The current heartthrob,
In a long line of men,
And the goodbye speech
Hearing it all over again.
Said it wasn’t working
And I knew it as well.
Pretending he loved me
For him must have been hell.

By this time in my story
I had learned the ropes.
Neither of us felt we had to
Act like a couple of dopes.
We could divide up the music
The dishes and the clothes.
It didn’t work out this time.
That’s how it always goes.

We picked each other
Because we looked good
And felt things would click
And turn out like they should.
Before long we discovered we
Didn’t have similar dreams.
Two on different tracks together
Is not as easy as it seems.

It happened so many times
I became an expert at it
Because I had no ability
To effectively combat it.
It was love me and leave me
For too long of a time.
As if getting to know each other
Was some kind of a crime.

It would be years before I noticed
How I approached this love task.
They had to guess what I wanted.
It was no good if I had to ask.
That had to figure what I needed
And then they must give it to me.
That was the story every time.
That was my romantic M.O., see?

Today I know it was a stupid game
Like wishing for a dream to come true.
And it didn’t matter one little bit
How many others did the same thing too.
I discovered it wasn’t about good looks
Or some kind of storybook ending.
It’s more like an intense version of us
Becoming friends, our lives blending.

Love is so very much more
Than a funny paper cartoon
It’s more than nursery rhymes
About June, spoon and moon.

Everybody needs love
Love is a word like God
And it is used every day
So you may find it odd,
It can be used by a friend
And you will both agree
You know what it intends
But really don’t, you see.

We hear the words love or God
And we act as if we both know
The feelings the words mean
And we behave as if it were so.
But, each word has so many
Meanings and feelings and thus
It is a comforting thing to say
The words calm and gratify us..

Love is so many good words
Of things that warm our heart.
It’s so many wonderful things
We hardly know where to start.

We love having holidays off,
We love our puppies and cats.
We love cheesecake and pie
And other sweet things like that.
We love well composed music
And a lovingly created movie.
Or saying things like ‘whatever’
“BFF, “The Bee’s Knees and “groovy”.

We loved new boots and shoes
And love opening our presents
On Christmas in the morning
With our family and our parents.
We love sledding and sliding
On snowy days in the winter,
Tree climbing but not the splinters.

Love is gold at rainbow’s end.
Love is our dreams come true.
Love is everything perfect in life.
Love is me, and of course, you.

You don’t need gift wrap
Tape or any fancy bows
It’s sometimes intangible
That’s just how it goes.
You can’t put in under the tree
Or hide it up in the closet
But the person you give it to
Will surely know they got it.

A gift can be hello and love
And sometimes goodbye
It can mean we’ll meet again
It speaks of the reasons why.
A gift is a token of one soul
To another, closing gaps.
A gift is a message of care
And maybe of hope, perhaps.

Some gifts can be lined up
On shelves for all to see
And others are invisible
But taken just as seriously
As a jewel you can hold on to
And feel it there in your hand.
Sometimes it’s a treasure
Only you can understand.

Love ******
What else can I say?
Addicted to love
I’ve always been that way.
It’s an actual fact
Not just the way I act.
It’s the way I feel
And every word is real.

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

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

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

I’ve been with those
For whom it’s all just play
And while it can be fun
I’m just not made that way.
It’s not about appearance
They can be thin or chunky
The point is that I am
An unrepentant love ******.

Love me as much as a supermodel
At least as much as the Super Bowl
As much as a tax-free bonus
A royal flush with an ace in the hole.
Love me as much as keg beer,
On a vacation in the tropics;
As much as a Lamborghini.
Or any other guy topics.

Love me as much as pinups
Of mammalian girls on cars.
Love me as much as running backs
And other famous sports stars.
Love me as much as sleeping late
And breakfast in your bed.
Forget about big busted babes
And love just me instead.

Love me more than blue jeans
And excessive highway speed.
Love me more than days off
Home-made beers and ****.
Love me more than basketball

Contentment has a different kind of sound
To everyone who has ever witnessed it.
It fills the heart and settles the mind
And baffles those who have dismissed it.
Those canting people that cackled at us
Scowling, “Give up, it’ll never work.”
We smiled and continued our courtship
Not thinkng them a bunch of jerks.

We carried on, celebrating our successes
And learning from our many mistakes
And in time we began to see quite well
This is just what love and life takes.
We made our plans and changed them
When things didn’t go the right way.
And step by step, and inch by inch
We became who we are today.

Now we have sounds we make to each other
Less words, more loving noises we utter,
Salutations cobbled together over the years
Some remolded nicknames we often mutter
Glad we have walls around, roof above, and
Sounds made upon our leaving or returning,
And all is well here in our home of love
A message that the home fire is still burning.

A visitor might ask us, and have before
What did he say, or maybe, what did you?
I could explain the habits of our years
But no need. I heard and of course, I knew.
We often use the telescope of contentment
And look backward to where the sounds began
To watch them change through time and space
And become what they became over the span.

I sang of you to passersby
To tell them of your grace.
I wished them all the luck
To gaze upon your face.
I hoped they all would be
The luckiest of friends
To feel the peace descend;
Be the joy that never ends.

I sang of all my memories
Of now and days gone by
Where you were a gift to me
And I was just humble I.
I sang a melody of happiness
And life that came complete.
So I was dedicated to lay
The world there at your feet.

I sang though some did think
I was but a simpleton’s fool
Who suffered some diseases
That kept me long from school.
They clucked and bade me quiet
When I most wanted to sing.
They could not feel what I felt.
They felt not a loving thing.

I sang through scowls and scoffs
And heartless catcalls of the many.
I suffered names like half-witted,
Brainless ****, twit and *****.
But did I care what many had said
Who ridiculed my loving song?
Not I, instead I ignored them all
And sang louder as I went along.

Just in case you wondered
I love all my fellow poets.
Even if you blundered
I think you should know it.
You have taken me places
That I have never been
And unless I read more from you
I will never get there again.

You have painted the insides
Of my mind in psychedelics
Or showed me galleries
Of otherwise forgotten relics.
You let me walk with you
To your personal locations
And taken me on trips
Of twenty-line vacations.

You have used your words
Like brushes full of paint.
You have shown me clarity
And pointed out social taint.
You’ve shared your family
And the lovers in your life.
Some were Lochinvars
And some were a fishwife.

You parsing and your cadence
Helped put shyness aside.
You encouraged me to know you
Where others try to hide.
It’s amazing that in one page
You manage to become a friend
And then you stay with me
Long after the poem ends.

I looked into your eyes
And I saw our tomorrow.
I couldn’t think of yesterday,
Of lost dreams or sorrow.
I could barely let myself
Believe for that moment
That there can be an end
For loneliness and torment.

It all seemed a fine fantasy
In which time stands still;
When I left my lonely street
And stood with you on a hill.
There was no rain or sirens
Just two people in an embrace,
And I was for sure that I was
Lost in your wonderful face.

Something happened then
Many of my dreams came true.
And every one of those dreams
Seemed to be there in you
I never took a moment to say
To myself, "Go slow, take care!"
I just wanted to soak this in
And suddenly I didn’t care.

I wanted to let all my hopes
Take me over and control me.
Not caring that there was no
Fairy Godmother to bankroll me.
I was on my own, and lost
In a dream that was coming true.
There was me, myself and I
And nobody else but you.

This could have gone so wrong
And this would be a threnody,
A dirge, a sad song of me;
A nearly Shakespearian tragedy.
Instead I played it just right.
I knew a good thing when it showed.
It’s been you and I ever since.
It was The Love Train I rode.

Loving another man is not that easy.
So much depends on who you choose.
If a guy feels he really doesn’t need you
You find you’re on a rocky path to lose.
If he’s a man with some excuses
That let him run away and hide
You’ll find out the many uses
He can think up to play outside.

Words like ‘straight acting’ and ‘manly’
Might be what your guy is all about?
He might be into surface acceptance.
You owe it to yourself to find out.
Or maybe he doesn’t even really believe
That sleeping with men makes him gay.
The only person that gets really hurt here
Is he who hopes he wakes up someday.

There must be something behind it all.
So many people go by a guy’s looks.
Just look for the cutest one and you
Will wind up in the history books.
You will have become notorious for
Being the biggest patsy of them all.
The cuter the guy, the higher you go
And the further you will have to fall.

In years to come the jokes will tire
And the first love thing will fade away.
You’ll need something more than looks
To even listen to the words he’ll say.
People will understand why you chose
To be with him when it all starts out.
But, after first glimpses have gone away
They will wonder what it was all about.

What does he believe in, what gods?
What does he want in life, what dreams?
You may not care about the envy of friends
If all you can manage to do is to scream.
It is totally possible to go to bed with a ten
And wake up with a six or maybe a seven.
If superficiality and meaningless ***
Works for you, it may think it is heaven.

The facts are there, if thought is given,
The truth is what must always be there.
If you live a lie or help someone else to
You’ll probably end up in a life of despair.
Your friends will feel sorry, but really what
Can they do to help you in your condition?
In order for someone like him to hurt you,
You had to have given him permission.

I saw a man fishing today
Trying to catch is daily meal.
He pulled up a triggerfish
But I was the one to squeal!
“How wonderful!” I said to him
“You like have?” I heard him ask.
I said, “No, I am not the kind
Trained to the fish cleaning task.

“But what about your family?”
I asked him as he toiled.
“I gonna catch another one!
Nothin’ gonna be spoiled.
I go fish every single day
Right here from the sea.
Kauai treats us very nice
She always good to me.”

He said he would clean it
And then he did just that,
Right **** then and there,
While I just watched and sat.
And I took that fish home
To share with my family.
It was a real Hawaiian miracle,
Or seemed that way to me.

It amazes me at this stage,
After living in such big cities,
That I felt little aloha there,
And that is a major pity.
For here in these islands
The concept of love and sharing
Replaced what I saw mainland side,
Hostility and suspicious staring.

People seem happier here
Now I’ve been here fifteen years.
Maybe it’s the lovely weather
Or maybe my lack of fear
That someone will make me
Move away from paradise.
Nobody better try it because
I won’t think that’s very nice.

Lumpy Dump and Denso Pence
Decided to run for President
Even though, they neither had
An idea what that title meant.
So Lumpy Dump and Denso Pence
Both thought it would be lots of fun
Dump because of the money he'd make
And Pence for fame when they had won.

Lumpy Dump seemed to think
The title made him King of the Earth
Denso Pence hoped to show
Exactly what he was really worth.
Neither one of them realized
They'd have to follow all the rules
Which they were not a mind to do
Because they were both such fools.

Lumpy Dump strung words together
He didn't make all that much sense
But he felt he was doing just fine, as
He sounded brighter than Denso Pence.
Lumpy Dump thought he was slim
Not dumpy like a big ******* of fat.
Denso Pence thought he was bright.
That shows where these to were at.

Let's all hope this is all we hear
Of these two unfunny circus clowns
After Hillary kicks their *****
And runs them both out of town.
We have already had such bad times
And need good times to commence
Which will not happen unless we nix
Lumpy Dump and that idiot Denso Pence.

There is an ancient woman
In the market near my home
Who walks the timeless amble
Of a battered soul alone.
Her pasted orange tresses
A marmalade cascade
Fall so stiffly down to where
Her hand is always laid
Clutching her treasure bag
She goes her way careless
Ignoring chiding glances
At her faded evening dress.

Her story hides in rumors
Whispered by those who work
In the shops and restaurants
Here near McArthur Park.
They say she was a movie queen
Or an extra in the silent days
And an accident at the studio
Made her bald unto this day.
She refused to remove the wig
She ran out crying, in costume
And now she is still wearing it
Hoping he will find her soon.

The woman at the pharmacy
Said her hair caught on fire
At a movie in the twenties
Her boss calls her a liar;
Says the leading man did it
In a fit of rage and jealousy
When she wouldn't marry him
He set fire to the scenery.
Others heard that she was fired,
But she wouldn't leave the set
So deep inside her mind
She really hasn't left it yet.

Some have tried to talk to her
But she never speaks that much
Except inquiring prices and colors
Of the goods she chances to touch.
To direct questions and advances
She turns sadly away and leaves.
You can tell she is sensitive
You can tell by her face she grieves.
It is easy to see she is living
In some world that is not ours
Her world seems a place of gloom
Of thunderstorms and showers.

She caresses with her fingertips
Along the banisters she passes
And she seldom lets her gaze linger
Behind her smoked sunglasses.
Her satin dress has faded,
Like the color of her hair.
She still lingers in each moment
When she walks down the stair.
She never seems to notice those
Who stop and goggle at her
And they are many, these gawkers
But they just don’t' seem to matter.

She seems to have accepted
What her life has now become.
She has been coming to the park
For decades more than some.
This may be a playground
For popeyed urban gnomes.
But this is where she shops
This decaying place her home.
This park is very much like her
Many ages past its prime.
The vestiges of past glory
Have not been erased by time.

There is an ancient woman
In the market near my home
Who walks the timeless amble
Of a battered soul alone.
Her pasted orange tresses
A marmalade cascade
Fall so stiffly down to where
Her hand is always laid
Clutching her treasure bag
She goes her way careless
Ignoring chiding glances
At her faded evening dress.

Her story hides in rumors
Whispered by those who work
In the shops and restaurants
Here near McArthur Park.
They say she was a movie queen
Or an extra in the silent days
And an accident at the studio
Made her bald unto this day.
She refused to remove the wig
She ran out crying, in costume
And now she is still wearing it
Hoping he will find her soon.

The woman at the pharmacy
Said her hair caught on fire
At a movie in the twenties
Her boss calls her a liar;
Says the leading man did it
In a fit of rage and jealousy
When she wouldn't marry him
He set fire to the scenery.
Others heard that she was fired,
But she wouldn't leave the set
So deep inside her mind
She really hasn't left it yet.

Some have tried to talk to her
But she never speaks that much
Except inquiring prices and colors
Of the goods she chances to touch.
To direct questions and advances
She turns sadly away and leaves.
You can tell she is sensitive
You can tell by her face she grieves.
It is easy to see she is living
In some world that is not ours
Her world seems a place of gloom
Of thunderstorms and showers.

She caresses with her fingertips
Along the banisters she passes
And she seldom lets her gaze linger
Behind her smoked sunglasses.
Her satin dress has faded,
Like the color of her hair.
She still lingers in each moment
When she walks down the stair.
She never seems to notice those
Who stop and goggle at her
And they are many, these gawkers
But they just don’t' seem to matter.

She seems to have accepted
What her life has now become.
She has been coming to the park
For decades more than some.
This may be a playground
For popeyed urban gnomes.
But this is where she shops
This decaying place her home.
This park is very much like her
Many ages past its prime.
The vestiges of past glory
Have not been erased by time.

Hello, I know you’re not there
But I’m leaving a message again.
I don’t know where you are or
If you’ve one out, or even when.
Maybe you get these messages
Then immediately delete them.
I keep thinking you will answer
But my hopes are getting dim.

I won’t believe you’d end it
Without a saying a thing
That you would sit and listen
And let the telephone ring
Then monitor what I say
And not acknowledge my pain
Then do the very same thing
Every time I call again.

Ring, ring, I hear the sound
And it is breaking my heart.
Love is supposed to be a joy
But, I am not liking this part.
Ring, ring, please answer me.
I want to hear your real voice.
Pick up the phone, say hello
Give me reason to rejoice.

I am trying so very hard here
To give benefit of the doubt
That you are just too busy
And that is keeping you out.
Maybe you are out of town
And visiting some family,
It’s just that the silence
Feels so very wrong to me.

So, please give me a call
You have all my information.
If you left town on business
Or on an impromptu vacation
Just ring my phone and say
How much you have missed me.
Otherwise I am suffering here
Because of all the mystery.

Ring, ring, I hear the sound
And it is breaking my heart.
Love is supposed to be a joy
But, I am not liking this part.
Ring, ring, please answer me.
I want to hear your real voice.
Pick up the phone, say hello
Give me reason to rejoice.

(This is by no means an attempt at poetry. It is, instead, a piece of satire.)

Making Adultery Great  Again
Make America Groan Aloud
Making Americans Greedy *******
Male American Grandiosity Association
Many Americans Grabbing *****
Mediocrity Actually Grows Annually
Men Acting Grossly Asinine
Masculinity And Grossness Amalgamated

Meanness And Greed Acceptability
Megalomaniacs Abrogating Government Accountability
Mostly ******* Getting Aggressive
Masking All Government Aggression
Miserable Atrocious GOP *****
Mad Animals Getting Angry
Making America Grow Antisocial.
Misanthropic Association Gutting America

Mistaking Accuracy, Growing Artless
Misery Accompanies GOP Analyses.
Misquoting Anybody Gains Approval.
Misspelling Anything Good Anytime.
Magic Ain’t Gonna Appear
Maybe All GOP Avoid
Meanness And Gouging Anytime
Money And Greed Always

Perfect body proportions
Totally magazine hot.
Two percent body fat.
Bone structure of a god.
An hour workout daily
Jogging or the gym.
Specimen of health
Neither fat nor slim.

A high-dollar hairstyle
Nothing out of place.
The finest of products
Moisturizing the face.
Clothes from the proper
Stores with the right names.
Never take a chance on
Discount shopping games.

And, don’t forget the shoes
They have to be just right.
One set of shoes for daytime
And another for the night.
Not just any socks, either.
They must be picked with care.
You can’t be caught with
The wrong socks out somewhere.

Once the apparel is suitable
The grooming done just right
It’s quite all right to be seen
In public, day and night.
Otherwise the right people
Might trigger your worst fears
By thinking you were shopping
At Walmart, Kmart and Sears.

He was a fine broth of a man
And I loved dallying with him
In afternoons of sun and breeze
My lovely one-man harem.
Such a delightful odalisque,
I suspended thoughts of time.
I greedily took up my guitar
And seduced him with rhyme.

As we fed each other sweets
And made coffee by the jug
We laughed and smoked ***
Together naked on the rug.
We told each other stories
Of places we had been
And astounding miracles
Each of us had seen.

We talked of **** dancers
And clever men of magic
And how the loss of innocence
Was not altogether tragic
Because we got to learn
And could use it to grow
And understand the secrets
We recently did not know.

He taught me how to love,
This man of many stories.
I learned to welcome mystery
And search in it for glory.
He showed me how to look
And see people as unique
And not some mass idea.
I grew up from that peek.

That simple time of learning
And laughing with a man
Who had the gift of sharing
The way to understand.
He took me from my childhood
And showed me how to live.
He gave me a gentle heart.
The best thing one can give.

I just want it to happen
Like it's a work of magic.
Like some kind of miracle
That cancels all that is tragic.
A spontaneous kind of thing
Without me saying a word
As if you read my very thoughts
As if somehow you heard.

It's a hope I've had all my life.
The perfect lover comes along
Saying exactly what I need to hear
Never puts one foot wrong.
Someone proud to be by my side
That I never have to show the way
And stay beside me as I sleep
At the end of every perfect day.

Because I can't stand any more
Of the things I've had to bear.
The many kinds of disrespect
And the obvious lack of care.
I need that someone special
Who has the gift of giving.
Who sees in me perfection
Your world, life, and everything.

I've had too much of the rest
The other kind of love affair
Where I am just a stopgap
They didn't ever really care.
The love I am looking for
And who you just have to be
Is the soul of romanatic essence,
Absolute perfection, like me.

I’m still stuck in the fairy tales
Of magic shoes and handsome prince,
Of servants of my own to boss
And I’m still at wash by hand and rinse.
My dreams of riches and luxury
Are still around and just as strong
But haven’t come true that much.
So I must be doing something wrong.

Zippity zappity, zoppity, zoom.
This is me begging at the moon.
Flaffity, naffity, raffity, roon.
My fairy godmother needs to come soon!

I’ve kissed so many **** frogs
My lips have become amphibious
But not one morphed into a prince
So, the solution must be obvious:
I am not holding my mouth right
Or kissing in the wrong phase of moon.
I am not going to be able to hold on
If this wish doesn’t come true soon.

Zippity zappity, zoppity, zoom.
This is me begging at the moon.
Flaffity, naffity, raffity, roon.
My fairy godmother needs to come soon!

I’ve bought magic seeds and amulets
To help the process on it’s magic way
But nothing seems to be working for me.
There must be better words to say.
Some kind of abracadabra mantra
That makes the real voodoo begin.
If I ever get this incantation right
II’m going to do it again and again.

Zippity zappity, zoppity, zoom.
This is me begging at the moon.
Flaffity, naffity, raffity, roon.
My fairy godmother needs to come soon!

MAMA DON’T ALLOW

Mama don’t allow no carpetbaggers ‘round here
Mama don’t allow no carpetbaggers ‘round here
We care a lot what Mama will allow
Carpetbaggers ain’t no good no how.
Mama don’t allow no carpetbaggers ‘round here.

Mama don’t allow no gerrymandering here
Mama don’t allow no gerrymandering here
We give a hoot what Mama will allow
Leave districts right where they are right now.
Mama don’t allow no gerrymandering here.

Mama don’t allow no poll taxing ‘round here.
Mama don’t allow no poll taxing ‘round here.
We don’t need Jim Crow no more
We know just what that is for
Mama don’t allow no poll taxing ‘round here.

Mama don’t allow no warmongering here
Mama don’t allow no warmongering here
We care a lot what Mama will allow
We’ve had too much war, don’t start no row.
Mama don’t allow no warmongering here.

Mama don’t allow no segregating ‘round here.
Mama don’t allow no segregating ‘round here.
Mama says we all take a breath
We all got born and all face death
Mama don’t allow no segregating ‘round here.

Brent Kincaid
5/15/2015

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I read the Bible, totally
To consecrate me.
I read Castaneda avidly
To elevate me.
To teach myself to speak
I wrote poetry.
To calm my neuroses
I performed musically.

The sky above me
The earth below
So much about this world
That I do not know.
I am definitely an animal
But not so very wild.
Yet not so very different
Than I was as a child.

I learned all the verses
They taught me in school.
I tried to heed the warnings
Not grow up as a fool.
I memorized the advice
From those who seemed to care.
I counted all my blessings
And did not forget to share.

It’s not always easy
The lessons from school.
It takes a lot of courage
To live by the Golden Rule.
When life doesn't go right
As it will to all good men,
I remember all the good I did
And then do it all again.

The sky above me
The earth below
So much about this world
That I do not know.
I am definitely an animal
But not so very wild.
Yet not so very different
Than I was as a child.

Why are you shouting out loud?
Are you saying I am too proud?
Do you think I am undeserving?
If so, it is completely unnerving
That you don’t want me to own
What you see as yours alone;
A sense of dignity and hope.
You must see me as a dope
Who can’t see you getting rich.
You are one shallow sonofabitch
If you think just calling me villain
Will somehow make me willing
To give up my own free voice
So that only you have a choice
About how much I will make
And which decisions I take
About my own home and body.
Can you really be that shoddy?

Well, yes, I have learned you are.
You think you are a superstar
And are immune to decency
That your star is in ascendency.
Well, I really hope that it is not
And that your tail gets caught
In the door before it slams
And we see the last of your scams
And your nepotistic buddy deals
And get back to what is real
And proper for our poor nation
Instead of graft and intimidation
That makes wealth for a few.
Nothing for me, all for you.

He was the only guy I met
Who wore a genuine fedora
And for all he struck a figure
He turned out to be a horror.
He was Satan with a swagger
A thin cheroot hanging in his lip.
He got into every nightclub free
I never saw him leave a tip.

His voice was like his words,
Smooth and slick and few.
When he talked everyone listened.
It seemed the proper thing to do.
But later when you remembered
It seemed he didn’t say much at all.
You just remembered his affect
His posture and that he was tall.

I don’t mean to imply he was a loner;
He had his choice of friendly fare.
And, it seemed the were both genders
So, there were lots of us out there.
We entertained, or at least we tried,
Just to keep him where we were.
And throughout the evening’s fun
Competition is what we all were.

So, we flirted and we flattered him
And we kept his cigarettes well lit.
Once in a while one of the silliest
Of our sycophantic group threw a fit.
Most of the time we stuck to our goal;
Some girl went nuts we’d ignore her.
For some mad reason all we thought
Was to please the man in the fedora.


I never heard anyone talk of him
And mention his accent or race.
In fact nobody seemed to be able
To remember aspects of his face.
And he never seemed to walk away
He just faded back into the flora.
He was like a will-of-the-wisp;
A Flying Dutchman in a fedora.

The man who lives in a mailbox
Sings his song alone
The rent he says is reasonable
And he likes the tone.

He sings:
I possess but what I have
That time does not remove.
All the castles all the kings
Are never here alone.
Brave parades and cheerful tunes
Do not the truth disprove.
We are each a single soul
And never here alone.
Never here alone.

His song is sung to passersby
Always much surprised
To pass a mailbox, hear a song
Coming from inside.

He sings:
I possess but what I have
That time does not remove.
All the castles all the kings
Are never here alone.
Brave parades and cheerful tunes
Do not the truth disprove.
We are each a single soul
And never here alone.
Never here alone.

Now, some protest, they say he’s mad
They tell him he is wrong
And some ignore his choice of home
And listen to his song.

He sings:
I possess but what I have
That time does not remove.
All the castles all the kings
Are never here alone.
Brave parades and cheerful tunes
Do not the truth disprove.
We are each a single soul
And never here alone.
Never here alone.

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.

I know just where I'm going
And what I have to do
I’ve looked into alternatives
And discovered what is true.

I've got my mind made up
I'm in possession of the facts
I recognize the pitfalls
And how confusion acts.

There is a higher road
And I am going to take it.
I am going to change my course
And I am not going to fake it.
I’m going to speak my mind
If I am ever really asked.
I will tell the honest truth
That will train me for the task.

It took a very long time
For me to get myself here.
I had to stiffen my resolve
And face up to my fears.

I had to choose between
Pretty lies and hard reality.
I had to let illusion go;
Let truth be the best for me.

I’ll take the higher road
And I am going to take it.
I now have changed my course
And I refuse to fake it.
I’ll welcome those people
Who love me who I have become.
I will tell the honest truth
Let that be my rule of thumb.

You must be understanding
Of his demons
You’re never going to see him
On the weekends.
He’s just what you found perfect
As long as he was in bed.
It turns out every time, the romance
It is all inside your head.

Even though he knows you’re hurting
He can’t do a thing
You really should have known this
When you saw his ring.

Even in the deep heat of summer
You’re out in the cold.
It isn’t like it never happened before
This story is old.

You must be understanding
Of his demons
You’re never going to see him
On the weekends.
You think of you and him as a couple
That can never be
He has lied to her, why not to you?
This is your reality.

Maybe you decided this is better than
Being all alone.
What you think is love for you is like
The Twilight Zone.
He has a life without you and you knew
There was no ‘us’ or ‘we’.
You’re always the villain, homewrecker;
Innocence is but a memory.

You tell yourself each time he leaves
That is it, no more.
Then change your mind by the time
He closes the door.
Regret for what you do to his life
Is not your problem.
Like me, she has to learn the punches
And learn to roll with them.

You must be understanding
Of his demons
You’re never going to see him
On the weekends.
He’s just what you found perfect
As long as he was in bed.
It turns out every time, the romance
It is all inside your head.

The air at day’s end
Seems to gently settle
Here on us for our
Cozy evening cuddle.
I greedily revel in this,
What nobody else can see
Our bodies together here,
You this close to me.

It might be a painting
If seen by an artist
But to take it that way
Would be the hardest
Because it could not
In any real way convey
The way we feel here
About each other today.

There has been nobody
Ever with the talent required
To put brush to canvas
And capture what transpires
When we two meld as one;
One heart, one soul, us;
Two creatures in love
Here in this gentle dusk.

Brent Kincaid
4/12/2015

I got off the bus
At Eighteenth and Vine
Everything in the window
I wanted to be mine
Beautiful shirts there,
Suits, shoes and hats.
But I couldn’t buy them
No, I couldn’t do that.

I was the wrong color
For Matlaw’s, He said.
That place was for coloreds
And rich pimps instead
Not a tow-headed white boy
What hasn’t got much sense.
I went there that one time
But, I haven’t been since.

But, oh I wanted that suit,
With cranberry hat and shoes.
Even though I had no place
To ever wear it, I knew.
But, I love that store there
On eighteenth and Vine
Even though I knew nothing
In that store could be mine.

The bus went by there
Every day I passed it by.
To this day, I grieve
And never understood why
A Caucasian market
Like I represented
Might go there inside there
And be soundly resented.

It wasn’t a good thing
It’s just how it was then
Before the civil rights thing
Would finally begin.
But I never knew colors
They way others did.
But, what did I know?
I was just a young kid.

But, oh I wanted that suit,
With cranberry hat and shoes.
Even though I had no place
To ever wear it, I knew.
But, I love that store there
On eighteenth and Vine
Even though I knew nothing
In that store could be mine.

I got off the bus
At Eighteenth and Vine
Everything in the window
I wanted to be mine
Beautiful shirts there,
Suits, shoes and hats.
But I couldn’t buy them
No, I couldn’t do that.

I was the wrong color
For Matlaw’s, He said.
That place was for coloreds
And rich pimps instead
Not a tow-headed white boy
What hasn’t got much sense.
I went there that one time
And, I haven’t been since.

But, oh I wanted that suit,
With cranberry hat and shoes.
Even though I had no place
To ever wear it, I knew.
But, I love that store there
On eighteenth and Vine
Even though I knew nothing
In that store could be mine.

The bus went by there
Every day I passed it by.
To this day, I grieve
And never understood why
A Caucasian market
Like I represented
Might go there inside there
And be soundly resented.

It wasn’t a good thing
It’s just how it was then
Before the civil rights thing
Would finally begin.
Yes, I never knew colors
They way others did.
But, what did I know?
I was just a young kid.

But, oh I wanted that suit,
With cranberry hat and shoes.
Even though I had no place
To ever wear it, I knew.
But, I love that store there
On eighteenth and Vine
Even though I knew nothing
In that store could be mine.

For you who served
So others might live.
Some of you gave
All you had to give.
We lost some of you
And it broke our hearts
But, live or die you all
Stood up to do your part.

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

No stones can be stacked
High enough to balance
The mothers who lost
Their children in battles
And no speeches made
Can ever appropriately say
What your sacrifice has meant
To every one of us today.

Helpless, when so many have died.
Can we do nothing but hurt inside?
Those can’t go home, no matter who cried.
Yet we never set those guns aside.
We listened while politicians lied
And even when some of us tried
Too many took up the other side
And insisted they were on the right side
The godly side, the intelligent side.
But they too were wrong or just lied.
And fifty eight, so far, have horribly died.

So, who is in the right here?
We ask year after year.
Why do we sell illogical fear
To allow weapons to be sold here
That are not used to shoot deer
Or game for food, but it is clear
They are for shooting people here
In our own country, not in Tangier
Or Kabul, killing strangers for fear
They’ll take away our freedom here
And very much like some King Lear
Trust all the wrong people. It’s clear.

Every eight years, we go insane
And let America’s worst bane
Take over what still remains
Of a splendid land that retains
The intentions and words of the sane;
The founders of our nation, and again
Give it all away “to elect for change’
Without consideration for the pain
That it took; the blood and the pain
To fight those who hate freedom’s name
And then to elect them back in again.

They are only too glad if we ****
And maim and destroy at will
As long as it's the poor we ****
And not their beloved on their hill.
That is too bitter of a pill
For them to take, so they shill
And subvert and always will.
They’ll approve the crazy skill
It takes to sit up on a hill
And shoot people at will.
They never quite get their fill.

So, when will we people get wisdom
And ban those repeating weapons
Being sold ***** nilly in the kingdom
Of hate, greed without sound reason?
When will we see that we are with them?
Just another human like their women
Brothers, fathers and even their children
That can be erased by their bad decisions
To let more nameless, brainless buy weapons
That have no good solid application
Except a bullet to the brain of our nation.

Memory can be a trickster
The part of the mind that is devious
The prankster, the liar, the cheat
The rascal that is often mischievous.
Memory can enlarge and diminish,
Or capriciously decide to desert you.
It can make a disappointment of truth
Or make an dreadful lie seem true.

Houses you used to know very well
Suddenly have shrunk so small.
Pathways you thought you knew
No longer go anywhere at all.
Music that once swelled the heart
Now seems like so much noise
Memory has sneaked in to the mind
And run off with some of the joys.

People you once depended on
Have faces or names you forgot.
Cherished books from yesterday
Must be reread to recover the plot.
Some favorite rhymes once quoted
To entertain and maybe just amuse
Are no longer stashed in the memory
Right there for you to pick up and use.

Games and hobbies, old favorites
No longer carry that much charm.
Along with other forgotten things
They seem to have come to some harm.
That’s not to say this is everything
And nothing remains sweet and true.
I know for the rest of my life
I will always remember you.

Walking down Memory Lane
Living forgotten dreams again;
Seeing the faces and colors
Of friends, family and brothers.

Some of them good dreams
Of sunny days and pastures
And some were scary times
With fear in too large measures.
Many times the details there
Are cloudy and too indistinct.
Maybe they aren’t as important
As I may once have liked to think.

There are friends there, too
In the lane of remembering
And lovers and co-workers
That don’t deserve forgetting
But there are so many there
In any person’s lengthy time.
If Memory Lane were a hill
It would be a long hard climb.

There are playgrounds and parks
In the vistas of Memory Lane.
Some of them better forgotten
And some I want to see again.
I want to swing on that swing
And feel I am flying so very high
That I can let go and reach out
And actually touch the very sky.

And there lakes and flowers
On this journey through memory.
There were tasty walnuts and
Lovely pines and old hickories.
There were puppies I love so
And kittens and some horses.
So much better to remember
Than breakups, fights, divorces.


I am always so pleased when
I get to come back here again.
Rewarded for a lifetime of love
And walks down Memory Lane.

Memory movies
Little flickers of thought
Of what happened before
About the fish we caught
When Dad and I, together
Went by ourselves to a stream.
We spent the day together
It feels rather like a dream.

Memory moments
Of wonders I have seen
And what they have become
And what they came to mean.
Suddenly recalling back then
Someone I had totally forgot.
Some people stay friends
But sometimes others do not.

Memory music
Seemed to choreograph time.
There were songs playing then
And in a way, they kept time;
The drumbeat to life’s march,
We kept right up with the beat.
It went with us everywhere, then
In our school, home and the street.

Memory maybe
But it’s part of who I’ve become
Today compared to yesterday
Some things are better, and some
Are never going to top them
Those days of bright discovery.
So, I let those memory movies,
When they show up, come cover me.

On the lonely road, a crow was picking
At the fresh remains of a dead chicken.
It’s the circle of life, as far as I can see.
Everything is food; both you and me.
It’s all circle and cycles, you see.
Running away and then back again.
Life the enemy in our old age
That started out to be our friend.

It’s all ashes to ashes, dust to dust
Even solid steel is a victim of rust.
We can pretend might makes right
But that doesn’t stop the fall of night.
Water is necessary for us,
But without air, there is death.
We can live but a few moments
If we do not have our breath.

Without food, we will get weak.
And stone can break our bones.
Fire can consume us it is sure
But fire needs air, it is well known.
The crow pecks bones without joy
It is what it must to do survive.
The crow does not worry or frown.
It does what it does to stay alive.

The people that use that road
For the old crow’s grisly feast
Do not care for god or books
Or superstition in the least.
Congregations of god surely will
Hire mourners to wail their grief
About the loss of a pious soul.
No more honest than a thief.

I wish you Merry Christmas
That lasts all through the year.
Remember how I love you
And hold you all so dear.
Merry merry Christmas
And a happy, happy new year.

I hope all the presents
Are exactly what you like.
Just as in your childhood
A shiny brand new bike.
And apples in your stocking
Just like every Christmas,
And other great new years.

And I hope that Santa Claus
Came and left you joy
More than just pretty gifts
And fancy wished for toys.
I hope you smile a lot
And Christmas leaves you glad
And nobody in your family
Has reason to be sad.

So merry, merry Christmas
To you and all you love
May every Christmas blessing
Come down from far above
And grant you joy and your family
The merriest of Christmases
And a most joyous new year.

Making excuses
With hundreds of uses
All kinds of ruses
To cover up abuses
By venal national leaders
Upscale liars and cheaters
And well-armed bush-beaters
Feeding the meat-eaters.

The uptight Right
With its narrow eyesight
Calls daytime night
And loves a grudge fight
So, they create enemies
With deceitful homilies
And live up to the parodies
That leave us on our knees.

They ignore the Constitution
And make new resolutions
To offer no real solutions.
To our national destitution.
All that matters is monetary
So, they bribe the constabulary;
Call civil rights revolutionary
And laugh at those they bury.

The point is, make no mistake
These reprobates always take
They never take a break.
They cut nobody a break.
They steal and call it rights
And love it when the poor fight.
And while we sleep at night
They steal even the street lights.

Our reputation never had a chance
Since the fat boy did his dance.
Here he is to ruin the land!
Mighty Mouth's underhand!
He has never had a single clue
Not a thought for me or you.

He stays surrounded by some total jerks
Who always nod “okay”
No matter what he says he wants to do
No matter what he’ll say.

We should be shivering in our bikinis
He’s nothing but a modern Mussolini.

Yessir, everything he does is for cash
And his family is a bunch of trash.
Our country will be great again
But not if Mighty Mouth stays in.

Micah The Mouse was a rat;
At least that’s how he behaved.
If he didn’t get his way every time
He’d holler and he’d rant and rave.
He got to be such a big mouse
That his head swelled up too.
He became so hugely obnoxious
Other mice didn’t know what to do.

They held a spontaneous election.
They needed to elect a top mouse.
Micah bribed the weaker leaders
So, Micah got the run of the house.
He kept up his pattern of bribery
And threatening those in his way.
Without anything like scruples
He’s still on the throne to this day

Micah The Mouse takes with both hands
And it’s too bad if anyone disagrees.
Those who think he cares about complaints
Will spend a lot of time on their knees.

In Micah got horrendously fat
By overeating just a tiny smidge.
He got to be so much like a big rat
He grew too heavy to cross the bridge.
So he roared and ranted and raved.
And blamed everybody around him.
That he was the cause of his problems
Seemed to completely astound him.

The wonder in all of this sad story
Is why the other mice could not see
That Micah was only in it for himself
And not for members of the citizenry.
Micah got to eat while others starved.
He got what he wanted, moved on
Yet somehow those that elected him
Never quite seemed to catch on.

Micah The Mouse takes with both hands
And it’s too bad if anyone disagrees.
Those who think he cares about complaints
Will spend a lot of time on their knees.

(Image from www.sharktacos.com)

Neither of us can recall
What made us drift apart
But time and distance didn’t take
Michael from my heart.
I still remember flashing eyes
And highlights in his hair,
And how he told his stories
Of what he saw out there
Among the passing people
Who if they only knew
Were missing all your glory
All the joy that was you.

You were younger, so sublime
In eagerness to learn.
And I was understanding
Of the candles one must burn
On the way to manhood
Seeing how the world is run.
Watching you discovering
Was a blissful kind of fun.
And laughing when you saw
That people can be dense.
Living lives of self denial
Just did not make much sense.

So we laughed and cuddled
Both exploring white hot ***.
We carried on like wantons
Bewitched by a pleasant hex.
We wandered too, in happiness
Like all the world was all brand new.
And now that I look back on it
I think it was for you.
Even then, I felt the weight,
The honor of it all,
To be the one to be there
When your heart felt the call.

Now the years are gone away
And now we meet again.
Now neither of us is a youth;
We are middle-aged men
But both of us remember it
A time of joy and love
At a time we both agree
Was like a gift to us from above.
And we both treasure the moment
A kind of dream came true.
A carousel we made ourselves
Just big enough for two.

Middle-school adulthood
Picking on people is cool.
Nothing important is going on
That has anything to do with school.
Glasses make people four-eyed
Not being thin means they’re fat.
Stutters and stammers are funny
And being snotty is where it’s at.

Ding **** bell, being rich is swell
Don’t  be wimpy, not a smidge
Tree-hugging liberals can go to hell.
Revel in your white privilege.
You want to vote for a Democrat?
Have you lost your silly head?
Just check all the GOP boxes
With Daddy’s choice instead.

Now you’re all grow up today
And have a lot of political power
Which grows and grows  stronger
Each hour by Republican hour.
So don’t weaken now, baby
Do what you know is right.
Stick to your supremacist guns.
Because you know white makes might.

So use your sarcasm as a tool
Secretly whisper against the weak.
And those weak-kneed pacifists,
Those flag burning, long haired creeps;
Ignore them all; give their nose a tweak.
Just like the women you dated and married
They need to follow your lead in life.
After all, they don’t count the same as you.
The important thing is they’re just a wife.

Ding **** bell, power is swell
You never suffer, not a smidge
Don’t worry if you can’t spell.
Revel in your white privilege.
Never vote for a Democrat,
Don’t be that kind of stupid head.
Just check every the GOP boxes
Faithfully keep your state red.

I listen to the whine of time
That goes in a line, a climb,
A silent sign wave; fine
Resonant and resilient,
Nearly sentient, it reminds
Of times of meditation,
Of peaceful celebration
Like music with no beat,
No melody and no lyrics
No clerics can well describe.

Whatever remains of before
I ignore; ideas like yesterday
Which is to say tomorrow,
Bring no sorrow here, no joy.
They are a ploy to change,
To rearrange the apogee
Of this lovely inner symphony
And bribe me with self-pity
In sympathy with some dream
Which once made me scream.

I imbibe in the circumstance,
A chance to muse on forever;
Words like never and regret
I forget and only think of serenity.
A rarity; an affinity with infinity
Entices me to surrender instantly
Serendipitously and trustingly,
Just me and the universe
Chapter and verse, still unwritten,
Unbidden, I surrender.

He wanted to be minister
And pass laws quite sinister
But nobody would ever elect him.
So, he stood for the seat
And risked his defeat
And let all the people reject him.

But he was the very one
Who in the end won
When the opposition underestimated.
So, the county was undone
When the mountebank won
And the country ended up decimated.

The minister made a war
That was tried once before
And it came to a much worse end.
The country went broke
Except for any bloke
That could be called the minister’s friend.

As always is with war
The few that forbore
And stayed back home made billions.
They country suffered loss
And bore all of war’s cost.
But not so the minister’s minions.

The way politics plays out
Even when there is no doubt
And a minister is a total disaster.
The party he commanded then
Refused to abandon him
And used lies to help bear him out.

When the ruckus was done
The country was undone
But somehow the minister escaped jail.
It’s a sad tale to relate
That although he wasn’t great
His county ended up making his bail.

Silly words like daughter and laughter.
Why isn’t dotter and lafter?
Both, moth and mother are confusing.
It all depends on the way you are using
Those mad silly words in our tongue
More bizarre than between and among.
And, of course there are the oughts
And ought nots of enough and thought.
Shouldn’t one sound per word be
Far less typographical insanity?
I mean someone wound a bandage
Around a wound on an appendage.

It’s just plain silliness of a high order.
You fix food for a boarder, not a border.
You can fish for fish, not sheep for sheep.
And, you can’t daydream if you are asleep.
There’s a rhyme about a wood chucking wood
But he only seems to do it if he would.
A dog can bark at a cat on a roof,
Which can be said either like root or woof.
In Britain anyone can go pound on a pound
In America, ground coffee can be on the ground.
And driving a car now your own can be fined.
But finding a free auto is something of a find.
It makes very difficult to tease other tongues.
Not even if you shout at the top of your longues.

Lately we changed things like light and nite
But, not white, night, knight or blight.
We changed you to one letter, a simple ‘u’.
Now, tell me please, was that so hard to dew?
Oh, wait. I mean due. No, I meant do all along.
The way English is, it’s not hard to do it wrong.
Is it its or is it it’s? It’s dependent upon.
What kind of sentence you have going on.
For example if you have an itch on your ****
It’s on your ****, but I’ tell you what.
It’s itch is its own, and needs no apostrophe.
Just one more view how silly things can be.
So, until later, when things get better
We had better do it rite to the letter.
Oh, wait, that’s wright. No write, no right.
See, I got it rite before the end of the nite.

I’m so easily distracted
My inner vision gets refracted.
While I’m nothing like a dope
Inside my head a kaleidoscope
Makes the movies in my head
Sometimes keep me in bed
Until I see the world squarely
But, that happens so rarely.

I’m regularly absentminded
And organizationally blinded;
The kind who walks across the floor
And forgot what he was going for.
It’s not that I can’t tie my shoes
But may not know which remote to use.
But, if I set something down somewhere
I might not be able to find it on a dare.

In school I went to the wrong classes
And could almost never find my glasses.
It would be wise if people would wear
Name tags that tell me who and where
We know each other in full detail.
If left to me, every time I will fail.
It’s not that I am a brainless person,
It’s just that I’m the forgetful version.

MISE EN SCENE

Once, the long ago and far away me
Could attract the eye and heart.
But without my watching it be so
I did not see my good looks depart.
I did not see the wrinkles arrive,
Nor the spots appear on my skin.
I did not note the muscles loosen
And the arms and legs go so thin.

I watched the blonde become silver
And the dark become so very light
But, I did not mind the stooping posture
As tiredness made it feel just right.
I felt my diet changing because
Some things no longer tempted
Others took their places every time
As the younger favorites were exempted.

But now I have glasses everywhere
And I turn the television up too loud
That the neighbors squeal to the landlord
And that does not make me proud.
For most of my life, I read incessantly
But now, never can read at night
Because I have to have a strong lamp
Or the lighting is not quite right.

And, oh the pills I must take now.
Some for morning and some for night.
I must take them in order, counting
So I know I keep the dosage just right.
Some are supplements, but some are for
That age that I have now achieved.
Yes, I am that old, and accept it mostly
Even though I find it hard to believe.

Brent Kincaid
4/14/2019

Miss Agnes Columbus
What are you doing?
What is your calling?
What path are you pursuing?
Your mother wants a teacher
Your father wants you married.
Poor miss Agnes Columbus
Now wonder you are harried.

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

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

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

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

Miss Agnes Columbus
What are you doing?
What is your calling?
What path are you pursuing?
Your mother wants a teacher
Your father wants you married.
Poor miss Agnes Columbus
Now wonder you you are harried.