I’m open to the idea
Of spirituality, but not
A proponent of spirits
Walking out of graves.
Yet some people leave
Without dying, gone
But not forgotten nor
Are they anywhere near
Just listening, talking
Inside of my head.
Spirits in a way, body-less
Haunted by what they said.

There are many of them,
These ghosts of yesterday
Who captivated my life
Encapsulated it, and me;
Tweaking me around so
That there was little else
That was happening then.
Some were women, some men.
I’d forget for a moment
Then they’d come again
Making me look at them
And at nobody else around.

That's it, it was all that easy;
A glance, some chat and then
I was hooked on this person,
This lovely woman or hot man
From my teen years to maturity.
I fell for each memory and now
They come back again to speak,
Full of the same silent promise,
Aging not a bit, as if they hoped
To find just such a twit as I
To tantalize and tease, not please;
Those days are gone. moved on.

But the place in my heart for
This Marley’s ghost of emotion
Wide as an ocean still exists
Without the urgency, the heat
But there is still the heartbeat
And the gratitude that they
Took the time to share, to care
And I don’t dare forget or ignore.
I urge them back each time for more
As if i am keeping score in a book.
Maybe it is because I still lust
For one last loving look.

I heard the wind speak your name
I enjoyed the aroma of your scent
Though you had gone for hours.
And I knew what these things meant.
I heard your voice in the breeze
And saw your face in the clouds.
I wanted so much to see you again
That I needed to shout out loud.

I am that slap-happy person
I made fun of only yesterday.
I would look at me and laugh.
But not anymore. Not today.
If you haven’t had it happen
Someone changes everything,
Then you won’t understand
Any lyric I am choosing to sing.

Days were once just long hours,
Time endured begrudgingly by me.
Then you changed them to music;
Measures of beats and melody.
It was so easy to sing from then on
And to dance instead of walking.
I found myself making poetry
Rhyming instead of just talking.

So many of the things in life
Chores I once found tedious,
Like going outside in the rain
Or waiting for the next bus
No longer even bother me
Now that symphonies play
Like a movie theme song
To accompany me on my way.

I am that slap-happy person
I made fun of only yesterday.
I would look at me and laugh.
But not anymore. Not today.
If you haven’t had it happen
Someone changes everything
Then you won’t understand
Any lyric I am choosing to sing.

I am glad of who I am.
I celebrate my difference
From those who scam
And lie, without diffidence,
Meanwhile, they are godless
And worship Mammon
In the name of holiness;
A practice that is common.

Their sleepless nights
And bingeing on Mylanta
Belies their image of Santa;
Their self-created fantasy
Of being job creators
When the money they create
They keep, and put away
Into offshore banking states.

With no basis for pride.
They can’t celebrate
About what they are,
They can only prevaricate;
Hire companies to help them
To look us in our eye,
Smile in thousand dollar hairdos
And capped teeth then lie.

Not I. My armor is truth,
Saying what and who I am
And letting others know
Their postures are flim-flam!
And as long as they make money
Nothing is commendable but wealth;
They joyfully create a culture
Where there is pride in stealth.

Give us back the peace and the people you killed.
Give back the young military who sadly believed
That they were fighting for freedom and liberty.
Give back their lives, not the medals they received.

Give us back the taxes that you took from us all.
You didn’t deserve it, nor did you work for it.
You squandered our money and our time
And you all laughed at us while you did it.

Give us back the pensions that you stole from us all.
You lied to us about it as you went about it!
You sneaked and you cheated and whined,
And though you failed, tried to keep it secret

Give us back the money that you swindled away
You hid in a room when you did it, for sure
But you knew it when you did it, for sure
Now few of us have enough to insure.

Give us back the integrity you sold for gold.
You did it to enrich you and your friends
You all brayed loudly about America First!
It’s time this collusive thievery should end.

Give us back the honesty you stole from us all
It was never meant to go into your pocket
So you could strut and brag about yourselves
And wear your criminality like a golden locket.

Give us back the forests you mowed down and sold.
They didn’t grow just for your bank book balance.
They won’t grow back in a hundred years.
It is not patriotism, it’s greed and malice.

He’s a refugee of sorts
From society’s glitter gutter.
His nouveau riche attitude
Show in every word he utters.
That is where he’s from.
He’s nothing but glitter litter.
If he doesn’t get what he wants
He’s ******, obnoxious and bitter.

He’s a legendary narcissist.
And prostitutes adore him.
He likes his body to be fat
But keeps his morals slim.

His daddy bought him toys
Of the fanciest richest kind.
Dad didn’t care what it did to him.
He must have been blind.
He ruined the boy with money
Buying his way through college
So that when the boy left there
He had style and little knowledge.

Daddy gave him a nice fortune
To start off his spoiled whelp.
Son was never really good at much
But having a few million helped.
The kid liked glitz and glamour
And especially glittery women.
One after the other he used them
And never really got smitten.

He’s a legendary narcissist.
And prostitutes adore him.
He likes his body to be fat
But keeps his morals slim.

Now a few children later
They have become a bother.
They keep needing things
Like money from their rich father.
He wonders where they got
That sickening greedy habit.
He’s fears if they can get
His gold they'll surely grab it.

He’s a legendary narcissist.
And prostitutes adore him.
He likes his body to be fat
But keeps his morals slim.

I want to eat a tub of ice cream,
Make folks wonder where it went;
And gorge on so much junk
I look just like the president!
I want to slam three layer cakes
Like they were made of air,
And I get so stinking big
You can see me everywhere!

Eat, eat, eat until I'm perfectly round;
Why bother walking when I can roll all around?
Munch, munch, munch all day and all night;
I'm going to be huge so there’s no need to fight.
Chomp, chomp, chomp, chew a pizza or two;
And a couple bags of chocolate chip cookies too!
Triple cheese burger large fries and drink;
Go get as full as a tick, don’t bother to think.

You might as well accept it
I want what I want all of the time
And if I don’t get my way
I consider that a personal crime.
All you can eat joints feel like my own home;
When I get done I'll be shaped like a dome!
Buffalo wings for happy hour, maybe twenty
And beer by the pitcher, I can drink plenty.

Eat, eat, eat until I'm perfectly round;
Why bother walking when I can roll all around?
Munch, munch, munch all day and all night;
I'm going to be huge so there’s no need to fight.
Chomp, chomp, chomp, chew a pizza or two;
And a couple bags of chocolate chip cookies too!
Triple cheese burger large fries and drink;
Go get as full as a tick, don’t bother to think.

Don’t bother to lecture me on my gastronomy
Sure, people are starving way far away.
I am helping here at home with our economy
And I'm doing it every day.
Talking about starvation makes me want to
Eat more than ever I did yeseterday, besides,
So that kind of argument is just wasted on me
Since I don’t find it all that wise!

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

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

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

I need to talk about the God Gang.
Some of y’all think it is a good thang.
Well, I am here to tell you it is not.
It’s like the mullet when it was hot.
It’s all about what the majority agrees;
They do it without checking with me.
When it is in, people don’t see it’s bad
But it’s different when it’s a passe’ fad.

I was raised in the Bible Belt Buckle
And I had plenty of rapped knuckles.
I got berated when I would cough
And no way could I ever beat off.
I had to say I believed in Jesus Christ
If not I paid a heavy social price.
I was called some pretty ugly names
And I know the God Gang was to blame.

If you’re young and want to get laid
There is a horrific price to be paid.
You lie and pretend if you’re an atheist
That the other person’s God does exist,
And is the answer to every question.
Do it to get along is my suggestion.
Otherwise you will be called a heathen
As if the God Gang really was believing.

And it goes on to include everything.
Almost like the National Anthem thing.
Before every game, it was the same
Someone stood, invoked a holy name.
At trials on the Bible, I was forced to swear.
I wasn’t a Christian, but they didn’t care.
In a country called The Land Of The free
Actions proved they did not include me.

And political gatherings for which we pay
The God Gang manages to hold sway.
They call on God and even do a prayer
As if God was in the room somewhere
And the politicians didn’t want to offend.
When will this official superstition stuff end?
Someone needs to invent something great
Like an idea of separating church and state.

It’s a time payment concept
With compounding interest
That gets harder every year
And puts faith to the test.
It’s brokered by agents with
PhDs in fancy double-talk
That everything is God's will
And you’re not allowed to balk.

It’s sort of like the tax people
Only the rules are not so fixed;
No good calling attorneys up
That’s action’s definitely nixed.
The deal is that you can’t win
And must suffer with piety;
Give your money and thanks
To a fat cat you cannot see!

In exchange you get to go to
Play dress-up every Sunday
And pray for the senselessness
God is supposed to take away,
Or maybe remove diseases
That **** the good and innocent.
But you’re allowed to pray that
Your Lotto ticket wins you a mint!

Either way, you’re blameless
When it gets to be holiday time
And nothing changes as politics
Becomes the scene of the crime.
So drop another couple of coins in
Some sd homeless person’s hat,
Because God will take care of them,
And that’s where religion is at.

When you go back
Maybe it is to even the score
But it scares us.
Being hit one time should
Tell you that you are
Just going back for more.
The past has promised
Nothing will probably
Ever change.

You don’t seem to know
How it hurts those
Who love you so.
You can’t seem to fit it
Into your head
That we fear the next call
Will be to tell us
That you are dead.

He beats you and then
When he is not
He’ll saying ugly things.
That’s the kind of
White knight you have got.
You call him wonderful
When he’s not a snot.
We keep telling you
Wake up, wretched girl
He is certainly not.

Sometimes you tell us
You want to give him a chance
To explain things to you
But he can only give
Some more lies because
That’s what liars do.

And you tell lies as well
Or why else go back
To that personal hell?
You go back because
To be alone scares you
Almost as well
As being berated and
Beaten like a bell.

But we don’t want this!
To know you are hurting
And bruised by
A man you should be deserting
For a life where people
Can be trusted with love
And not to shove a fist
Into a battering glove.

Don’t go back, beloved.
If you do you tie our hands.
Some of us understand
But that doesn’t mean
That we agree with your choice.
Listen to the voice
Of reason when we say
Don’t go back for more today.
Or ever again.

However am I expected,
When a criminal is elected,
Not to be depressed?
I’m certainly not impressed.
We began to make strides
To set ignorance aside
Then along came the jerks
To destroy all our works,
To protect the weak and sick,
With lies and political tricks.

By the time those fools awake
The crooks will surely take
Our country to the brink
And watch it slowly sink
Then they’ll blame it on us
Who didn’t raise enough fuss
To keep their twisted games
And their feet to the flames.
Instead we’ll watch defeat
Throw us all into the street.

Why can’t people understand
That by not helping our land
And the people that live here
And giving into bogus fears
We are putting big money in
To the pockets of those who win.
By denying any help and aid
To those who actually paid
Will make the rich much richer
And then they’ll break the pitcher?

The pitcher of milk and honey
Has become nothing but money
Because the poor suffering
Makes them trust the muttering
Of those who prefer to blame
Than investigate the game
That is played on us all
And that causes the fall
When wealth takes control
And digs us further into a hole.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The now has left my body.
My mind is emptying
Of all thought of today.
The moment is receding;
I feel my feet lifting
My arms are floating
As if in a pool of light
Like water, buoying me
With untouching caresses
Lofting to evanescence
And I know it is fine
This feeling of pleasance
Of no worries in me
No hurrying to be done
Nowhere I have to be
No reason to run.

I am centered in this,
A feeling of completeness;
Of needing nothing else,
A spiritual sweetness,
A relaxing kind of comfort
Surrounds and enfolds
By singing unheard songs
Deep into my very soul.
I am happy here, smiling,
Somewhere in the self
Where not even I can see,
That I am someone else.
I am someone loving
And kind and caring.
I love this feeling so
I wish I were sharing
The sense of a world
Where everything is right
And everyone is floating
In the same golden light.

You and I shared childhood
When dreams seemed real
And life spun on a wheel
Of fun in our neighborhood.
We stayed out as late as can
Before our mothers called
And needed not much at all
We made fun with two tin cans.

Rolling down hills together
Like sledding without a care
And snowfall everywhere.
Our fun didn’t need weather.
We made up our own games
With just rocks and sticks
Forts we built for kicks
And we gave them clever names.

We took our time for granted
Like tomorrow was never
We’d go on and on forever
Like two human trees planted.
But looking back we can see
We were but a lovely hour
Wilting like a lovely flower
And had no true immortality.

Still the memories are pleasant
And speak softly over years
About having fun without fear
And learning from life lessons.
We need to savor every gift
And take them all to heart.
Remember those and start
To let our aging spirits lift.

(For my cousin, Louise Stacer Alexander)

I want to go back
To Crackerjacks
And KoolAid on ice.
Ice cream sandwiches
And Chick O Stick candy.
That would be so nice.
Double feature matinees
At the local movie show
With cartoons in between.
Car crashes and then the
Cliff hanger serials
Were the best we’d ever seen.

Things like snow days, and
Skinny dipping swimming holes
Great on hot summer days.
And matchbook motors
On the spokes of our bikes
After school every day.
Snow cones and soda pop
Then we turned in the bottles
For two pennies to by sweets.
Snowball forts in the winter time
That were serious business
On every neighborhood street.

Things were so simple then
We each had a list of what
We wanted Santa to bring.
Some wanted ritzy stuff
And others only wanted
A **** Tracy decoder ring.
Life was almost all about
Going to school and then
Waiting for classes to let out.
And though there are joys
For grown girls and boys
It felt good to run and shout!

What happened to the land of the free?
What ever became of American equality?
When was The Great Take-back begun?
What became of “with malice toward none”?
What happened to rich people’s responsibilities?
When did we decide our peers were enemies?
Why didn’t we learn from the Great Depression?
Why are we letting them set up another session?

Eenie meanie mighty mo, when is it fine to hire a **?
Hickory slicker zippity zopp, when is this b.s. going to stop?

Why have we let ourselves think like adolescents?
Why do we keep liars and cheaters in our presence?
It’s up to us each who what lies we should tolerate,
So when does being a mountebank go out of date?
When do we start fighting and hitting bullies back
When they make it known they’re on the wrong track.
How many times will they have to lie and steal
For the rest of us to know their villainy is real?

Fluster and bluster and flippity flopping, confidence is dropping
We can no longer trust our leaders to protect, so let’s reject.

When did all of our statesman turn into real estate’s men?
When did the human in humanity cease to matter at all?
What makes half the country vote for a scoundrel horde?
What did our country accomplish by dropping the ball?
Why have we become the people we used to dislike so
And now we are the ones who arm and **** each other?
And why do we still have many lifetimes or more to go
To finish paying for murdering and pillaging our brothers?

Questions, suggestions, all are loudly ignored by them,
Our leaders whose sense of decency has grown dim.

Some will make their home
Wherever they can
Get to with their feet.
Cardboard box houses
And pallets they find
By trash bins on the street.
The boxes work well
Unless it snows or rains
And then when they melt
It’s out to find a home again.

Go on home
Where the love is
Home to family
Go on home
Where you’re welcome
There is no home for me.

Cookie used to be a chef
He lives under that low bridge
He cooks in used coffee cans
That just how his life is.
Makes dinner when he has it
For us who have so little.
You’ll find him most days
Cooking delicious food
Halfway to the middle.

Go on home
Where your bed is
Home to wife and your kids
Go on home
And be grateful
And not living on the skids.

Some people gripe
When the waiter is slow
And some were once waiters
Themselves long ago.
Some people are full
After they have dined
Others only manage to eat
Whatever castoffs they find.

Go on home
Because you have one
Because you have a job.
Go home where no one
Call you a lazy slob.
Go home and thank God
You have a place to sleep.
Go home and be grateful
Go home and God keep.

We’ll steal their pensions and their land
Won’t that be amazing and grand?
And there’s not a stinking thing they can do.
We’ll blame it all on the opposition
Then take an outraged position.
They’ll elect our congress and governors too.

USA, USA
How many brown people
Did you **** today?
GOP, GOP
Which of your promises
Did you break today?

We’ll concoct a bunch of lies
And convince all the unwise
That everything we say is the truth.
We’ll fool the older Republicans
And win some undecided fans
Everything but the clever and the youth.

In no time at all, we’ll succeed
And underscored with greed
We’ll take this gullible country back.
The Democrats will help us to
Do everything we plan to do
Because the dummies chose to elect a black.

USA, USA
How many brown people
Did you **** today?
GOP, GOP
Which of your promises
Did you break today?

Our war against intelligence
Is really making a difference
In getting voters to not smell a rat.
The richest civilians are helping
With the lobbyists they’re buying
And we gratefully tip our MAGA hat.

They are letting us make laws
That defy any philanthropic cause
Except when we get our hefty share.
We deny them their health and aid
And needn’t be the least bit afraid
Republicans will ever become aware.

USA, USA
How many brown people
Did you **** today?
GOP, GOP
Which of your promises
Did you break today?

You brought gossamer ribbons
To hang down into our lives
And scented candles, all around
Dancing, flickering before our eyes.
You sang lovely melodies to us
That I never had heard before.
Somehow just being yourself seemed
That you were a master’s painting
Done by some ancient admired guy.
Sometimes you left me almost fainting.

You urged us to explore and seek
New vistas and scenes near our home
And celebrate the people and places
We would discover when we roamed.
You caused this old stick in the mud
To become a wider wandering soul.
I’m fairly certain that was your plan,
Your vision, your wish and your goal.

It worked, I changed and became
A new and different kind of person.
I dance and celebrate life today
Dancing in life's gossamer ribbons.
It’s almost like watching a movie
That has won all the best acclaim.
You’re gone now, but I still dance
But I admit it’s just not the same.

Go to the park with me
Lie in the grass on the ground.
Stay out until dark with me
And watch the sun go down.

Before the sun goes away
Let’s watch the clouds above
And look at them to see
Images of things we love.

Let’s be on the lookout for
Rainbows out of nowhere.
Let’s remember to cherish
All the glory that we share.

Go to the park with me
And let’s roll downhill.
Then watch all the birds
And listen for a whippoorwill.

Let’s take advantage of
This beautiful day we see.
Let’s count our blessings;
Let one of them be me.

I hope you feel as grateful to
Have a life of love and beauty.
Let’s look upon enjoying it
As a kind of welcome duty.

Go to the park with me
Like a loving Jack and Jill.
Let’s make our memories here
In this park, on this hill.

It wasn’t log ago in our history
We had  Presidents we could see
And seeing them didn’t make us puke
Or think of dying from an incoming nuke.
Recently our country was a symbol
Of freedom and hope for the planet.
Now too many people hear America
And, red in the face, say “******!”

The crooks hide behind
The Capitol Hill wall.
What the people want
Is nothing to them at all.

Two, four, six, eight! Who shall we eliminate?
Those who fill their own pockets greedily;
And always kiss the *** of Big Corporate,
While they cheat and steal and lie constantly
We know how much each Congressman makes
We know it’s too much, but certainly not millions.
So come come they get so **** rich in office
And can magically turn thousands into billions?

We know something has gone badly wrong
But decade after decade we just ignore it.
The facts are out there for our scorecards
If we would only sit and simply score it.
Yes, we know they keep moving the posts
And change how we must play the game.
But if we let them cheat us and rob us
Holding a gun to our heads is almost the same.

The crooks hide behind
The Capitol Hill wall.
What the people want
Is nothing to them at all.

It seems like some think this is Old England
And we have our own impervious royalty.
Well, there is only so far this should go
And rightly call it by the name of loyalty.
After a point we are just being dunces
Who bend over and beg them to kick us again.
Anyone else who did that would anger us.
But that’s what happens when we listen to spin.

I woke up this morning
That's a success.
I went to the closet
And found stuff to dress
And cover myself well
Against the elements.
I didn't get trampled
By buffalo or elephants.

I ate well and got ready
For whatever comes today.
Whether it be some work
Or some healthy play.
I made the bed and then
Showered myself clean.
I had some great coffee
While I read a new magazine.

I got into my car, which runs
And enjoyed the scenery.
I didn't sleep under a bridge
Or beg food at a beanery.
I went to work and had some
Fulfilling job satisfaction.
And as I went about my day
Guilty of no criminal action.

I was helpful to all, and I
Was detrimental to nobody.
I did the best at my job
And my work was not shoddy.
I sought support whenever
I knew it was badly needed
And smiled as the problems
Mostly quickly receded.

I have given up whining
And envy of my peers.
I no longer allow jealousy
To linger in my ears.
I am a lucky person today
And grateful to say it.
There is no other way
To properly portray it.

If you are Christian
And ashamed of your body
Listen to Jesus
And pay attention to what he
Said about the issue
Of tissue around your bones
And how that makes you
Evil and some kind of crone.

Find where he says
Abomination is your own skin
And where he says
Shame on the shape you’re in.
Since that came from God
And by your teaching God is right
On everything he ever did,
Why this turning off of the lights?

And, if not Christian,
Isn’t it all really the same thing;
Covering up, a masquerade,
Posing, pontificating, pretending?
Why the hiding and lying
About who and what you are?
Why treat your healthy self
As if you were some big scar?

Isn’t it really that society
Has made you think badly of you,
And when the truth is told
It was not about something you do?
It’s more about what others
Think and feel and see as shame.
So quit thinking they are right,
And by all means quit taking blame.

Hyperbole in front of me,
Political effrontery,
Lies dressed up as Scripture,
Treason beyond conjecture.
No hope of restitution
A gutted constitution
Guarded by mercenaries
Who hate blacks and fairies.

A pain to liberal brains
As hope goes down the drain
While major constituencies
Are sold out for SUVs.
Journalists lost their relevance
Kissing the haunches of elephants
In a mad rush every news day
To keep their beloved pay.

Chip-off-the-block jabberwocky;
Son talks his Daddy’s talky.
With no attempt at recompense
The fool makes little sense,
Hiding behind the leverage
He gets from his evil heritage.
There’s no need of morality
Or decency or much formality.

No matter how much criticized,
The wrongly, constantly victimized
Suffer the ignominy yearly
And continue to pay dearly
From our position down on our knees
As they try to rob everyone they see
And we are the casualties of infamy
Because neighbors stand by silently.

You are that person everyone knows
Who ******* almost constantly
About everything that ever goes
Away from how you think it should be.
You have it worked out in your head
Who should get what and when
And how much is right or wrong
And exactly what kind of men
Should have luck and who should
Suffer a miserable fate.
And which people are no good
And which race is truly great.

Why do you take such joy
In making folks around you cry?
So much so that the best thing
They hear you say is goodbye.
Why do you choose hurtful way
To get yourself some attention?
Isn’t there something you can say,
Something nice you can mention
That will make people smile
And not run so quickly away
Then stay with you a little while;
Enjoy some of the things you say?

When did all this all nastiness start?
Is it something from your childhood
Made you take pleasure breaking hearts
Every single chance you could;
And if people are having fun
Makes you jump in and stop
The frivolity and joyousness
Like some kind of buzzkill cop.
Life might change for the better
If you returned the smiles you get.
You’re a big grump now, for sure
Be nice and people will soon forget.

I’m going to solve my problems
By fixing you!
That sounds like the perfect thing
For me to do.
Life would be fine for me if you
Did not insist
On carrying on all the time and
Getting me ******.

You keep on ignoring me when I
Tell you what to do.
Everything would go just right.
It’s up to you.
Do what things like I tell you to
It’s best for you.
You never manage things as
Well as I do.

I’m amazingly organized and
You are not.
You haven’t the gift for it like
I have got.
You’d just mess things all up
For me to fix.
I’m not stupid, you know, I’m
Onto your tricks.

You get the wrong thing because
You did not hear
What I was saying went in and
Out of your ear.
Things always need to be done
A certain way.
And they would be if you would just
Recall all I say.

I swear I don’t know what you’d do
Without me.
You’d turn into some kind of major
Chaos factory.
We’re much better off if you just
Do as you’re told.
This petty bullheadedness is
Getting rather old.

Because all that is wrong with me
Is the stuff you do.
I would be a success story if it
Wasn’t for you.
You manage to ***** things up by
Not following rules.
Nothing would ever get built without
The proper tools.

But things will get better soon,
I promise you that,
Because a hot new slugger has come
Up to bat.
I’m taking over everything so
You just lean back.
In no time at all I’ll have your life
Right back on track.

She wanted to be married forever
She learned she can’t do it alone
She conducted half her relationship
Sitting on the couch on the phone.
He was late or wasn’t coming home
Claiming he had to do some work.
Afterward she loudly berated herself
Calling herself a gullible ****.

Waiting for the phone to ring
Sitting beside the window.
Five more hours until dawn
Five more hours to go.

Knowing it was a tired old story
Many told too often before
It didn’t help her suffer any less
Or feel less bruised and sore.
It wasn't that he was beating her up
He was just lying to her face.
It still left her the victim of the tale
In love, abandoned and disgraced.

Fools do all the work in love
When their love doesn’t love them.
They spend their time waiting
As their hope of true love grows dim.

Her friends advised her early
That something was very wrong.
She fought and denied it every time
And ignored their advice all along.
She had a kind of storybook love
That was stuck inside her mind.
It seemed to render her virtually
Senseless, deaf and blind.

Waiting for the phone to ring
Sitting beside the window.
Five more hours until dawn
Five more hours to go.
Fools do all the work in love
When their love doesn’t love them.
They spend their time waiting
As their hope of true love grows dim.

I remember your final goodbye
On that very last painful day
I immediately got started
Throwing all you gave me away.
I remember thinking that we were
Never what I thought we were,
Otherwise something like this
Would never have occurred.

There was no argument or fight
You just came home a changed person
And I am sure you thought you were
Letting yourself out of prison.
No more pained looks on my face
When you came home too late.
No more suffering through life
You felt was second or third rate.

No more sneaking around on me
To have ****** dates on the side.
No more inventing lies about
The many times you have lied.
Now you never have to worry
I will see the guilt in your eyes.
No more worrying that you will
Slip up and I will get wise.

Part of this is my fault, it’s true.
I should have gotten to know
The person I thought so much of
So blindly, not so very long ago.
I thought I could make you love me
And fix all your character defects.
I ended up with more of my own.
One-sided love affairs wreck.

I’m crying now, but maybe soon
I will take this all as a lesson;
Start taking people for who they are
And no more second-guessing.
I chose you based on how you look
So others would think I have got
Something going on over here
That means I am special, and hot.

Things are much better now
Then back in days gone by
When I was always lonely
And love songs made me cry.
I no longer get depressed
When couples pass me by
Seeing two people happy
Made me wonder why.

Was I some kind of loser
Or someone undeserving?
Love just kept avoiding me
I found it most unnerving.
I questioned everything about me
Was I really so unloveable?
I could find no answers then.
I only knew I was miserable.

Friends tried hard to fix me up
But nothing seemed to work.
It was like I was a circus clown
Or some kind of social ****.
I smiled and laughed and I
Was oh so very polite
But somehow everything I tried
Did not seem to work out right.

So after such a long time
I decided to give up trying.
If I said I wasn’t nervous then
I would totally be lying.
Once I gave up self-pitying
I began to enjoy every day.
I guess I looked a bit better;
Things began to go my way.

One day a conversation
Turned into a relationship
And all those safeguards
And fears began to slip.
They dropped off and suddenly
I found it easy to feel love.
This was the kind of feeling
I was hearing so much of.

So, the sad times were gone
They had slipped into the past
And out of the blue, unprepared
I have something that lasts.
I am smart enough to know
I should not ask myself why.
I am just delighted that today
Love songs don’t make me cry.

It was the Saturday before Halloween
And my friends were having a blowout.
For the first time in a long time I chose
To make an exception and go on out
Dressed up for the occasion that night
As Moses without the tablets, a mask,
And when I got there, nobody groaned
Instead, I got offered a hit on a flask.

So, I arrived at the party, not hopeful
That a good time would be had by all.
I wore my silly old man mask at first
And my long gold robe to cover it all.
No biggie, everyone was dressed up
In outrageous, fantasy forms of attire
There were princesses and knights.
I called one crowned fellow sire.

My friends were doing a wine tasting
In connection with the happy affair
So, I took them up on all of that
After doffing my mask full of long hair.
We joked and told each other tales
Of our activities at work and home.
Later, I found myself kissing with
A hot to trot, **** garden gnome.

Then my oldest buddy Dan said,
“Let’s take this to the Boulevard.
It was just five blocks to the south
So the walk won’t be that hard.”
Seeing the adventure in this
Nobody disagreed even a little
We took off in a clump of twenty
With me masked, close to the middle.

First was our friend, Allan the artist.
He’d constructed a seven foot ****.
He wore black pants and shoes
But the papier mache did the trick.
Second was the Darth Vader guy,
A lawyer in a fine rented outfit.
Behind him was Doctor Ucia Sickie
In scrub greens with ****** clots on it.

There was Raggedy Anne and Goofy
And a couple of Midnight Cowboys
And Dan was dressed quite normally
Because he was the outing’s decoy.
See, most of us were a bit drunk, and
Nobody had any dope on them then
As it was a touchy time about ***
In the days of Reagan, way back when.

Daniel didn’t care. Without telling a soul
He had whipped up Toklas brownies
And passed them to us, getting us ripped
Completely unknown to most of the townies.
Dan raised great window-box stuff, so I
Remembered, in two bites, from times before,
And soon I got that happy, toasty feeling
And my shyness was suddenly no more.

Of we went, twenty fools wide then
Wandering down the Avenue of Stars
Goggling at the crowd, the costumes,
The zinging lights and the hopping cars.
Everyone had beer bottles, not just us
Or wine bottles and were guzzling glad
About this happy, jam packed occasion
There was no way to be bored or sad.

The cholos were dancing their hydraulics
On cars that cost more than some homes,
And the sidewalks were all overflowing
With humans thick as laundry foam.
It wasn’t really walking, it was standing up
And letting the tide of people carry me
In a Mardi Gras atmosphere of loopy fun
That offered up nothing to worry me.

We went all the way to Fairfax, then we
Turned around and made our way back
A knotted mass of silly people gabbing
Like hamsters running on an invisible track.
Halfway down, at about Hudson street,
In front of me I heard something loud.
People were screaming with laughter
And gathered in an even tighter crowd.

The middle of a circle, with TV cameras,
Was Allan, the seven foot ****, corralling
A six foot, totally authentic Miss Piggy
And she was fending him off giggling.
He kept putting the huge head of his guise
Down toward her thighs, and the crowd
Applauded, hooted, whistled and laughed
And it seemed the Boulevard just howled.

It was on the news the next morning
As we all were sure it would have to be
But that night became a noteworthy one
For all of my friends, strangers and me.
You never know what will happen to you
When you let yourself be a bit more free.
You might end up in a Halloween Parade.
Well. At least that’s what happened to me.

Halloween, nineteen seventy six,
My friend and I were prowling.
The holiday spirit was strong
It was powerful and howling.
We were visiting friends,
Both is and mine that night,
We saw some wondrous things
House to house that night.

One house was amazing;
A Los Feliz mansion.
It was glorious, a jewel
Both high, wide and handsome.
Inside, a silent movie ran
From foyer to the third floor.
And every room of the house
Was a delight to see and explore.

The next house was a study
Of **** smoking and chat.
We intended to stay awhile
We saw nothing wrong with that.
And, as we plowed through
The crowd ebbed and waned.
I giggle as we tried our best
To maintain the footing we gained.

Then, from the gabbing throng,
A face of a handsome guy
Came out and apparently he
Decided to give kissing me a try.
He pulled me close and it worked,
He planted on me a warm kiss.
He was aiming for my lips and
He aimed he scored, didn’t miss.

The thing that made it memorable
Was that it was a perfect kiss.
I remember thinking to myself
“It’s been years since a kiss like this.”
In a night of traditional revelry
And simulated comic danger
I got the best Halloween kiss ever
And it came from a total stranger.

I never saw him again or since
As he melted back into the crowd.
They were all talking and shouting
So no good shouting out loud.
I just had to accept this hot gift
And go on with my holiday journey.
But that was a most wonderful kiss
And it lives today in my memory.

Many are hamster-wheel humans
So punch-drunk from assuming
They know the way things work.
The wealthy urged them to elect jerks
To run this country into the ground
And turn it into the worst place around.
It’s a sad tale, a ***** of a story
Where those with guts, don’t get glory.

It’s a horror story, like in scary flicks
Where when men in suits get their kicks
Imprisoning brown people and kids
And laughing about the bad they did.
Afterward, they say others are to blame
But make no attempt to hide their game.
They put thousands in jail and charge them
And sing out loud their lying anthems.

They say fake news is the real McCoy
But, the real news they say is a ploy
Honest people want to stop the plunder
That, up ’til now, they kept hidden under.
But now it’s in the open meant to appease
Ignorant white people that are hard to please.
They want whites in power, think that’s nifty,
No wonder they elect only those who are shifty.

Too many quit learning in school, after ABC,
And they have no use for the land of the free.
They liked how it was in eighteen hundreds
With slaves, inhumanity to those they plundered.
They got up in arms when a black man won
And the class war was once again begun.
The very rich told lies to change the rules
People began to act openly like rapacious fools.
This is the country of which we were once proud.
It’s right now being destroyed by the elite crowd.

HANDMADE CHRISTMAS

Do you remember back when
Christmas was making things
Out of stiff colored paper
Like chains of slim paper rings
That were so long we took them
And wrapped the a few times
Around the tree as pretty trim?

We made angels and snowflakes
From something called shirt boards;
Cutouts covered with aluminum foil.
They didn’t need extension cords.
And Mom showed us how to starch
String we dyed. We wrapped it
Around some inflated balloons.
When each dried, we popped it.

We made reindeers and Santas
Our of wooden clothespins
With pipe cleaner antlers or
Cotton beards for Santa’s chin.
Mom dyed an old sheet green
For under the Christmas tree.
Prettier than the store-bought kind
It has always seemed to me.

In school we made Gifts too
Things knitted or made of clay
To give to Mom wrapped up
With great pride on Christmas Day.
And that wrapping paper was
Was all Christmas color tissue.
It was inexpensive to buy, so
Using a lot was not an issue.

Some gifts were appreciated
Some maybe not as much
But in every case, we were
For the most part very touched.
You knew for sure just by looking
What care and love went into
The handmade presents that were
Made totally and especially for you.

Brent Kincaid
12/12/2015

If I let you be as superstitious as you want
And raise your children with gods that haunt
Will you back the hell off my brothers and me
And content yourselves to just let us be?
You can dress yourself and your children
As two thousand year old men and women.

Happy celebration, to everyone here
To every person, all through the year.
Let’s tell each other all we are glad of,
And share with each other peace and love.

It would be a lovely thing for all people to do.
We could all have holidays, yes, Christmas too.
We could create traditions of good will in men.
Now, where did I hear that phrase again?
We could spread messages of tolerance and love
And you could blame it all on something above.

We could start collecting ornaments and things
Just a bit different than your angels with wings,
And we could light candles and sing some songs
And if you wanted to, you could sing along.
And chant obscure ditties and archaic poems
Just don’t expect us to, even if we know them.

Happy celebration, to everyone here
To every person, all through the year.
Let’s tell each other all we are glad of,
And share with each other peace and love.


Then nobody would scowl and wish you ill
Because we wouldn’t have anything like hell.
There would be no devil dude to make you sad
And plenty of words to say when you’re mad.
We’d just have a place where we could all live
And presents for each other if we wanted to give.

Happy celebration, to everyone here
To every person, all through the year.
Let’s tell each other all we are glad of,
And share with each other peace and love.

It’s that lovely time of year again
Those words we love to hear again.
It’s not an ordinary kind of day
It’s your long-awaited birthday.

We have brought out the cake
And all the candles it would take
To signify to anyone who sees
You are the star of the festivities.

Maybe some presents will appear
Maybe some will forget which year
But each person there will be
There for you and happy to be.

There may be some jokes told
About you being dodderingly old
Or around longer than the earth
But all will be done in great mirth.

Others will look back pleasantly
To the halls of pleasant memories
And be proud to have been around
And hearing once again that sound.

Happy Birthday to you, again
Just like it was way back when
And just like then, it is today
That we wish you Happy Birthday.

Today is Everything Day.
It’s Valentine’s Day and then
Here it is, our anniversary
Happening all over again.
And it’s So Very Happy
I Got To Meet You Day
When life really started for us.
So join right in and sing along
And sing loudly at the chorus.

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!
HAPPY ANNIVERSARY DAY!
SO MUCH LOVE TO SHARE
ON HAPPY EVERYTHING DAY!

It was so smart of us then
To pick this one special day
So everyone in the world
Had a chance to pipe up and say
Happy everything to us both.
Like they knew us all along.
Gifts and decorations in stores
And poems and even songs.

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!
HAPPY ANNIVERSARY DAY!
SO MUCH LOVE TO SHARE
ON HAPPY EVERYTHING DAY!

It’s our annual day to celebrate
But it’s far from all over yet.
We have many more years to come,
And who could ever forget
That this day is a wonderful one
That may be our favorite date,
Because everybody, worldwide
Joins in to help us to celebrate.

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!
HAPPY ANNIVERSARY DAY!
SO MUCH LOVE TO SHARE
ON HAPPY EVERYTHING DAY!

Happy naked holidays
For those who are so inclined
The world would be better
If no one would really mind
That people go to the beach unclothed;
Bring a volleyball and play
Or picnic in the park in the ****
On any lovely sunny day.

The same with all the holidays
They're for each of us to celebrate
In whatever way each may choose
Their philosophy to demonstrate.
Because after all isn't naturism
A way of worshipping creation?
How could it be proper then
To label it just a deviation?

So have very Merry Holidays
Of the very nakedest kind;
As that's the way you were created
Nobody should really mind.
Happy Easter merry Christmas
And happy Thanksgiving too.
So happy naked holidays
To each and every one of you!

Whimsy plays too big of a part
In what we call normal life today.
All the Gods the snobs invent
Have these expensive feet of clay.

You can put a monkey in a cannon
But that don’t make it incendiary.
Anyone can smoke a camel, but
That doesn’t make it a dromedary.

We need to have a nursery rhyme
That warns us about politicians.
Specifically how to disarm them
And turn them into electricians.

You can’t roll a joint properly
While surfing on your Sea Doo.
You have to ask the questions
But the answers might mislead you.

Unlike an elephant who remembers
Who knows what the thing recalls?
Voters forget every fourth November,
The outcome far too often appalls.

Bringing popcorn to a media circus?
Plays too much like a bunch of selfies.
The humor there is out of service.
Leave that movie on the shelf, please.

You can sing a song of sixpence
But it doesn’t buy a flipping thing.
It’s hard to find an honest man
When artful liars get everything.

Once I loved my country
Was filled up with pride
That was before my country
Suddenly fell over and died.
It didn’t die spontaneously,
My country was assassinated.
Murdered by people who
Lied, cheated and hated.

The accomplices were folks
Who stayed home and blamed
And insisted that both parties
Were essentially the same.
Those people refused to verify
What was fact from propaganda.
Now half the citizens are facing
A destructive national agenda.

There were thousands of jokes
About the unqualified guy who won.
Some were funny, made us laugh,
But what happened was not fun.
The person who was trained lost.
Now we have a bigot and a racist
Who is eyeing the Constution
And badly wants to replace it.

The people on both sides now
Have no idea what is coming.
They thought they elected a good guy
But he’s a rich kid who was slumming.
They thought he would help to bring
A national hoped-for change.
They will be shocked to death
To discover that man is so strange.

For him it’s about the ***-kissers
He keeps as his personal posse.
Be prepared, this next four years
Will be anything but glossy.
We will witness blood and death
And a crash of our economy
Because Trump and his cohorts
Believe in nothing but autonomy.

I was her mean motor scooter
Until a big hunky Harley came along.
I took her out putt-putting
There didn’t seem to be anything wrong
But for a just a little bit more torque
I was left behind ******* in smoke.
When she saw his big old motor
My Cushman eagle looked like a joke.

Putt, putt, putt…
But, but, but…
I really thought I had it made
And now I’m sitting in the shade
On the side of a lonely street.
The race was run and I got beat.

I asked her to a picture show
She smiled and said that would be fine.
Come the day we meant to go
She made and excuse that felt like a line.
She said she had an ailing aunt
But later I saw her get off of his hog.
Now, I feel just like scooter trash,
An unsightly little bump on a log.

Putt, putt, putt…
But, but, but…
I really thought I had it made
And now I’m sitting in the shade
On the side of a lonely street.
The race was run and I got beat.

Don’t get me wrong about her
I don’t really mean to put her down,
She just wanted a bigger deal
With which to tool around the town.
When she sat rode behind me
I really should have guessed you see
She made a kind of vrooming sound
Like I was going ninety three.

Putt, putt, putt…
But, but, but…
I really thought I had it made
And now I’m sitting in the shade
On the side of a lonely street.
The race was run and I got beat.

Once I disliked having birthdays
But I really don’t mind anymore.
The secret is to enjoy them
And never, ever to keep score.
Don’t bother counting them,
Just enjoy the cake and gifts.
It’s looking back at how old you are.
That is basically the ugly rift.

You’re not getting decrepit,
Not older than dirt, you see.
You have gained credit in life
For wisdom and longevity.
They who say you have aged
Like a fine wine are correct.
So, don’t harp about the years
Like you have a flaw to project.

Instead look forward in life
To what the future will say.
What will you do with it,
This new chance every day?
Will you be that aging statesperson
The world will be glad to know?
As long as you’re still breathing
Let's wait and see how it goes.

So, call all your friends up
And meet them each for a meal
And let them know fears of age
Are not something you find real.
Let them toast your birthday
And sing the traditional song.
Let this be another of many
Happy birthdays to come along.

He always wanted to be a ballerina
To dance so dainty up on his toes.
But everyone could see under his tutu
And the bump they saw was not his nose.
He had the talent and the perfect figure
To perform the balletic steps just right.
There was no way he could ever manage
To keep that ample package out of sight.

Jete, jete. Plie, Plie.
Dance like that’s all you want to do.
Dancing straight, or dancing gay,
Do whatever is right for you.
Hands and toes pointed fine
Back and necks held straight.
Maybe it’s not your time to get picked.
But make it worth their wait.

His skin was smooth just like a swaddling baby
There was no concern about flat *******.
Many ballerinas are rather mannish
With not much curvature to their chests.
So he could pass completely undetected
Androgyny was his great good friend
But any moment when he swirled about
Tutu would lift and then spell the spell would end.

Jete, jete. Plie, Plie.
Dance like that’s all you want to do.
Dancing straight, or dancing gay,
Do whatever is right for you.
Hands and toes pointed fine
Back and necks held straight.
Maybe it’s not your time to get picked.
But make it worth their wait.

He never really loved the danseur posture
The holds and lifts and hearty leaps about.
But in the world of ballet and its leaders
Ballerina guys are always left out.
Still he danced in tutu at auditions.
He heard the comments, paid them no mind.
If they could not see grandly male Pavlova
That meant that all of them were blind.

Jete, jete. Plie, Plie.
Dance like that’s all you want to do.
Dancing straight, or dancing gay,
Do whatever is right for you.
Hands and toes pointed fine
Back and necks held straight.
Maybe it’s not your time to get picked.
But make it worth their wait.

There are a million kinds of hell
And they show us what we’re worth
More than a million paths to hell
And hell can be right here on earth.

Hell can be the job you choose to take
Or maybe it’s the place you choose to live.
It can be the lies you tell to others
And times you chose to take and not to give.

Some know stories all about the devil
And think that hell will come when we die.
But look around the world at those who suffer
And you may cease to question where and why.

There’s the hell that lying binds you,
And the hell when lust will blind you.
There’s a hell when envy grinds you
And when absolute riches find you.

Sometimes hell is exactly what you make it be.
Something you’re not strong enough to duck.
Others have their hell ****** upon them.
Maybe it’s all not much more than luck.

Hell is when you feel your life is suffering
And nothing ever will come set you free.
Giving up all hope of any rescue for you
How much worse can the Bible’s hell be?

There are a million kinds of hell
And they show us what we’re worth
More than a million paths to hell
And hell can be right here on earth.
There’s the hell that lying binds you,
And the hell when lust will blind you.
There’s a hell when envy grinds you
And when absolute riches find you.

Hello, Mister. God, or is it Miss, or Missus,
Don’t rush down to smother me with kisses.
Why listen to pleas and heartfelt prayers?
There must be something better elsewhere.
Somebody you can help that has better words.
The kind of holy roller crap we have always heard.

Maybe I can take a class and learn to speak
In Latin or Farsi or go get dunked in a creek.
Maybe I can buy black clothes and a collar
Or stand on a busy corner downtown and holler.
I’d even be willing to suffer in a golden palace
And only drink blessed wine from a silver chalice.
I’d gladly have a television show and do healing.
I’ll gladly lift my arms, overact looking at the ceiling.

I can practice celibacy and ignore my own crotch
I am sure I can. You just sit on a a cloud and watch.
I’m sure I can do laying on of hands quite well.
I can chant and sing and save people from hell.
I’m not too bad to look at and clean up good.
I’m perfectly ready to be a holy person if you would
Just cast your divine magic glance in my direction
And notice the piety and depth of my genuflection.

I have been told of the sparrow’s fall you see
That you’re to be revered on holidays regularly.
When babies die, and any pitiful sinless soul
We are told we are to accept it is part of your role
To take a life, or give disease as it’s all your plan.
That your love and your grace is greater than man
And therefore we must must not question you
And just accept all of the miracles that you do.

My hope is that, if I do it all perfectly some day
You’ll take our earthly pain and suffering away.
No, not mine. I’m being fairly lucky in my life.
I mean the pain of every husband and every wife
And every single person, of any age and station
And choice of worship, in every town and nation.
People at games and parties and battlefronts all
Keep praying for your help. Mr. God, get on the ball!

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

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

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

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

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

I cry beware, there's danger there,
But nobody is listening.
I raise my voice and twist my face.
There are tears glistening.
I can see it coming like an ugly beast.
Why the hell can't they smell it at least?
This is going to be like a four-year tsunami,
But sadly, one that won't go away.

All the things we know to be destructive
Are waiting in the wings.
The freedom of us and our nation
May not survive this thing.
While promises of greatness resonate
The putrid smell of recent history
So impatiently waits the doom
While fools bemoan their misery.

The train wreck of modern life
Reverberates in the ears of the wise
And distractions abound in media
While lies are waved before the eyes
Of those loo lazy to leave the couch
To vote or attend meetings or speak;
To stand up for the rights they have
Or find the peace they say they seek.

The national criminals are thrilled
Meanwhile, we are trained to wail
And call evil names about trivia;
About things like someone’s email
And who stands or sits at a game,
Or who is fornicating with who
While, for some, there is nothing
Too immoral some other person can do.

HERE’S TO THE LITTLE PEOPLE

Here’s to the little people
That means you and I.
We create the economy
With the things we buy.
The rich people object;
They say they are the best
By squeezing the lifeblood
Out of all of the rest.

What the rich don’t take directly
They steal by increasing the tax.
Only when we are powerless
Do they really feel they can relax.
And it only serves to help them
If they pass laws that are hazy
In which they can hide graft
Because we are politically lazy.

Yes, here’s to the little people
That is you and that is me.
We’re passing up our chances
And all our hopes for prosperity.
We’ve let the rich people rob us
In congress by nickels and dimes.
While it might not be too late now,
We are just about out of time.

Brent Kincaid
3/18/2015

The old saying talks about
Being snug as a bug in a rug
But how can you feel that way
If you never ever get hugged.
If you hug your loved ones
They may not need drugs.
It’s an inexpensive medicine;
The basic household hug.

Worse things could happen
Than to catch the hugging bug.
It’s a better remedy than you
Can find in an apothecary jug.
It doesn’t require prescription
And is no big weight to lug.
You always have one handy,
The standard loving hug.

A hug can be the cure for you
When you are in a purple fug
And your face begins to look
Like a rather dyspeptic pug.
Somebody wonderful arrives
And gives your heart a tug
By giving you the all-time best
Wholehearted, loving hug.

It happened in a hurry
At a joyous wedding party.
I didn’t know who he was
Just that he was hearty
And tall and very hot.
I was jealous of her
And the hot man she’d got.

The bride was not a friend,
But the friend of a friend.
I was the plus one that day
And I thought that was the end.
I’d watch the ceremony and
I’d go and smile and mingle.
It always makes me antsy
To do weddings when I’m single.

But, I sit and chat and smile
Wish them both the very best.
I do this quietly and quickly
Not being close like the rest.
So, when I went to the restroom
And the groom grabbed me
And laid a deep long kiss
I returned the favor gladly.

I usually don’t ***** with married
But this was a great big surprise
To get kissed by a tall hunk
With hot burning lust in his eyes.
I have no idea what was up
With the bride's new Mister
But I can testify for absolute sure
He was one hella righteous kisser!

Hey ****** ******,
Some stars gotta fiddle
Just like a Catholic priest.
We have to give them credit,
God saved them when they did it.
And blessed them at the least.

Hey ****** ******
Fat Trump has to fiddle
With women he can control.
He pretends he doesn’t know
What that word simply shows
Since the last syllable is troll.

Hey ****** ******
A high powered fiddle
Is always powered by cash.
But, Mr. Diddler
Unlike a talented fiddler
You are nothing but overpaid trash.

Hey ****** diddledick
We all hope your fiddlestick
Falls off and lays on the ground
Then you could stop it
And the women could stomp it.
And kick your skanky *** around.