I’ve reached that age where I dodder
And when I forget becomes fodder
For impatience and often abuse.
I apologize but it’s seldom any use.
I have learned to smile and tip my hat
As I am now the oldster I once laughed at.
My face tells a story with every wrinkle
And it now takes me longer to ******.
I have to get up two or three times a night
Which means my kidneys aren’t working right.

Getting up from a chair is a three part thing
And I can’t do it without some moaning.
I’m very glad for a thing called remote control
Because it’s a saving grace for growing old.
I moved the coffee maker closer to my chair
So I don’t have to walk so far over there.
I’m thinking of swapping my end table in a smidge
To replace it with a my own personal mini-fridge.
That will save me even more trips over and back
By loading it with sodas and some clever snacks.

Now just in case some might think I’m *******,
I’m not, it’s just that my habits are now switching.
It another phase of living life, is all it means
Like switching to Sansabelt slacks instead of jeans.
I had plenty of fun when I was young and foolish
So, there is no sense of anyone getting ghoulish.
I’m full to the brim with carefully gathered memories
And a scant few of them could be called miseries.
Mostly I have been pretty much a happy kid
And now enjoy the wisdom from all I did.

Mom would say, “Your dad has friends,
Black friends on the police force, of course
We don’t set down to eat with them.
It wasn’t safe to say to her, “Ahem.
Did you hear what you just said?”
She’d swing one upside my head
And it would be like a garden gate
But with the weight of her stout arm
And the harm she could do with that
Sat me back down on my bony ****.

I wrote “black friends” but that is because
That was not the word she used, applause,
Applause. Clean it up for the publishment,
Don’t cause a resentment for the wrong reason.
It is never the season because I am white
And it’s never right for me to say the N word,
Haven’t you heard? They can, and I can’t
Even in a rant that describes the horror
Of living in a half right, all white world.

My fingers permanently curled into fists
So hard to resist saying to my parents
“You daren’t speak like that to the preacher
Or half of my teachers because they’d see
Just how deeply grained racism can be."
And both sides would take it out on me,
Just a kid, so I agree to hide what you did.
I agree to pretend you aren’t part of the problem;
Another prejudiced person, training me
Explaining to me how life really is right now.

You saying to me “Don’t put your lips there
On that fountain. Some N person might have, too!
And that made sense to you. Perfect sense.
You were that dense, that unquestioning, too.
Ready to do what your white society dictates
And making me into a swinging garden gate
If I don’t toe the line, and hold my confusion
While I pray for no contusion from the slap.
I hold hands in my lap and act submissive.
And I act like I accept all this as right
Because I am white. But, even though I won’t
Say a word at ten years of age, I don’t.

SENTENCING

I understand a thief picking my pocket
Or sneaking in at night to burglarize
I understand prestidigitation tricks
Seeming miracles before my eyes.
It is easy to understand a robber
The holdup of some passerby.
They don’t have a conscience so
They don’t even have to try.

I understand the bullies in schools
The ones who disrespect the rules.
Probably their parents were creeps
Abused them while they would sleep.
The kids can become nasty, and mean.
It’s high on the list of evil I’ve seen.
Because to abuse a child is a sin
And it ruins the child before it begins.

It makes sense for bad butchers
To carve off a bit from the customers
Especially if they never get caught;
It is very much the way they were taught.
It’s so much like those confidence men
Take money their marks won’t see again.
And creeps sell phony knockoff goods.
All kinds of bastardy comes out of the woods.

But, I can’t understand the people who
Make huge money off all that they do
To sell their fellow countrymen out.
That is a very special kind of lout.
The kind that get elected to high office
And behave in a way that is lawless.
These people stole everything they got.
They deserve to be taken out and shot.

Brent Kincaid
3/16/2015

I am very seriously angry
My government has gone mad.
It seems to be out to get me
And take everything I ever had.
Once I was proud of my country
And got a swell in my throat
When I heard the national anthem.
That was before they stole my vote.

That was before I discovered
This country had been co-opted.
That was before the them of hatred
Had been officially adopted.
That was when animals were safe
And our national resources were too.
Now my government was to ******
The birthright owing to me and you.

That was before being rich
Was the only way to be fairly safe.
That was before the government
Chose to put their weapons on strafe.
That was before the wealthy
Could do whatever they might want
And before they felt it was their right
To go on television and flaunt.

They flaunt their hatred of women,
The poor and the weak and sick.
That was before I could not deny
Our country had become a ****;
A horrifyingly rich and powerful
Banana republic , we’re the worst.

Equality and protection are gone
Unless you are a millionaire.
And even then you must adhere
To the party line or else beware.
But we have the greediest bunch
Of liars and evil brand of crooks
That have ever been in control;
The leaders are cooking the books.

The man stood on a box
In the middle of the park,
When people walked by
The old boy would bark
“It’s in the Bible,” he cried.
And some people would ask
What is in the Bible, sir?”
Prepared to take him to task.

“Everything’s in there, friend!”
He answered with a smile
Feeling the people there
Would stay and listen a while.
“Well, that’s an easy answer!”
One of the onlookers said.
“You have left nothing out!”
The orator nodded his head.

“The Bible has answers for you
To any question you can say.
It will be your salvation, sir
No waiting until Judgment Day.
It tells you what to eat and then
Tells you how to choose a wife.
It tells you how to go to heaven
When you reach the end of life.”

The questioner replied, “Yes, sir,
And it tells of women made of salt,
And a fellow who walked on water
Another brought the sun to a halt.
It tells of a boat quite big enough
To have two each of every animal.
And people floating up to the sky.
Don’t you find these things incredible?”

“Not all,” the soapbox man said,
“God can do any holy thing at all.
He has made the planets, the sky,
The heavens and the waterfalls.
God knows everything and he is
Who speaks to you in your heart.”
The onlooker shook his head, said
“So, when does that stuff start?”

“What stuff, sir?” the orator asked.
“The part where God speaks to me.
I haven’t heard a word from God
And I have been listening, you see.
That would be a truly wondrous thing
For this God person to finally do.
But, if God speaks to all of us
Why the hell do we need you?

Come and let me tell you
Tales of distant wizards
In far off foreign lands.
The speak in words of poetry
And magic incantations
Even they don’t understand.

They tell of arcane stories
Of dragons and the caves
Of gemstones where they hid.
They tell of verve and derring-do
And swashbuckling heroism
In legendary acts they never did.

They chant, these ancient shamans
To deities and gods of ancient name
Who they know well are fakers.
They foretell and portend wonders
And riches for those who rule, and
Call themselves movers and shakers.

These magic-minded soothsayers
Drape themselves in auras of mystery
And tell the believers they can heal.
And if the congregation fails to look
Closely enough at their performances
They believe the mythological is real.

And time can coat the stores in paint
That looks like the patina of the ages
So it passes the inspection of he willing.
No true believer looks for cracks
In the walls around the real facts
Or questions the truth they are killing.

He wasn’t a boy,
He was forty years old
But they called him boy;
A habit born of old
Bigotries and behaviors
Difficult to defend
But that doesn’t mean
They came to an end

The shoeshine boy
Mostly shined the shoes
And if anyone listened, he had
Good advice they could use.
But most read their papers
On the busy city street
And paid no attention
To the wisdom by their feet.

The people read the news
And ******* about things
And gave their confusion
Talkative wings.
One day a guy asked
Why do people do
The horrendously crazy
Things they seem to do?

The shoeshine boy looked up
And gave the man a smile
And said a pithy sentence
After a decent while.
He said it often,
Sometimes audibly,
“Most people die
Of plain stupidity.”

The fellow thought this wise
And shared it with his friends
And that’s how a catchphrase
Or idea ultimately begins.
It’s something that is simple
But makes a lot of sense
For those looking for answers
If they are not too dense.

Sometimes it’s the only answer
That seems to apply at all
When madness is afoot
And morality seems to fall;
When people waste money
On toys instead of their kids.
That is often how they take
A ride down to the skids.

If only they heeded the things
The shoeshine boy said,
They might have grown wiser
Fewer rocks inside their heads.
But instead they sided with
Maddening mediocrity
Never realizing most folks
Die of plain stupidity.

Dyslexia, mixed messages
Everything so confusing
Susceptible to misusing;
A 'B' becomes a 'D' instantaneously
And screws things up simultaneously.

A short trip from insanity to inanity.
Fiscal confuses with physical
Turning laudable into laughable
So quickly eyes can't disguise
Whether one means the skies
Or perhaps one means this guy's.

If read, confusion and contusion
Seem like quibbling over siblings
But things like read and read
Only different when they're said
Take un-signalled turns in the head
And instead come out backward,
Which should be spelled backword.

Muddling and confuddling resides
Issuing thundering broadsides,
Rendering and sundering any
Blundering inadept ineptitudes
Like some kind of garbled beatitudes.
Some take hostile attitudes.

Wheedling and wheeling away
Beetling and saying it wrong;
Maybe a song can be written
And some tongues can be bitten,
Taken aback by words taken back,
As the Raven said "Never more!"

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


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

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

Brent Kincaid
5/20/2019

A small platoon of beauty,
Lovely boygirls with tiny *****
Posing like Vogue models
And doing dancing tricks
So, hot. So pretty, but not
In the slightest masculine;
No attempt to be butch,
They revel in being feminine.

They’re better at it than girls
Being more of a success
Than all the ** movie stars
In ten thousand dollar dresses.
Such pretty smooth faces, traces
Of ancestry and cool breeding
For thousands of screaming teens
Wishing they were breeding.

They wish these boys were closer
So they could caress and kiss
Close enough so they could not
Avoid, so the teens could not miss.
They want to carefully tarnish them,
These angels of flashing bright lights,
And cuddle them, snuggle them
If only for one youthful, sensuous night.

Disgusted now that America is busted
For voting in sewer rats and gone to bat
For making this into an autocracy,
Working to gut democracy and replace it,
Deface and deforest all of the best
Then sell off the rest of the planet
From the water to the granite
Leaving only inedible gold
Shoved into the the wallets
Of the national pickpockets
And liars while they set fires
And burn down the country
With their hatred and bigotry
Unchecked by the lazy populace
Too stupid to know what danger is
While it is marching into their homes
Making every state a danger zone.

The traitors who own the industries
Hold a gun to journalist monopolies
So that artificial realities are sold
As socialized necessities
To people who prefer tabloids
To history books and crave bromides
For this time it is the Christians
That fiddle while Rome turns to ruins
And ashes surrounded by those who fought
While a complacent half of America did not.

I am sickened at the laziness,
The political father of craziness
Has let this horror happen to this,
The country of which I was always proud,
And sick of how loud the rats are
That they have taken destruction so far
That we may never recover again
And start to elect countrymen
Instead of men to own the country
Without a scintilla of modesty
And treat fine people shoddily
Merely because they can.
Who needs that kind of man?

No god ever spoke to me.
Not because I never tried!
There were times I cried
And begged to hear a word.
Nothing seemed to be heard.
There was no imperious voice
With avoiding not being a choice.
There was no burning bush;
Nor gentle or heavy push
One direction or the other.

It remained for me to get together
With some paid hack with a book
Who preferred not to look at me
Because he wanted to deal with
Easier sins than I could offer
Then, I was to add to his coffer
For rebuilding his den of thieves
But that couldn't relieve my worry
Or my problems. Maybe the Muslims
Could chant from their book of mysteries.

But no, I had already read their history
And large hunks of their sacred poems.
I recognize double-talk when I see them.
I got plenty of that in my upbringing.
I can still hear the songs they were singing
About eyes on sparrows and loving
But the poor are still naked and dying.
The poor are all nationalities and colors
And they lay in the gutters together
As the godly brothers pass; spit at them
And demand they get up and move away
And take their misery to another doorway.

I, the unhearing, could find no endearing
Reason to put on costumes and dance
To some four thousand year old romance
About gypsies and witches promising
To keep on doing what I was doing
And I would see the kingdom of heaven
Or maybe even six or seven, to suit belief.
Meanwhile here I am on this reef, at sea
With no deity to talk to me and explain
Why none of the miracles remain today
But have been washed away by time.
Or did they ever really exist at all?
Me? I’m still awaiting that divine call;
For my schefflera to catch on fire, or
To receive from god a Western Union wire.

Staggery lop-legged, dordeedor.
Loopy and goofy, you silly billy.
The kind of clown you can’t ignore.
Flinging arms around ***** nilly.

You could always make me laugh
With some silly way you would talk
And bust me up even further with
One of many kinds of goofy walks.

Hardy har har, giggly snort.
Made me laugh; a comic relief.
No, not even a last resort
Honey, you're funny, beyond belief.

Yeah, you know when to be
As serious as is required
But you know how to get me.
It’s just the way you’re wired.

Nobody needs to ever imply
Your goofy act is a crime.
To me it was always funny,
It was remarkably sublime.

Nobody better tell you that
It’s some kind of disgrace.
I’ll tell them off viciously
And right to their face.

I don’t want to hear any of
A disparaging kind of talk.
I laugh and love you even because
Of your hilarious silly walk!

It seems I’ve always been dyslexic
But, I really didn’t know.
I just discovered this about myself
About a year ago.
It was a matter of some bedevilment
To deal with left and right
Up and down, on and off, and more
Excepting day and night.

Opposites like yes or no, black or white,
Were never easy or fun.
Then the days of computers came along
With their trials of zero and one.
It’s a basic lack of understanding things
At a minimal kind of level.
It always seemed I was forever lost
Between the sea and the devil.

I began to realize how deep the effect
Ran within my learning curve.
It was more than just a simple matter
Of which way I would swerve
When riding a bike or driving a car;
I could never drive in Kent.
I would invariably choose the wrong way
When the road was forked or bent.

I don’t take any of this in any light way,
It helps me to understand
Having problems in my studies long ago,
To piece together strand by strand
The insults and the teasing I underwent
When I made the wrong choices.
I can now put to rest my sense of doubt
That stems from chiding voices.

It was such a subtle thing, and back then,
In the methods of long ago,
The parents and the teachers muddled on
Because they really didn’t know
That many of us were not ignoramuses
We just had an uphill fight
We had a dilemma in equal opposites
Like in and out or left and right.

Sing a song of slick men
Pocket full of lies.
Four and twenty fat cats
Terribly unwise.
When the truth was spoken
They don’t even try.
They’re immune to reason
And they get all the pie.

Sing a song of no sense
And how they persevere
How they get elected
Year after year
Still they have no scruples;
Ethically impure,
They still win out in the polls.
Why is still unclear.

We should build a big fence
And lock them all inside.
Then impound their fortunes
Wherever they hide.
Let them see for sure how
Crooks we can’t abide.
See if they can stand each other
Living side by side.

Sing a song of statesmanship
Nearly gone extinct
Senators and gangsters
Not so distinct.
The rich still had their millions
We lost the kitchen sink.
Brought us all to near defeat
And pushed us near the brink.

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

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

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

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

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

We came from all over the land
To show our hand and our signs
And resign from the silent crowd
That allowed this filth to control
And dig a hole in our Constitution;
To point out the fools that choose
To use our schools to abuse us
With their taking of bribes and
Payoffs for scribes in the media.

It was an amazing time to climb
Off our sofas and it was thrilling
Even with the wind chilling us.
But these kids, friends and families
Had grown tired of homilies by crooks
Justifying what they took from us
And throwing us all under the bus
In the name of patriotism and then
Giving back in nepotism to their
Friend's foreign bank accounts,
As well as a hefty kickback account,
Which amounts to the same thing.

The nation admired the children
They had sired should move to fight
For what is right when leaders
Turned out to be followers of wrong.
They lifted voice in songs and chants
And shocked the pants off mediocrity
By standing in all solemnity to face
The worst of our race who ruled
That murdering children ranked less
Than the mess our country has begun
By protecting horrible guns more
And giving children in school
A much lower overall score.

Not often enough, we wake up
As a country, and stand up
To picket, protest and crowd
Around the symbols we have found
That mean we are being swindled
And the innocent are being starved
And carved up and killed daily
So our leaders can go gaily on
With business as usual; a kind of
Tone-deaf musical for the twisted.

But we stopped liking the lyrics
And cynics doing the singing
With bad voices too loudly,
So, we proudly declare a mistrial
That has gone on too long a while
And needs to quit. Those in power
Need to sit down at home
And leave the real people alone
And we at home need to step in
And begin this freedom and equality
Promise and fulfillment for real
And apply it to the common weal.

The slamwhackit bird
Just sitting in a tree
Laughing and calling me
Maliciously.
Threating with flying hordes
Of ziddlyboomers eagerly
He sits in that tree
Just constantly.

The tarfaplagedts fly
When slamwhackits cry
They fear the baffysmafflers
Scrafflenee.
The only hope that’s
Left to me, the tree the
Slamwhackit is sitting in
So smuggilly.

No good to run around
And try to avoid the glaffs.
They fly and I don’t
They always find me.
And they are loud birds
Jalking and blorgging
Almost happily.

So, now I resign myself
To coats of slamwhackit zleeb
Raining from the noobit tree
All over me.
It is my shame to say
This is my worst day today.
Slamwhackit birds proliferate
Everywhere for eternity.

When I dream
I find myself in places
I never go to awake
Taking chances
I never take
For fear I will break
Or stumble.

So instead I grumble
That I never go anywhere
And let myself scare myself
Out of doing what I need
To do in order to be true
To the person I am
When I am awake.

I fully flimflam and take
The easy, the coward’s road.
I hop away like a toad
Then whine to myself
In my dreams.

It seems ineffective.
But it seems inelective.
It’s like I have no choice
But I still listen
To my sleeping voice.

Someday I may stop
And drop this bad habit,
Choosing to have it my way;
Me on the highway, walking
Instead of lying in bed talking
About how good it could be
If I were the dreaming me.

I know you are a liar
With a suitcase full of lies.
You’re a peddler of snake oil
To those who are unwise.
You only deal in falsehoods
No matter who you hurt.
To me you’re two feet lower
Than pocketful of dirt.

You’re a gold-plated tinhorn
Not really worth a hoot.
You’re like a old plow horse
Too miserable to even shoot.
Half-deaf and selectively blind
You’re an stremely unfunny joke
And not really good to anyone
Especially decent moral folk.

I’ve seen guys like you before
They make me want to hurl
I could tell you immediately
Not to leave you with any girl.
You are the kind of criminal
Only beloved by a nut.
Someone should take you aside
And kick you in your crooked ****.

Your evil twisted lying self
Make me lose my religion.
I hate it every time you make
More suckers into pigeons.
I can’t stand to see your face
Let alone to hear you speak
And I am sure your followers
Have minds that are weak.

They’ll find out in a year or two
All the stuff we have foretold
When fans as well as the rest of us
Are freezing out in the cold
And all his cronies are safe
In the corporate welfare he creates
While we honest people pay the bills
And starve at his penthouse gate.

I’ve seen guys like you before
They make me want to hurl
I could tell you immediately
Not to leave you with any girl.
You are the kind of criminal
Only beloved by a nut.
Someone should take you aside
And kick you in your crooked ****.

He’s the kind that likes to swindle
He’s always got some deal cooking,
(His bait and switch game doesn’t dwindle,)
When he doesn’t think we’re looking

You went to school with a **** like this,
He always claimed others were cheats.
He showed up early only if and when
They were serving food and sweets.
But never showed up for the work
Or did playground games honestly.
He claimed twice the victories he had
And lied to everyone constantly.

All the deals he makes are scams
He pulls the rug out from under.
(Were his steaks really just spam?)
And leaves giggling at his plunder.

When he got older, he took his dad’s gold
And parlayed it into a lifetime game
Of promises not kept, and half-truths
And, as usual, never once took the blame
He preferred never to pay his bills
And then bragged about how gullible
The creditors were, and how they all
Should really have charged him double.

Hey, **, he thinks we don’t know
Just what kind of game he’s playing.
Just listen to his promises online
It’s the opposite of what he’s saying.

But that’s how snake oil salesmen are;
They cook up a batch of ***** and herbs
And sell it as a cure-all and hurt folks
Then laugh and claim it’s what they deserve.
And, when his books turn out to be cooked
He lies about it way before you start.
When asked how he could be so crooked
He says, “That’s because I’m so smart!”

He’s the kind that likes to swindle
He’s always got some deal cooking.
(His bait and switch game doesn’t dwindle)
When he doesn’t think we’re looking

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Snooty Rudy
Thinks he’s hot as fire.
Snooty Rudy
Leaves a lot to be desired.
Snooty Rudy
Thinks he’s better than us all
Silly Rudy
He’s heading for a big fall.

Rudy always thinks
He’s the star of every game
Rudy never gets
The joke hidden in his name.
He looks up on life
As someone else’s duty.
Someone must pay the piper
But it is never Rudy.

Snooty Rudy
Thinks he’s hot as fire.
Snooty Rudy
Leaves a lot to be desired.

Rudy never gets the check
When he goes out to eat.
When people rise to clean
He always keeps his seat.
Rudy doesn’t like to stir
From a relaxing chair.
Look around when work is done,
Rudy is never there.

Snooty Rudy
Thinks he’s better than us all
Silly Rudy
He’s heading for a big fall.

Rudy likes to join
Committees for charity causes
But when the work is done
Rudy only pauses.
He’s there for congratulations
But not for sweat and toil.
***** hands are beneath his station.
Never a smidgen of soil.

Snooty Rudy
Thinks he’s hot as fire.
Snooty Rudy
Leaves a lot to be desired.
Snooty Rudy
Thinks he’s better than us all
Silly Rudy
He’s heading for a big fall.

We arrive at the place
Water running off our faces;
Looking like disgraces
Glibly explaining
That it is still raining.

Just a smattering patter.
Not that it matters.
We'll just sit and chatter
Like social Mad Hatters
At a move-down afternoon tea.

We're all hooked on surreality.
The ladies-who-lunch bunch;
Character assassination over brunch.
Some gossip while we munch
Embroidering on a hunch.

Anything to stay in out of the rain.
After all, it's not our personal pain.
It's some other sucker's sorry.
We will forget it by tomorrow.
For today, while we quickly forget
We just sit and watch the streets get wet.

Random acts of poetry
Seem to come a lot to me.
No apologies issue from me
Because that is how it is meant to be.

Let the music reach you,
Let the rhythm teach you
Make it sweet at the start
Like the beat of your heart.
Inside each soul is a song
Listen and follow it along.
Let the music reach you,
Let the rhythm teach you.

It’s more than just a lyric
It’s a story of your spirit
At times you really need to
Just let the music lead you.
It’s part of what it makes us
If we let the music take us.
We can talk with our feet
If we just follow the beat.

It’s yourself you have to please
Who cares of someone sees?
Maybe be brave and shout
And let your inner soul out.
Nobody should begrudge you
Nor really should they judge you.
It’s yourself you have to please
So, bend your back and knees

So, come on take a chance
Cone on, let your body dance.
Shake your **** and wiggle
And bust out in a giggle.
Make words to your own song
Maybe others will sing along.
Show them and yourself how,
And why not do it now?

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

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

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

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

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

They claim to be Christians
But ignore the teachings of Jesus.
They say they are compassionate
But only say it to tease us.
They voted for Republicans
And let them steal what they want.
They stand behind Donald Trump
No matter the sins he flaunts.

They throw away the national rights
As if they are their own to give.
I swear some of my friends and family
Are too **** dumb to even live.
I am always surprised that they
Have not dumbed themselves to death
Because they don’t seem to have the brains
To figure how to take their next breath.

It’s easy to see my friends like that
And even easier to know em.
Just go back and re-read the title
And the words of this poem.

Yes, some are my family members, too,
And I saw what made them that way.
I couldn’t reason with them back then
And have no better luck even today.
It seems that some people are angry
That they weren’t born pretty and rich
So, they look at other people who have
And regularly call them a *******.

They never learned to enjoy what they have
Instead of ******* about what others got.
They see someone they were trained to hate
And they immediately get dangerously hot.
The problem is that these are the people
That turn into online haters and trolls
And sadly, every one of them shows up
And votes hatred and bigotry at the polls.

It’s easy to see my friends like that
And even easier to know em.
Just go back and re-read the title
And the words of this poem.

So, for that reason, if no other motivation
The rest of us need to get out and vote
Otherwise all of us will drop below the waves
From all being in the same sinking boat.
There is plenty of propaganda out there
A lot of us hidden under fake, paid names
That it doesn’t matter because in D.C.
Both of the parties are the very same.

Yes, its is said often, but if that were true,
Would the GOP spend so many billions
Making **** sure their reign never ends?
Because regardless of the claims made
Making America great doesn’t not depend
On taking money from the poor citizens
And giving it to the rich people in the end.

It’s easy to see my friends like that
And even easier to know em.
Just go back and re-read the title
And the words of this poem.

Some of us are older
And we remember a time
When being less than rich
Was not considered a crime
And dealt with Congressionally
By huge measures of stealth
Designed to take away rights
And relieve us of any wealth.

Some of us are older
And owning a home was not
Just a memory, and also
Was not just an empty lot
Where a house once stood
Before the owner got behind
And the bank ignored their pleas
As if they were all blind.

Some of us are older
And remember banks as friends
Who helped us with loans
Where good credit could begin.
We recall the days we could
Send our kids to university
And not saddle them with debt
That condemned them to poverty.

Some of us are older
And we remember the beat cop
Did more toward protection than
Murdering people at traffic stops.
We remember being told as kids
If you are in trouble find a cop
And old enough to have seen
The time that all began to stop.

Some of us are older
And we don’t recall seniors freezing,
Eating dog food alone in flats
And sitting in emergency rooms, wheezing
Because they can’t afford insurance
Because premiums were so high
And the insurance companies
Preferred that they just die.

Some of us are older
And we remember a country here
Where Christianity did not mean
Anti-black, anti-poor and anti-queer.
We remember you had to go
Down south to find hateful Christians
And it living life with dignity
Was not out of the question.

You are
That warm breeze on a chilly day
That sweet thing someone can say
Beauty and fulfillment in a glance
A dance whenever we get a chance
A lovely candlelight dinner for two
On the roof, just us, will certainly do,
And snuggling very close together
When a chill comes with the weather.

You are
That loving voice I want most to hear
Because it leaves me smiling ear to ear,
The mad ideas on a very lazy afternoon
To go to the park and blow up balloons.
You’re the one who decided to go caroling
As Fourth of July festivals were happening
As anyone can think of that in December.
These are the wonders of you I remember.

You are
Truly someone special, and that is true.
I’ve never known anyone else like you
And I know for sure that I’ll never meet.
Anyone so wonderful, loving and sweet.
I know I’m crowing; my heart is showing
But that’s just how life for me is going.
You might too when you live in a miracle
And the word in your mind is “Incredible”!

There’s something wrong with me
I’m broken somewhere inside.
And, I know it won’t be easily fixed
I know because I tried.
I’m all messed up and in pain
And nothing is going right.
I keep on trying to get better
But it’s an uphill fight.

I’m hurting and I want to cry.
I’m depressed and I know why.
I want things to change right now
But, I can’t fix it. I don’t know how.

I keep wishing it was tomorrow
And my heart didn’t hurt so much
For the feel of you in my arms
And the healing of your loving touch.
I’ve healed all I will ever heal
From drowning in my own tears.
But there is something wrong with me
Since you are no longer here.

I’m hurting and I want to cry.
I’m depressed and I know why.
I want things to change right now
But, I can’t fix it. I don’t know how.

There’s something wrong with me
I’m broken somewhere inside.
And, I know it won’t be easily fixed
I know because I tried.
I’m all messed up and in pain
And nothing is going right.
I keep on trying to get better
But it’s an uphill fight.

You and I were meant to spend
An afternoon alone again
Where the river took a bend.
No family, guests or friends.
Two of us bound to begin
A fortune known to so few men;
The luck of both engaging in
A love that was unknown then.

Dedicated no one would smother
The love we felt for one another
Stronger than the love for a brother
Denied to us by father and mother
We chose for ourselves to be lovers,
Looked for permission from no others
No matter who that might bother.

We made a choice, the two of us
To ignore if our friends might cuss;
We chose to rise above fuss
To make our own lives and just
To let the walls between us rust
We chose to go for broke or bust
Right or wrong we knew we must
Do what was best for the two of us.

So glad we followed our own lead
And chose to go after what we need;
Decide for ourselves what voice to heed,
Become a love story others would read.
We knew which flowers we should feed
And which ones to let go to seed.
We rode off and love's pure steed
And happily wished each other Godspeed!

Scoundrels and rascals
All decked out in pastels
And Brooks Brothers suits
With cufflinks to boot
And five hundred dollars ties
Thinking that makes them wise;
Just one of the rich guys
And nobody to question them,
Never harrumph or an ahem
Because they are above it all,
No boring trips to the mall
They depend on their buyers
And other expensive liars
To tell them how cheap it is
To engage in this dressing biz,
For them to buy for the guy
And never ask why so high.

After all, it’s Armani, not Guess
So why should they confess
That they are smarter than him
The guy they work for is so dim
He pays whatever they say.
After all, he can afford to pay.
Even the water his maid gets
Is so high quality, one forgets
It is only hydrogen and oxygen
Not something created by men;
Probably bottled from the tap.
He never knows he is a sap
That falls for the television ads.
He will die completely glad.

It is so ****-hardening for him
To sup in restaurants so dim
He hardly notices how small
The costly portions are at all.
He lets them uncork the wine
And brays about how fine
The taste and the vintage,
Not caring the damage
It does to his Diner’s card.
This kind of life is not hard.
Plus he gets to go tomorrow
And wreak more sorrow on
Constituents and other peons
And wreak his own opinion
Even though he is but a minion
Doing exactly what he is told.
As long as he rakes in the gold.

Later, a bit under the influence
He'll revel in the confluence
Of a lack of conscience, and
Socially accepted concupiscence
At an appropriate gathering
Where there is a smattering
Of propriety and morality
That allows rented geniality
And permits him to rise up
And drink too many cups
While he beats his chest
Just like all of the rest
And call for the dancers
To come and surrender
To their oh-so rightful rapine
That won’t make the magazines.

While sleeping in my bed
Rhymes escape my head.
I maunder them around
Then write them down
And publish them instead.

That is, those worth keeping
That I write while sleeping
That often turn out to be
Happily approved by me.
A poetic parrot peeping.

An internal rhyming thing.
Almost an eternal ping
That runs through my brain
There to sometimes remain
And bubble back upon rising.

Sometimes it wakes me up
And I brew myself a quick cup
Because at that time
In search of a rhyme
That goes with boxer pup or buttercup.

I haven’t made a dime from this
My middle-of-the-night muse’s kiss.
I just gleefully scribble
And sometimes I giggle
No matter it’s a hit or a miss.

Far be it from me to complain.
For so many poems remain
That turn out terrific
That I’m labelled prolific.
Either that, or poetically insane.

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

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

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

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

There is really nothing
A Southern boy can do
If the one he loves
Is a Southern boy too.
I’m lower than a crook
Never welcome here.
But it’s a chance I took
Because I am a queer.

We played all the roles
Like we were normal guys.
For the most part we did so
Since honesty was not wise.
Straight Southern boys
Live a life of total fear
That someone might think
One of them is queer.

We were both athletes
So, it was easy to hide.
We knew we were in love
But we hid it all inside.
The mindset in the South
is all about Lord Jesus
Southern gay boys don’t ever
Get to do whatever pleases.

Down South the rule is
Who you are doesn’t matter
But if you quote scripture
You can be as mad as a hatter.
So perfectly healthy gays
Each new Southern generation
Is forced to act as if they were
Still living on the plantation.

The only hope for gays
Beneath the Mason-Dixon line
To move up north somewhere
And that will be just fine.
That will bring the idea of gays
Quietly to a proper end
And then the South can be pure
Just like God wants it again.

You say because I am not a Christian
That means I am totally bound for Hell?
Mostly those who claim to be Christian
Behave in such a way you could never tell.

You say because I'm gay I am unnatural,
That I am surely the Devil's tool?
You're upset I am the way God made me?
The way I see it you are the fool.

You say Jews and Muslims are disgusting,
And you look to them to place all your blame.
All three religions are the followers of Abraham,
And much of what they believe is the same.

You say women are possessions like cattle
And are required to walk three steps behind.
If You agree to treat people like chattel
You can't expect others to be blind.

Almost all religions agree on one thing,
Stealing is a basic kind of sin.
But if you use your money to bribe people off
It's not a righteous life you're living in.

You say you want America back
Exactly he way it used to be
Back when women had no rights
And we based our wealth on slavery?

You say you believe all men should
Be free, with inalienable rights?
But some of them should not vote
Or even be allowed out at night?

You say you retain the right to decide
Who gets to do what and where?
Read that to me in the Constitution.
I don’t remember it being there.

We met and then
We went to bed.
What romantic
Things we said.
And knowing from
The way we kissed
That this was all
Very worth the risk.
That very week we
Moved in together
Think as to how
It would last forever.
We bought the stuff
For our love nest.
No questions asked
That was for the best.
Then conflicts rose
The other’s style
Our feelings hurt
We stewed a while
And I decided that
It would simply do
If I simply agreed
To give in to you.
From that we had
Things I didn’t want.
But really did wish
You wouldn’t flaunt
That everything was
Due to your taste
And implying mine
Was such a waste.
The same was true
Of your fidelity.
Dancing with others

(This is only autobiographical if
we go back forty years. And I have
been married for twenty five, so
this isn't about that.)
Without asking me.
So, being the nice guy
I didn’t complain.
I cleaned up after, but
Some dancers remained.
You complained that I
Wanted a standard marriage
With white picket fences
And a baby carriage
But you never agreed
To that limiting kind
And I felt I had been
Very dangerously blind.
After a week of living
In a marital twilight zone
You had packed up
And I was living alone
With no furniture or
A bed I could lie on
I realized how little
I ever had to rely on.
After a while I went
With friends to dance
Giving love another chance.
I met a person that night
And everything seemed
To be turning out right.
We liked the same tunes
And so we went to bed
With visions of forever
Dancing in our heads.

You are totally ruined
From your head to your shoes
You’ve got a crippling case of
The Spoiled Baby Blues.
When you don’t get your way
That’s when you always choose
To sing your own arrangement of
The Spoiled Baby Blues.

You’re alone most every night.
You call people up on the phone
Things just ain’t going right
But still you sit home alone.
Your life would be better
If you had somebody to love.
But nobody comes back again
Nobody you approve of.

You are totally ruined
From your head to your shoes
You’ve got a crippling case of
The Spoiled Baby Blues.

You take them out to dinner
And they babble on and on.
You buy candy and flowers
But later they’re still gone.
It can’t be stuff about you
Because you are a dream.
It must be in who you choose
Not as sweet as they seem.

When you don’t get your way
That’s when you always choose
To sing your own arrangement of
The Spoiled Baby Blues.

Would you know how to act
If everything was fine?
Or would you work overtime
To find a cause to whine?
You don’t do a thing in life
To change your mournful song.
Nothing good to sing about
Something’s always wrong.

You are totally ruined
From your head to your shoes
You’ve got a crippling case of
The Spoiled Baby Blues.
When you don’t get your way
That’s when you always choose
To sing your own arrangement of
The Spoiled Baby Blues.

I wanted so much to like you;
I had heard so much about you.
Your show sounded like fun
Sadly, too soon I had begun
To listen between the lines
To know you, see who you are
To know behind the shallow mask
To see the ugly stained star.

I forgive myself for a bit of it
Because I know that it was
The method you always use.
I would later guess the cause.
Perhaps myself and others
The countless clueless mass
Mistook the rich and famous
As people with any real class.

I had to see the gaudy penthouse
With gold used instead of chrome.
I needed to see the fake opulence
That you chose to be your home.
I saw you hobnob with famous
And calling them your friends
Soon I would be let to see
The photo was where it ends.

So, I packed away any care for you
And chalked it up to my youth.
Little did I know right then
I only guessed at half the truth.
Because you put your skanky ****
Into the presidential race
And this latest **** of your ego
Means I never stop seeing your face.

Running for the highest office
The leader of the free world
Sure seems to have given
Your screwy hair a different twirl.
Suddenly you dragged out  speeches
Of Hiter, Mussolini and Stalin.
You shouted the policies of the KKK
And thew your vitriol all in.

Since too many fools in America
Started chanting Trump, Trump
You seem to want to turn DC
Into something like the town dump.
As for me, I have trouble sleeping
Worried your fans might be letting
And idiot in charge of the nukes
So he can bring on Armageddon.

They moved your district
So your vote goes astray
In order to invalidate you
In each and every way.

Stand up, America. Stand up.
Wise up, America. Stand up.

They point fingers at you
And call you ugly names
Demand your rights as equals
They ignore you just the same.

Stand up, America. Stand up.
Wise up, America. Stand up.

They tell us who to marry
And say must give birth
As if they were nobility
The queens of the earth.

Stand up, America. Stand up.
Wise up, America. Stand up.

They really only want us
To give them all our cash.
The rest of the time they will
Treat us all like trash.

Stand up, America. Stand up.
Wise up, America. Stand up.

It’s up to us America
They won’t stop on their own.
They make too much money
To leave our laws alone.
Big Business is paying them
To cheat us all to death
So, they will never stop
Until their dying breath.

Stand up, America. Stand up.
Wise up, America. Stand up.

An otherwise normal day.
Sitting on the bus, in the back,
People watching as usual.
Coffee drunk, a day to attack.
I wanted to see what happened
So, I worked up a huge yawn.
The yawn went around the bus.
Once all did it, the yawn was gone.
I did it often, totally on purpose.
Just a thing I do to amuse us.

I saw in a movie a man stopped
Carefully looked up into the sky
It stopped the foot traffic that day
They looked up too, I had to try.
I stood on the corner the next day
Down on Twelfth and Main Street.
Firmly I stood in the madding crowd.
I looked up, and they did as well,
And things quickly got quite loud.
It was amazing how quickly it swelled.

The yawn thing works on the job
If you want to give it your own try.
It works on desk mates, bosses
And even on people passing by.
The looking up thing also works
But bosses come and get strong
And stop your foolish game by
Saying that you should move along.
They don’t know what you’re doing.
They just know it has to be wrong.

When starting out,
We need no steps
Because we cannot walk;
We use our voices
To state our need
Even before we can talk.

Then, walking, a treasure,
Running, equal measure;
Learning to risk falling down.
Standing up, being tall
Taking stock of it all,
And amazedly looking around.

Watching others too;
What they went through
As they do the things they do
Does it’s duty to teach
Everyone they reach,
And we learn to love what’s new.

We sometimes stumble.
It's no good to grumble
We improve with each new step
Some of us in the middle
Never win the gold medal,
But, somehow we all take the trip.

When running days are gone
We keep on moving on.
When age has slowed our step.
At the end, lying down,
Making helpless sounds;
No step needed for the last trip.

White man, right man
Seriously uptight man
Black man, whack man,
Cutting him no slack man.
Red man, dead man
Never be the headman.
Brown man, down man.
Treat him like a clown man.

Stereotypes, stereotypes!
Notice how it rhymes with hype?
The habit of the ***-wipes
A bitter fruit that’s always ripe.

Poor man, for sure man,
Can’t afford a ***** man.
Waiting on the shore man,
Sweeping out the store man.
Broke man, stroke man
Too poor to smoke man.
Struggle under yoke man.
**** of every joke man.

Stereotypes, stereotypes!
Notice how it rhymes with hype?
The habit of the ***-wipes
A bitter fruit that’s always ripe.

Fey man, gay man
Nothing more to say man.
Please just go away man.
No equal rights today man.
Liberal man or little man
Nothing but a middle man.
Playing second fiddle man.
Never solve the riddle man.

Stereotypes, stereotypes!
Notice how it rhymes with hype?
The habit of the ***-wipes
A bitter fruit that’s always ripe.

Just when I start to thinking
I am finally moving on
I look around and discover
You’re still gone.
I’m finding out how many
Hours until each dawn
By counting my own tears
Since you’re gone.

I tell myself to grow up
And then I want to throw up.
I feel like something died
And it’s right here inside.

I’m not making plans at all
I’m an ineffective pawn
To fate and all her harpies
On a limb halfway sawn.
I brought all this on myself,
I lie awake and I yawn
And hope when I wake up
I’ll find you’re not gone.

My life feels like it’s over
Like I’ll never have another
Chance to be in love like this
That yours was my last kiss.

Just when I start to thinking
I am finally moving on
I look around and discover
You’re still gone.
I’m finding out how many
Hours until each dawn
By counting my own tears
Since you’re gone.

Stinky and Hinky
Both egregious pigs
Set out to **** us all;
They don't care a fig
If all of us starve to death
As long as they get rich.
Stinky and Hinky
Each a venal summabitch!

Stinky hired Hinky
Two minds, one sewer.
Stinky had no talent
But Hinky was newer.
Many people doubted
That either had a chance
But over half the voters
Chose to skip the dance.

So we got two reprobates
With no regard for us.
So, without much fanfare
And no legitimate fuss
The country got overrun
Crooks got left in office.
Now they all are setting out
To, once and for all, off us.

Stinky is a *****
And Hinky is a bigot.
They crap on the Constitution.
And expect us all to dig it.
Stinky uses the USA
As his personal ATM.
Hinky is just evil.
We’ve had enough of him.

Yesterday is much clearer
As the future is drawing nearer.
The histories we have rehearsed
Over time have become reversed.
It should make us very sad;
What was good has become bad.

The bad guys were the Indians
And the good guys Caucasians
And they were always right
Because they were always white.
The Red Man was a villain
Because he was an Indian;
And that was never corrected.
The name an invader selected.

These were people born here
Defending land they held dear
Because they had hunted
And were never really wanted.
The invaders called them savage
Their women okay to ravage
Because they didn’t have Jehovah
To issue them a binding mitzvah.

There were so few invaders
So at first they were persuaders.
But after putting out some feelers
They chose to become stealers.
They declared the natives sinners
And thus became the winners.
The natives hadn’t learned to read
So the invaders ignored all their needs.

The invaders were prepared to fight
To deny the natives their rights
So, the invaders created paper laws
Thus natives couldn’t tell what they saw.
Suddenly the noble savage was a crook.
The invaders gloated over what they took;
Stole native’s possessions from their hands
And declared it all as the invader’s land.

This is the Danes and Angles back when
And the story happened all over again.
But once the battle victory is scored
The native’s birthright is not restored.
The invaders cover up the tragedies
With inaccurate tales and call them history.

In the fifties in the USA
It was sad, but at the time
It was a rock solid fact;
Flamboyance was a crime.
I had to wear a coat and tie
The uniform of every day
Behaving quite the normal guy
In every conceivable way.

To be a good Samaritan
And genuflect at the altar,
Wear the collar of a puritan,
And not shame your father
By being some kind of fool
Who goes against the will
Of a society that longs for
A conformity inducing pill.

I gazed longingly at clothes
Of fashionable panderers
With the color matching garb
That triggered the slanderers.
But more than their profession
I saw their ability to strut,
The fit, the material display,
The magnificence of the cut.

And I had trouble being
That kind of person they craved.
To me it was a boring ride
From birth, right to the grave.
I could not understand those
Who felt life was not for living.
What good were the gifts I saw
If I refused their very giving?

Not for me, even when young
To spend my time mud crawling.
I would rather spend my efforts
In verbal social brawling.
I rejected insulting phrases that
Proper people so often employ
And chose instead the descriptive
And openly proud ‘gay *******’.

I refused to let the common man
Who was afraid of his own crotch
Insist I be mute while he insisted
That I should stand and watch.
No, I would be who I was then
And reject their false packet
Of wearing the coat of social balm
Which I called The Straight Jacket.

I want to know some things, but
Nobody seems to talk about them,
These things that bother me.
Like what could the matter be
With people that drive by and see
They don’t speak to them and ask.
Why they are lying on the sidewalks.
If there were some, we'd lie on the grass.

Did your family die off and leave
Or will you weave a story of theft
Or madness, or just poverty?
Something has made you bereft.
Is it that you don’t have a home
So you must sleep here outdoors,
In slowly graying pants and coats,
Someone for richer folks to ignore?

Oh, I know. I am the same as you
Nothing much to lay claim to;
No car, no house, no cell phone.
Not even a magazine to thumb through.
I’m beginning to stink a little bit
And, my clothes are getting worse
Every week I live beneath a bridge.
And I know when my life got perverse.

So, maybe you can understand
When I blurt out my deep self-pity.
Is it me that has gotten so bad
Or is it that we survive in a city?
I remember when prices got high
And I could no longer keep up
And now I find myself begging for
A bit of warm coffee in a cup.

Once I was the stranger walking
That passed by here and saw you.
I wanted to help, but I did not.
Then, I didn’t know what to do.
Today it is more or less the same,
I don’t know how to live this way;
Mooching coins from strangers,
Scavenging for food every night
And sleeping like this during day.

Oh, please forgive me, I apologize.
I understand why you are scowling.
When I had a chance to help you
I averted my eyes and kept walking.
But now it is me here on the street
And suddenly I’m asking for sympathy,
To take pity, when I never really did,
When I never really qualified for any.

I’ve been roped and doped
Also been ***** and taped.
I’ve been slugged and drugged
I was bugged, then I shrugged.

It is all just another day’s work
For a silly streetwalking ****.
It’s life without a single perk,
Pays less than a checkout clerk.

I keep changes of tight clothes,
Show off the body, anything goes.
Use a languid suggestive pose
No one questions, everyone knows.

Stand by a light pole and grin
Someone will quickly pull in
And ask if you’ll go for a spin
In half a hour, I’m back again.

If they seem to want to pass
Turn around and show some ***
I make sure I show some sass
And am sure to be smoking grass.

Sure I get picked up by the cops
But, this old story never stops.
It’s a tale as old as these shops.
It’s bad when the temperature drops.

Rain, sleet and snow, I’m around
Staking out my piece of ground
To see what trade can be found
Hunting for the everyday hound.

So drop by and see me any day.
I’m not like the sun, I won’t go away.
I’ll be here as you drive by to say:
“Hello, baby, want some fun today?