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Aa Harvey May 2018
Good woman


Looking for a good woman;
Been looking for her my whole life through.
Searching for some good lovin’;
This is my search and it leaves me feeling so blue.


Tryin’ to find her, looking everywhere I go.
I’m just looking for a good woman.
Won’t you give me directions to her, if you know?
I’m just looking at the women as they all pass on by.
Waiting on a good woman.
I’ve been waiting my whole life.


I’ve met the most beautiful roses,
And they all wilted away.
I’ve seen the brightest moonbeams,
And they all faded with the passing days.
I’ve woken up next to Goddesses,
And I’ve slept next to ugly hearts.
I’ve wasted too much time on empty dresses.
I’ve broken pieces of me that can’t be cured with stars.


I’m singing songs of lovin’,
But I’m lonely as a bee.
I’m writing poems about love,
But love is a thing I ain’t ever seen.
I’ve seen a thousand imitators,
And I’ve wined and dined a million fakes.
I’ve listened to other people’s stories;
All the lovers and all those I hate.
I could never believe their souls were good for me,
Because all I have ever known is misery.


Still time to find a good woman, they say.
I’ve still got time on my hands, so I pray.
I’ve been sitting on my hands forever.
I hope opposites truly do attract,
Because I am such a stupid man,
And I am still left here waiting for my love-life to get better.


(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Brent Kincaid Feb 2018
Hinky Jinky, Stinky Pinky
The One Percent will play.
Squirrely Shirley Hurly Burly
In the full light of day.
Hop them, bop them;
You can’t stop them.
They’re never going away.
Crying, trying, always lying,
They count on your ignorance.
Hinky Jinky, Stinky Pinky
Wham bam, thank you man.
Daffy, laffy, slappy happy.
What’s the hap? What’s the plan?

Cooked books, buncha crooks.
Loosie, goosey, where’s the noosey?
Flakey, fakey, jump in the lakey.
Take and take, oil of snake,
How much of this can good people take?
Scream and shout, let it all out
Stick it, we’ll show up and picket
You’ll try to trick it, we’ll buy you a ticket
On a rail, feathered, or off to jail.
Subliminal criminals, sentences too minimal
We’ll feel best if you and the rest must
Sell your houses and cars from behind bars.
Lyn Camm Oct 2017
Yes, please show me your fine example of superiority after neglecting information previously shared with you.

Turning my day off into a day of home repairs.

Oh, Thank You! You're right I should feel just fine with your display of disrespect, casually ruining a surprise it took years to make.

It's hard to "Miss" something I had told your better half about just an hour ago.

Agreed.
We should meet up, I would love to hear those articulated excuses you've spent days perfecting without the acceptance of any blame.

You can just pin that on my so called poor communication.
I'm done taking in all your bull S**T!
Knights Jan 2017
Give and get
Forgive and forget
Whispers just another tale
Or is it just another lie
Everything that is told
In a single try
Is spoken wrong
Nothing
Becomes everything
And everything
Is later gone

Whispers these words
And does not forget
Everyone's a hypocrite
And yet
We're all just simply
Trying to make it
Brent Kincaid Jan 2017
Our God is really excellent
At death and genocide.
How we love to celebrate
How many folks have died.
We always feel better about life
And the wonderful heavenly joy
When we’ve murdered some foreigner's wife.
Or when we put to death girls and boys.

It is so commendable of humans
To execute those who are different
Or if they commit the cardinal sin
Of being some kind of sick dissident
Who refuses to do what we want
Like maybe lying down and acquiescing
Or refusing to shut up and play along with
Our political posturing and window dressing.

And is is all sacred and very holy;
Every bit of it is hidden by claims
That all genocide and bigotry
Is committed in our God’s name,
Unless the genocide and prejudice
Is directed anywhere near us.
The we whip out our Bibles and cry
And make a self-righteous fuss.

The Golden Rule applies to all
Except heathens and non-Caucasians.
And then it’s a noose, SWAT team or
At least an *** for every occasion.
Because killing people is terrible;
It is simply not the proper way
To deal with all of life’s issues,
Unless we want to, then it’s okay.

And all of it is by The Good Book
If the right verses are selected.
The American Bible is written to insure
The right people are not neglected.
And everyone should worship
And join the Living God’s legions
And be exactly like he lived life:
A blond-haired, blue eyed Norwegian.
Brent Kincaid Nov 2016
I gag when those who treat our flag
As nothing more than a rag and tag
Along with the Klanners waving banners
From the war against our country;
Their bad manners somehow a badge
They hold up as a symbolic gesture
As they put equality out to pasture
So they can separate, segregate,
Discriminate, and call for assassination
The leaders of our nation that disagree
Like you and me, if we dare object.

It is them I reject, deflect and yes, object
To in the loudest, most heated terms.
They are  germs that sicken us all
And drive us toward a fall, thinking
That they can rebuild the land
So they have the upper hand
And the rest of us can just whistle
If we think this will never come true.
It is so most dangerous for me and you
If they get their way so you can’t say
The slightest word against them.

This is the gem they want for their crown;
To put anyone down who says otherwise
And to freely point to the other guys
And order their destruction and deaths
With what they believe are sainted breaths
But are really exhalations and perorations
Of the devil on earth here to challenge your birth
If you don’t fit their template of acceptability
And deny their culpability in the holocaust
Their evil machinations will ultimately cost.
I had received dozens of rejection letters most I can imagine the reactions these ******* yuppie ******* reading were thinking while saying to themselves .
Jesus ******* Christ I'm glad this guy doesn't live near by.

They hated writers yet they made there living off them .
Much like teachers except with a far better income and much better high dollar vices .

I worked my *** off they sat on there's and decided what was in .
I still read them trying to maintain my buzz and not slip into a coma
from the ******* they deemed worthy.

I was on my second drink when the I read the words yet still like seeing a car accident in front of your very own eyes I could not believe what the **** I was reading .

It wasn't so much the article it was who was in it.
I had been writing long enough to learn one thing try your best to avoid
other so called writers .

And there he was  quoted with a fake ******* age was a ******* who was neither a writer or in my thoughts anything more than a pile of dog **** by the highway .

I don't need to mention his name hell being mentioned in any forum was more ego stroking than the ******* deserved.
But it was then I truly knew the New Yorker had went from high class rag to street level ***** selling her *** to anyone with the change .

Old ******* was there about twelve years younger and in his full out of his gourd glory.
I can imagine the interview one soulless **** stain talking to another .
Speaking on something he could not even do himself .
******* write!

I was a drunk a ******* who ran his mouth and dared anyone to try to shut it.
I was a lot of things but no matter how others viewed me I was always
a writer .

I lived it, Breathed it  paid my dues fifteen times over .
Yeah it bit my *** to see a overrated wind bag featured in a rag truly great writers had struggled  to be published in.

It showed you the great decline the social media madness great writing was no longer a requirement skill wasn't needed either .
It was all superficial ******* smoke and mirrors and a nice *** .

I took another drink picked up the revolver stuck it to my head
pulled the trigger .
Nothing this time!
Looks like id live another day.

I'd love to sit at table over a few drinks play a relaxing game of Russian roulette with the ******* I'm writing about.
I wonder would he speak so boldly in front of another man
or simply **** his pants and cry like a modern  overrated
so called artist.

Yeah I was passionate with my hate .
I was anything but a modern writer and anyone sitting across
from me better dam sure know I didn't play games .

Well least not any that were safe .

I stopped reading the article when a friend called .
Hey you read that article on you know who?
Yeah I replied just finished it.

What did you think?
Well least when you run out of toilet paper you got something to wide your *** with .

My friend laughed .
You know your not right they said still laughing.
Yeah I said looking at the gun still on the table.

You truly don't have a clue.
Brent Kincaid Sep 2016
It's the path to righteousness
Put a five dollar bill in the plate
Then be as iniquitous as you like
And your life will turn out great.
Put in a buck or two, maybe more
It's a method known since 1147
In an urchin's hand and you score.
Anyone can buy their way into heaven.

It's the fake as hell, flaky as well
Bend and stretch Holiness Twist.
Do what you like, namecall a ****
Cleanse with a twist of your wrist.
Donate a dime, go commit a crime
To church Sunday, be Jesus kissed
Suddenly resurrected, sins deflected
You're an ace at the Holiness Twist.

Appearances are most important
In the big holiness game of life.
You have to have the big house
The big car and flashy wife.
You have to have the perfect lawn
With the current rage of shrubs.
You have to wear the right clothes
And belong to the right clubs.

But the biggest thing to accomplish
To keep from seeming totally odd
Is you have to have the right and
Obvious choice for your god.
It has to be the right kind of stuff;
It can't be Eastern unless it started
Back when there were miracles
Like when the waters parted.

It's the fake as hell, flaky as well
Bend and stretch Holiness Twist.
Do want you like, namecall a ****
Cleanse with a twist of your wrist.
Donate a dime, go commit a crime;
In church Sunday, be Jesus kissed
Suddenly resurrected, sins deflected
You're an ace at the Holiness Twist.
This was triggered by Paul Gaffney's feedback to another of my poems. Thanks, Paul!
Alan S Bailey Aug 2016
In life you are a total nobody if you aren't:

A "socialite superstar" who sacrifices moral for popularity
A tech freak
A work-a-holic
A married man or woman (opposite *** only!)
An insensitive "cowboy"
A confederate flag sympathizer (incomparable to ******, I guess)
A religious fanatic
Someone who is so open minded they are open to bad or EVIL
Rich as hell
Extremely violent or purposefully "unaware of bullies"
Anyone who graduated with honors (3.5 or higher, please!)
Certain everyone should work and/or drive
Covered by expensive life insurance
Popular with dozens of "honest friends"
A gun owner who doesn't believe in the need for regulation
A cigarette smoker (but *** is a "bigger devil!")
Hating cross dressers
A nudist hater
Built with a six pack
Absolutely certain that every hippy is "the devil"
A nature hater
Willing to **** anything that moves (they are the pests)
Giving away all natural love for money
One who loves to go to war, a.k.a. "gung-**"
Gifted with perfected teeth
One to ignore the "little lower people" at work/school
A "brown noser," trying to even out-do your mentors
A cheeky person obsessed with being manager (I'm #1!)
Poised to kick someone out on a moments notice (no hustlers here!)
Always on "mommy" and "daddies" side, even if they went too far

The list goes on and on, but you need to be most of these to succeed!
It's a long list! So many sharks! So little care about them...
Brent Kincaid Feb 2016
He’s like a ham actor
Who has only one goal
To see himself in
The starring role.
Talent doesn’t matter
As long as he is zealous.
If he bombs it’s because
Everyone else is jealous.

He goes flap, flap his yap
But be careful, it’s a trap.
He loves to holler up a storm.
But has no talent to perform.

He thinks he is a superstar
Just waiting to be crowned.
Others say behind his back
He’s nothing but a clown.
All he needs is a big red nose
And he’s working ******* that.
He thinks he’s the big ****,
But really, he’s just a pratt.

He goes moan, moan and groan
But leave him totally alone
And while he swears he is fine
He will fail to remember his lines.

All the world is a stage, it’s true
So politics is like theater, too.
And this poor clown with big feet
Tries to deliver his speeches sweet
But his lies trip him in the last scene.
He ends up looking false and mean.

He lies and lies his lullabies
And tries to act so famously wise.
But he only fools the less than bright.
The rest know he’s just not right.
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