John is what hookers call
Their customers in this land.
They make him feel like a king
And tell him he is grand.
They fuss over him like royalty
As long as he pays the bills.
His habits can make stomachs turn.
He’d be dead, if looks could ****.

King John, the biggest ******
To have ever worn the crown
If he were an office building
He would quickly be torn down.
Nobody ever thinks of him
In any pleasant kind of way.
If he has a need he needs filled
No freebies, he has to pay.

If there is some slimy way
To speak a simple sentence
He will choose it, and insult
With no thought of repentance.
He owes his wealth to ***** tricks
And that is just what he is.
An absolute and total waste
Of his awful father’s ****.

King John sits on his throne
Gathers soulless souls around.
He laughs at those who take his bribes;
A particularly ugly sound.
He has no conscience, so doesn’t see
How quickly his presence can pall.
He is the king of a kind of hell;
No kind of royalty at all.

You say you’ll give me everything
But all I get from you
Is a lot of promises
And kitchy kitchy koo.
You said I’d get a diamond ring
Before the week was through.
Then you said you lost your job
And wanted kitchy koo.

The washing machine
No longer works
And neither do you.
I wish I was exaggerating,
But every word is true.
All I get to look forward to
Is kitchy Kitchy Koo.

Kitchy kitchy koo
When it all begins.
It’s a lot of fun till when
All the kitchy koo ends
You best start out as friends.

Our love life is super hot
But there are other things to do.
Life involves so much more
Than kitchy kitchy koo.
Groceries and cleaning matter
Though not that much to you.
It’s too bad you don’t get paid
For kitchy kitchy koo.

I never thought I would complain
About making love with you.
It isn’t that part that bothers me
So, let me drop the other shoe.
There are seven days every week
And things we adults must do.
And only a tiny percent of that
Involves kitchy kitchy koo.

Kitchy kitchy koo
It’s a catchy rhyme
Just have fun all the time.
When the kitchy koo ends
We may just part as friends.

Don’t believe when humans tell you
Kitty fairies aren’t for real.
They exist and we can see them
No matter how you humans feel.
We, as kitties, use our brains
To protect and defend us all.
We can see things you can’t
And we can hear their fairy calls.

Kitty fairies think they’re clever;
That no one else can see them,
But we cats are on our guard.
Sort of like fuzzy policemen.
We stand prepared to whip them;
They won’t get by with a thing.
We consider them rather like
Nothing less than pests with wings.

But they messed up by coming
Into our own personal territory.
When we get one in our paws
That will end their silly story.
We might play with them a bit
For the first couple of laps
But after that, we will sing
The kitty version of ‘Taps’

So, if you see us sitting calmly
Then suddenly we leap right up
And chase around rather wildly
And knock over your coffee cup,
It’s because we can see them
Some flitting fairy on the wing.
That you can’t see kitty fairies
Doesn’t really mean a thing.

I tell you, he was elsewhere
While you were somewhere
And I was nowhere at all.
He didn’t stop to call you;
Your hysteria was all you,
And I wasn’t involved at all.

I was standing next to you
When he didn’t text you.
And you sorta lost your mind.
I didn’t neener neener you,
Though I really wanted to;
That would not have been kind.

Knock, knock,
Hello, hello!
Is there anybody in there?
Do you hear or do you care?
Knock, knock,
Hello, hello!
Get on and ride along with us.
Quit making such a silly fuss.

You have missed a cog or two
On your bicycle built for two
That he didn’t want to ride.
I hinted and I joked about it
We even smoked about it
But you couldn’t let it all slide.

So, now you are just tragic
The victim of black magic
And your sadness is legendary.
But, I’m here to remind you
He didn’t even know you.
The entire thing was imaginary.

Knock, knock,
Hello, hello!
Is there anybody in there?
Do you hear or do you care?
Knock, knock,
Hello, hello!
Get on and ride along with us.
Quit making such a silly fuss.

Irregardless, years ago
I had double pneumonia,
But, like, you know,
It is what it is, and like
I dunno, kinda like
It takes what it takes
Know what I mean?
It’s prolly a mute point
But I turned three sixty.
You know? I mean
I’m kinda like, I dunno.

It is what it is, like
I mean, whatever.
It’s all good, isn’t it?
You get what you need
And it ain’t no thing.
I mean, go big or go home.
Try to stay in the zone,
You know. I dunno.
No biggie, though.
Keep a cool tool
And don’t be a big fool.
Know what I mean?

It’s like I was saying
Don’t give up praying
Because God does not
Create garbage, you know.
He didn’t bring you
This far to dump you.
I dunno. I’m in for
The whole game.
It’s all the same.
You know, way to go.
Give it a chance.
Get up and dance.

Know what I’m saying?
I ain’t playing with you.
It like, you know,
I’m so sure, dontcha know?
Way to go. I don’t know.
It’s like, I’m so sure.
Whatevs, whatevs!
It’s so dope, sick, cool.
There must be
Some kinda rule.
I dunno, it’s like, you know,
It’s the way to go.
Give is your best shot.
It’s the bomb, the ****,
It’s totally hot.
Maybe I am hot too,
But you know, I dunno.

What are you,
All you foolish humans
That **** each other
Everywhere, every year?
What good is it,
All your mad efforts
That you live and die
To generate hopeless fear?

What have you done
All you foolish humans
That live by rules
But not by laws for peace?
Where is the pride
In what you create
In all your short, sad lives
If the genocide will never cease?

What of the children
Insane selfish humans
That go to sleep
Perhaps never to wake again?
Who in the world
Which of our fellow humans
Can we put our trust upon
If it is not the most powerful men?

What is learned
With your **** and pillage.
Are you much better
Counting up your evil rewards?
Now you have murdered
Robbed and imprisoned
All those who live by the plow
Laughed at by those with swords.

We are the fools
If we think might is right,
That strength is shown
By money in the pocketbook.
We only need to
To take a simple body count;
To slow our greedy rush, and
Take the time to take a second look.

You had the children
So you are responsible.
Make your weak excuses;
Character is discernible.
We can look at behavior
Of even a grown adult
To see bad parenting
And what is the result.

A child must have approval
And some loving discipline
To prepare them for the quirks
Of this tricky life they’re in.
They must believe they can
Grow up wise and succeed.
Along with love and discipline
Approval is also a need.

We can’t let television
And hired baby sitters be
The be-all of their rearing.
They all have to learn to see
Their parents really love them
And they have parental respect.
This message cannot arrive
If they are raised by neglect.

If they learn nothing of heritage
And their own family pride
What message can they convey
When they are alone outside?
Will they learn only to care
For themselves and what the get?
After all, there won’t be much of
Family life for them to forget.

And for those of you who fear
Your child won’t think you a buddy
That is not what the kid needs.
He can get that from anybody.
And he or she will because
They never will have learned
That life offers far too many
Bridges selfishness can burn.

She was a little stick of a thing
More of a twig than a branch.
She had freckles instead of makeup
But man could that girl dance!
She wore a sack of a dress
With simple holes for her arms
But I was immediately captured
By her open-hearted charm.

It was an accidental meeting
And a charming mental greeting
Two strangers seeking seating
That did not end up as fleeting.

I didn’t own a crystal ball
So I could certainly not see
What this little bit of a girl
Would come to mean to me.
She had beautiful eyes
The color of aged whiskey
That could make a guy
Want to do something risky.

A lovely accidental meeting
And a charming mental greeting
Two strangers seeking seating
That did not end up as fleeting.

So I took her with me dancing
As a harmless thing to do
For two people who are strangers
To whom everything is new.
I expected it to be awkward
Could this beauty even dance?
How was I to know that this
Would be the start of romance?

A simple accidental meeting
And a charming mental greeting
Two strangers seeking seating
That did not end up as fleeting.

See the Nigra boy statue
On a White front lawn
It is all that is left now
The Old South is gone.
It’s beloved in those towns
With proper church steeples
From the good old days
When people owned people.

It is a symbol of when
Blacks stayed in at night
And all public offices
Were held by the Whites.
When all human rights
Applied to only Caucasians,
And not to Blacks, Hispanics,
American Indians or Asians.

Those were the days when
It was easy to quickly see
Which were the good people
And which ones were guilty.
In those much better times
We didn’t stoop to harrangue them.
If they shot off their mouths
We would  simply hang them.

Two hundred years of tradition
Was rudely taken away
No matter how we fought it
No matter what we had to say.
Those were the best times
And we liked it that way.
And our friendly Congressmen
Should make that way today.

The little Lawn Jockey remains
Almost by himself to carry on
Now that the massas and mistresses
In the Sainted South are gone.
He signifies a better time
Like Stephen Foster songs:
We never found owning darkies
So very evil or all that wrong.

Just like everybody else
I was learning for myself
Just what would make me sick
And how the whole world ticks.
Then I quickly ran into collusion
Left me in a state of confusion.
I learned about rationalization
And self-righteous indignation
From purveyors of hypocrisy
Passed off as great philosophy
That labeled some as dross,
Not fit to be the lowest boss.
I watched people get locked out
And ignored when they shouted
The bosses talking about degrees
Driving workers to their knees
Because they couldn’t afford
College room and board
For the four years of beer bashes
And drunken month-long crashes
In Mexican towns full of them
That could go there on a whim
While the children of the working class
Worked hard so their kids could pass
And have a chance to get ahead
Instead of a shoveling until dead.

I was learning this first-hand
That not all of life was grand
If you could not afford to buy.
And banks just passed you by
When you needed a car
Because work was so far
From where you had to stay
In the neighborhoods far away
From the nice neat places
And squeaky clean faces
Of those who inherited wealth
Or were sent to schools
That sent out the fools
That knew how to look nice.
And nobody thought twice
When they weren’t quite as bright
As the people that had to fight
For an opening, then trained
So the rich kid could maintain
In a job he didn’t qualify for
But he had the SAT score
To prove he was intelligent
And had the proper quotient
Whether he could deliver or not.
The rest was all just rot.
And nobody paid attention
Nor would they mention
The kid was a well-trained fool
And what he learned in class
Was how to look good and pass
For a person smarter than
The average working man.
That’s what I learned first-hand
And what I came to understand.

The leaves first healthy and green
Reaching up to eternity
Then turning red, then gold and rust
And falling, translucent in their glory
Only their veins showing, organic lace;
The tree's honest history.
Only their slightly different shape
Remains a mystery,
Remembered by those who might've seen
As if in a fog, mistily
With just the few days of it's life
Lived blissfully.

These are the children, the ephemera
Of our trees
Giving, sharing, growing, expanding
Repeating generously
To populate our world with breath
Suffering death constantly
Being reborn silently to us;
Sentinels of majesty.

These are benefactors of life
For all of you and me
Casting themselves up from dirt
To our reality
Whether we believe it or know it.
They give voicelessly,
And that is what it means to be a tree
If you are leaves set free.

I’d sing to you soft songs
If you walked along with me
By the sea, harmonizing;
Eulogizing each wave before
Ignoring the temptation
For libations and viands.
The sands would demand
Hand and hand we stroll
And roll with the moment,
The foment feet way
At the end of this day.

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

I’d breathe in the sea air
Sharing the breezes with you
Doing nothing but strolling
Unrolling a memory for two
Who both understand this
Is what it is; a beginning
Winning a celestial prize
For eyes that celebrate
This date as only ours;
These hours our dedication,
A presentation to us both
And loth to walk away
We so want to stay.

What are we teaching?
Who are we reaching?
What have we taught today?
Buy him a toy gun
Looks like a real one
Who have they fought at play?

Cowboys and Indians
Act like the real ones
At least like we saw on TV.
Cowboys the good guys,
Indians the bad guys.
Perfect authenticity.

White folks meant no harm
Just came there to farm
Four thousand years of land.
They had no papers
Really invaders
Things just got out of hand.

A clash of two cultures
Then food for the vultures
Everyone thought they were right.
But in the long run
Law made decisions
All in favor of the whites.

Words were encouraged
Dignity disparaged
White people called them savage
Due no respecting
And fit for just killing
Then plenty of land they could ravage.

Textbooks got altered,
The ministry faltered;
Heathens deserve what they get.
Jesus cherished the meek
But whites turned no cheek.
They haven’t quite fixed things yet.

What are we teaching?
Who are we reaching?
What have we taught today?
Children play death games,
Who can we all blame?
Are there no other games to play?

I tried so hard to be kind to you
To excuse the stupid things you do
But something are beyond recall
And deserve no sympathy at all.
Your heartfelt desire to be seen
As some kind of forgiving queen
That lets you give a free pass
To a horrid political horse’s ***
Puts you in a category of shame
And slurs get hooked to your name.

Your a *******, a dufus an a fool
And the little you learned in school
Hasn’t kept stupidity from your door.
You have no idea what your mind is for.
Thinking should not be an hobby
Like picking up stuff from Hobby Lobby
Then dropped when the next cotillion looms.
Brains should not be hidden in back rooms.

You must do research and not believe
The words of shysters or you will grieve
And not assume all is well like fools do
Or you will take us to ruin with you.
When people like you don’t resist
Crooks win. Freedom will cease to exist.
You think you are being kind to villains
And refuse to realize they will **** children
And the old and the non-Caucasians.
That includes Mexicans and Asians.

Yet you tell us stories that they are nice men
And ignore that bigotry has taken hold again.
You sicken me with the dread of seeing
Our future becoming hateful to human beings.
You learned how to emotionally kiss ***
Back in some lost time in your past
And it has turned you into the kind of soul
He let ****** and Mussolini assume roles
That murdered and stole nationally
And took their countries to hell, ultimately.
And that, polite person, is why I call you dufus.
Now you are doing the same thing to us.

Automobiles and road rage
Alcohol and steering wheels
Texting and driving
The Military and U.S. Steel
Banks and mercy
Fashion and comfort
Priests and Godliness
Trade alliances and imports.

Republicans and The Constitution
Bigots and non-Caucasians
Christians and homosexuals
Unbalanced equations.
Elitists and human flaws
The rich and the poor.
Anger and loaded guns
You and the Jews next door.

They are naturally equal
But they’re exactly opposite
Sometimes they balance
But often there’s no sense to it.

Attorneys and justice
Lobbyists and compassion.
Science and the church
Trust and politicians.
Monsanto and private farms
Pipelines and ecology
Fracking and water rights
Minorities and majorities.

Hope and desperation
Citizen’s rights and Tea Party
Media and integrity
Politics and morality
Free enterprise and monopolies
Censorship and free press
Freedom of expression
And illegal social duress.

They are naturally equal
But they’re exactly opposite
Sometimes they balance
But often there’s no sense to it.

Let’s canoodle, let’s spoon.

Let’s cuddle, let’s squeeze.
It has been too long in between
So, let us do this now, please.

I want to lie down next to you
And feel your heart beat close.
To match the rhythm with mine
And then enjoy it as it slows
And matches with the cadence
Of the heart inside my chest.
Of all the moments in my life
This is the one I love best.

I admit that I’m distracted today
That’s the idea I’ve been noodling.
Having fun with you all alone;
Doing some serious canoodling.
It s a better idea than hiking
Or washing the car or cooking.
We just turn on some cool music
And both of us get to canoodling.

Doing simple math for us,
Like one and one make two.
Means I am one number
And of course, so are you.
We can add up some others
Like one well planed meal.
Later it may seem like a dream
But, I assure you, it will be real.

Let’s canoodle, let’s spoon.

Let’s cuddle, let’s squeeze.
It has been too long in between
So, let us do this now, please.

Let’s pretend we were made
To be the two of us together
Let’s pretend not just today,
But tomorrow too, and forever.
Let’s pretend some cupid guy
Shot his arrow at both our hearts.
Let’s pretend we had no choice
That some magic made it start.

Let’s pretend there is nobody
On this earth but we two.
That neither of us has work
Or any chores we must do.
Let’s act the same as if
We were just two small kids
And build some loving memories
Of the fun things we did.

Let’s pretend that our love
Is all we will ever really need
And let this game of our hearts
And souls happily proceed.
And let’s pretend the two of us
Get to make all the rules
And people who don’t agree
Are just ordinary boring fools.

Let’s pretend there’s nothing we
Need to worry ourselves about
And that any problems that occur
We two can work them out.
Let’s pretend this is a world
Like the one in our fondest dreams
And see if we can make it be
Precisely as magical as it seems.

Let people be free.
Let the people see.
Don’t hide any more,
Behind closed doors.
Come out into the sun
There is work to be done
And for better or worse
The people come first.

Our current incentives
To our representatives
Should not be the cash
From planning a crash.
They have solid connections
Of bribes and our elections.
It is simply not even funny;
The rich get all the money.

Let people be free.
Let the people see.
Don’t hide any more,
Behind closed doors.
Come out into the sun
There is work to be done
And for better or worse
The people come first.

We need so very badly
To  not look on life sadly
And feel there is no way out.
We need to stand and shout.
We need to call criminals
Nothing so subliminal
As conservatives when they
Are crooks in proud display.

I let myself hate some people,
Just this once, without remorse.
It isn’t that they couldn’t be better
But they certainly couldn’t be worse.
When I see someone hurting others
Just because they know they can
I begin to doubt if they really are
Still what we could call a man.

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

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

And why do others applaud them
And act like they are something great?
Go ahead, come up with some excuses.
I’ll be patient and sit and just wait.
What could make a person believe
That genocide, embezzlement and theft
Are they only ways they can have fun?
That there is nothing more fulfilling left?

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

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

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

Liar liar
Pants on fire.
You leave so little
For me to desire.
You have been a brat
Ever since your youth.
One of the things you hate
Is telling people the truth.

You lie and cheat
Because you think you must.
You say it, we doubt it.
You are nobody we can trust.
People in your life
Have totally ruined you
To let your own twisted ego
Take over and consume you.

I used to listen to you
Hang on almost every word.
Now I turn my back
And wish I had never heard.
I regret that I have
Ever played along with you.
Now I know for sure
There’s something wrong with you.

If you brought me cake
I for sure would never eat it.
I would know for sure
It was from someone you cheated.
There is nothing about you
That I ever care to be around
I hate to hear you speak
I get sick from hearing the sound.

Liar liar
Pants on fire.
You leave so little
For me to desire.
You have been a brat
Ever since your youth.
One of the things you hate
Is telling people the truth.

The Congressional wag GOPs
Spend most of their time on their knees
Their favorite repast
Is the kissing of ***
Just like the ****** in DC.

Republicans surrendered their shame
They just call it by some other name.
They see their sad schism
As patriotism
And point to Obama to blame.

The Senator from Old Virginia
Just loves shoving it in ya.
At every election
Bigots bow to his *******
And let that Old Turtle come skin ya.

Republicans are making it clear
As we come to the end of this year
Their regime is a mess
But they couldn’t care less
They ***** us with no trace of fear.

The guy now on top is a fake
GOP worked overtime to make.
The cheating and lies
Support the unwise
And hide all the money they take.

Our leadership now is misnamed.
Ignoring the people is their game.
They go golf a few rounds
And throw us to the hounds
Then set the Constitution aflame.

I am glad when each
Patriot says “impeach”!
It will be perfectly all right
If they also say “Indict!”
Then jail him that night.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The ringing of a telephone
A simple knock when I’m alone.
Someone just calling my name
And screaming seem the same.
A loud noise when I am sleeping,
Someone throwing open my door,
A car backfiring close by home,
The sounds of steps across the floor.

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

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

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

Because there feels a solid knowing
That truly, deep inside the child
There is nobody to save them
From creatures near and wild.
Nobody will come to rescue us
When the bad things come to bite
And everybody knows they come
In the deepest part of the night.

(I seldom publish anyone else's poetry, but this one is so exceptional on so many levels, I had to reproduce it here. Hillary Clinton reposted it, so why not me?)

“Education then, beyond all other devices of human origin,
Is a great equalizer of the conditions of men.” – Horace Mann, 1848.
At the time of his remarks I couldn’t read — couldn’t write.
Any attempt to do so, punishable by death.
For generations we have known of knowledge’s infinite power.
Yet somehow, we’ve never questioned the keeper of the keys —
The guardians of information.

Unfortunately, I’ve seen more dividing and conquering
In this order of operations — a heinous miscalculation of reality.
For some, the only difference between a classroom and a plantation is time.
How many times must we be made to feel like quotas —
Like tokens in coined phrases? —
“Diversity. Inclusion”
There are days I feel like one, like only —
A lonely blossom in a briar patch of broken promises.
But I’ve always been a thorn in the side of injustice.

Disruptive. Talkative. A distraction.
With a passion that transcends the confines of my consciousness —
Beyond your curriculum, beyond your standards.
I stand here, a manifestation of love and pain,
With veins pumping revolution.
I am the strange fruit that grew too ripe for the poplar tree.
I am a DREAM Act, Dream Deferred incarnate.
I am a movement – an amalgam of memories America would care to forget
My past, alone won’t allow me to sit still.
So my body, like the mind
Cannot be contained.

As educators, rather than raising your voices
Over the rustling of our chains,
Take them off. Un-cuff us.
Unencumbered by the lumbering weight
Of poverty and privilege,
Policy and ignorance.

I was in the 7th grade, when Ms. Parker told me,
“Donovan, we can put your excess energy to good use!”
And she introduced me to the sound of my own voice.
She gave me a stage. A platform.
She told me that our stories are ladders
That make it easier for us to touch the stars.
So climb and grab them.
Keep climbing. Grab them.
Spill your emotions in the big dipper and pour out your soul.
Light up the world with your luminous allure.

To educate requires Galileo-like patience.
Today, when I look my students in the eyes, all I see are constellations.
If you take the time to connect the dots,
You can plot the true shape of their genius —
Shining in their darkest hour.

I look each of my students in the eyes,
And see the same light that aligned Orion’s Belt
And the pyramids of Giza.
I see the same twinkle
That guided Harriet to freedom.
I see them. Beneath their masks and mischief,
Exists an authentic frustration;
An enslavement to your standardized assessments.

At the core, none of us were meant to be common.
We were born to be comets,
Darting across space and time —
Leaving our mark as we crash into everything.
A crater is a reminder that something amazing happened here —
An indelible impact that shook up the world.
Are we not astronomers — looking for the next shooting star?
I teach in hopes of turning content, into rocket ships —
Tribulations into telescopes,
So a child can see their potential from right where they stand.
An injustice is telling them they are stars
Without acknowledging night that surrounds them.
Injustice is telling them education is the key
While you continue to change the locks.

Education is no equalizer —
Rather, it is the sleep that precedes the American Dream.
So wake up — wake up! Lift your voices
Until you’ve patched every hole in a child’s broken sky.
Wake up every child so they know of their celestial potential.
I’ve been a Black hole in the classroom for far too long;
Absorbing everything, without allowing my light escape.
But those days are done. I belong among the stars.
And so do you. And so do they.
Together, we can inspire galaxies of greatness
For generations to come.
No, sky is not the limit. It is only the beginning.
Lift off.

Donovan Livingston
Harvard Commencement 2016

Lily White lives in an apartment castle
Because mansions are a such a hassle.
He doesn’t need a chauffeur or a car
And he likes things the way they are.

But Lily White turns out has ambition
And won’t confine himself to his kitchen
Or the gold faucets of his gaudy john.
No, he has plans he is insisting on.

He wants to be the king of the land
Make everything his and splendidly grand,
Well, at least in his ridiculous opinion
But isn’t that ambition’s definition?

As much as it gripes him to enlist aid
(He knows that means they must be paid),
He gathered around himself a few;
A set of seven J.O.R.F.s that would do.

Do, in this case, means what he may dictate
Whether or not it’s an ethical mandate
Because they are members on a mission
From the American J.O.R.F. coalition.

The name is an acronym, in gold ink;
When spelled out is for ******* Rat Finks
And they set about hiding behind the tails
Of Lily White, thinking they can’t be jailed.

With the disgusting plans made and done
It’s almost like they used a golden gun
To mow down the rights of the many
And fear began that we wouldn’t have any.

But, Lily White is a liar and a greedy ***.
It is our job to see that they all get some
Tar and some feathers and a rail to ride
To a federal prison with them all inside.

I’m dreaming of a White Christmas
With not one foreigner you know;
Where the people speaking
Like good Americans
The rest should get on planes and go.

The best Christmas is a Lily White One.
With stuff that Jesus understood;
Like Santa’s reindeers
And trees with tinsel
And toys not one made of wood.

I’m screaming for a White Christmas
So shove that crap that Christ’s a Jew!
Go and burn in hellfire with you!
And my best Christmas wish comes true.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

Please listen.
Everybody makes mistakes.
Please don’t make me one of them.
It’s just one of life’s bad breaks.
Replay what I have told you again,
And listen, please listen.
Look into what I have said,
Let it play inside your head.

Please listen.
Listen to what I am saying
Instead of what you’re thinking.
Make me the song you are playing.
Then, listen, please listen.
Not what you think you heard.
Do listen closely to my words.

It is so very important
That you hear the content
It’s from my innermost heart,
It's what I think and pray
From my soul at the very start
And it will never ever go away.

So, listen.
It’s easy to stay half aware
Of what others have to share
And not quite care to hear
What their heart is crying out
The hopes they hold dear
That you could care about.

It is so very important
That you hear the content
It’s from my innermost heart,
It's what I think and pray
From my soul at the very start
And it will never ever go away.

Yesterday and tomorrow
All in a memorable row
Happiness and sorrow
Always a few more to go.
Laughter and sadness
Marching through time.
Dealing out character
Each of us must find.

Lovers and some losers
Each kind had their say.
Whatever they did to us
Made us who we are today.
We all had to learn about
The liars and the thieves.
We taught ourselves not
To do what makes us grieve.

We learned to reward ourselves
For living and getting strong
Even when our history has
Gone quite suddenly wrong.
We are the ones who count
And must add up the score.
So, we are the wones who know
What our life has been for.

Whining does so little good
And makes others turn away.
It’s up to us to find the words
We need to hear and say.
So we do what we can in life
And deal with what we’re given
And learn we can't have it all
Wrapped up in a pretty ribbon.

LITTLE BABY LULLABY

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

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

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

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

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

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


(Repeat until it is no longer accurate.)

Brent Kincaid
3/30/2015

A little boy sitting
On the side of the road crying.
His heart is carrying
An extremely heavy load, dying.
He thinks nobody cares.
He once had family somewhere
Now nobody knows where he is.
They’re off drinking a sloe-gin fizz.
After years of having to raise him
Their parental drive is growing dim.

Selfish cruel parents,
They have more children
Than they ever had any morals;
Feel they can rest on their laurels
And let the boy grow.
They don’t know why they had him.
Their decision was probably random
And now they regret it.
Easy to forget it and move on.
It’s like the boy is gone.
And so he is moving on. Gone.

Little boy crying
On the side of the road, weeping.
He should be at home sleeping
Taking a protected nap
Maybe in his parent’s lap, but no.
He felt it was time to go.
Go looking for somebody to love hm.
To put nobody else above him.
Not even the parents themselves.
He wants somebody else.
I would too.
Wouldn’t  you?

Did someone steal your youth away
And leave you as a tiny old-timer?
Did someone say painful things to you
And, like a coward, did they run away?
Was there any kind of warning
So you could at least adjust?
Or did they just leave you there
With no hope, no faith, no trust?

Open up your arms you angels!
See me where I languish!
Have you no caring word for me
To raise me above this anguish?

Was there one day pleasant skies
And dreams of a cheerful future
Then the next day you were all alone
With no one there for nurture?
The world becomes a darker place
When do people on which you rely
Make a choice between you and themselves
And leave you to live or die.

Open up your arms you angels!
See me where I languish!
Have you no caring word for me
To raise me above this anguish?

Looking for the face of love
And finding disapproval there,
Where else can a person go,
To learn of love and care?
Will they not find other things
With much less pleasant names;
With the risk the sufferer
Will find themselves to blame?

Open up your arms you angels!
See me where I languish!
Have you no caring word for me
To raise me above this anguish?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Little kitty, how do you do it?
You tickle me so, like you knew it,
Like  you knew that turn of head
Would drag me right out of my bed
To come play with you with string
And a whiffle ball and most anything
That dangles or wobbles and bounces
So you can prepare for a grand pounce.

You delight me, little cat, immensely
And I am quite sure that eventually
You’ll grow into being a lazy cat
To fat to fight, or play or even spat.
But you’re a kitty now and there are
Kitty fairies around like falling stars
Ready for you to be very wary of
And for me to wish upon with love.

Yes, little kitty, you are the true star
In the heaven of my life now, you are
What I miss when I go to work, and
When I return just as I planned
There you are, yawning from a nap
Ready to crawl into my welcoming lap
And ready to play a little bit more or
To just go back to sleep and kitty snore.

Little Lolly LOL is not too bright
She types LOL day and night
She seems to think that abbreviation is
To replace things like parenthesis,
Or hahaha, hello or goodbye.
She uses it constantly, don’t know why.
The way she uses it is a blight.
As I have said, she’s not too bright.

We never met, Little Lolly and I
But it’s almost as if I can hear it;
Her ending every single sentence
With LOL as if it were a period.
She can be chatting about ******
Disease or crooked officials
But she manages to end it with
Those silly, mirthful initials.

Little Lolly LOL I am sure totally fails
To understand what she has said.
I even tried a few times to get
The idea into her fluttery head.
But to her, she is being ‘with it’,
To her it’s just like saying ‘whatever’.
And that it means laughing out loud?
She never quite puts that all together.

With Little Lolly LOL, that is the price
One has to pay for her friendship.
To be sure, she’s not being funny.
LOL is punctuation, not a valid quip.
She saw and somebody explained it
So, she grabbed it and she uses it.
It never occurred to her addled brain
That there was any way to abuse it.

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 *******.

Little Po’ Beep was fast asleep
When poverty came and found her;
She never quite saw
The Republican laws
Crash all her hopes around her.
The Beep's favorite daughter
Felt that she oughta
Be able to salvage a bit
Of the life she had
Before things went mad
And went reeling to hell from the hit.

Little Po’ Beep felt the cost was too steep
For taking a nap when she’s tired.
She truly believed
At least a few of the thieves
Needed to be indicted and fired.
She would gladly affect
A wring of the neck
Of the jerks in Washington who ground her
Like so much cheap meat
Starving dogs wouldn’t eat
No help from the dumb peers around her.

Little Po’ Beep wished she could learn
Some way she could turn
The slick words from Congress against them.
She’d take all their assets
And kick them where they sat
Then show them some tar and some feathers.
She’d set up a rail
Outside of the jail
And ride them from town in bad weather.

Little Timmy Trashcan
Was born on a lonely day.
His mother had him and then
She threw Timmy away.
She never wanted children
She just wanted her man.
So, she got pregnant
And her man just ran.

Little Timmy Trashcan
Grew up nearly all alone.
A neighbor hired to feed him
So, he was all skin and bone.
His teacher tried to help
But the mother told lies.
She watched a lot of TV
And it made her PTA wise.

Little Timmy Trashcan
Much smaller than his peers.
Got beat on and ridiculed
For all his growing years.
No man was there to teach
How to stand up and fight
And his mother was busy
Going out almost every night.

Little Timmy Trashcan
Never made it to adult.
He lived beneath notice
And this was the result.
He learned how to vanish
And bother nobody much.
Little Timmy Trashcan
Died from no loving touch.

I never thought I would live this long.
I thought I would be dead by fifty.
Live hard, make a pretty corpse
Seemed, at the time to be nifty.
But, fifty came and went on by
And did so relatively quickly,
And here am I, not doddering
Not stooped over, not sickly.

I remember being that kind of kid
Who thought forty was old age.
The kind of oldster playing gramps
In the movies and on the stage.
Gray hair meant guys near death,
I needed not too much convincing.
Thinking of that, thirty years on,
These days, has me broadly wincing.

Looking back is more difficult
As eyesight loses credibility.
So much of what one sees in youth
Is forgotten so very easily.
I look at the photographs of me
Back when I had flattened abs.
Back when my flesh was taut
And hung on me in solid slabs.

I didn’t seem to have any limits
And could do anything I’d care.
Now a long walk is difficult and
My best friend is an easy chair.
Today I see life as a daily feat
That seems to come on quietly
Like a maid in a swank hotel.
It comes in and then out, silently.

I hasten to assure, I am not
Complaining about anything.
I have had more than my share
Of victories, spent my winnings.
It’s just that I never planned
To be an a senior citizen,
Entitled to cheaper entry fees,
An early-bird buffet denizen.

With amazement I nod whenever
Young people offer their seats.
And any time I run a bit too fast
My heart skips a couple of beats.
Then I walk by a mirror and see
That older person standing there
Who is amazed to still be here
Rocking a head of gray hair.

I wandered the lonely road
Like it was the only road.
I called out to nobody there.
I called out but nobody cared.

The echoes sometimes call
From no memory at all.
Nobody ever felt the pain
That caused this refrain;
A sound that startles me
Somehow it shames me.
Often it blames me.

I don’t understand the reason
There can be time without season,
Leaves fall without any tree.
Voices heard but only by me.
Is this only my imagination
Or some kind of hallucination?

I wandered the lonely road
Like it was the only road.
I called out to nobody there.
I called out but nobody cared.

Is this something the lonely do?
Is this what the solitary go through?
Do all loners dance to a ditty
Dictated and orchestrated by pity?
Is being single a kind of madness
Brought on by descent into sadness
Where one is never told
That they have lost their hold?

The is a kind of sad magic
That makes clowns of the tragic
And paints impressive hues
On the excuses I use
To try to mask the crippling pain;
Of swirling around the drain.
It’s not until the last bubble
That I know I am in trouble.

I wandered the lonely road
Like it was the only road.
I called out to nobody there.
I called out but nobody cared.

You’re just a voice on the phone
Flickering lights on a screen.
I don’t mean to be mean
But you’ve seen how upset
And how lonely I get
From missing you
When you do that smile,
That twist of your lip
And I slip into wishing
Pushing reality aside
And wanting to reach
Each time, greedily
Into the phone
And no longer be alone
Missing you.

And now, with Skype
A new type of missing
Has appeared in my world.
Now the curl of your hair
Is also down there
Where I can see it and
It’s grand to lust after it;
To get to sit and dream
Though it seems naughty
Somehow ******
Since it is you
What else can I do?
It feels better than crying
And trying to pretend
That on this end
Everything is fine.
I don’t mean to whine.

Look down.
Is your money slipping away
As if it never was?
And can you not figure out
What is the basic cause?
Look down.
Are you hands not quite beige
And are there calluses there?
Then your Trump Republicans
In Congress don’t really care.

Look down.
Are you a pregnant woman
Who has no sacks of gold?
Are you sick and poor now?
Are you broke and old?
Look down.
Do you have a few million
You can donate to the GOP
Then likely you are *******
And have suffered silently.

If you sit and let them do evil
And don’t stand and resist.
They’ll use your sacred words
To prove your rights don’t exist.

Look down.
Do you watch the television
And believe all you see?
Does the Christian right dictate
How your existence should be?
Look down.
Are you sick of war and hate
And can’t see it ever ending?
Just realize it’s Congressional villains
That our country is befriending.

Look down.
Are you living up to the goals
You set for yourself in life?
Or is your government killing us all
And handing you the knife?
Look down.
There is hope if we all act
And pull these criminals down.
It’s our fault they are even there.
They run the circus, don’t be a clown.

If you sit and let them do evil
And don’t stand and resist.
They’ll use your sacred words
To prove your rights don’t exist.

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.

If I die and I go to hell
One thing I know very well
I’ll take the elevator, and not stairs
And every Republican is sure to be there.
I won’t be lonely, or a little bit scared.
I can always hide in Donald Trump’s hair.
I’ll probably find some dandy premises
If I believe the campaign promises.

When I die and I go to hell
I will see evangelists ringing their bell
To direct their followers to the right
Figuring they finally won the fight
And got all the right people swayed.
They’re in for a revelation, I’m afraid.
As usual, they will have it backward.
Their vision upside down and awkward.

But, don’t worry everyone
If you are going to hell.
Fox News will be there with us
With made-up stories to tell
About how hell is about to freeze
And Democrats, down on their knees
Will repent in the final days
How soft they had treated the gays.

But, do not fear the story I tell.
Some things will be familiar in hell.
For instance, the Congressmen there
Will still be trying to work up a scare
That making them and their buddies rich
Is the right and proper political pitch.
When the field is their kind of level,
They will take over and outlaw the devil.

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

The rich man might just believe
He can buy all he ever wants
But he didn’t do it all alone
No matter how he flaunts.
The factory that bought him
His mansion and his yacht
Exists because he had plain folk
To build him what he’s got.

The litter bearers took him
Wherever he wanted to go.
The farmhands used their strength
To *** fields and make them grow.;
Mechanics and the engineers
Are who made his fine wheels turn.
So, why is this such a hard lesson
For the rich among us to learn?

Without us they are nothing,
Just overdressed blowhards
With rich antecedents and
A stacked deck of cards.
Not every poor person would
Know how to handle great wealth
But maybe could try if it weren't
For their talent and great stealth.

Something happens to rich people
When they deal with the poor.
They forget about their Bible
And what that teaching is for.
Some forget the Torah and
Yet others forget the Quran
As if those who speaks of decency
Are a political also-ran.

So I should be forgiven if I
Wish they fail at their work
And they have to toil in the field
Like those of us they call jerks.
I wish their wives had to
Patch their household clothes
Then pray the place they live in
Is not subject to be foreclosed.

We once had a government
That worked hard in our favor
To rescue us from carpetbaggers
But now they’re a much nastier flavor.
After almost a century of work
To build a nation for the common good
Programs are being thrown out by
A batch of Congressional deadwood.

I’m as happy as a billionaire
Counting money in his vault.
I’m as silly as a circus clown
And it's surely all love's fault.
I’m as ***** as a diplomat
Who doesn’t know his facts
And still runs his mouth off.
But that’s just how I act.

Being in love is making me
Act like I have lost my mind.
I’m not crazy, I’m in love
So, please everyone be kind.

I keep on giggling and I know
People think I’ve gone goofy.
There’s a huge smile on my face
And I”m quite sure I look loopy.
I babble like a fool on drugs.
And skip and dance instead of walk.
I’m sure I sound like a big dope
And make no sense when I talk.

Being in love is making me
Act like a bull goose loon.
It’s a pleasant kind of madness
I hope it's not over soon.

Everything looks good to me
When seen through eyes of love.
I like rain and sunshine and all
The gifts from high above
As well as the joys one finds
Just walking through the day.
It’s not my fault, I do insist.
Love has made me this way.

Being in love is making me
Act like I have lost my mind.
I’m not crazy, I’m in love
So, please everyone be kind.

I’m still trying to recover
From a guy who was my lover
In the seventies.
He was the best lover ever
Even though undercover
But built to please.

He knew the latest slang
Never missed a thing.
And boy could he quickly
Roll joints with alacrity.
He entertained me in my home
While he was out to roam.

He was a man of magic tricks
And his manner was so slick
Like the seventies.
He was teaching me by being
And seeing was believing
What he did with ease.

Looking right into my eyes,
The way he bared his soul,
I knew it was for real,
Was not like some fake roll.
He warmed my place with a smile
And then decided to stay a while.

He listened to everything I said
And that so got into my head
Because I was only accustomed
In past realities.
To being shined and ignored
By friends who seemed bored
In the seventies.

As wonderful as it was rare
I had no desire to share
His kind of rarity.
He was the first time I fell hard
And I wanted to play that card
All through the seventies.