
Hamburger, the chair and the man.
The patty flew out
And landed on the waitress
Who screamed and jumped to her feet.
And elbowed the cook
Who was cleaning her glasses
Which then fell into the hot grease.
She shrieked as she reached
For the tongs to retrieve them
And woke up the drunk by the door.
Zeke began to sing,
"Alouette", out of tune.
And "Hallelujah, praise the Lord!"

Oh his journey around the café
Raising all kinds of havoc
Biff found himself by the windows.
Somehow set fire to Hazel's
New book-ordered curtains.
Jerry's Dad yelled, "Thar she blows!"
Thinking rather quickly
Since he was nearest the danger,
Dad threw his iced-tea at the flames.
And most of the canary yellow
Took-two-weeks-to-get-them
Café curtains with the drawbacks were saved.

Biff was still standing,
The bucket on his foot,
So he bent to pull it away.
Around the corner came Lem,
A very large fellow
Who didn't see Biff in his way.
He sent Biff careening
Through the checkered-cloth tables
To end in the corner, in the dirt.
The shreds of his dignity
Were scattered around him
As tattered as his ruined pants and shirt.
But the beautiful ladylike,
Lovely sister of Jerry
Dared anyone else to make fun.
She took Biff's hand
And smiling, she told him.
"Darlin', this is how legends are begun."

There were several hundred of us
And we were marching up the street.
We could hear some of the curses
We did not consider defeat.
We were lawfully assembling there
Though the custom  bade us not.
The time had come, we would not stop
We would strike while the iron was hot.

It was the one-year anniversary
Of rebellion against unfair laws
And there were many thousands of us
There to rally for a righteous cause.
We intended to show them all
What social freedom can mean.
And it was all started a year before
By some righteous, rebellious queens.

We were respectful and orderly
As we formed the parade
It was seen to that all permits
Were properly secured and made.
There were some simple floats
And choirs and groups
That were marching together
In Hollywood's traditional
And pleasant summer weather.

The police stood by, many deep
To be sure we **** behaved.
And so we all mostly did
So nobody ended in a grave.
We didn't hear of anyone
Being hustled into the lockup.
Forgive the pun, but it went down
Without much of a cockup.

TV was there, but not a horde,
And we got thirty seconds later.
We were pretty sure that alone
Would stimulate the haters.
To see us gays holding hands
And kissing in the street.
We were sure it would bring
Bigots at home to their feet.

But we didn't care, we had done
What even we didn't expect.
We got Hollywood and society
To look at us with respect.
Things started to change then
In California and everywhere.
We were here and we were queer
And no longer easy to scare.

The children of today befoul
Their grandparents with disrespect
And nurture their own children
With television shows and neglect.
They don’t teach children to be kind
And fail to teach them not to cheat.
So they grow up morally blind
Expecting to be paid to be sweet.

These kids were raised defectively
That hits it on the nose.
When you treat them so neglectfully
That’s just the way it goes.
They grow thinking they can get
Everything they desire.
And when they fail to get their way
They set the place on fire.

Now we have generations of them
Like hogs on the living room couch
Shoving their faces greedily
Like they’re a royal grouch.
They ***** if they think someone
Is getting more than they do.
But ask them to vote differently
And they whine they don’t want to.

They never notice that they dress
Like they did as in their teens.
Football jersies, shoes untied
Baseball caps and old jeans.
They say the same old crap
They used to say, not much new
About girls, and the car they drive
And what they’d like to do.

These kids were raised defectively
That hits it on the nose.
When you treat them so neglectfully
That’s just the way it goes.
They grow thinking they can have
A life of nothing but fun.
And when they fail to get their way
They go and get a gun.

Ask them names of those people
Got elected to represent.
Most of them barely know
The name of the President.
They don’t vote, they don’t go
Even so far as the local PTA.
This is the American voter
The kind we put up with today.

These kids were raised defectively
That hits it on the nose.
When you treat them so neglectfully
That’s just the way it goes.
They grow thinking they can get
What other people own.
It’s like these losers found a way
To live in the Twilight Zone

Come here, my baby
And sit here by me
And I will tell you a bit
Of your past history
From well before you
We even a fond desire;
Before I met your father
And our love caught fire.

Loo, loo baby.
You’re the best it could be
You are the greatest thing
That ever happened to me.
Shoo, shoo baby
I would sing when you cried.
Shoo, shoo baby
It’s your very own lullaby

I was happy enough then
But something was missing;
Something not involved
I merely just our kissing.
And he felt the same, too
Because we talked about it
And left room for neither
Of us to really doubt it.

Loo, loo baby.
You’re the best it could be
You are the greatest thing
That ever happened to me.
Shoo, shoo baby
I would sing when you cried.
Shoo, shoo baby
It’s your very own lullaby

Our eyes were on each other
But our hearts saw further.
There was something we felt
Off into our common future.
Today we feel sure that
What we were feeling was true.
Somehow we could see it;
What was missing was you.

So, we gathered our family
And all our loving friends
And that was the very day
Your wonderful story begins.
We knew when you arrived
That we had been correct
We had no more dots
We needed to connect.

Loo, loo baby.
You’re the best it could be
You are the greatest thing
That ever happened to me.
Shoo, shoo baby
I would sing when you cried.
Shoo, shoo baby
It’s your very own lullaby

You speak, the lies begin
Your words all talk of violence
It’s tragic.
How else could we explain
The presence of
Such mortal pain?
It’s tragic.

You open mouth to talk
And we hear crap.
With every word you say
You need a slap.

Somebody needs to sue
A nasty bigot such as you
You fascist.
We’d feel much better when
You’re locked away
From decent men
You racist.

You break a good soul’s heart
With each foul name
You utter from your face
It’s very plain;
You are a blotch upon
The goodness of
The human race.
It’s tragic.
We hear too much of you
And every freedom
You run through,
It’s tragic.

How can you sleep at night
With all the horror
That comes from you?
That sad thing here to say
There is no better day
With you.

There's a goat on my roof.
I have no idea why.
I'm not raising goats.
I won't even try.
I can see how he got up there;
Scaled my shed like a hill.
I hooted trying to scare him off
But he is up there crying still.

There’s a goat on my roof.
And he seems to want something
He’s very noisy about himself
And he smells disgusting.
I’ve tried dragging him down
But he gets back up again.
It’s enough to make a cusser
Of any normal patient men.

The goat that’s on my roof
Is material for a comedian.
He’s so **** annoying
He might be a Republican.
He makes a lot of noise
And insists on getting his way.
He’s good for practically nothing
And has little of import to say.

The goat that’s on my roof
Seems to serve his own needs.
I don’t understand goat enough
To know about his greed.
Does he need tastier food
Or maybe a **** girlfriend?
I  really want this episode
To come to a speedy end.

There will be someone there
Down that long lonely road
Maybe someone who will
Help you carry the load.
Maybe nothing more than
Someone who cares
To listen to you speak
And walk with you somewhere.

It all will depend on you
Whether you are seeing
And whether you can hear
A loving caring being.
Or whether you are hearing
That chanting in your mind
That you have trained yourself
To treat yourself unkind.

It will matter heavily
If you prefer to count weeds
Rather than smell flowers
Because that’s what it needs
If you want to change directions
And take a different route.
Want to ***** and grumble?
You have to cut it out!

Look for the beautiful
The kindness in your life.
Avoid the painful focus
On resentment and strife.
There will be someone there
Down that long lonely road
Maybe someone who will
Help you carry the load.

At the risk of egotistically bragging
I love when my poems start trending.
I love knowing when I post a rhyme
That it’s not simply a sort of ending.
It tickles me to see that this one
Will still be in the universe out there
And won’t just be words that slip away;
The world at large isn’t unaware.

I love that so may people like the words
And so often react with love and sharing
Whether my poem is funny, or even sad
And perhaps sometimes extremely daring.
Sometimes it’s because I have written
What has long needed to be said,
And often because I did not leave
Ideas in my path as if they were dead.

Other times, I just take a chance
In the fervent  hope I am conveying
Something brand new and exciting;
Something that really needed saying.
It reinvigorates me to keep on writing
And authorizes what I am feeling.
It boosts up my self-esteem so much
That it sends me senses reeling.

So thank you, my readership all,
And take this sentence seriously,
I read every comment through.
Sometimes I laugh deliriously.
This kind of acceptance from you
Affects me more strongly than a drug.
Please take my heartfelt thanks
And a great big literary hug.

I fell in love,
Hopelessly and totally
Though society rejected me
And only love protected me
Like blessings from above,
I fell in love.

I truly knew
There never would ever be
Another lover just for me
That fit with me so perfectly
Exactly like a glove.,
Like you would do.

It’s not like in the fairy tales
It’s often up and sometimes down
But we get stronger I have found
When lifewinds blow our love around.
We learn to laugh and even cry
As the days of life go by.
We get back up if we fail,
And realize we didn’t die.

I didn’t fight.
I knew this feeling was for real.
I didn’t question how to feel.
I’d play the cards life would deal
I had a love no one could steal
And it was right.

It’s not like in the fairy tales
It’s often up and sometimes down
But we get stronger I have found
When lifewinds blow our love around.
We learn to laugh and even cry
As the days of life go by.
We get back up if we fail,
And realize we didn’t die.

I fell in love.
I recognized that I had found;
What never seemed to be around,
A love that makes my heart to pound.
I only needed this one shove.
I fell in love.

A little boy was singing
When we chanced to pass him by.
Such a big and booming voice
From such a little guy.
So I stopped to listen
Where he could not see me
And he went on singing
His music started moving me.

Golden voiced little boy
Sing and fill us all with joy.
Other kids might play with toys,
But you keep singing, golden boy.

Soon I saw the others
People who just passing by
Got caught up in the music
Of this talented little guy.
I saw them moving with
And bouncing and tapping feet
Listening to a prodigy
Singing on the city street.

Golden voiced little boy
Sing and fill us all with joy.
Other kids might play with toys,
But you keep singing, golden boy.

There was no hat or box
Laid there to collect some cash.
Just this wonderful lad
Singing next to cans of trash.
It looked like a light shone
Down on him as he was singing.
To me it was unforgettable
This golden gift he was bringing.

Golden voiced little boy
Sing and fill us all with joy.
Other kids might play with toys,
But you keep singing, golden boy.

A woman I once worked with
Was ordinarily quite intelligent
But when it came to pronunciation
She could become belligerent.
Her way was the right way
And she brooked no question.
Braving her ire, I decided there
Was one I had to mention.

She said the word comf-tubble
And I said that was incorrect.
She got so very irate with me
That I feared for my own neck.
She called it socially acceptable,
Her ghastly mispronunciation.
I said it was a sign of the times
The slippery ***** of our nation.
If people were to go on and cease
An honored way of speaking
Then, we are all of us adrift
In a doomed skiff that is leaking.

She said some more to me
But I quit paying much attention.
There were too many “I means”
And “you knows” to mention.
There were ‘haftas’ and ‘ominas’
And the sad utterance, ‘wannabees”.
This poor soul would not pass
The first hour of a spelling bee.
I wondered if this poor soul
Had seen on a computer screen.
The words just as she was saying
On some website she had seen?

I accept that nobody in the USA
Or even in Merry Old Blighty
Says words like Wednesday
Comfortable or February rightly.
It’s like there is an international
Formal and binding declaration
That nobody need say these words
Correctly in English speaking nations.
We can lapse into hickbonics,
We jess *** tah stumble along
And say set instead of sit, and
Others we so often say wrong.

We kin say double pneumonia
And quay’s eye and nukeyoulurr,
Irregardless and even *** cans,
And nobuddy questions wut fur.
We c’n say thangs like reel utter,
SimmYooLurr, BennaFishErAiry.
Innerest, furrmillyurr, Mason Airy,
Flustration and shudder LieBerry.
But as sure as there is air to breathe
And that every day will follow night
Most people pronouncing words
A certain way doesn’t make it right.

The President showed me
I get to cheat and even lie.
And if I do wrong no one
Even gets to ask me why.
The President showed me
By not paying his bills
That being honest is stupid
And what’s important is my will.

I don’t ever even have to keep
Any promises I might have made.
He’s the President after all
And he has made the grade.
So why should I work hard
And pay for all I might get?
He has never done that before
And he hasn’t done it yet.

The President showed me
I get to get married some day
And still sleep with hookers
And be a good guy either way.
The President is a fat man
And sloppy when he dresses
So, why should I have to diet
And deal with laundry messes?

The President also demonstrates
It’s just fine to backstab friends
Because the business of being rich
Is where all friendships end.
The President must be good guy
He lives in a very fancy place
And how can someone that rich
Be a major public disgrace?

Dad and Mom were supposed
To protect me from monsters
Hiding under my bed, and
Of course many, many others.
It is so much scarier now that
I don’t know who to trust
I thought it had to be you two.
As parents are surely just.
But, it isn’t true, I know
As my parents don’t care.
They burn me with cigarettes
And lift me by my hair.

I am scared about tomorrow
Based upon my today.
If I think I am safe for a moment
It is sure to go away.
There is nobody to protect me
From those who mean me harm.
There is no place I can trust
There is no place safe and warm.

And late at night when sleeping
And one of them comes in.
They have a frightened animal
In a tiny, unsafe pen.
One of you hits me, I am a temptation.
The other touches me privately.
It’s an unwelcome sensation.
But I am too young to tell you
That you should go away.
It’s enough to ruin my sleep
And fear the end of day.

I am scared about tomorrow
Based upon my today.
If I think I am safe for a moment
It is sure to go away.
There is nobody to protect me
From those who mean me harm.
There is no place I can trust
There is no place safe and warm.

Brent Kincaid
4/18/2015

If:

There were no people of color, they'd pick on redheads.

If there were no redheads they would pick on people with glasses.

If there were no people with glasses they’d pick on fat people.

If there were no fat people, they’d pick on welfare recipients.

If there were no welfare recipients, they’d pick on non-Christians.

If there are no non-Christians around,  they'll pick on Catholics.

If there are no Catholics around they'll pic on Christians from any denomination except theirs.  

If there are none of those around, they'll pick on college graduates.

Obladee, obladah, yeah! Yadda yeah, the list goes on...

(The same thing applies with Non-Christian bigots. Just change a word here and there.)

Bigots are bigots
No matter what the name
The underhanded tactics
Are all just the same.
They are heartless and evil.
That’s the name of their game.
They are social criminals and
Look for someone else to blame.

All the words you say should be listed as a crime
You can't seem to think and talk at the same time.
You babble like a brook after a horrendous flood
And look like an aging cow chewing her cud.
Somebody should have slapped a muzzle on you
Slapped your big **** a time or two.
If lying cost you money, it would be a great joke.
We'd all feel better and you would be broke.

You're a big fat liar,
Seldom speak the truth!
You're a total spoiled brat
Have been  since your youth.
You've got a lousy rememberer
But a very strong forgetter.
You will always tell the lie
When the truth might fit you better.

If words made things happen
You might have a chance to be
The big shot you think you are
Instead of the reality.
You're a tinhorn snakeoil salesman
Like they had in olden days.
You long ago discovered that
Lying far too often pays.

You owe all your successes
To the fact that people trust.
They see a man in a costly suit
And they let him go for bust.
But, bust almost always
Means for anyone but you.
You only ever make a dime
If too many of us are coocoo.

You're a big fat liar,
Seldom speak the truth!
You're a total spoiled brat
Have been  since your youth.
You've got a lousy rememberer
But a very strong forgetter.
You will always tell the lie
When the truth might fit you better.

I got up late and left the house at eight.
To some that might be early but it’s not.
The cloudless day surely would be great
I wanted to see a friend who I found hot.
Right before the bus stop I heard someone
Calling out my name, a voice I knew.
Asking if I wanted to have some great fun;
He could be counted on to follow through.

We went around the corner to a buddy
One I was sure I had never met before.
His front yard was wet and very muddy
With marijuana plants there by the score.
We went inside and after a few doobies
I asked him if the cops left him alone;
After all those plants are not jujubies.
He didn’t answer me, but dialed the phone.

A little while later I heard someone knocking
Our host went over, let the new guest in.
I guess my face betrayed something shocking,
Because I heard the laughter of my friends.
Standing in the door was a policeman
Full regalia, face as stern as a warrior.
I got up, almost straight enough to stand
When our host said don’t call your lawyer.

Relax, he said, the cop is my kid brother
And he does not believe in this law;
He thinks the rules against *** and hemp
Are dumber than a script from Hee Haw.
We sat there with him and passed the joint.
He told us not to worry about his sergeant.
He smokes too, so that’s a good point.
*** heads with a policeman friend is pleasant.

I never made it over to my friend’s place,
The one I started out today to see.
He didn’t expect me, so it is no disgrace.
How the day turned out was okay with me.
One of the nice things about cannabis use
Is the happy acceptance of one’s fate.
Not caring where you’re going is a good excuse
To stay longer and not care if you are late.

The chimp and the monkey
Were fighting rather funky
About who was the greater ape.
Along came a killer
A monstrous gorilla
And left both their mouths agape.

Then a talented gibbon
Wearing a blue ribbon
Played a fine hurdy-gurdy.
A local photographer
Insisted he recorded her
When he said “Watch the birdie!”

Monkey see, monkey do
Is a childish kind of game;
Like one-upsmanship and chicken
And going to prison,
It often turns out the same.
Hello, wake up and smell the smoke
You’re burning down your future.
Your school-ground behavior
Has gone rancid in flavor;
You boys need to pull yourselves together.

In their pugilistic oblivion
The warring simians
Might have fought until perdition.
Had not their mates protested
Their battle got arrested
Due to their marital conditions.

You see, even dumb creatures
Understand the features
And benefits of a nice residence.
What a sad kind of animal
Makes his home life pitiful
By setting a warlike precedence?

Monkey see, monkey do
Is a childish kind of game;
Like one-upsmanship and chicken
And going to prison,
It often turns out the same.
Hello, wake up and smell the smoke
You’re burning down your future.
Your school-ground behavior
Has gone rancid in flavor;
You boys need to pull yourselves together.

She went out dancing with her sister.
No thought of romance in her head.
A ****** on the loose in a big city.
She would end up in a stranger’s bed.
There were skanks and fancy boy ******
It looked like they were having so much fun.
Some guy offered her a cocktail so she
Thought it wouldn't hurt to have just one.

Criminals of love, villains of lust.
Blind to a newcomer's sorrow.
Heaven for an hour, home-run or bust.
Live for today, never mind tomorrow.
Criminals of love, that's what they are.
Greedy as hell,  up to no good
Acting like some famous superstar
On the trail of a babe in the woods.

Her parents never thought to teach her
How to deal with criminals of love
They set her loose among the masses
Left her in the hands of God above.
The kind of guy she met won't suffer
A single day in jail for his crimes.
She hoped she was something special
To him she was another hill to climb.

Criminals of love, villains of lust.
Blind to a newcomer's sorrow.
Heaven for an hour, home-run or bust.
Live for today, never mind tomorrow.
Criminals of love, that's what they are.
Greedy as hell,  up to no good
Acting like some famous superstar
On the trail of a babe in the woods.

This is not the imagined fairytale
Written in women's magazines;
Fighting off remorseless lectures
Was an outcome quite unforeseen.
She wishes now that she had stayed
At home to read a good book.
Instead she suffers with remorse
Being abused by a romantic crook.

Criminals of love, villains of lust.
Blind to a newcomer's sorrow.
Heaven for an hour, home-run or bust.
Live for today, never mind tomorrow.
Criminals of love, that's what they are.
Greedy as hell,  up to no good
Acting like some famous superstar
On the trail of a babe in the woods.

I know someday
You’ll look at me
And our love affair
Will be all gone.
You and I both will
Have had our fun
And time will come
For you to move on.

Vagabond love
It’s an acquired taste
And not everybody
Can easily tolerate it.
All the neat tricks
That exist within
The world won’t work;
Won’t win when we debate it.

I’m sure we will
Go from breakfast
Late and ****
To passing in the hall.
Then one day soon
You’ll be packed up
As if you never really
Have lived here at all.

Vagabond love
Means one must learn
To appreciate that
We’ve had love to feel.
And just because
It didn’t last forever
Does not mean
None of it was real.

Onward Christ’s invaders
Waging pious war.
Genocidal warriors;
Profit’s faithful hordes.
We know what we’re paid to do.
Hold our banner high.
Anyone gets in our way
Then that one has to die.

We ignore the whines of those
Whose relatives have died.
We are doing right because
God is on our side.
Christ died on the cross for us
Washed away our sins.
That’s why we must **** the rest
So they’ll be born again.

Slaughtering’s our holy right
It says so in our book
Someday we will read the thing,
Take a good long look.
Until then, we do what we’re told;
March and slash and ****.
We are faithful Christians, we
Obey and always will.

Onward Christ’s invaders
Waging pious war.
Genocidal warriors
Profit’s faithful hordes.
We know what we’re paid to do.
Hold our banner high.
Anyone gets in our way
Then that one has to die.

I didn’t call her baby.
I always called her maybe
Because nothing she said
Could ever be carved in stone.
We’d have a date on Sunday
She might show up on Monday
And no word of apology to share.
I learned about love all alone.

I learned a painful lesson
About what was important
I mattered which you asked
Because she really didn’t care.
I’d have tickets for a concert
And she’d go to the desert
And come back some days later
Never said a word about where.

She called herself free spirit
But I really couldn’t see it
All I could hear was stories
And she was the star of every one.
Things might have been better
If she had written it in a letter
To tell me sweet goodbyes
And then it would have been done.

But when she was around me
She managed to astound me
With whispered words of love
And telling me I was the only one.
But they were just at hand
Like the lies of a one-night stand.
I wish I hadn’t fallen for them.
I wouldn’t have been the lonely one.

As for me, I chose the alternatives
To do what is right without the superlatives,
To love people without any threat
A choice too many have not made yet.
A loving but jealous and wrathful god?
Even those words put together sound odd.
If this omnipotence were on the level
Why not smite the heck out of the devil?

I never understood that stuff about Eden.
Why have just one tree off limits even?
To people who were basically children
Why was part of paradise ever forbidden?
Any parent will tell you about their kids
They would do exactly as those two did.
You couldn’t keep them away with a truncheon.
Those kids would have a ****** luncheon.

Oh, and what a self-righteous creep was He
To do what what he did to Job endlessly.
It has always sounded evil torture to me;
The work of a cloud-bound twisted bully.
Then for no reason anybody could ever tell
He created a son and then cast him into hell.
He let the Devil make a punching bag of Jesus.
This God creature seems to do what he pleases.

So what about this legend is so wonderful
That we heap money on priests by the basketful?
We create huge bejeweled palaces everywhere
And insist they are houses of God and swear
To visit them will make us all godly creatures.
Yet we demand no solid proof of those teachers.
If a car salesman delivered like that on a promise,
We’d take him out to and pound him into pumice.

The USA has not been attacked
Since the end of World War Two
So this Department of Defense lie
Is way too easy to see through.
We Invade foreign countries, take away
Their natural resources and then say
“In the name of peace and freedom!”
In no way does that add up to wisdom.

What it is, and we all should recognize,
Is rich politicians deluding the unwise.
In order to fool themselves and their friends
They have to make up stories and pretend.
They have to say things like defending peace
Then go blow up sections of the middle east.
We want their oil and it’s all fine in the end
After all, DC thinks ill of the color of their skin.

George Washington was a very wise man
And one of the Presidents with a decent plan
To see to it that the laws of this country
Lived up to ideas of peace and liberty.
But almost since he stepped down and retired
Somewhere, everywhere, guns are being fired
In the name of Christianity or making people free.
By killing people off? That’s total insanity.

In the nineteen fifties and sixties, DC fools
Decided to make the voting public into tools
Of  fear mongering, hate and blathering,
To elevate their own public images, pandering
To the people left stupid by a lazy press
The country was a true political mess,
Because we bought the whole idea they put out
That we were surrounded by enemies without.

DC and their toadies told us about the Red Menace
To replace the Yellow Peril threatening within us
Though how colors were frightening few explained.
DC really wanted a war to fight once again.
Korea was too short and most of us didn’t care
So McCarthy in DC grunted and crapped a scare.
And once again we fell for the whole dog and pony show;
Too many talented people, to keep peace they had to go.

The disgusting story went on until the DC creeps
Came up with a new war and more peace to keep.
The went again to Asia and brought our war machine.
They had generals and soldiers march into to the serene
And peaceful jungle villages and they let the soldiers
Defoliate and eviscerate enemies they made of villagers.
That’s not to say there were no people planning attack.
Of course there were. The wanted their villages back.

So, that didn’t go well, we came back to our country
With our tails between our legs, branded with villainy
And the people back home, sick of war and not bright
Decided to be evil to the men and women that fight,
Follow the orders of those we voted them to deliver.
It made no sense then or now, and really won’t. Never.
But making sense seems to be way too far above
The voting population who say they believe in love.

These are the people that vote to put in crooks
And fools in the name of some words in some book
About a King of Peace and Love they say is their man
And when Sunday is over they immediately began
To lie and cheat on taxes and vote against the weak
The poor, the different, the liberals and the meek.
I often doubt they’re not aware of being manipulated;
After five or so decades, that excuse has become dated.

Because every excuse, since World War Two ended
Has seen us attacking the lands we once defended.
It’s almost like DC, Inc. sees enemies everywhere
And God knows we have plenty of war tools everywhere.
Our number one expense that helps no US citizen
Is for military and their stuff. Let the wars begin again.
We need oil? That guy we put in office in Iraq?
Let’s go over and bomb them to the Stone Age and back.

Well, make the excuse Iraq sent the planes to fly
Into the World Trade Center even though it’s a lie.
Then say it’s because of Weapons of Mass Destruction!
That was a lie, too. But an excellent distraction.
DC and the Vice President directly made mega bucks
And those dark people in Iraq just ran out of luck.
And a half mad stupid President, a truly evil worm,
All that handily justified his second evil term.

War went on until it got stopped by Bush’s successor.
A peaceful black senator, and a learned law professor
Finally quit listening to the commercial lobbyists
And the politicians who went on well-paid trysts
With those who bribe those with political power.,
Finally ignored, and common sense began to flower.
But racism and the ugly Old Southern nasty bigots
Got the greedy people in this country to vote for idiots.

Almost all the good work of the past dozen years
Began to get reversed, one by one, and the tears
Began to flow as human rights and our equality
Began to be thwarted by money grubbing humanity.
The unintelligent in our nation, upset to be nearly broke
Held it against the black man like a particularly ugly joke.
They just handily forgot it was the rich, the GOP
That had ruined things for us in Washington DC.

So, vote the people out that rant on the media
About fixing a nation that was not broke: America
Spend money ousting the same two hundred clowns
That made a mess of this land; took our country down.
And never forget it was they who made the messes
Don’t go out and buy more new cars and dresses
And pay no attention to the thieves behind the curtain.
If you let them run the show again things are certain
To be the way they have been for the past thirty years
Because they will never suffer in DC. Yours will be the tears.

As long as America chooses to live on the fence
Common sense will always be spelled common cents.
Because that is all you and I will ever be left.
Those of us painted as the villains on the left,
We want the words of our forefathers to be true
We are who DC and the GOP want to *****.
If we want the USA to do what our Constitution promises
We must stop listening to the greedy horse’s *****.

I have busted my ****, sliding down rainbows
And fell through many pink clouds on my ear.
I always whistle as I pass by graveyards
Threw hundreds in wishing wells, over the years.
I defaulted my rent on castles in the air.
I carefully avoided stepping on any cracks.
I walk endless miles not to walk under ladders.
I carefully avoid walking near any cat if it is black.

I totally buy that I am superstitious
And I wear that distinction like a hair shirt.
But I see problem in not taking chances;
It may not work, but it couldn’t hurt.

I’ve cramps in my fingers from them being crossed.
I would never break any kind of mirror, of course .
And I still have salt sprinkled on my shoulders.
Wishing on many stars, I have made myself hoarse.
I always look away when a funeral goes by.
I spit in my palm when I hear something spooky.
I drop coins into the bowls of all beggars
Even though most of my friends think me kooky.

It’s not like I go broke on soothsayers
And buy all the amulets I see on TV.
But It makes little sense to take a moment
To avoid the omens anyone can see.

Yes I buy copper bracelets to save me
From arthritis or rheumatism of my knee.
I never wear clothing the color of blood,
That only makes common sense to me.
Some think I’m a few boards short of a fence
Be that as it may, and all well and good
My guess is you all have looked around
To find something so you could knock on wood.

I totally buy that I am superstitious
And I wear that distinction like a hair shirt.
But I see problem in not taking chances;
It may not work, but it couldn’t hurt.

CONGRESSIONAL EDICT

Go home soldier;
No whining allowed.
Shut up soldier;
It’s enough to be proud.
Be proud you fought
To defend our systems.
Just stop *******
About things wrong with them.

Go away, soldier;
So what if you lost a leg?
Man up, soldier;
It is not polite to beg.
You did your bit fine
It serves no purpose to lag.
Shut up now, for good;
Your words seem to be a brag.

Bug off, soldier;
Yours is an old sad song.
Who cares soldier?
We’re important, so go along.
We have work to do now
And laws to undo and make.
We have no time for cripples,
How much whining can we take?

Buck up, soldier;
The churches will feed you.
Not us, soldier;
We no longer need you.
You fought for your country
In the wars of yesterday.
That is an old, sad story.
So, just go away.

He was a sad sort of man
And we let him exist
On the corner of our consciousness.
ignoring all his nastiness
And jokes calling women broads
And how he wanted to ******
And pinch them and stare
At them when they were naked.
We giggled at his ugliness
And displays of tacky wealth
And how he has so little
Of anything called class.

We called him an ***
And wrote him off in the seventies
As a silly arriviste fool
Who played around in school
And dodged the draft.
He was a joke fore and aft
But we underestimated
The danger of a snake
Slithering in the silence.
It can bite us just because
We were not looking at it.
And it is no help to ignore it.
No matter the excuses we make.
It is still a slithering snake.

We forgot to take into account
That some people like snakes
And take them as pets
Despite all the epithets
Of their neighbors and family.
They do so happily
Because there is something wrong
With people who handle snakes
And they usually shout about Jesus
Which I am sure he would hate.
But no problem, it seems of late
To them, Jesus was a bigot, a hater.
They must have read later
Some Bible we never saw
With a different set of laws
And advice. Really not nice.

I don’t mean to be insulting
To all you devout Blisstians
But I am not, and won’t be
Any kind of American Christian.
I have studied long and hard
Over a half century of years
And thus, I shall leave you all
To your hopes and your fears.

I find your religion
A strange philosophy.
It doesn’t quite work,
Or so seems to me.
Your god will have
An End Of Days mess
You do what you want
And then you confess.

You can be a right *****
Until you are ninety three
And then confess to Jesus
And you’re home free.
So, tell me again, please
How does this thing go
That there are things that your
Omnipotent god doesn’t know?

It doesn’t seem to be
Well thought out to me.
After thousands of years
Of sainted holy history.
It sounds more like it’s
A money-making scheme;
A deferred payment plan,
A fun-house ride of screams.

Looking back on the stories,
Two thousand years of war;
Of persecution and burning
And horrendously much more.
And who wrote what and when,
And more importantly why,
This mythological poem here
Could make a grown scholar cry.

So, I shall reserve my judgment
About your Judgment Day
I’ll go on and live my life
In a kind and considerate way.
I won’t put on your robes
And make your sacrifices.
I will thank you all to leave me
To my own Un-Christian devices.

Zibbyzabby
Pontchartrain
Westminster Abby
Carpool lane
Sixty four g
No-fly zone
Zingaboppy
Rent-to-own.

Lay down a beat
Make some noise
Out of my seat
Girls and boys
Empty calories
Some free radicals
Kiss your babies
Separate but equal

Bippilyboppidout
Sannabannazoomie
Half a bannable
Yastagoochie.
Fastagammarama
Wammadammaboosa.
Crestarest­alini
Totally organic loofa.

Locomotion ocean
Witchyglitchystuff
Beedee essem
Treatemkindarough.
Hepanepa plop
Simulated leather
Random drug tests
Keep it all together.

You’re just a pumped up,
Jumped up pile of blather
And I’d rather hear a cat
Yowling under my window
Than what you bellow
When someone is stupid
Enough to hand you a mike.
And I’d like to remind you
How unkind you are to many
That you daily look down on,
Calling them losers and morons,
When the title refers more to you
Because of the incredibly crass
Times you are an ***, a buffoon.

I pray that soon, you will wake up
And take up some kind of therapy
That will bring clarity to your mind
That is fogged by hair products
Or some early conduct of a parent
Because it is apparent you suffered
From lack of parental training.
Or it was raining on manners day
And you stayed home to play
Or count your pay from dividends
From your trust fund. That’s just one
Of the multitude of benefits you had
That made you barking mad today;
That made you say horrible things
About women in general and inaccurate
Statements about Mexicans and about
Better politicians than you will ever be.

If suddenly history goes completely nuts
And elects your ***; a misogynistic,
Unrealistic a sophistic stranger to reality
As you turned out to be, it will be sicken me.
You had more given to you without effort,
And in that desert of a mind of yours,
Which bores most of us to tears,
Somehow the years of plenty
Denied to so many and gifted to you
Have left you with nothing fun to do
But brag about yourself.
You’re an ugly elf.

Let’s scrabble to rouse the rabble,
The massive blithering and blathering,
Make protests ring above the babble
And set foaming mouths lathering,
When our country and its youth,
Newly awakened and newly wise,
Stand up and demand the truth
Instead of the usual pack of lies.

The rich get the wheat
And we get the chaff
Then the rich sit back
In their palaces and laugh.

What has served as intelligence
Has put this country in a bind
By people with no common sense.
Supposed adults just voting blind
Based on ideas without merit.
Those with money get a pass
And let the taxpayers bear it.
Then the rest take it in the ***.

The ‘haves” drink wine
And we drink water
Maybe sometime soon
They’ll come for your daughter.

The people we have elected
Saw a shaky foundation laid
Have left us mostly unprotected
And massive bribes were paid.
The wealthy among us got a pass
So now just the rich have a voice
And the poor and working class
Have no effective voice.

The wealthy get shoes
And we get bare feet.
We learn to live our lives
In postures of defeat.

This is the age of communication;
We have to look at what we are doing.
We still can save our weakened nation.
And maybe start some careful suing.
Let’s vote out the Couriers of Hate;
Hold these ******* to their vows.
To stand up to their inequities
We need to start right now.

The rich get the wheat
And we get the chaff
Then the rich sit back
In their palaces and laugh.

You don’t get to decide
Who gets their freedom.
You don’t get to deride
Because they have wisdom.
You don’t get to rebuke
To call them ugly names.
You don’t get to choose
Who plays in reindeer games.

You don’t get to choose
Who headlines in the news.
Go on and get dejected
At who ends up elected.
***** because the black guy
Won and now you all cry
Because it is not what the ****
Is looking for in a leading man.

You don’t get to make a claim
To be the one with a good name
To be the golden boy of all time
When every word you say is a crime.
You need to listen to your own lies.
They go to prove you are not wise.
Hypocrite fake and prevaricator;
Your behavior is the indicator.

Your hatred is a thousand years old,
And are not worth even fool’s gold.
They’re just a bunch of justifications
For selfishness and discrimination.
You make fun of all us pacifists
All the while you are just a fascist.
You’re nothing less than bigotry’s *****!
The world will rejoice when you are no more.

*******. I really love having them,
I have no trouble raving about them
And have categorized them accordingly.
Just a few have ever affected me boringly.
But mostly they were those I did alone.
Still I managed to get into the right zone,
Later, if I didn’t like the outcome of the game
I really only had nobody but myself to blame.

But it is always better when there are two
Then some cuddling and kissing when through
And if there seems more we want to do
We can start it up all over again, anew.
Of course if an ****** is the entire focus
We may not prefer a repeat with the both of us.
Still, it's possibly good to strongly suggest
A another college try turns out the best.

Who can deny that great feeling one has
When the activity changes from waltz to jazz
And two people manage to forget everything
And let the muscles and the juices sing;
Take our minds gratefully to another place
A blissful, mindless, animal kind of space,
Appreciation of what it means to be a beast
And be glad for that moment then, at least.

Those who tell the young kids to beware
And do their well-meaning best to scare
The young from being what they really are
Are following a teaching that is bizarre
When it tells you some crap about god
Thinking *** is something sick and odd.
People should get on with what they need.
The Puritans were wrong, so pay no heed.

I used to look like a famous person,
And I swear I really still do.
I started out looking like Dagwood
And now I resemble Mister Magoo.
On a fairly regular basis
I had to shave my face
And gripe about it as I did; now
There are hairs all over the place.

Oh, I remember times quite well
I used to bend to pick up a coin.
Then quickly stand right up again.
Now it causes pain in my groin.

I’d stand before the mirror, I’d
Spend much time combing my hair.
It had to look lush and thick
Now it’s gone, so I no longer care.
Because my forehead has grown
Much longer than my tresses.
I no longer have to worry
About any tangled messes.

I used to be able to eat
Anything put before me
But now I have to watch
What I munch on carefully.
Some things bind me,
And stop all activity,
And some things make me
Take ***** trips frequently.

I’d ***** about this aging stuff
But I have learned not to whine
Because I am still around.
So, longevity is mine.
Some people ridicule me
Because I walk slowly
I tell them I hope they can walk
When they are as old as me.

It will be fine with me
If I finally end up to be
An annoying buzzing bee
In the ear of a society
Sated on complacency
And gluttonous dependency
On the masters of larceny.

It is for the future to see
If the rhymes that come from me
Help heal the national infamy
That passes for propriety
When the heads of society
Treat celebrity notoriety
As conditions of acceptability
And even some kind of laudability.

With sad and appalling sincerity,
Maddening sycophantic celerity
And unfortunate lack of probity;
And what seems to be jocularity
All pretense of care or integrity
The villains in Washington DC
So constantly convince me
That we need my kind of poetry.

I’m gliding, not fighting
As I enter later years.
I’m skating, not debating
As I face my aging fears.
I see what I was afraid of
Were just phantasms only.
They leave too many scared
With talk of being lonely.

Go away with bearboo talk.
Nobody is frighted here.
It’s just another day for me
It’s nothing but another year!
Age is not the bogeyman
It comes along with the ride.
It’s part of what made my life
It’s proof that I have tried.

**** and chest swapped places
My hair is wandering south.
All that goes very swiftly
Is my energy and my mouth.
Everything is changing now
I am not a kid any more.
I spend time in pharmacy aisles
More than the rest of the store.

But none of this unexpected.
I watched others go through it.
It’s not like it was ever a secret.
No mystery. I totally knew it.
So I plan to celebrate this stage
Which means I must slow down
And take things as they come
No reason to whine, cry or frown.

Little Miss Muffet
Got ******* on her tuffet
‘Cause she don’t know what curds weigh.
A scholarly spider
Sat down beside her
Said, “Tuffet baby, it ain’t spelled that way.”

But, confused, he asked
“How did it come to pass
That you got laid and I have not done yet?
With eight legs to grab
I should be able to nab
Likely many more than than you can get.”

Muffet said, with a shrug
“You pitiful old bug,
Your brain must be little more than silage.
For everyone knows
How the old saying goes
It’s not the age of the tire but the mileage.”

The spider understood
What anyone would
That Miss Muffet knew what she was doing.
He went on his way
With no more to say,
And Muffet went right back to her *******.

You talk about agape
And leave me agape.
Really Beulah
Go peel me a grape.
At least you’d be useful
Because now you are not.
A bunch of superstitions
That is all you have got.

A badly written compendium
Of fairy tales for adults.
The kind of book of spells
A witch might consult.
Gobbledygook and folderol
All except the dead cats.
This kind of mumbo jumbo
Tells us exactly where you’re at.

If you came to me and said
I really dig Carlos Castaneda
And I want you to live by him
And his rules, I’d say, “Later!”
The same would be true if
You told me to dance in skin
Under the light of the moon
In the direction: widdershins.

If you came to me with a rock
And said the thing was breathing
You might as well claim it a baby
And tell me the rock is teething.
If you tell me waving your hands
Makes my bad mood go away
I might, out of pure courtesy
Not have that much to say.

But if you tell me I must talk
To infantile pieces of stone
And wave my hands at you
I’ll tell you to leave me alone.
The same thing goes for folks
That read misquoted old books
And when I say I don’t believe
They shoot me evil looks.

This is the tale of the
Kid’s doll, the wallygog.
A doll meant to look like
A pale pitiful human hog
With a clammy white body
With wimpy yellow hair
And blue button eyes,
And cotton belly to spare.

It is so unattractive that
It must be that this toy
Is meant to insult them,
White girls and boys,
So that playing with it
Puts them in their place
As objects of ridicule
Laughs in the white face.

Because look how sad,
With wan sewn-open lips
And imitation Gap clothes
Sewn to shoulder and hip.
How foolish and rude
Is this toy made by fools.
Who can truly ignore
What is meant by this tool?

Yet is so popular now
The silly Wallygog today;
Some children refuse
As they grow, to set it away.
They carry it around
And it leaves me agog
That they never understand
What it means, this Wallygog.

Pusillanimous polecats
Practicing perfidy
Plan parties and
Parse probabilities proudly
Partially putting past
The paltry populace
Pornographic postulations
And potboilers
Pointing poisonous
Proclamations publically
Pitting proper people
To pathetic programs
Promising the penurious
More poverty.
Often posthumously.

Pitiful people plead
Putting need over posture
Putting parents out to pasture
Promising, but passing on
Proper placement of
Propriety and parity
Planting nothing for posterity,
Prizing prosperity
Politicizing with polemics
Post-mortems on politeness
Placing pandering
Higher in practice
By perpetrating
Practical party politics.

Into the dust of Mojave
On a blow-away afternoon
Wandered a traveling stranger
To the highway truck stop saloon.
Taking a seat by the window
His back to the hot blowing wind
You could tell by his face he was grateful
To be out of the sun once again.

And those desert breezes call him
When he is all alone
Ask him where he’s going
He is going home.
Mysterious sandy traces lead him
Along a distant track.
Home is out there waiting
And he is going back.

Then a laugh floated up from the corner
Where the stranger had recently been.
Except for the glass he had emptied
The booth was practically clean.
Out on the road he was walking
His back to the sweltering town.
His car was still parked at the truck stop
But the stranger did not turn around.

And those desert breezes call him
When he is all alone
Ask him where he’s going
He is going home.
Mysterious sandy traces lead him
Along a distant track.
Home is out there waiting
And he is going back.

Pretty girl,
Started out a fellow
All alone there
Hiding in her cellar
Went to the church
The priest said to confess
The scummy man
Then asked her if she dressed.

He said to her
It it was her holy duty
Then he called her ****
And grabbed her by the *****.
Pretty girl
****** now and confused.
It never occurred
That she had been abused.

But she had
A friend living next door.
That was me
And I knew she was not a *****.
Just a kid
Who in those times
Was reviled
Her gifts from God called a crime.

I took her out
Rollerskating and to dances,
As a girl.
I believed in second chances.
She left school
And started life as a fashion model.
No longer did she
Hide her soul inside a bottle.

A lovely tale
One that could have been so sad;
She stood up
From then on life was not so bad.
Pretty girl
Started her life out as a guy
But much of her
Was too wonderful to deny.

We came to the concert and I saw you
From that moment there was nothing I could do.
At that same moment, you also saw me
And the changed my day, my life and history.

They played Jedarian and we both cheered
It had been our favorite for over a year
But we didn’t know it
Because we didn’t know us
But now we knew, because we were here.

It felt like magic because it never happened
Not in all the time of dating many strangers
But something told us to pay close attention
And, just this once, there was no danger.

We were watching our life change course
Something was happening that moved us.
Fate was being a perfect lady and for sure
She was with us and would never lose us.

They played Jedarian and we both cheered
It had been our favorite for over a year
But we didn’t know it
Because we didn’t know us
But now we knew, because we were here.

It had to be right that our song was played
The gentle music and the mellow words
Seemed to underscore the future of love
It played, we sang along and we both heard.

I never saw anyone in all my life and time
Who so perfectly made me smile and speak.
We started on our journey together then
And after years, we have not reached the peak.

They played Jedarian and we both cheered
It had been our favorite for over a year
But we didn’t know it
Because we didn’t know us
But now we knew, because we were here.