I stare
It stares back
Eyes of dark blood
Stillness, erect,
Calm in its movements
Frightening at best
The most formidable place,
You cannot detect,
Is here.
This lake,
This dark, dark place
Which I fear most.
Not the silent movements
It makes
But its sheer stillness
That haunts me
This shadow-stained place
Hides in the darkest corners
Of my soul,
Wrapped in sheaths
Of pencil and paper
Nothing to protect me
But that which consumes me
The darkest places
Where all my fears escape,
Where all my demons thrive.

This one's about the depression that's been living inside me for the past, oh I would say, seven years of my life. Get to know it a little though this child of mine.
Brent Kincaid Feb 27

I knew you before you became such a major jerk.
Back in the days before your morals ceased to work.
I knew you as a loud-mouthed bitchy spoiled little boy
Who always acted as if he had never experienced joy.
Your posture always seemed to rotate back to whining
Like none of your black clouds had amy silver linings.

You gather around you sycophants
Who tell you that you are right
And any sanity you might have had
Goes down without a fight.

Your sense of entitlement seemed to be boundless
And truth be told it now borders on pure madness.
You try hard to convince us that what you say is real
And any words to the contrary is just what we feel
But not related to reality as you say it has to be.
Thus statements you make have turned into villainy.

You promised to make America great again
When it already was the home of free men.
Now you plan to end all that by simply selling out
To those that pay you well and prove yourself a lout.
There seems to be nobody much inside that lumpy suit.
All you seem to have is a cheap tin horn to toot.

You gather around you sycophants
Who tell you that you are right
And any sanity you might have had
Goes down without a fight.

The church was started years ago.
My brother was a charter member.
But, he’s been a first class weirdo
Since as long as I can remember.
At first I thought it was hilarious,
And thought not too much of it.
But, I quickly found it nefarious
And told my brother to shove it.

Their services seemed rediculous,
The chants re-written bible stuff,
An attempt to cover up that they
Are doing something iniquitous.
“He that believeth in us shall prosper
Those who revile us shall not.
Go and suffer not the poorer
For heaven is for those who have got.”

My brother quotes this stuff to me
And gets angry when I question.
I have tried hard to make him see.
He takes it as an imposition.
They work to take over Congress
So their church can get paid money.
The plan is to clean up the DC mess
So religion is the richest industry.

I asked him if the church has plans
To share some of that with them.
He laughed and clapped his hands
And said they were going to pay him.
He would be blessed by their deity
For being a righteous servant.
All he had to do was maintain piety
And be Holy Church rules observant.

They were to vote down everyone
Who had another way of seeing
And to vote for their guys who run
Then, claim the rest are not human beings.
By this time I was no longer listening
Because I thought his intelligence gone.
But a close replay of his rambling
I realized it’s all close to going on.

The people in charge really are
Seeming to be saying all of this.
They’re selling us to the guards
Without even that dreaded kiss.
We are close to those wacko creeps
Controlling all of our land of freedoms
And ripping us all off while we sleep
Then even outlawing any kind of wisdom.

Brent Kincaid Nov 2016

You can’t afford to worship here
Our Jesus is not your kind of god.
Don’t bother to kneel or get comfy.
You are not worthy. You’re just odd.

You offend good people to worship here.
We don’t allow your kind in our place.
We have rules about parishioners
Of sexual preference, politics and race.

There are many ways to live decently
But they just apply to a special few.
It doesn’t refer to Middle East bloodlines,
Like Muslims, Arabs and even Jews.

You are too dark for voting here.
Too many of you vote Democrat.
Republican supremacists and bigots
That’s where the real America is at.

After all, God has told us all
To treat each other as brothers.
It doesn’t say anything about
Being nice to those raghead mothers.

We don’t have to appreciate those
Who don’t follow the American way.
They commit a sin if they happen to be
Dark, Democrat, non-Christian or gay.

So, hold up your head Supremacists;
We are here and have your back.
Our new President agrees and understands,
And will take our Caucasian country back.

Lydia Hirsch Oct 2016

Again! The clock ticks ceaselessly. Night and day--
it wakes me in the night, tears me from my pillow,
crying What is this sound? What is this presence?
It is always there.


Its neatly rhythmed ticks tell me I am wasting
my life. Again! Why must it be so neatly measured?
I could live in peace if it would only skip a
second, or an hour, or a hundred years.


I can only see so far, and it troubles me. The clock
will tick on when I am dead. I am not worthy
of its attention. Tell it to be quiet! I want to go
to bed!


Oh god, someday I’ll be dead. “No use fussing about it,”
my father once said. The clock’s eye looks keen in this light.
How frightening it is, the clock reminds me. How frightening
it is to live.

Brent Kincaid Oct 2016

Almost all my most popular poems
Are the ones kicking Trump’s fat ass.
I know after November sixth for sure
This particular issue will lose gas.
While that will slow me down for sure,
It won’t make me loathe him less.
He’s a charlatan, a liar and a jerk,
In almost every way a total mess.

Donnie, Donnie
You are such a creep!
Only fools would elect you;
Good people would lose sleep.
It simply doesn’t make sense
They don’t know what they’re doing.
A Trump-like presidency
Would bring this world to ruin.

So I will have to maunder around a bit
To find a juicier source of poetic satire
Than the Big Cheetoh has often been.
He’d open his mouth and spew hellfire.
He frothed and threatened and whined,
And for the most part the scorching
Ended up being his own big butt.
And never was an ass more deserving.

Donnie, Donnie
You are such a creep!
Only fools would elect you;
Good people would lose sleep.
It simply doesn’t make sense
They don’t know what they’re doing.
A Trump-like presidency
Would bring this world to ruin.

He’s arrogant and babbles lies
One of the nastiest people ever seen.
He only seems to make sure his face
Shows in photographs in magazines.
He has little understanding of the job
He thinks he wants to be chosen for.
He expects everyone to bow and scrape,
To compliment, effuse and to adore.

Donnie, Donnie
You are such a creep!
Only fools would elect you;
Good people would lose sleep.
It simply doesn’t make sense
They don’t know what they’re doing.
A Trump-like presidency
Would bring this world to ruin.

Timothy Langley Jul 2016

It starts out small.
Just a tiny shift.
Probably because I rolled over in my bed.
But something foul begins to play inside my head.
The wonderful dreams i was having are gone and dead.

My sheets stick to my body with sweat.
My body is cringing it is cold and wet.
My heart beats faster.
I breath in louder.
I can not wake.
Im in too deep.
This is no longer a restful sleep.

Facless horrors  are all around.
My aching head begins to pound.
In my dream im paralyzed with fear,
terrified by the sights I see and noices I hear.

Its a dark and alien reality that I behold.
Its sinister and malicious and makes my peaceful night unfold.
When I wake up Im still not saved.
The cold dark night haunts me just the same.
It scares me most when I can't remember.
Because then the faceless horrors can hide forever.

Nightmares are struggle that I have not yet been able to defeat.
Kaanan Apr 2016

I want you to show me
every twisted
frightened thought
you've ever had

I want your eyes to crack
my bones ;

I want your words
to tear
my skin
apart.

Pauline Russell Mar 2016

I have an unquiet mind
The gears up there just twirl and grind
It never stops it's wound up tight
Sometimes up there it's really bright
Thoughts unstoppable, and really intellectual
Other times my brain is just ineffectual

And all my thoughts quickly take fight
And then it turns dark as a moonless night
But even in the dark the gears still turn
It's just different thoughts that burn

It's terrifying then the one's you'll find
But sometimes the light and dark get all intwind
Then it is intelligent madness
Paints a gruesome picture on that grey matter canvas

But still the gears just strain and wind
All up here in my unquiet mind

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