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

Too young for my own opinion
Blindly believing everything said like a minion
Wondering why Mom and Dad tell me different
Just an infant but I think i'm invisible
Everything is visual, still learning to be lingual
Each and every word I hear is a faraway island
Would rather be out swimming but i'm just playing in the sand
But for now I don't understand, I'm stranded in no mans land

Sepember 13 , 1945 , the day you were born
And you had survived . An infant baby girl
Arrived unto this world . Oh what promise Sparkled in your eyes . The world war ended
When you drew first breath . Oh what hope lay Before you to test . Through a fall and winter too . Your first Halloween , Thanksgiving , and Christmas too . Remember the stuffed doll so soft And warm ?
How on Valentine's Day you stole our hearts .
Then on St. Patrick's Day you dressed in green . And when the cherry tree blossomed
We took your pictures . Oh , what a glorious day that spring . Then a sudden illness caught us by surprise . You lost the sparkle in your eyes . And Jesus called out your name and left us in our grief . And took you with him to home in Heaven , May 23 , 1946 .

teeth
a trail of teeth
leading into a bedroom
where a ghost awaits
your arrival
upon this horrible
rock
just
nothing but
an infant
nothing but a filthy infant
that can't hurt anyone
if we say we hate feeling useless
why do we still live

We gave the
infant
our features;
the babe got
a bulb nose
passed on by
its grandfather,
jet-turf of hair
like a wave of
soft sulphur
from the other,
but the eyes,
tungsten grey
set in firm lids,
burnt out like
incandescent
light bulbs
as it left their
filament fingers
gasping mine.

An infant is born
An infant is born
It is a baby boy!

Come one
Come all
To greet this baby doll

May his life be long
May his limbs grow strong
May his smiles prolong

May he have tons of fun
Out in the open sun
As he learns to walk and run

From a cherub to a tot
To a happy young colt
May his growth be a  happy trot

Let him wander everywhere
Let him stumble here and there
Let him learn to give and share

Teach him folklore
Tell him tales of yore
Of both valor and  of gore

Make him well grounded
Very well  rounded
but certainly not bounded

Fetter him not with ties
As he reaches for the skies
With his endless why's

Teach him to embrace
Every culture, every race
As you try and keep your pace

Keep him away from Apathy
And teach  him the art of empathy
And  the wisdom of sympathy

May his shoulders grow wide
With his every adult  stride
As you look on with pride

May your love shine in his eyes
May your blessings make him wise
May he always be very nice

May his life be of his choosing
May his deeds be outstanding
May his love be continuing


An infant is born
An infant is born
It is a baby boy!


The End!

Do you see yourself there,
In this life that you've made?
Arcs traced, just so, by the motion of eyes?
The flicker as they search, the pause before they rest,
The metrics of biology, could they possibly tell?
Whose child was whose,
and what they were thinking?

...............................................  on the.................................................
            ­                            moth eaten pages,  
                                                   i pen
                                            the discovery,
                                                i dread
                                             my existence
                                             in this world.
                                in the abode of black men,
                               among the filth of mankind,
                        scattered in those dimly lighten ghettos
                            relaying an unforgivable legacy
                                                i stood
                                   as a moss covered relic
                              silhouetted against the light
                                             a moppet,
                                born in this tabooed world
                                    a scar upon my kins
                                who likely preferred a boy
                                                biped,
      ­                           standing alone in the moor
                                          beheld a future
                                        turned into debris
                                                like flies ,
                                  swarming around a glare
                                  many a cold hapless eyes ,
                                                   i met
                                        hovering over me
                                      eyeing me - a hellion
                                 and soon they drew my fate
                                                every door
                                         shut upon my face
                                                forcing me
                                        to creep in to corners
                                                  and live
                                          under the shadows
                                   to defy them proved grim
                                        only to be hugged
                                    often by heartless whips
                                 or burnt by cigarette thuds
                                          thus like a ****
                                      amid st the bean stalk
                                          they uprooted me
                                             from their lives
                                      and thawed my efforts
                                           to seek the world  
                                           after all who am i
                                                     a girl
                                                  yes a girl
                                                   a taboo....
                                               or a disgrace?
                                                 i was killed
                              murdered...in my mothers womb
                                            my blood spilled
                                            before i was born
                                            before i could see
                                         before i could breath
                                             they choked me
                                                   to death
                                                   from life
                                                    from
                                                       me ....