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Brent Kincaid Apr 2015
Dad and Mom were supposed
To protect me from monsters
Hiding under my bed, and
Of course many, many others.
It is so much scarier now that
I don’t know who to trust
I thought it had to be you two.
As parents are surely just.
But, it isn’t true, I know
As my parents don’t care.
They burn me with cigarettes
And lift me by my hair.

I am scared about tomorrow
Based upon my today.
If I think I am safe for a moment
It is sure to go away.
There is nobody to protect me
From those who mean me harm.
There is no place I can trust
There is no place safe and warm.

And late at night when sleeping
And one of them comes in.
They have a frightened animal
In a tiny, unsafe pen.
One of you hits me, I am a temptation.
The other touches me privately.
It’s an unwelcome sensation.
But I am too young to tell you
That you should go away.
It’s enough to ruin my sleep
And fear the end of day.

I am scared about tomorrow
Based upon my today.
If I think I am safe for a moment
It is sure to go away.
There is nobody to protect me
From those who mean me harm.
There is no place I can trust
There is no place safe and warm.

Brent Kincaid
4/18/2015
Brent Kincaid Apr 2015
She sits on the courthouse steps
Playing songs she herself wrote
Every word she sings she means
Her heart there in every note.
She sings of the pain she sees
In the world that passes by.
She sings to you and to me
Her music makes you cry.

(She sings)
We who have so much
Give little to the others.
We let our children starve
And do not help the mothers
And the fathers who work
To make their daily bread
While rich people won’t help
Keep a house over their heads.

She manages to choose chords
That sing of lonely suffering.
Her angelic voice softens up
The accusations she’s uttering.
She tells of squandered glory
In the wasting of our lives
While the overfed rich people
Go home to their gilded wives.

(She sings)
We who have so much
Give little to the others.
We let our children starve
And do not help the mothers
And the fathers who work
To make their daily bread
While rich people won’t help
Keep a house over their heads.

Few listen to the troubadour
Who tells us all our name.
They may drop in a penny
To soften up their shame.
But every day they pass her
And soon they do not hear
The wisdom in her lyrics.
They do not feel the fear.

(She sings)
We who have so much
Give little to the others.
We let our children starve
And do not help the mothers
And the fathers who work
To make their daily bread
While rich people won’t help
Keep a house over their heads.

Brent Kincaid
4/18/2015
Brent Kincaid Apr 2015
There are grassy meadows
And quiet mountain streams
Enough to soothe you
And stimulate your dreams.
There are blue-sky days
With great clouds in the skies
To convince you that dreams
Can come true before your eyes.

The sailing ships and Pegasus
Careen across the open sky.
You can see them, just lie back
Let them parade before your eyes.
Look and see the waterfalls
And mountain tops rising high.
Let your imagination take you up
To that dream show in the sky.

If you listen closely enough
You can hear lovely songs
Played by celestial bands.
Don’t give up, it won’t take long.
Let your soul join in too
And set your mind adrift
In those cloudy canyons
And fluffy white daydream cliffs.

Brent Kincaid
4/17/2015
Brent Kincaid Apr 2015
The air at day’s end
Seems to gently settle
Here on us for our
Cozy evening cuddle.
I greedily revel in this,
What nobody else can see
Our bodies together here,
You this close to me.

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

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

Brent Kincaid
4/12/2015
Brent Kincaid Apr 2015
When I say I’m a nudist
I am told I’m disgusting
But then, I keep forgetting
It’s that “people don’t ****” thing.
And people don’t ****
And nobody ever craps.
They just keep their napkin
Tucked safely in their laps.
They don’t belch, not ever,
And nobody picks their nose.
It’s the way of polite folks
And that’s just how it goes.

Well, let me remind you
Where you were born,
And where you came out of,
And that you were shorn
Of any kind of clothing
Both mother and the child.
You were born like the animals
Both domestic and wild.

You are naked one assumes
When you shower your body
So, please quit acting like
****** is something shoddy.
Your parent put such madness
Inside of your innocent head;
Things like getting re-dressed
Each night when you go to bed.

The insanity of Europeans
Who came to American soil
And wore LAYERS of clothing
In the heat while they toiled.
Then they went to other lands
And warped the people there
With the strange brand of madness
They had been taught to share.

They were taught to be ashamed
Of what god had given them;
That their private parts were evil
And turned you into a golem.
And when asked for a reason
For this weird kind of crazy
They started talking about god
When their logic got all hazy.

So you “people don’t ****” folks
Can just kiss my naked ***.
That thinking might work for you
But for me it won’t pass
For anything but brainwash
And the programming of the sick.
So wake the hell up, the rest of you
And get on the natural stick.

If I want to be naked all day
And you want to wear clothing
That should be each of our choice;
A personal ‘go or don’t go’ thing.
I mean, for a perfect example here
Think of laundry bill savings
So, you can just stop harassing
And gnashing and raving.

Brent Kincaid
4/12/2015
Brent Kincaid Apr 2015
Demon of complacency
Yours is the face I see
I never wanted to look back
I knew my life was on the track.
For far too long I had thought
I had the whole world caught.
I should have been afraid
Thinking that I had it made.

Excuses and ruses, I had them
Emotional accounts, I padded them.
I ignored all my past mistakes.
I figured they were just the breaks.
And now it is my time to shine.
I knew for sure I would be fine.
I could go back to my bad ways
I would have nothing but sunny days.

The bad things that happened to me
All came about quite accidentally.
I am so much older and smarter.
I know so many tricks of the trade.
I have this race made in the shade.
Crashing and burning a non-starter.
I could whip any monsters in the room.
I was sweeping with a brand new broom.

Demon of complacency
Yours is the face I see
I never wanted to look back
I knew my life was on the track.
For far too long I had thought
I had the whole world caught.
I should have been afraid
Thinking that I had it made.

I was sure I could run around
With the gang I had always found
The drinkers and smokers of ****
I have all the protection I need.
There is no reason for me to be
Locked up in a kind of high security.
I can take a drink or a tiny hit
Now that I know when to quit.

I miss my friends and fun and dancing.
Besides you need it when romancing.
I would be some kind of wimpy pain
If I didn’t offer a bit of champagne.
So, I know I can make it. I’m strong.
If someone is worried, they’re wrong.
A person can drink a few times a week.
I’ve outgrown all the worry, so to speak.

Demon of complacency
Yours is the face I see
I never wanted to look back
I knew my life was on the track.
For far too long I had thought
I had the whole world caught.
I should have been afraid
Thinking that I had it made.

Brent Kincaid
4/11/2015
Brent Kincaid Apr 2015
I am the person I recall.
I am sure of each memory
As thought-pictures fall
Inside the books of history
I keep inside my mind.
I gladly water the gardens
Of nostalgia I always find
When I think back to then.

These are beautiful blossoms
Of who and where I was
And most are wholesome
And are there for a cause.
They exist because I chose
To take a path I once saw
That brought something close;
I chose gee instead of haw.
And some beautiful person
I might never have met
Stood there in the distance
And I never would forget.

I am a middle class guy
From the vast middle west
Who never dared to try
To find out what was best
For me, and only me.
Who never knew the answer
Of how I could be free
Afraid to just go and wander.
So afraid, I would not wonder
Or hope or make plans
I was letting my life splatter
Out of my open hands.

Then a change came over me
In an ugly, icy winter storm.
“I could move myself westerly
And live where it is warm.”
So, I packed up my boyfriend
And my late model used car
And moved to the land’s end
Out with the television stars.
I got us a small bungalow
And started on a new way
To live and let my past go
And live from day to day.

I can’t say I got good very soon
At doing what I wanted to do.
Being brainwashed by goons
Can make lies of what is true.
And if the goons are parents
Who hate the person you are
Taking control of resentments
Is not like just starting a car.
I had to learn to like just me
And to turn my face away
From the catcalls and misery
That comprised my earlier days.

The boyfriend left and more
Came and went as he did.
So many I could not keep score.
I am sure some went and hid.
I was not much fun back then;
Greedy and needy and weak.
And, few wanted to brave the tide
And let their feelings speak
To tell me what a train-wreck
I had turned out to be.
Most just disappeared along my trek.
Yet, a few said words to aid
And I heard them through the noise
Of negative conditioning laid
On the heads of hated young boys.

Then I changed, having done
With banging my head against fact.
I began to see I was the one
To decide how I would act.
I learned to check with no one
To see what I would prefer.
I spent my time just having fun
And let circumstances occur.
I began to look around me
And notice the people who
Matched the words they said to me
And that their words rang true.

I learned some people walked
Exactly as they wanted to
And it was the way they talked.
And then, I suddenly knew.
I could just pass on by
The people that didn’t know how
And I didn’t have to explain why.
I can live in the here and now.

Brent Kincaid
4/9/2015
Brent Kincaid Apr 2015
Life was an upward battle
Of intense personal frustration,
As we were treated like cattle
With unabashed discrimination.
And those of us who existed
Without rights or respect
We had a stronger hope
Than we had reason to expect.

When some of us reminded
Jesus said love your brother
They made up ***** jokes
Used ugly names of our mothers.
Some invented a phrase to use
That said God Hates *******.
They seemed to imply that God
Treated some children like maggots.

Rights were something given
At birth to regular human beings
To other people who were living
But justice we were not seeing
Because justice was not for us
It was for heterosexual whites.
The rest of us had few rights.

True, it was not legal to **** us
But in court things went elsewise.
Police and judges carried on
And covered their acts with lies.
With them bad could be good.
They behaved themselves oddly
Jailing and imprisoning us
Claiming it was all very godly.

And, today, with communication
Such an instantaneous entity
Things have gotten a bit better.
We’re still surrounded by enemy
That quotes a bible they don’t read
And block those any attempt to heal
Wanting instead to make hatred
And legal discrimination real.

Brent Kincaid
4/7/2015
Brent Kincaid Apr 2015
If I were pink
What would you think?
If I were blue
Would you be too?
If I were green
Would you be mean?
If I were yellow
Would we still be mellow?
If I were black
Would you attack?
If I were brown
Would you turn me down?
If I were beige
Would we still engage?
If I were heliotrope
Could we go elope?
If I were vermillion
Could we go to a cotillion?
If I were maroon
Would you buy me macaroons?
If I were aubergine
Could we go to Dairy Queen?
And if I were cerise
Would your affection cease?

Brent Kincaid
4/7/2015
Brent Kincaid Apr 2015
AWESOME

Excited about our vacation
We knew it was going to cost some
But since it was to Hawaii
We were sure it would be awesome.

We went whale watching
And guess what, we saw some.
They were leaping up high
Out of the water, it was awesome.

The captain shared his tobacco.
I had always wanted to chaw some.
I hated the taste, but he didn’t.
He really believed it was awesome.

We went through a garden
And looked at each blossom.
They were beautiful to see
The colors were pretty awesome.

And the hospitality staff too,
We didn’t even have to boss ‘em.
They anticipated our wishes
They were all totally awesome.

We ended the trip with snacks
And we couldn’t wait to go nosh ‘em.
They call snacks pupus in Hawaii.
What can I say? Sort of awesome!

Brent Kincaid
4/6/2015
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