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Brent Kincaid Nov 2015
Trust me when I say it
There’s no other way to play it
You’re a purentee bigot
There’s no other place to lay it
You might as well admit it.
It’s your shoe and you fit it.
I believe in the point and hit it.
You are a **** ******* bigot.
Now this won’t hurt much, did it?

It was your own tongue and you bit it;
Showed the world and all in it
That you are nearly an idiot
And a race-bating creep along with it.
So, instead of swallowing, you spit it.
You are a callow and traitorous bigot
Who would deny to others in a minute
The rights of citizenship along with it.
The Liberty Bell? You’ll pit it
With the sticks and stones. You did it
Every time you parrot a Fox News tidbit
As there are little but lies within it.
So, there is the door, why not hit it?
Because your illness? No one can mend it.
It’s a blow to your brain, and within it
The lack of anything more than a divot
Where your compassion should be if it
Had even the tiniest solid rivet.
Instead you are a peanut butter widget,
Not much more than stuff found in a privet.
And not much smarter than a piglet.
Brent Kincaid Nov 2015
He wants to run down hills
But his legs won’t cooperate.
He wants to go all night dancing
But 10p.m. is way too late.
He wants to go to Bar-B-Q parties
And eat until he wants to pop
But after a plate of that food
He know he had better stop.

He wants to read a book a day
By a great American author
But he knows after an hour
He’ll be asleep, so why bother?
He wants to go out drinking beer
On Saturday with his buddies
But that was way back before
He turned into a fuddy-duddy.

He used to be able to tell jokes
And leave the guys in stitches.
Now the only stitches he deals with
Are those letting out house britches.
He used to comb his thick burly hair
Into some becoming hairstyles
And now to beat it into some shape
Always takes quite a little while.

He remembers being able to sleep
All the entire night through.
Now, that is simply not what
His old body is going to do.
He’s going to get up at least twice
If he have a drink after three p.m.
Otherwise, it’s off to the john.
He accept this, says, “It’s who I am.”

He has to remind himself a lot
That he’s been around a while
And should be greatly thankful
That he can be this old and smile.
So he doesn’t ***** all that much
That he is no longer all that hot.
He doesn’t count what he no longer has
He celebrates what he’s still got.
Brent Kincaid Nov 2015
Silly words like daughter and laughter.
Why isn’t dotter and lafter?
Both, moth and mother are confusing.
It all depends on the way you are using
Those mad silly words in our tongue
More bizarre than between and among.
And, of course there are the oughts
And ought nots of enough and thought.
Shouldn’t one sound per word be
Far less typographical insanity?
I mean someone wound a bandage
Around a wound on an appendage.

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

Lately we changed things like light and nite
But, not white, night, knight or blight.
We changed you to one letter, a simple ‘u’.
Now, tell me please, was that so hard to dew?
Oh, wait. I mean due. No, I meant do all along.
The way English is, it’s not hard to do it wrong.
Is it its or is it it’s? It’s dependent upon.
What kind of sentence you have going on.
For example if you have an itch on your ****
It’s on your ****, but I’ tell you what.
It’s itch is its own, and needs no apostrophe.
Just one more view how silly things can be.
So, until later, when things get better
We had better do it rite to the letter.
Oh, wait, that’s wright. No write, no right.
See, I got it rite before the end of the nite.
Brent Kincaid Nov 2015
The time has now arrived
To put your name in.
Even though some people hate
The day you came in.
You might be qualified or
Just an imitation
I really doesn’t end up so
Important to the nation.

That is the dance
If it seems crude
It’s not of love
But someone always get *******.

What matters is the way you smile
With cameras flashing.
Not whether candidates against you
Have their teeth a’gnashing.
You’ll all engage in nasty gaming
Full of lots of unattractive bashing.
And the result will surely be as always
The truth will suffer quite a trashing.

That is the dance
If it seems rude
You pray it’s not
You that ends up getting *******.

You hope nobody sees the data,
That linger in your background.
Or the future embarrassing stories
The press can ever track down.
You do your best to hide the worst
Of your former glitches.
The gorgeous dolls you saw sometimes
Without their britches.

That is the dance
If you don’t lose,
Everyone else
Will sing the blues. Not you.

Maybe no one will bring to question where
You got the campaign funds to run.
It often comes up as an important issue
And quite often this part is no fun.
Then you end up dancing so much faster
Than back when this tango was begun.
You hope your charm, your wit and money
And your powerful connections
Because you know none of that will matter
One day after the election.
Brent Kincaid Nov 2015
When the world glistens with rain
There is beautiful color in the skies.
You don’t need some technology.
You only need to open your eyes.

Your eyes fill with color
That’s the way it goes;
When it rains don’t cry,
Just look for the rainbows.

The landscape alone is great
The sun shining after a rain.
The rainbow throughout history
Means good times come again.

Sometimes a rainbow
Is not easily found.
But you never will find one
With your eyes to the ground.

When the passersby are grumpy
And just maybe you are too.
It can cheer things up a bit
Adding color to skies of blue.

Your eyes fill with color
That’s the way it goes;
When it rains don’t cry,
Just look for the rainbows.

Sometimes a rainbow
Is not easily found.
But you never will find one
With your eyes to the ground.
Brent Kincaid Nov 2015
The invasion of other countries
Has to come to a full stop.
You’re making us the Evil Empire
By playing at being traffic cop.
We are stuck in a sick cycle
Of meddling in the internal affairs
And financing revolutions and wars
In countries where nobody asked us there.

You’re evil
And even more so;
Pure evil
Because you don’t think so.
At least that’s what you claim
But you’re as phony as your fame.

You tell the voters one set of lies
And secretly agree on others.
Your backroom manipulations
Kills our sisters and brothers
While hiding behind patriotism
The overseas battles of duplicity
Are not about threats to us here,
But are about oil and ethnicity.

You’re evil
And even more so;
Pure evil
Because you don’t think so.
At least that’s what you claim
But you’re as phony as your fame.

You take advantage of the state
Of poverty out nation is suffering
That you politicians caused
By removing our safeguard buffering.
You are doing your best to remove
All the national checks and balances
So you can ***** our world at large
That has no recourse for grievances.

You’re evil
And even more so;
Pure evil
Because you don’t think so.
At least that’s what you claim
But you’re as phony as your fame.
Brent Kincaid Nov 2015
Touch me
Like you can’t hardly stand it,
Like you really truly mean it,
Like you can’t control your hand, it
Just wants to reach out for me
And caress me so tenderly
Just to let me know
You love me so.

Touch me
And let me know your feeling
That I’m more than just appealing
That I set your senses reeling
And nothing is going right
If you’re not with me tonight.
I will understand
From the touch of your hand.

Touch me
The most gentle of caresses
Like smothering with kisses.
A magic moment like this is
What life is all about
So, let’s not leave it out.
Don’t let it pass us by
It’s easy if you try.

Touch me
Now nothing else will do
To make one out of us two.
That’s why I’m asking you
It’s the greatest thing you can do
Pull me close to you.
Hold me and kiss me
But, baby, just touch me.
Brent Kincaid Nov 2015
Don’t touch me.
I don’t know you,
A stranger to me,
I don’t allow you.
You smiled at me
From across the place.
In this noisy nightclub
You’re just a face.

You might be a cook
Or maybe a movie star.
I don’t know you at all.
I don’t know who you are.
You don’t have permission
To put your hands on me
And treat me like someone
Who is desperate and ******.

I totally understand
The way things are today.
After all I’m in this bar;
It’s like I seem to say
I’m one of those types
You take home for some fun.
That might be what you think
But I am simply not that one.

You see, all I can go on
Is a matter of your looks
And I am not a psychic
To tell angels from crooks.
So, thank you for your offer,
But I am going to pass.
I turned you down even though
You patted me on my ***.

I won’t woke up tomorrow
Full of sorrow and regret.
I won’t be the conquest
You will quickly forget.
I’ll be the one who has
Taken the time to say
I understand your game
But, I don’t want to play.
Brent Kincaid Nov 2015
I’ve dreamed I was falling asleep
And shaking myself to keep awake.
There’s only so much weirdness
And crap a poor dreamer can take.
It was all involved with friends you see
That I don’t see now, because they
Were stranger than my dreams
Or maybe I was. Back in the day.

I would be partying with them
And walking remembered streets
But I’d look around and everybody
Found other people to go meet.
Then suddenly the Hollywood
I knew and loved for twenty years
Became Kansas City boulevards
And Hollywood totally disappears.

Or maybe I’m coming home
At the end of a tiring long day
And look around, find myself
Saying, no way. No effing way;
This is not my apartment!
It’s fine, I kind of like the place
But someone is pulling a joke
The housekeeping is a disgrace.

Then someone would come in
Who I was supposed to know
And this chick is my roommate?
Oh, no. This woman has got to go.
But before I can get my head
Wrapped around standing up
My family is there too, cooking
Handing me a steaming hot cup.

Well,, now I can’t offend them
So, I sit my *** back down.
I don’t want to seem ungrateful
Like some unfunny kind of clown.
******, I leave to go for a walk
Thinking I am in Tucson but then
This is the Country Club Plaza
And I’m back in Kansas City again.

One time I was building something,
Under an expensive sort of contract
But none of the sub-contractors
Or the assistants knew how to act.
They were putting the thing together
Like a Rube Goldberg machine.
I was going ballistic on them all;
The ugliest thing I had ever seen.

These are the dreamworlds for me
On a regular, but often bizarre basis.
Streets change while walking
And people I know change their faces.
Or I am tasked to do something
Involving technology or looming mass
I end up getting no help at all
And wind up falling right on my ***.
Brent Kincaid Nov 2015
Those important moments
When you look into the eyes
Of that one hot person
Who is just passing by
Are usually what it takes
To make magic occur.
So take those moments
To look at him or her.

Lock your eyes on them
And don’t let the look go.
Or else the moment passes
And you may never know
How hot they think you are
And what is in store
So, don’t get bashful.
Hang in a moment more.

And don’t forget the secret
That is an open happy smile.
It usually wins them over
It just takes a little while
Because all of us look better
And sexier when we grin.
So open up, let the smile
And the eye-locks begin.

In the end there is little
That is more truly appealing
Than giving the other person
The convincing feeling
That you really do like them
And think they are hot.
If you don’t make it obvious
They might think you do not.
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