Some people say I’m crazy,
They call me a total nut.
They say I’ve lost my mind
That I don’t know what’s what.
That I am beyond cuckoo.
They say I’ve gone insane,
That I am in a very bad way,
That I’ve got you on the brain.

I’m just in love
It’s a kind of lovely madness.
It is insanity
In a very lovely kind of dress.
It affects everything
Makes me lose my train of thought.
And I do it gladly
Whether or not I really ought.

Other people don’t see
That I hear you in every sound.
Those people have their rules
On the feeling I have found.
They are understanding
If it’s a round of golf or a car,
But this is how I really feel
No matter what their feelings are.

Some love their money,
The massive expensive houses
And some like to cheat on
Their unsuspecting loving spouses.
Some like to belong to
The most exclusive memberships.
I must prefer to listen
To the sound from your lips.

I’m just in love
It’s a kind of lovely madness.
It is insanity
In a very lovely kind of dress.
I affects everything
Makes me lose my train of thought.
And I do it gladly
Whether or not I really ought.

I’ve never been good
At hiding emotions I feel.
I’m not Superman
And Superman isn’t real!

I’m not Superman
And you’re not Lois Lane
We’re not invulnerable
And insensitive to pain.
I can’t read minds
Or see through walls.
And I really can’t fly,
I’m not super at all.

I’ve never been good
At hiding emotions I feel.
I’m not Superman
And Superman isn’t real!

When looking for flattery
It does no good to fish.
I’m not a bottle genie
That grants every wish.
I do the best I can
To give you want you ask
But if I fail, it might not be
A very reasonable task.

I’ve never been good
At hiding emotions I feel.
I’m not Superman
And Superman isn’t real!

So names will not hurt me
But sticks and stones will.
Maybe I’m not the guy
That perfectly fits the bill.
Maybe I should let you
Permit yourself to go free
And the same time you
Would then release me

I’ve never been good
At hiding emotions I feel.
I’m not Superman
And Superman isn’t real!

I was born to please the glitteratti
Treat them like they’re gods right here on earth.
Whether a Kardashian or Gotti
They think I’ doomed to serve them since my birth.
I’m meant to feed you, bathe you
Live my life just for you.
I’ve got to primp you, **** you
Wipe your royal ****.
And if I move too slow
You’ll call me ****!

I’m so benighted
And I’ve not denied it.
I was born without a soul
And I know I’m lost now.
My life is blighted
And very much misguided.
Somewhere inside
There is a soul who really
Should know how.

I thought I could gut it out forever
But I found I could only take so much.
Putting up with daily kissing *****
Made me want to retch from every touch.
You are disgusting, thrusting
Your face in everywhere.
Like you are something; you’re nothing,
Got nothing to share!
I no longer care.

I’m not divided
And I just can’t hide it.
I want a life and I intend
To go and get one
A real one.
So get excited.
I have decided
To grow a pair and do
What I know I ought to.
Got to!

I must have been raised wrong,
I believe in being generous.
I think people should be loved;
That meanness can be onerous.
I have seen what evil does
And I want no more of that.
I don’t think that selfishness
Will really feed the captain’s cat.

I have watched back biters
And gossips and thieves
Bring themselves all unawares
To the point where everyone grieves.
I have witnessed liars who get
Tripped up on their own tales;
Regular folks and politicians
Get the air taken from their sails.

I know well that our elderly
Have already done their job
So it’s fine with me if they just
Sit around and act like slobs.
They took care of us when we
Were the indolent folks kids are
So, they are entitled to rest,
More than we are, by far.

I was raised to let people be
If they had some philosophy
That did not match mine
Or even the vast majority.
Someone thinks a different way
That’s fine if it hurts no one.
Not everybody thinks the same
Carnival rides are that much fun.

I saw for myself that people
Were individual in so many ways.
Different in how they dressed
And what they had to say.
Some liked sports TV
And many preferred the soaps.
All of that is fine with me
So, why call each other dopes?

Is there something wrong with me
That I don’t go along with the crowd?
That I don’t enjoy the fights,
The sports fans shouting out loud?
Am I silly for not slowing down
When I pass a wreck on the highway?
Well, if I am, then that is fine.
I will go on doing things my way.

An inconvenient truth
Can spawn a most convenient lie.
But far too often it seems
The truth will crawl off and die
While the lie lives on
To expand and grow new legs
And covers up the facts
That the fiction sadly begs.

It's a horrible fact today
That people look for excuses
To stay the fools they are
And find more convenient uses
For stories they either made up
Or have come to believe;
Mythological legends
That education can't seem to relieve.

A casual glance through history
Is all we really would ever need
To put the lie to death, but
This kind of fool does not read.
The saddest thing to see is
A bigot has no use for truth
When it makes them give up lies
They have depended on since youth.

But the basic thing in this
Is that someone spoiled this person
And made them into something
A step or two below a decent human
Because every religion has
Words just like the old golden rule.
You wouldn't think that
They could be made into an evil tool.

Baby cries
Don’t know why
There’s got to be a reason.
By and by
We’ll know why
It can’t be just the season.
Pick them up
When babies cry
And let the know you love them.
Never beat
Never shout
Never push and shove them.

What could a little kid do
That merited a hard fist?
Go ahead, take your time
Write us out a long list.
Did it cry because hungry,
Lonely in it’s own crib?
Did it need frequent changing,
Spit up on it’s tiny bib?

Baby cries
Don’t know why
There’s got to be a reason.
By and by
We’ll know why
It can’t be just the season.

Was there a rash hurting
Or maybe a sour belly.
Did you feed it liver pate
When it wanted cherry jelly?
Did it say no to your orders
When treated like a slave?
What was the crime you felt
Should send them to the grave?

Pick them up
When babies cry
And let the know you love them.
Never beat
Never shout
Never push and shove them.

Something went very wrong with you
That you feel right to hit children;
To starve and cut and burn them
With a kind of joyous abandon.
Is part of it that you get to do
Whatever outrage you want
As long as you keep it hidden,
As long as you don’t flaunt?

Baby cries
Don’t know why
There’s got to be a reason.
By and by
We’ll know why
It can’t be just the season.
Pick them up
When babies cry
And let the know you love them.
Never beat
Never shout
Never push and shove them.

Here’s the good thing to remember:
I’m not all right when you’re not here.
When you’re here, I shine like diamonds
When you are gone
There is no sun
I disappear.

It’s almost like I’m half a person;
When you show up my life begins.
Wear a brave face when you’re leaving.
My world turns empty
And I have no cause
To smile alone.

Suddenly, the background noise leaves
And I hear and see only you.
What you say and do delights me
Even the little things
Barely noticeable
But fulfilling.

Lights twinkle then, in bright colors
And music seems to be playing,
Maybe I’m the only one to hear it
But it cheers me
Maybe only me.
I’m fine with it.

Maybe some would urge caution here,
To not make you my whole world
But I can’t seem to hear the advice.
It doesn’t reach me.
It doesn’t teach me.
It isn’t real.

Who was it, unwise child,
Who taught you to hate like this?
What kind of twisted mind
Made you frightened of a kiss?
Did some kind of twisted soul
Train you to hate based on skin?
Did one or both parents of yours
Mistrain you about morals and sin?

Who taught you to speak painfully
To those who were born less fortunate;
To laugh and call names of those
Who are sad or disconsolate
From the waves of life washing in
And taking them away,
To the kind of life you have never
Had to suffer for even one day?

Did your family force you to compete
For love, acceptance and approval?
Did you even undergo the threat
Of reprisals, and maybe removal?
Did you look to your parents eyes
For help and loving acceptance
And instead find the face
Of rejection, and even repugnance?

Everyone wishes all children
Get treated sweetly and kindly
But some parents are poisoned
By their parents to react blindly
And pass on the outrage
That was given to them as kids.
They too, are victims
Of what their parents did.

The hope for today is simple;
Don’t pass it on to your children.
Wake up, change things and
Do what it takes to love them.
Stop the cycle here with you:
Hold back that anger and hate.
Teach them that they, like you,
With your love and care, can be great.

“You are worthless!”
Somebody close to me said.
“Not worth a ****!”
It was somebody in my head.
“Never have been.”
The ******* went right on
“And never will be.”
It never has been gone.

My entire life
These words have been there.
I have tried hard
To act like I don’t even care.
But they hurt me
Took joy from all I try to do
And bring me down
Because I fear they are true.

I have tried hard
To prove that I do have worth,
I’m not, nor have I ever
Been the **** of the earth.
I have worked hard
To make my way among men,
When I start to believe,
The chanting starts over again.

Something in me
A different kinder sort of a voice
Gently urges me
To accept that I have a choice.
It softly tells me
That early on I was damaged
And I must accept
My self-confidence was savaged.

So, slowly changes
Come about in what I am feeling
And I see more
Of what cards fate is dealing.
I changed people
That I let into my life today.
I let the past go
And let those voices go away.

I am glad I lived this long
So I could be on the internet.
I always wanted a ****** life
And though I haven’t got there yet
I am close, I can see it now
Throngs and hordes of ***** people;
Hundreds want to ****** me.
Several sites want to enlarge me,
I blush, nobody wants to reduce me.

I get fifty or so messages a day
Telling me how hot they are.
They treat me like I am a king
Or a kind of ****** superstar.
Calling me like sirens on rocks
They do, at least, until I get
To the part where I must pay
To get laid on the internet.

I have asked enough questions
Some of them embarrassing
To get the idea and understand
Why it’s me they are harassing.
By even clicking on their site
I’ve proved that I am a fool.
They say to themselves, I’m sure
“Will you look at this gullible tool?

Oh, and the promises they make!
They will rock my world with a word.
They will tell me the hottest things
That a schmuck like me ever heard.
But to clear the air, when they ask
For card numbers I don’t make a peep.
I am as ***** as a drunken rabbit
But first and foremost, I am cheap.

Oh, frightening times,
How do we survive?
How do we rise above?
How can we contrive
To put villains away
So they can’t harm again?
What words will protect us
From these kinds of evil men.

Is there are magic charm
Or a divine incantation
Spoken by some priest
Or by an adept magician
That can eradicate the power
And the allure of dreadful lies
That enrapture dunces among us
And pull a cowl over the eyes.

What set of explanations
Can show these mesmerized fools
That they have participated
In the crime of making them tools?
What can we say or shout?
What song can we sing to them
To send them to the scoundrels
And ****** away their diadems?

How strongly do we have to show
The walk of those in love with greed
To see that they are not interested
In what anyone else may need?
We, left to beg some divine help
Can only hope this trial of hell
Will fail and lose it’s attraction
Since we can’t seem to stop it
With any good hearted action.

I poeticize, proselytize
Punctuate and pontificate.
I write couplets and rhymes
And I really do it all the time.
I exacerbate and exaggerate
With no desire to intimidate.
I make similes and metaphors
Indoors and even out of doors.

There’s cussing and discussion
And sharp literary impressions
Through diversions, conversions
Allusions as well as conclusions.
And with luck, no delusions.
Just syllabically deft fusions
Of some deferential references
With a deft touch of reverence.

I rhyme thyme with fresh lime
And cardamom with cinnamon.
Sweetbreads and shortbreads.
Chicken bones and licking scones.
Rhyming pumpkins with dumplings
And matching up filets with filberts
Just as cocoa goes well with Kona.
Marmalade can be a good marinade.

I rhyme chrome wheels and automobiles,
Freeway off-ramps and Tiffany lamps.
Cellophane and vintage airplanes.
Flapper vamps and streetwalking tramps.
Also Cinderella coaches and cockroaches,
Nothing is unfair game to a busy poet.
As well as RCA Victors and boa constrictors.
Since I’m a poet, everyone should know it.

My life was not always fun
When I was a young kid
So, I often felt better if
I took a book and hid.
As long as Mom didn’t catch me
Find her work for me to do:
I had chores and nobody else
Not even Mom, it seemed.
She lay on the couch
She watched TV and dreamed
Of winning Queen For A Day
And waking up skinny.
Yes, I had some good days
But, really, not all that many.

So, when I could, I read
Every book I could easily find.
I even read romance books
Because Mom only liked that kind.
I read religious books too
Like King James’s Bible translation.
And, I read those Awake pamphlets
That got strewn around the nation.
We weren’t allowed to read
At the table during our meals, so
We read boxes the cereal came in.
Today that seems kind of nuts-o.
But I read what I could find around
And enjoyed Dad’s western books
Because reading their novels
Never got me a nasty look.

But I kept on, far into my adulthood
Reading and learning even more.
After all, increasing knowledge
Is what books are really for.
So, I learned about people and
About some exotic foreign lands
And became amazed at what some
Could accomplish with pen in hand.
And reading help me miss out
On some ugly stuff in my history
Because forewarned is forearmed
And reading removes some mystery
If it’s right there in the paperwork
And if we take the time to look.
We can keep ourselves from error
If we read the proper kind of book.

I read a lot about religious quacks
And I compared them to reality.
And then when I met people in life
I wasn’t easily tricked by duplicity.
When people made wild promises
About products and spiritual claims
I pointed to their documentation
And often questioned their aims.
It sometimes made enemies for me
Because our society is fond of lies
If they are only pretty enough
To fool the greediest gals and guys.
But I tired of schoolyard games
Early on in my literary youth.
I reserved my applause and approval
For moral decency and truth.
I had all the ammunition, I would ever need
Because early on in my life
I learned to love to read.

I remember when we used to sing
And talk long walks in early spring.
We made up songs to fit the time
And sometimes setting life to rhyme.
We made each other Christmas gifts
And felt our common spirits lift.

I remember staying up all night
Drinking B&B; in the early light
Walking together up distant hills
Taking our minds off paying bills.
We went to town for adventure.
We held hands despite censure
When people frowned we kissed.
The times I would not have missed.

I remember some pillow fights;
Friends came to spend the night.
And baking pans and pans of bread
Or whatever we took into our heads.
We all got high and painted faces
And cut our tee shirts into laces.
Yes, those were younger silly times
Somehow they were just sublime.

I remember making love a lot
And still finding each other hot;
Thinking though times were rough
What we had was good enough.
Even though those days are gone
We learned a lot from moving on.
We learned we could love and be
Owners of beautiful memories.

I remember so much
But how much of it was true.
I remember being much bigger
And the house I lived in was too.
I remember how deep the voices
Of the adults living around me.
I recall them as basso profundo,
Not high, nasal and twangy.

I remember people said things
Like “God bless her” a whole lot
But these days, they still say it
But do they mean it, I think not.
I remember singing at church
“Jesus loves the little children.”
They never once had me sing
“But not if they are little heathens!”

I remember while in school
“All men are created equal”.
They should have told me instead,
“Only if they are white people
And then only if they are Christian
From the same church we go to
On Christmas and Easter, kid.”
Because that was our religion.

I remember being told repeatedly
“Do unto others, as they do unto you.”
Later I found out they didn’t mean it.
For gay people it wasn’t true.
Then it was do unto others whatever,
As long as they stay in their place.
They must not kiss or hold hands
Because being gay is a disgrace.

I remember being taught that God
Created everything on this earth
But somehow that teaching missed
Those born non-white or gay at birth.
I remember some nice sounding things
Being said with everyone watching,
But hatred and bigotry like a virus
Seemed to be much more catching.

You can sing it to the tune
Of I Shot The Devil,
But I totally did it
Strictly on the level.
No, I didn’t know it when,
For another night of ***,
He asked me to his den
Under the spell of some hex.

It was like he was to me
The hottest guy ever seen.
He was built like a star
His hair had a fine sheen.
Body and face were fine;
Toned and masculine.
I’d never seen him before
Though I had often been.

He used his elocution
And handy circumlocution
Better than a Rosicrucian
Sentenced to an institution.
He could twist the moment
Out of a frenzied foment
Then to a crazy torment
With muted arcane comments.

We met in a bath house
On Melrose, West L.A.
And somehow that night
Things seemed to go my way.
He gave me the eye
And I returned it in full.
I am fairly certain that
We both felt the pull.

It was all about debauchery
And he was calling the shots
Making me see I got stupid
Whenever I got that hot.
I let my **** do the thinking
And he seemed glad to show
That I would flirt with danger
And then, not even know.

He used his elocution
And handy circumlocution
Better than a Rosicrucian
Sentenced to an institution.
He could twist the moment
Out of a frenzied foment
Then to a crazy torment
With muted arcane comments.

So, I went back for seconds
At Hedda Hopper’s apartment
Across from Mae West’s place
Fueled with no armament
To protect me from what
Would turn out to be, for me
The scariest ****** encounter
In my busy, young history.

We were doing the deed again
But this time things had changed.
His appearance began to alter
Into something scary and strange.
His canine teeth grew longer
And his body turned fiery red.
I quickly dressed and left that place
And stumbled back home to my bed.

He used his elocution
And handy circumlocution
Better than a Rosicrucian
Sentenced to an institution.
He could twist the moment
Out of a frenzied foment
Then to a crazy torment
With muted arcane comments.

You may see a vacant lot
Where a building has burned down
But I see a garden spot
With flowers growing all around.
And maybe a bench to sit
A take a while to appreciate
What can be done by people
With loving energy to dedicate.

You may see an empty field
Overrun by neglect and weeds.
But, I see a garden here,
And care is really all it needs.
Maybe some cutting back
And of course, a lot of water.
But time and compassion
Is what will ultimately matter.

Realtors may calculate
The money to make from this land
But, I see a garden
That needs some helping hands.
Maybe some cows can graze
Or a pretty little babbling brook.
A place of nature’s bounty
Like out of a wonderful storybook.

Do we need one more store,
Or one more fast food restaurant?
Maybe some serenity is
What people of the world really want.
Some may see a patch of dirt
And not much more than fallow earth.
As for me, I see a garden.
A bit of paradise right here on earth.

(This was written for and about Bette Midler.)

Why do I see angels
That no one else can see?
They look like people
Just like you and like me.
They are everywhere
I have ever chanced to go.
They work their magic secretly
So nobody else can know.

I see them helping people
With subtle acts of kindness
And don’t seem to suffer from
What is a common blindness.
They don’t look for rewards
Or the sound of public applause.
They share with generosity
And quietly work at their cause.

They don’t have wings
But they are angels nonetheless.
They fit the titled perfectly.
We really don’t have to guess.
I’m beginning to think
Maybe I should not even try
To figure this one out
For me to understand why.

Why do I see angels
That no one else can see?
They look like people
Just like you and like me.
They are everywhere
I have ever chanced to go.
They work their magic secretly
So nobody else can know.

I have a list of stuff
I want badly to fix
But I don’t really mean it.
I have in mind
A perfect world
I’ll know it when I’ve seen it.

It’s going to take
A while for me
To deal with all my issues.
It will be quite
A lot of work
And lots of boxes of tissues.

It’s rather like a
Treadmill thing
That only I can see.
It may not be
So visible but
It looks like work to me.

Sometimes I feel
Like Sisyfus
Pushing boulder up a hill.
It’s never ending
And each time
I think I’ve had my fill.

Then something comes
Along to show
The light shining up ahead
And I remember
Much of what
I’m fighting is in my head.

So, I complain
And ***** inside
But I should never doubt it
Because I know
I’m the only one
Who can do something about it.

I call all prevaricators liars.
They’ve set the world on fire
They’re walking on a wire
And I’m their jeremiah.
Our government is bad
The worst we’ve ever had
When it is fixed, we’ll all be glad.
And thus my jeremiad.

I shout my warnings aloud
Be not so blindly proud.
Our country lives under a cloud;
And we all wear a living shroud.
Snoozing through a pack of lies,
We should wake up if we’re wise
Look at what is before our eyes.
Heed what’s in the common cries.

Are we living behind barbed wire
Only seen by this jeremiah?
The time is now, the need is dire.
We’re threatened with a funeral pyre.
If freedom for all is a major threat,
We haven’t got democracy yet.
Rather than struggle under regret
WE fight a war, don’t forget.

I, the jeremiah, I make you uneasy.
I want the oppressors to be queasy
I want all of them to tease me
To change their ways to please me.
I won’t be polite, use kindly words
I gladly tweak the pompous overlords
I will continue to use my vocal chords
And call them out across the board.

It isn’t fair that you
Look as lovely as you do.
That you are so sweet too.
It’s isn’t fair that you don’t
Love me as much as I do you.

It would be fair if you
Fell in love so hard you
Don’t know what else to do.
Just love me until time is through;
Want nothing but me to love you.

It isn’t fair that we
Can’t be together every day,
That there isn’t time enough to say
All the loving things I want you to say;
Say you’ll love me every single day.

I am aware life isn’t fair
At least not every time I want it to be.
Life isn’t structured for you and me;
To be that perfect couple from history,
The one they write love songs about endlessly.

It isn’t fair that you
Look as lovely as you do.
That you are so sweet too.
It’s isn’t fair that you don’t
Love me as much as I do you.

I am the oldest kid so
Stop playing with that baby.
I want you to myself.
It’s all about me.

The other kids at school
A behaving so horribly
They don’t understand
It’s all about me.

I am so sorry you have
Fallen so hard for me.
But I have to be moving on.
It’s all about me.

I’m going to quit my job
Because it’s boring me.
So many creeps there.
It’s all about me.

I’m running for office
And it’s going swimmingly
After all, in this job
It’s all about me.

I don’t have to specify
Or make promises readily.
I just smile and tell lies.
It’s all about me.

My kids are obnoxious
They need attention constantly.
Don’t they understand?
It’s all about me.

My life would be better
If people behaved sensibly.
After all, the reality is
It’s all about me.
It’s all about me.
It’s all about me.

This time it’s me, leaving.
Not begging you to stay.
Not sitting alone, grieving.
This time, I’m the one
Who is going away.

I’m not fooling myself
That you even care.
We lost who we were
Along the way somewhere.
It used to be about love
Now it’s just paying rent.
I had a lot of love, but,
I don’t know where it went.

It’s an old love story
I never wanted it to end
But now it’s too hard
To continue to pretend.
I see in your eyes that
You don’t care anymore.
So what is this last bit
Of playacting even for?

This time it’s me, leaving.
Not begging you to stay.
Not sitting alone, grieving.
This time, I’m the one
Who is going away.
This time, I’m the one
Who is going away.

You speak, the lies begin
Your words all talk of violence
It’s tragic.
How else could we explain
The presence of
Such mortal pain?
It’s tragic.

You open mouth to talk
And we hear crap.
With every word you say
You need a slap.

Somebody needs to sue
A nasty bigot such as you
You fascist.
We’d feel much better when
You’re locked away
From decent men
You racist.

You break a good soul’s heart
With each foul name
You utter from your face
It’s very plain;
You are a blotch upon
The goodness of
The human race.
It’s tragic.
We hear too much of you
And every freedom
You run through,
It’s tragic.

How can you sleep at night
With all the horror
That comes from you?
That sad thing here to say
There is no better day
With you.

The itty bitty city kitty
She thought she was the best
She thought she was so witty;
Much better than the rest.

The itty bitty city kitty
Begged to be put to the test
That’s the reason for this ditty
She felt there was no contest.

The itty bitty kitty
Runs home to her nest.
She hates the nitty gritty;
Her voice loudly expressed.

The itty bitty kitty
Will always request
Travis Tritt and Conway Twitty
For her country music zest.

The little bitty kitty
In the cold she wears a vest.
She never learned to knitty
Though we’d have been impressed.

The itty bitty kitty
Takes scorn as just a jest.
She doesn’t need your pity.
She’s on a kitty quest.

The little bitty kitty
Likes her covers messed.
It kind of makes her giddy.
Likes her comfort best.

I used to believe in Santa Claus
So jolly and red and so fat.
I was a big fan of Christmas
No holiday was as great as that.
Not Easter with those funny eggs
Not even Halloween with candy.
No, that thing about tons of presents
To me, that was fine and dandy.

And we even got two weeks off
Nobody had to go to school.
Then coming back with new clothes
That made me look so cool.
Nothing compared to Santa Claus
The flying reindeer, ** ** guy.
I used to try to stay awake
So I could see him flying by.

It was such a great reality
To know that dude was up there
In the frozen north pole air
Making stuff for kids everywhere.
That was the world I reveled in,
Where everyone celebrated.
I knew I was not the only one
Who sat by the tree and waited.

I don’t remember being confused
By the Santas in department stores.
Santa had lots of helpers, I knew,
And this guy was just one more.
I did have a problem with chimneys
And a bag that he could lift
That carried things for all us kids;
Every size and type of gift.

But kids have a way of helping folks
To maintain a pretty fantasy.
We just ignored things that didn’t fit.
We went about it very easily.
But one day, and I remember when
I got let in on the confidence game
And Santa Claus was quickly gone,
Never to come to our house again.

The sad thing is nothing can ever
Replace the joy I once felt.
Santa was not supposed to be
Like Frosty and too quickly melt.
So, I have to make do with having
The grownup toys I buy myself.
Oh, how I could use a flying sled
And the help of a brace of elf.

I used to be lysexic
But I’m betting getter.
I sometimes get letters
All gangled up totether.
I often lose tontrol
Of the taction of my ung
I had this tind of krubble
Sever yince I was sung.

I backed things saidward
It muzz wore than embarrassing.
It got me picked lot upon
Subjected to hate grarrassing.
Sometimes wumbers nould
Lood just like wetters
Back when I was lysdexic
But I am betting getter.

Not just lysdexic am me
But I Spoonerise tum soo.
And unce that sets started
There is lo sittle I can do.
It get’s ard to understand me
And it isses some eeple poff
I really bish I could weegin
To **** to stalk like a toff.

I used to be lysexic
But I’m betting getter.
I sometimes get letters
All gangled up totether.
I often lose tontrol
Of the taction of my ung
I had this kind of rubble
Sever yince I was sung.

I’ve got a bone to pick with you, Jesus!
Why’d you let all those liars get elected?
Why do you let them collect their bribes
And cheat people they should’ve protected?

They’re poisoned by fame
And they’re invoking your name.
They’re robbing the poor.
What is all this praying for?

A lot of crazy people claim you, Jesus
When they scream out hate and bile.
Where are the thunderbolts and plagues?
We have needed them for quite awhile.

Do we need another major flood now
That wipes out Washington D. C.?
Maybe that might wake the Republicans?
Maybe not, We’d have to wait and see.

They’re poisoned by fame
And they’re invoking your name.
They’re robbing the poor.
What is all this praying for?

I hear you’re coming back someday
To teach the sinners why and how.
Is there any tiny possibility at all
That you could manage that about now?

There are people that loudly claim
You heal people just by their prayers.
Could you open up sone free clinics ?
We’ve got poor sick people to spare.

They’re poisoned by fame
And they’re invoking your name.
They’re robbing the poor.
What is all this praying for?

And could you repeat that stuff, Jesus
About the eye of a needle and the rich?
I think the RNC convention would be
A perfect place to publish that pitch.

Mainly, Jesus, there’s stuff going on
That seems to be horribly unholy.
So, it is about time you spoke right up.
I mean, gosh almighty and holy moley!

I survived K-12 schooling
I read and researched a lot
I went to political meetings
I investigated social ***.
I met with some politicians
And then sterilized my hands.
Anyone who has ever met them
Will instantly understand.

Then an idiot ran for office
And I told myself he wouldn’t win
And that was when I wanted
The Big Do-Over to begin.
Because that idiot was picked
To be the Mutton In Chief
When it was widely known
He was a serial adulterer, liar,
Cheater, embezzler and thief.

He immediately set about
Instilling high dollar nepotism
By using his offsprings as proxies
And promulgating social schism.
He thinks he is the role model
Everyone else should follow
When someone else talks like that,
He finds them hard to swallow.

All he really wants is worship
Because he thinks he’s a god.
He doesn’t recognize he is crazy,
He can’t see his behavior as odd.
He’s the modern-day Caligula,
But he won't accept that of course,
Even though he has appointed
Crooks that are the back of a horse.

So, let’s have a do-over now!
Let's put someone trained in place
Of an overdress orangutan
With an big fat orange face.
Let’s put someone in there
That is and intelligent  human.
Oh, I have an idea, everyone.
Let’s elect to the job a woman!

I want to write a poem
So others will hear
The music in here,
In my heart and soul
So it plays a strong role
Helps people reach a goal
In putting aside hate
Before it's too late
And we despoil the soil
And ruin our own world
So that boys and girls
No longer can play
But must scrabble away
Their childhood in clay,
Hands filthy in poverty.
Let that poet be me.

I want to write a poem
With words so ringingly clear
That anyone who hears
Knows that I hold dear
The idea of equallity
That all can exist happily
Loving one another
Like sisters and brothers
Living together fruitfully
Truthfully, dutifully,
Sharing their destiny
And a rewarding future
That has no measure
Beause it is pure pleasure
And because it is bountiful,
It is completely  beautiful.

I wish we had a president
That cared about the populace
Instead of one who's wants the law
To bankrupt almost all of us.
The one we have cares about
Only the super rich and the white.
He’s a ditzy mouthy narcissist
And  for sure that is not right!

It really wasn’t long ago
We went through this kind of fear
And now we are feeling sick
That terror is once again here.
This time we’re not afraid
Of people from another land.
Our country may be dying
But, again it’s by it’s own hand.

Part of it is stupidity and sloth
And part is just evil mindedness,
That either makes us look away
Or make others hate kindness.
Some of our parents trained us
To be big bullies and whiney brats.
And others ******* progress
By dissolving into brainless spats.

I wish we had a president
Like we have had in times gone by
Instead of one who is so happy
To pat his own back, cheat and lie.
It would give us all a chance
To avoid waging another war.
I wish we had a president
That knew what that job was for.

Jackals  and *******
Clowns and criminals;
Lies and libelous lambastes
With integrity minimal.
Grande Guignol politics
From pusillanimous politicians
Poisoning the populace
With only selfish ambitions.

Sleight of hand shysters
And self-appointed diplomats
Throw out all their morals
And set out the welcome mat
For those the most likely
To pay the highest bribe
And have no care if they sell
The land from under the tribe.

So what if water is poisoned?
As long as they make money.
After all, the rich aren’t harmed.
Now isn’t that incredibly funny?
Who cares about the future?
What matters is right now
And the profit they can make.
It is what the law will allow.

And those that wrote those laws
So cleverly and quietly confused
The very people stupid enough
To so gullibly to be thus used.
But jackals and *******
Really aren’t animals at all.
Nor are they household pets
Who come when they are called.

Jackie come sit with me
I have been waiting so long.
Come hold hands with me
Then I’ll know nothing is wrong.
I will try to do better this time.
Jackie please try not to be
Seethingly angry and snippy;
Completely ******* at me.

I know I should have thought
Before I laughed loud like I did.
Now I wish I had closed my mouth
And had gone someplace and hid.
But, can’t you see that sometimes
Not laughing is quite a hurdle?
Especially the way you look when
You wiggle into your old girdle.

I’ve told you many times before
I prefer your body without one.
But you insist on wearing the thing
And won’t quit until you are done.
So, that’s all fine and very good
If I am not in the room with you.
You insist on dressing in front of me
And you can’t claim you never knew.

Because I giggle and laugh at it
Every time because it is funny
And I can’t help myself, even though
I know your mood won’t be sunny.
Telling you I have never liked girdles
Or things like those awful ***** hose
Doesn’t seem to mean a thing to you
So, that’s just how it all goes.

Every time you put that thing on
And when I laugh you get mad.
And I am ashamed to admit it
But it’s the best time we ever had.
You wiggle and I giggle, and then
You finally get it on and glare at me.
It makes no sense that you insist
On forgetting our marital history.

Jammin’ with Mammon.
Hyped to the max.
Finding those loopholes
Paying no tax.
Slammin’ for Mammon.
Foreclosing on life.
You died too soon?
We’ll tax your wife.

Jammin’ with Mammon
The world by the tail.
Lie cheat and swindle
Don’t worry about bail.
Swimmin' like salmon
Against the stream.
Dealing from the bottom;
Living the dream.

Slammin’ for Mammon;
Trample the rest.
Get first and last from
The community chest.
No famine for Mammon;
Let the poor starve.
**** the fatted calf and
Get ready to carve.

Jammin’ with Mammon
As good as it gets.
No room for conscience
Or squishy regrets.
Slammin’ for Mammon
Means money is king.
Don’t count the victims,
Just get the brass ring.

We came to the concert and I saw you
From that moment there was nothing I could do.
At that same moment, you also saw me
And the changed my day, my life and history.

They played Jedarian and we both cheered
It had been our favorite for over a year
But we didn’t know it
Because we didn’t know us
But now we knew, because we were here.

It felt like magic because it never happened
Not in all the time of dating many strangers
But something told us to pay close attention
And, just this once, there was no danger.

We were watching our life change course
Something was happening that moved us.
Fate was being a perfect lady and for sure
She was with us and would never lose us.

They played Jedarian and we both cheered
It had been our favorite for over a year
But we didn’t know it
Because we didn’t know us
But now we knew, because we were here.

It had to be right that our song was played
The gentle music and the mellow words
Seemed to underscore the future of love
It played, we sang along and we both heard.

I never saw anyone in all my life and time
Who so perfectly made me smile and speak.
We started on our journey together then
And after years, we have not reached the peak.

They played Jedarian and we both cheered
It had been our favorite for over a year
But we didn’t know it
Because we didn’t know us
But now we knew, because we were here.

When I was just a little kid
I never liked a ****.
When I grew up it didn’t change
When I went to work.
I didn’t much like pranks and such
And  most practical jokes,
Whoopie cushions, pulled out chairs
And winking, leering blokes.

It was much more annoying to me
When the liars got to win.
It made me want to call them names
And kick them in the shin.
How anyone ever thought well of them
Made no sense to me.
They should have been taken to task
And called the enemy.

Schoolyard antics
Made me frantic
When they harassed the weak
The underweight, those in glasses
Those whose noses were tweaked.
Why didn’t their parents teach
These creeps to be more kind?
Or keep them home full time,
I’m sure nobody would mind.

Now I hate to watch the news
And see how many got elected.
If the average voter doesn’t know
At least they should have suspected
When billions of dollars disappear
And nobody is ever put in prison.
That means there are jerks out there
And that doesn’t take a lot of wisdom.

I sometimes wish Kafka was right
And the evil woke up differently.
Maybe they could be one foot tall
And not quite reach my knee.
Then we could see the crooks arrive
And lock them out of our conventions.
We’d just have to lglance to know
That they have dishonest intentions.

Schoolyard antics
Made me frantic
When they harassed the weak
The underweight, those in glasses
Those whose noses were tweaked.
Why didn’t their parents teach
These creeps to be more kind?
Or keep them home full time,
I’m sure nobody would mind.

JESUS IS A FRIENDLY GUY

Jesus is a friendly guy.
Such a very friendly guy.
Lived two thousand years
Didn’t care for queers
And he has a painful tale
That brings us all to tears.

Jesus is a loving guy
Doesn’t even have to try;
That’s why he was born
To have his body torn
So it’s not a total loss
We get colored eggs on Easter morn.

Jesus is a groovy dude.
Don’t let this song get misconstrued
He’s god and he is man
We do everything we can
To beat and **** the fools
With anti-Jesus attitude.

Jesus was Caucasian man.
He was so much better than
Any Jewish kind of guy
That’s the reason why
The televangelists and stuff
You buy from them began.

Jesus needs your money now.
So sell your tractor and your plow.
Your preacher’s gonna show you how
To fill the check out while you bow.
You go to heaven with no doubt.
Jesus needs your money now.

Brent Kincaid
11/27/2018

Ain’t no blacks going to heaven
And none of them Godless Jews.
Only real white folks are going.
Let me tell you the real news.
And them A-rabs, just forget it
That’s just not going to happen.
Shouldn’t line up on judgment day;
I’ll go down the line and slap ‘em.

It says right there in the Bible
How the good people are all white.
The rest are not really quite human
Heaven just ain’t for them, right?
You wouldn't you want your daughter
Or your son to breed with them?
You can tell just by looking
Intermarriage would be sin.

And we’re talking about looks
Sometimes that doesn’t work
Because some Godless whites are
some kind of non-Christian jerks.
And queers, let’s don’t forget them
With their disgusting abominable ways.
They will be left behind too
In those beautiful final days.

My Father is waiting in heaven
Where only the white and good go;
Gonna to be nobody but Christians
When Gabriel’s horn will blow.
Because My Father is God of Love
Of all creatures great and small
But he ain’t go no use for heathens
And no love for them at all.

And if some of you have children
That don’t get washed in the blood
Then all your praying and crying
Won’t do much of any good.
Sorry, but the rest of you lose
And it’s all quite out of my hands.
So, go ahead and pray to my Father
He’ll be sad, but he’ll understand.

Henny-yussly mischeevyuss
He orfed growshurries irregardless
Of the rawshussness and disgustment
Of the masonairy surrounding him.
We consistiountly tried to keep aholt
Of his mumbeulizing narrativation,
But he was dissensibly non-coherent
With a naturalistic talent to devaricate.

He was consistively disassembling,
Misindicating his intellectuality
And his irreality noissomely aloud.
Of his malapropicisms he was proud.
His crassy disaparagements reeked
And his ununderstandments peaked
They pointed out his misconstumblement
About his privates and the government.

His blabbermouthedness notoriastic
Rerendered him atombombastical.
His practicication of the irradical
Was mostly piraticalish; nastical.
His pernowncements so disapplaudable
Too bad his words were so megaudible
Unpossible, hyperdisgustisizing,
To the point of indisguising.

I guess I’m a different sort
A kind of jiggle-free ******;
When the fun turns to money
I always choose to go.
I have no beef with prostitutes,
Some are great at having fun.
It’s just when it comes to me
I’d rather see than be one.

I am usually flat broke
Not a dollar to my name.
It’s almost like saving up
Has never been my game.
I know I could maybe do well
By snuggling someone wealthy,
But I know people who did that
And it never worked out healthy.

I guess I’m a different sort
A kind of jiggle-free ******;
When the fun turns to money
I always choose to go.
I have no beef with prostitutes,
Some are great at having fun.
It’s just when it comes to me
I’d rather see than be one.

I’d much rather just play around
And see what happens then.
I don’t plan and I don’t demand,
I don’t insist we do it all again.
I might be gone when you wake
Off to have new adventures.
I don’t care if my wandering ways
Are looked upon with abject censure.

I say it up front, so no heartbreak,
I tell you please don’t to marry me.
I pay my own way and sleep where I wish.
I don’t need anyone to carry me.
If you see me down the road a ways
And I’m behaving some other way instead;
Not the jiggle-free ******, I am normally
Then bury me, it means I’m dead

I guess I’m a different sort
A kind of jiggle-free ******;
When the fun turns to money
I always choose to go.
I have no beef with prostitutes,
Some are great at having fun.
It’s just when it comes to me
I’d rather see than be one.

Brent Kincaid
4/28/2019

Jingle Hell, jingle Hell
What we have today
Is country few cam smile;
Goodwill has gone away.

The jingle comes from coins
Taken from the poor
Then to the coffers of the rich
Just like they did before

Education  isn't cool.
Being wise is not allowed.
Be smart today means you're a fool.
Never buck the crowd.

Jingle Hell, an ugly spell
As if we are bewitched
Rich men win, poor men lose
Our places never switch.

So few can celebrate
When Christmas time is here
Prices raised so very high
Than ever were last year.

But nobody that was rich
Will suffer much these days.
Don’t ask them how it’s done.
The rich folks have their ways.

Jingle Hell, Jingle Hell
What we have today
Is country few can smile;
Goodwill has gone away.

Jingle, jingle, Mr. Kringle
Please drop by my house.
Don’t miss it like you did last year
Don’t be that seasonal louse
That brought cheesy kinds of toys
From the local dollar store
We shopped there all the time
So we had seen them before.

I don’t want to sound ungrateful
But Action Tommy is not the same
As GI Joe. Between the two there’s
More difference than the name.
And Lego blocks fit together
To build some amazing things
Those copycat toys from Taiwan
Do not build much of anything.

Jingle, Jingle, Mr. Kringle
If you are real, please heed.
None of those toys and junk
Is really what we need.
It would be better if you could
Bring a job for my poor Dad.
Make it better than minimum, like
The one he most recently had.

And maybe a raise for Mom
Who works a full time job too.
Would a dollar an hour be such
An earth-shaking thing to see to?
So, just in general, Kringle dude,
If it wouldn’t make you awful mad
Could you twitch your nose and
Make this Christmas not be sad?

Ruby Jeffords was cutting a rug
To the music played by hubby Bub.
Four guitars and a moonshine jug,
Bass fiddle made from a wash tub.
And the music they play is not
Headed out for Carnegie Hall.
While it may not be sophisticated
Everyone is having a ball.

There’s two stepping and stomp
And a lot of big cowboy hats.
It’s a country and western romp
And it don’t get better than that.
The fiddle player is sawing
Like he’s cutting a cord of wood.
The onlookers are clapping hands.
They’d all join in if they could.

And the music they play is not
Headed out for Carnegie Hall.
While it may not be sophisticated
Everyone is having a ball.

The dance floor is so crowded
Some people just sit this one out.
But they add to the joy and spirit
Because they clap loud and shout.
They feel the music and tap toes
Falling into the music and beat.
Bub playing, and Ruby dancing
Everybody tapping their feet.

Ruby Jeffords was cutting a rug
To the music played by hubby Bub.
Four guitars and a moonshine jug,
Bass fiddle made from a wash tub.
And the music they play is not
Headed out for Carnegie Hall.
While it may not be sophisticated
Everyone is having a ball.

I was a certifiable ******
With the classic monkey
Riding squarely on my back
But I had no needle tracks.
I was almost undetectable
As my addiction was respectable.
No, I was not a rock musician.
I got my dope from my physician;
An almost never-ending source
Offered up with no remorse
I only had to mildly complain
That I was experiencing pain
And the cornucopia opened wide.
It held my immediate future inside.

I was off to party with friends
To the cabaret that never ends;
That free-wheeling waking dream
That made everything in life seem
As if nothing mattered that day
But that we should all stay and play.
And if something was getting tiring
It was time to retune the wiring
With a few more clever little pills
That cured all my temporary ills.

If I was exhausted or had an ache
It was time to take a little ****** break
Or, maybe not just that dosage alone.
Maybe better to take some Oxycodone.
Then, I can keep on night-club dancing
And backseat, hyper-speed romancing.
And later, needing sleep; a downer
Is good for an out-on-the-towner
Who has needed some rest for days
But the normal drugs and party ways
Wouldn’t quite let me get to sleep.
I felt that above all else, I had to keep
On doing what I was doing: having fun.
There was too much ******* to be done.

But every kind of candle has two ends.
There’s the one where the thing begins
And when I was trashing around a lot
Thinking of the other end was really not
The kind of thought-process I liked.
I wanted to do more of the kind that hiked
My awareness and my stamina to the max
And “injects my existence with what it lacks”.

While today I shudder to remember my words
At that time they were the best I’d heard
Since chocolate cake and butter cream icing.
None of that workaday stuff was to my liking.
It would be nearly twenty nearly deadly years
Before I found myself on a sidewalk in tears
Asking myself where things had gone wrong.
And while I am sure you are sick of this song
At the time it was a sad music to my ears.
Today, it’s the only music I want to hear.

I’m a junk sale ******
As a matter of fact.
It has to be addiction
Because that’s how I act.
I just can’t help myself
I buy what I see.
It’s almost like the stuff
Is calling to me.

I drive by a yard and see
A ringer washing machine
And say to myself
Wouldn’t that be keen?
I could do my washing
And ring it nearly dry.
So, I buy the thing and
Don’t ask me why.

I’m a junk sale ******
As a matter of fact.
It has to be addiction
Because that’s how I act.

I once found a deal
On a gerbil habitat.
I bought it and took it home.
That’s just where I’m at.
That I don’t have a gerbil
Is a minor detail.
I just can’t resist a good
Price in a sale.

I just can’t help myself
I buy what I see.
It’s almost like the stuff
Is calling to me.

People have told me
If I ever get a bride
She’ll be someone
I met on the roadside.
But I quickly add that I
Might be the worst
Because I would look
At the sale items first.

I’m a junk sale ******
As a matter of fact.
It has to be addiction
Because that’s how I act.
I just can’t help myself
I buy what I see.
It’s almost like the stuff
Is calling to me.

Justin Bieber is no big deal
I’m not even sure he is real.
He started out as pretty decent
Have you seen anything recent?
He looks like a kid who is trying
To join the gang but is only crying;
Sitting on the sidelines sniffling.
Dressed up in gang stuff and everything.

Poor baby Justin, as rich as a king
Isn’t quite satisfied owning everything
Has to cover up his body with tattoos
Like all the real-life gang members do.
Wears a hat too big for him all sideways
Plays in the sandbox where big kids play.
Wants to look all gangster and rough
But looking like a lesbian makes it tough.

Poor Baby Biebs with his millions of fans
Three pairs of underwear and baggy pants
Grinning like he’s bashful, we know he’s not.
Far too often he has proved himself a snot.
Some of us were worried when he was a kid.
We worried nobody was careful of what he did.
So Baby Justin Bieber is a bit of a wreck
Sort of like the words crawling up his neck.

Justin Bieber makes the young girls scream.
They don’t care he’s not the angel he seems.
If only he would misbehave with them, they think.
They’d let him act the fool, smoke and stink.
Because, after all, when you’re a teen-aged star
It doesn’t really matter just how fake you are.
The thing is be to be fashionable the youthful way
And let them get a glimpse of you every day.

Keep singing your song!
Some may not like it
But nobody else can do it.
You are the singer, sing!
Do it loud and proud,
Your own thing. Sing!

And if they sing along
Then you’re not doing
Anything wrong. It’s your song.
And they can go right along
Or find another tune to sing
One that brings them as much
As your song brings you.
They joy will shine right through.

The story is in the lyric
Sometimes it is mystic
But singing it out is cathartic
It lets the music out of you.
There’s nothing better to do
Than to hear your own music;
Know it’s fantastic
Realistic, authentic.

Then be brave enough to share,
Let your song out into the air.
Bounce your sound off walls
And if people hear you at all
Maybe they will want to do
Exactly the same as you, too,
And keep on singing their song.
How can that ever be wrong?
Keep on singing your song!

The kid in the background
The one who doesn’t smile
Who goes mostly unnoticed
And has for quite awhile.
The kid in the background
Who stands there all alone.
Is the child an orphan
The baby nobody owns?

The one who is forgotten
When family gathers.
Is this the only child
With no father or mother?
And what of the brothers
And sisters to this kid.
Why do they ignore him?
Is it something that he did?

The kid in the background
The last one to get picked
In a neighborhood game.
Is it some king of mean trick?
Are his glasses the problem
Or some condition of skin?
What can be the excuse
For the sad state he is in?

The kid plays by himself
It seems he has to pretend
That he is having fun alone
And that he has a friend.
Are these children like birds
That pick on an injured creature?
Where are the parents here,
The adults, the teachers?

The kid in the background
Might be the brightest one
But how will we ever know
If he shines brighter in the sun
Unless we ask the questions
Of what brings this all about
That children on the playground
Want to leave this kid out?

Ollyollyoxenfee
All those out can come in free
Many times I got defeated
Sometimes my brother cheated
But it was fun in the coming dark
Playing this game in the park
Better than cowboys and Indians.
We had no issues back then
The cowboys were the good
And the Indians never could
Be good guys, the heroes
Because we’d all seen the shows.

We played ball until evening
When the daylight was thinning.
It messed with our prowess
In the darkening hours
So, we played hide and seek
Like we did every week
And some of us got better
And some not quite ever.
Until our moms would decide
We should all quit and go inside.

These memories have celebrated
Time when life was uncomplicated
And having fun with our friends
Was the happy means to an end.
We didn’t need any electricity
For fun without any real enmity.
Wealth wasn’t the point in that
We just needed trees and a bat.
Then home to our supper glad
For the outrageous time we had
Being happy and having fun
Until the night had begun.

Where are those killing fields?
They are wherever we see
The Master Race ignoring
Peace, love and equality.

If you’re not white
And your state is red,
Don’t be surprised
If you end up dead.
As maybe some one
Will beat on your head
And demand to know
What goes on in your bed.

If you are any race
But Holy Caucasian
Like African or Inuit,
Mexican or Asian
That includes Islam
And all such nations
The bigots will hate
On every occasion.

Where are those killing fields?
They are wherever we see
The Master Race ignoring
Peace, love and equality.

In World War Two we
Fought against fascism
And now we entertain
An unholy American schism
In which Americans plan
With gleeful fanaticism
To make every effort
To maintain totalitarianism.
For over two centuries
We have sung of equality
And the inalienable rights
Of American humanity.
We continue to fight now
But it has become a calamity
Because now we are fighting
Within each of our families.

Where are those killing fields?
They are wherever we see
The Master Race ignoring
Peace, love and equality.