His head and his body were
Bald as an egg for all to see.
His parents named him Harry
But he did not turn out to be.
As an antonymic masterpiece
His name is rife with humor
But in poor Harry’s opinion
It was taken as a social tumor.

Every joke that would be said,
No matter how crass was made
At work, at play by everyone
Beginning in the seventh grade
When his baby fine blond hair
Began to hide on back of head.
It hurt his feelings to frequently hear
The things his peers all said.

By the time he reached maturity
He learned to accept his fate;
Everyday friends could not resist
Making light of his name and pate!
While it’s human nature all of this
It’s a constantly rather bitter pill,
And though he learned to smile
It kind of hurts his feelings still.

Bare Harry, bald as a shaved baby.
Plenty of tacky hairless jokes to spare
Shouldn’t we cut him some slack maybe
And focus on something besides his hair
Or the obvious lack thereof on his head
And point out his forgiving personality?
But sadly, that is just not the way
Of the reality of the world’s humanity.

Brent Kincaid
4/29/2019

Go on, young soldier
Go where we say and die.
Take this gun and shoot,
Don’t bother to ask why.
Carry on this war we wage
Though it doesn’t make sense.
We invade anyone we want
And then call it all defense.

Go on, airmen and women.
Climb into expensive planes.
Fly over countries, drop bombs.
Don’t expect anyone to explain.
Line up ground targets well
In your high-power sights.
We have declared them enemies
And they don’t have rights.

Sail on, you navy people.
Turn their seas into ours.
Help our country reduce them
To rubble and dead in mere hours.
Transport equipment and personnel
And help them change things,
Then go to free ports on R and R
And buy your sweethearts rings.

Tromp on, military machine.
Make the world into the USA.
After all, they’re just wogs
And don’t have a thing to say.
If they were worthwhile people
They would be from back home.
Places like Akron, L.A. and Nome.

But they are not real people or
They would not get in our way
And try to stop our holy advance
To be the only people to stay.
When this endless war is done
We will be all that remains.
Be part of the American way, and
**** or get killed for your pains.

Plastic hippies and flashy Hollywood ******;
These were my neighbors and much much more.
The memorable characters on my famous street
Didn’t always have money or shoes on their feet.

I was the person meant to grow up
Finding these neighbors disgusting.
That was before all the questions I had
Of the vengeful God I was trusting.

But, I came to know that people
Must be more than what Sunday
And all the  hypocritical singing
Would claim them to be someday.

So I started learning what people
Do when they act and walk
Then tried to match those actions up
With how people behave and talk.

Plastic hippies and flashy Hollywood ******;
These were my neighbors and much much more.
The memorable characters on my famous street
Didn’t always have money or shoes on their feet.

Let The plastic hippies pretend
How mellow and tolerant they are
In their designer Levi cutoff shorts
And their carefully chosen used cars.

And expensive ****** and slinky pimps
Turn out to be much the same thing
They do what they do, get what they get
And all of it to please some great king.

Is that any different than praying in church
To invisible God they don't know?
Sneer if you wish and call it a sin
But I don't think that's how it should go.

Plastic hippies and flashy Hollywood ******;
These were my neighbors and much much more.
The memorable characters on my famous street
Didn’t always have money or shoes on their feet.

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.

An old man’s eyes
So much they have seen.
Actors and extras
In some memorable scenes.
Dim with time, perhaps
Yet they’re working still.
Seeing all the landscapes
But, from over the hill.

Happy young children
Playing with jackstraws,
Sliding down hills and
Riding on seesaws.
Growing up quickly
And thinking about cars
Becoming too busy
For looking up at stars.

An old man’s eyes
Saw the ages go by
Learning the lessons;
By unsuccessful tries.
Trying so hard to be
Just one of the guys
Growing old gracefully
And hopefully wise.

Singing songs of sixpence
Not knowing what it was
Echoing parent’s politics
Not understanding the cause.
Hearing about god-fearing
Never reading the book.
Not retaining a word said
In the courses we took.

An old man’s eyes
Can be fooled at times.
It doesn’t work out like
In old nursery rhymes.
The wolf gets the grandma
The houses blow down.
And beneath the old eyes
There was often a frown.

Going into the military, then
Looking but not really seeing,
Ignoring people without my luck
Selectively blind way of being.
Told there were people who were
Not part of the world we live.
Gathering mulberries while I could
Not having extra I could give.

An old man’s eyes
So much they have seen.
Actors and extras
In some memorable scenes.
Dimming with time, perhaps
But they are working still.
Seeing all the landscapes
But, from over the hill.

I would write a poem
That would change your world.
But, first you have to want
Your world to be changed.
I would write you a poem
That would find you true love
But that would change your world
And the result would be the same.

I’d write a rhymed sonnet
Worthy of Will Shakespeare
Talking about the strength
That love can give to you.
I could parse it in pentameter
And lilting phrases of pictographia
If I thought that word work
And if I thought that would do.

I’d speak of clearing your mind
And setting your spirit inner free
To caress your soul into harmony
Both within you and without you.
I’d urge you to practice yoga
And other exotic disciplines
If that would help you understand
What wonders your mind can do.

But in that poem, I would need
To practice some kind of magic
To make you set your toys aside
And focus on what is important.
I would need to show clearly
In the simplest of phrases,
That living life honestly can charm
If you remove all that is discordant.

I would write you such a poem
That repeating it out loud would
Let you be happy with being you
And let you give up being proud
Or lazy or arrogant or angry
And clear your horizons away
Of any roadblocks or envy
And remove every dark cloud.

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?

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 *******?

He’s like a ham actor
Who has only one goal
To see himself in
The starring role.
Talent doesn’t matter
As long as he is zealous.
If he bombs it’s because
Everyone else is jealous.

He goes flap, flap his yap
But be careful, it’s a trap.
He loves to holler up a storm.
But has no talent to perform.

He thinks he is a superstar
Just waiting to be crowned.
Others say behind his back
He’s nothing but a clown.
All he needs is a big red nose
And he’s working ******* that.
He thinks he’s the big ****,
But really, he’s just a pratt.

He goes moan, moan and groan
But leave him totally alone
And while he swears he is fine
He will fail to remember his lines.

All the world is a stage, it’s true
So politics is like theater, too.
And this poor clown with big feet
Tries to deliver his speeches sweet
But his lies trip him in the last scene.
He ends up looking false and mean.

He lies and lies his lullabies
And tries to act so famously wise.
But he only fools the less than bright.
The rest know he’s just not right.

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.

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.

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.

You idiots!
You unconscionable poltroons!
Your minds have the intelligence
Of helium filled balloons!
You had a chance to save us
But when it came down to the wire
You chose to let a circus clown
Win the race and play with fire.

Who could know you have learned
Nothing at all from before
When you elected those two morons
Run the show while you snored?
Who could guess that people who
Claim to be so Christian and good,
Would act like from the ears up
They were made entirely of wood?

You imbeciles!
Do you not see what you have done?
You chose a man who seems to think
Lying and embezzling are great fun.
You did not choose the candidate
With experience and knowledge;
You chose the guy who swindled those
Who signed up for his bogus college!

Millions of us with wisdom predicted
This man who praises Vladimir Putin
Would want to start World War Three
Because he is so fond of shooting!
He thinks, without a bit of experience,
He can simply put on another act
And all the rest of the world will
See his mad delusions as facts.

You chowderheads!
You have sold your country out!
Later when it all falls apart
You'll blame someone else and pout.
Now you cheer and chant USA,
And pretend you are so ****** brave
The rest of us fear for the world
And hope there is something to save.

The old man groans as he gets up,
Rising from the chair is a job.
He notices now he is getting older
His head is developing a bob.
Not quite Katharine Hepburn,
Not a nod as much as a bounce.
It’s not a palsy, more of a tic.
It’s not really that pronounced.

And stairs seem to be an enemy
They don’t match the cadence.
Between the risers and his feet
There just too much distance.
Or other times, they are too short
And rise up as an ugly surprise
Not coinciding with what he sees
With his own aging naked eyes.

The man complains about TV
How they are mumbling too much.
They seem to be whispering
Or using foreign words and such.
And when he turns the sound up
The action scenes hurt his ears.
A ***** trick to play on people
Who are a bit advanced in years.

The old man gets disgruntled
When people outside make noise
Like they are some kind of teenagers;
But they’re adults, not girls and boys.
Here it is ten o’clock at night
When decent people are asleep.
What kind of schedule is this
For decent people to have to keep?

What is he to make of the music
These young people like to play?
It has to be some kind of abuse
To use a guitar in that way.
In his day there was melody
And words you could understand.
The noise they make is like a collision
Between a dump truck and a sedan.

The old man grumbles in frustration
That things have not stayed the same.
He would write a letter to the President
If he could figure out who to blame.
But one thing sure, he always insists,
It didn’t use to be this way before.
Now a kind of anarchy seems to exist.

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.

When the world glistens with rain
There is beautiful color in the skies.
You don’t need some technology.
You only need to open your eyes.

Your eyes fill with color
That’s the way it goes;
When it rains don’t cry,
Just look for the rainbows.

The landscape alone is great
The sun shining after a rain.
The rainbow throughout history
Means good times come again.

Sometimes a rainbow
Is not easily found.
But you never will find one
With your eyes to the ground.

When the passersby are grumpy
And just maybe you are too.
It can cheer things up a bit
Adding color to skies of blue.

Your eyes fill with color
That’s the way it goes;
When it rains don’t cry,
Just look for the rainbows.

Sometimes a rainbow
Is not easily found.
But you never will find one
With your eyes to the ground.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

I don’t always want
To hit a home run
But I always want
To be in the game.
I don’t always need
To be the big star
But it’s nice if they all
Remember your name.

You can’t make a touchdown
Every time you play the game.
But, suit up and show up
You’ll be glad you came.

I know I have blown it
More than once before
But that is the reason
We have for keeping score.
We add up the averages
And when I do the math
I find trying my best
Is taking the right path.

It does no good to give up
Without even the one try.
You prove to yourself
You’re a ‘go for it’ guy!

If you think this is rah-rah
You are absolutely right.
What good is getting beaten
Without even a fight?
If you think this is a metaphor
You are correct once again.
How can you win the race
If you never even begin?

You can’t make a touchdown
Every time you play the game.
But, suit up and show up
You’ll be glad you came.
It does no good to give up
Without even the one try.
You prove to yourself
You’re a ‘go for it’ guy!

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.

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.

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.

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."

Many of my poems are snarky
And I know it.
Some things make me ******
And I show it.

Some people are beneath contempt
Puff out their chests, think they’re exempt
But at the bottom of it all, they’re ****.
They count on people at large to be dumb
And deaf and blind to their ugly tricks.
People give up thinking they can fix
The atrocities perpetrated on society.
They get physically sick at the impropriety
And villainy these criminals get by with;
Two tongues in each mouth politicians lie with.

Many of my poems are painful
And I know it.
Some things make me disdainful
And I show it.

I’d perhaps take up haiku poems or calligraphy
If there wasn’t so much ignominy around me.
My trusted representatives are lying to me
And are doing so daily with total impunity.
It’s disgusting and even more, its treason.
And most of the time, they have no reason
Other than rampant compulsions and greed.
So, what better excuse would they need
To betray every concept they claim to believe?
Is that why there’s never going to be a reprieve?

Many of my poems are political
And I know it.
Some things make me analytical
And I show it.

It works because we reward tinhorn crooks
And let them alter all our history books
To either pretend they never existed
Or to act like they ever have resisted
Any momentum to remove the rights
Of those who were not born white
Or rich, or straight, or Republican
Then, the next Congress starts again.
I’ll stop being a ***** about all this
When they stop offering their *** for me to kiss.

Many of my poems are snarky
And I know it.
Some things make me ******
And I show it.

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

Let’s play Name That Goon.
How many can you get right?
Someone you see every day
In the news, in plain sight.

The first one looks very much
Like a troll doll but larger.
He brags about how much
Money he has in his larder.
But, his blather does not
Include many discernable facts.
He’s about half of the man
He stands on stage and acts.

The second one is a talker
In a very vaunted arena.
He seems as incapable of truth
As a citizen named Fiorina.
He’s been faking his credentials
And his skin has darkened.
He’s orange, so one wonders
If the old KKK has harkened.

The third one was a big cheese
And he was a big deal once
Until his mouth and behavior
Proved him to be a dunce.
But not before his crew
And his ineptitude managed
To leave the country *******
And semi-permanently damaged.

The fourth was the third’s pal
In all those dastardly deeds
That any tale well scripted
Or any tragedy needs.
He made a bundle for him
And all of his colluding pals.
Maybe he thought that might
Make him attractive to the gals.

The next one is the queen
Of the Washington crazies.
She might make a bigger fool
Of herself, but she’s too lazy
And as stupid as a box of lint.
She opens mouth and convinces.
Every time she speechifies
The entire country winces.

So, now we have done it
We have played Name That Goon.
If this glib poet doesn’t choke
We can have more real soon.
So, you all play nice and have fun
At your next political gathering.
And keep track of who is who
And what they are all blathering.

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.

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.

Touch me
Like you can’t hardly stand it,
Like you really truly mean it,
Like you can’t control your hand, it
Just wants to reach out for me
And caress me so tenderly
Just to let me know
You love me so.

Touch me
And let me know your feeling
That I’m more than just appealing
That I set your senses reeling
And nothing is going right
If you’re not with me tonight.
I will understand
From the touch of your hand.

Touch me
The most gentle of caresses
Like smothering with kisses.
A magic moment like this is
What life is all about
So, let’s not leave it out.
Don’t let it pass us by
It’s easy if you try.

Touch me
Now nothing else will do
To make one out of us two.
That’s why I’m asking you
It’s the greatest thing you can do
Pull me close to you.
Hold me and kiss me
But, baby, just touch me.

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.

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

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.

It’s your own book
But you don’t toe the line!
You ignore your own religion
But demand to control mine!
You deserve no credit
As far as I can see
Except that you excel
In blatant hypocrisy!

You wave your flags
And lionize the Old South
With things Jesus never said
Coming out of your mouth.
It’s almost like your mind
Is now permanently delirious,
Though you still demand that we
Should all take you serious.

Just like a guy in the local park
That seemed to suffer a mental pox,
The difference is, unlike that man
You don’t stand on any soapbox.
But both of you babble constantly
With precisely the same vanity
That the madness you spew
Should be accepted as sanity.

Neither of you care to understand
That spreading untruths can destroy
The wisdom of experience we have.
It blinds people to the precious joy
Of sharing love for love’s own sake;
Accepting people as blessed as you,
And as deserving of your good wishes,
Hoping their best dreams come true.

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.

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.

We are allowed to be unkind
To the sick, the deaf and the blind.
We gladly toss them into a ditch.
They don't matter; They are not rich.
We giggle and count what we’ve got
Laugh uproariously at those who have not.
We call our poor neighbors our inferiors
Because having money makes one superior.

It also works the same with every race.
Supremacy is about the color of your face.
It starts there and moves to include nationality.
Only Caucasian Americans match our reality.
Sure non-whites can pick our cotton for us
But, as for equality, the concept will bore us.
It says in the Bible you have to be from here
And white and Protestant, those words are clear.

And this stuff about **** and lesbians too
Not one word of that civil rights stuff is true.
My preacher told me gay people are abomination.
That’s why us Republicans support segregation.
That's some of what is wrong with our schools
Somebody has been listening to communist fools.
We need to get back to the good way things were
Before all this equality stuff was allowed to occur.

I tell you the truth, this stuff totally makes me burn.
I mean, these college-warped hippies need to learn
That this country is a Christian one, since beginning
So, we don’t want this equality stuff you’re selling.
Just shine our shoes and park our expensive cars
And we’ll tip you a little bit and there you are;
Right there in the place all of you ought to be;
Freedom is for us rich whites, it’s American history.

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.

Feeling sorry for myself.
Feeling sorry by myself.
Waiting and watching and pining away
Wasting what’s left of a miserable day.
Humming the sad songs
I hear in my head.
I can do nothing but
Lie in my bed
Feeling sorry, just feeling sorry
For myself.

I sit in the dark wondering
What I did wrong
Or asking myself what I
Left so undone.
It has to be my fault
So I take the blame.
I doubt that I could be
More tired of this game.

Feeling sorry for myself.
Feeling sorry by myself.
Waiting and watching and pining away
Wasting what’s left of a miserable day.
Humming the sad songs
I hear in my head.
I can do nothing but
Lie in my bed
Feeling sorry, just feeling sorry
For myself.

Why do the rules have to be
So stinking unfair?
Is there a referee
Hiding somewhere?
One who can come rule
On how this has gone?
I m stuck with the clues
I just stumble upon.

Feeling sorry for myself.
Feeling sorry by myself.
Waiting and watching and pining away
Wasting what’s left of a miserable day.
Humming the sad songs
I hear in my head.
I can do nothing but
Lie in my bed
Feeling sorry, just feeling sorry
For myself.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

He, the rumpled bumbler,
Stumbled, mumbling, bungling
Through his self-made jungle
No mote of humility, his abilities
Were not inclusive of subtlety.
He settled for a public identity
Of propriety and normality,
Obvious hospitality but falsity
Like the nose on his face, exposed.

What a verbose, but artificial
Government official he was.
His cause was never for us
It was for that he was notorious;
How laboriously he dissembled.
But he resembled his opposition
Then took a position of submission
Until his mission was complete
Then he beat his feet in retreat
To those he knew could beat
The highest price and that was nice.

Twice as nice for rental cars
And pretty movie stars
Who weren’t too humble
To stumble the red carpet
With the rumpled bumbler,
Mumbling, no longer bungling
Through his self-made jungle.
Still no humility, a perfect facility
To take from the poor, give to the rich
And not care who calls him sonofabitch.

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.

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.