THE GARDEN OF ACCEPTANCE

Shadows are my friends these days.
Nobody can see me crying in the dark.
While the others lie around in the sun
I seek out somber arbors in the park.
The muted light of leaves and limbs
Caress the aches within my heart
And whisper to me to just relax
And let the healing grieving start.

Sometimes I hear some music there
Playing so softly in my inner soul.
I hope to find the inner strength
To think I might someday be whole
Instead of this half a person here
Who doesn’t even notice a sunrise
That spends its multicolor glory
Like a painted cathedral for my eyes.

If people pass and I notice them
They don’t serve to make me sad
Seeing them so happy together
Being contented or even a bit glad,
Because I am here in this serenity
I include them in my private reverie.
The message that life goes on does
Brings restful meditation to me.

But, mostly it’s the natural things;
The birds and the variegated leaves,
The flowers, and cool green lawns
That soothe, and comfort and please.
They slowly help me to realize
That the world in not all about me.
We have to let our sadness fall behind
To truly understand how to be free.

Brent Kincaid
4/3/2015

PERFECT WIFE

A perfect little wife
A perfect loving life
He slaps me in the face
I don’t feel disgrace.
As long as he comes home
And doesn’t choose to roam
Then I will toe the line
And all will be just fine.

I’m not the perfect wife
I can get out of hand
He’s the love of my life
You have to understand.
We have so much invested
In our life together.
He’s so very special
I’ll never find another.

It’s not his fault
What is going on.
It’s not his fault
I egged him on.
It’s not his fault
I burned his dinner.
It’s not his fault
I should have known better.

A perfect little wife
A perfect loving life
He slaps me in the face
I don’t feel disgrace.
As long as he comes home
And doesn’t choose to roam
Then I will toe the line
And all will be just fine.

When he’s sweet
He’s the love of my life.
He’s the perfect husband
For such a ******* up wife
When he’s angry
He’s not the same.
It’s all my fault;
He’s not to blame.

A perfect little wife
A perfect loving life
He slaps me in the face
I don’t feel disgrace.
As long as he comes home
And doesn’t choose to roam
Then I will toe the line
And all will be just fine.

Brent Kincaid
4/1/2015

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