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Brent Kincaid Nov 27
JESUS IS A FRIENDLY GUY

Jesus is a friendly guy.
Such a very friendly guy.
Lived two thousand years
Didn’t care for ******
And he has a painful tale
That brings us all to tears.

Jesus is a loving guy
Doesn’t even have to try;
That’s why he was born
To have his body torn
So it’s not a total loss
We get colored eggs on Easter morn.

Jesus is a groovy dude.
Don’t let this song get misconstrued
He’s *** and he is man
We do everything we can
To beat and **** the fools
With anti-Jesus attitude.

Jesus was Caucasian man.
He was so much better than
Any Jewish kind of guy
That’s the reason why
The televangelists and stuff
You buy from them began.

Jesus needs your money now.
So sell your tractor and your plow.
Your preacher’s gonna show you how
To fill the check out while you bow.
You go to heaven with no doubt.
Jesus needs your money now.

Brent Kincaid
11/27/2018
It's a parody of what may be a YouTube parody song called JESUS IS MY FRIEND.
Brent Kincaid Oct 17
In the fifties in the USA
It was sad, but at the time
It was a rock solid fact;
Flamboyance was a crime.
I had to wear a coat and tie
The uniform of every day
Behaving quite the normal guy
In every conceivable way.

To be a good Samaritan
And genuflect at the altar,
Wear the collar of a puritan,
And not shame your father
By being some kind of fool
Who goes against the will
Of a society that longs for
A conformity inducing pill.

I gazed longingly at clothes
Of fashionable panderers
With the color matching garb
That triggered the slanderers.
But more than their profession
I saw their ability to strut,
The fit, the material display,
The magnificence of the cut.

And I had trouble being
That kind of person they craved.
To me it was a boring ride
From birth, right to the grave.
I could not understand those
Who felt life was not for living.
What good were the gifts I saw
If I refused their very giving?

Not for me, even when young
To spend my time mud crawling.
I would rather spend my efforts
In verbal social brawling.
I rejected insulting phrases that
Proper people so often employ
And chose instead the descriptive
And openly proud ‘*** *******’.

I refused to let the common man
Who was afraid of his own crotch
Insist I be mute while he insisted
That I should stand and watch.
No, I would be who I was then
And reject their false packet
Of wearing the coat of social balm
Which I called The Straight Jacket.
Ronnie couldn’t talk
And be rhymless at all.
He could barely walk,
I'm pretty sure he'd fall,
Unless he was rhyming.
He said to me, “You see
The thing is with me
It all has to do with timing.

The cadence when I walk
Become words I hear,
The beat when someone talks
Makes a poem in my ear,
Then the rhyming begins
And seems to make good sense.
The words like magic appear
Poetic possibilities immense.”

All of the time I knew him
It seemed to be the truth
He rhymed almost constantly
From his very verbal youth.
He was like a Hallmark card
Sometimes saying pithy things
That fit the moment exactly
And had that ***** ring.

But other times his utterances
Were acerbic and very witty.
When it came to sarcastic tilt
He was the Mayor of Snark City.
Or he could rhyme endearingly
And paint pictures with his words
Saying some of the nicest things
That were ever put into words.

Yes, he was Rhyming Ronnie,
A poem for any current thought.
You couldn’t stump him even once.
At least not that I ever caught.
Ryan was amazing for sure
And some found it rather vexing.
But oh boy in the internet age
It came in handy when texting!
You brought gossamer ribbons
To hang down into our lives
And scented candles, all around
Dancing, flickering before our eyes.
You sang lovely melodies to us
That I never had heard before.
Somehow just being yourself seemed
That you were a master’s painting
Done by some ancient admired guy.
Sometimes you left me almost fainting.

You urged us to explore and seek
New vistas and scenes near our home
And celebrate the people and places
We would discover when we roamed.
You caused this old stick in the mud
To become a wider wandering soul.
I’m fairly certain that was your plan,
Your vision, your wish and your goal.

It worked, I changed and became
A new and different kind of person.
I dance and celebrate life today
Dancing in life's gossamer ribbons.
It’s almost like watching a movie
That has won all the best acclaim.
You’re gone now, but I still dance
But I admit it’s just not the same.
These are voodoo days
When monsters have their way
With the good people alive
So the evil people can thrive.
This is a time when madness
Roams the land to pillage
And rename the boundaries
Of our fine global village.

Children once went to school
And we made sure they learned
What had happened to us all
When dissenting books were burned.
Then too many scary people
Got by with lying to us a lot.
They didn’t have us in mind,
And didn’t care what we thought.

So, their Halloween costumes seem
To only be visible to the eye
When you listen to their chants
Instead of just passing by.
If you listen closely to the words
And not just campaign speech,
You quickly see dictatorship
Is not far out of their reach.

When your friendly candidate
Starts sounding like a Mussolini
Standing up and calling them out
Does not make you a ******.
No, it makes you more of true
Patriot caring for your country
Than guys in expensive suits
Who only care about their money.
Many are hamster-wheel humans
So punch-drunk from assuming
They know the way things work.
The wealthy urged them to elect jerks
To run this country into the ground
And turn it into the worst place around.
It’s a sad tale, a ***** of a story
Where those with guts, don’t get glory.

It’s a horror story, like in scary flicks
Where when men in suits get their kicks
Imprisoning brown people and kids
And laughing about the bad they did.
Afterward, they say others are to blame
But make no attempt to hide their game.
They put thousands in jail and charge them
And sing out loud their lying anthems.

They say fake news is the real McCoy
But, the real news they say is a ploy
Honest people want to stop the plunder
That, up ’til now, they kept hidden under.
But now it’s in the open meant to appease
Ignorant white people that are hard to please.
They want whites in power, think that’s nifty,
No wonder they elect only those who are shifty.

Too many quit learning in school, after ABC,
And they have no use for the land of the free.
They liked how it was in eighteen hundreds
With slaves, inhumanity to those they plundered.
They got up in arms when a black man won
And the class war was once again begun.
The very rich told lies to change the rules
People began to act openly like rapacious fools.
This is the country of which we were once proud.
It’s right now being destroyed by the elite crowd.
Brent Kincaid Sep 30
Yesterday and tomorrow
All in a memorable row
Happiness and sorrow
Always a few more to go.
Laughter and sadness
Marching through time.
Dealing out character
Each of us must find.

Lovers and some losers
Each kind had their say.
Whatever they did to us
Made us who we are today.
We all had to learn about
The liars and the thieves.
We taught ourselves not
To do what makes us grieve.

We learned to reward ourselves
For living and getting strong
Even when our history has
Gone quite suddenly wrong.
We are the ones who count
And must add up the score.
So, we are the wones who know
What our life has been for.

Whining does so little good
And makes others turn away.
It’s up to us to find the words
We need to hear and say.
So we do what we can in life
And deal with what we’re given
And learn we can't have it all
Wrapped up in a pretty ribbon.
Brent Kincaid Sep 29
(Nasally)
Ya say ya wanna look good?
Ya say ya wanna look young?
Ya say ya wanna take on the world again?
(clap)
Tell ya what I’m gonna do!
The secret is not in any little bottle.
No sir! Not a bit of it!
Step right over, friend.
I’m gonna tell ya the secret that works!
The Golden Key. The Fountain of Truth.
Yessiree bob! The Blessed Path. The open door!

Are you sick and tired of being sick and tired?
Do you pop out at parties?
Are you unpoopular?
(clap)
Do people turn off lights and hide when you come by?
Do some people refuse to return your calls?
Do you find yourself alone most of the time?
Are you under threat of being fired?
Are you sick of forgetting where you parked?
Do you wake up in the morning or come to?
Tell ya what I’m gonna do.
Step over here, friend.
I’ll give you the secret.
(There ya go, and when you get there, there ya are!)

Part of the problem is the solution.
You are drinking a solution that lies.
It says everything will be okay, if you drink.
Drink more. Yessirreebob! Recognize it?
(clap)
You take a drink or two after work and then…
It’s morning, you remember nothing, then
The whole shebang starts all over again.
You started out inviting people over
But, they used up your ***** and dope.
And there you were staggering
Down to the store to buy more
Struggling to write your name on the check.
But, what the heck. You were popular
But no more. All that is left is the store.

So, ya say ya wanna get better, fast?
Don’t put the cork in the bottle.
Throw the bottle away. Don’t buy more.
That’s the real score, the secret.
(clap)
You can’t have it both ways.
Either you wanna get better and live
Or you will keep on trying to give up
Without surrendering. It’s amazing.
You’ll feel like **** for a while
But you do now, and never smile.
(clap)
So, that’s the way it gets done.
It happens to everyone who wants
To get off the merry-go-round
And settle down to living, and smiling.
After you quit the daily drinking bit.
Brent Kincaid Sep 26
Nobody marching toward us
Their guns making us die.
No tanks are come clanking
No bombers in the sky.
But our Congress and generals
When oil or bases seem needed;
We appear armed and threatening
Peace and love talk not heeded.

No country has attacked us
With troops and lethal artillery.
But our leaders expect us to
Go open up their arteries
And **** their women and children
And laugh while they all die
And we are expected to do this
And never think to ask why.

It’s almost like big companies
Were sad when WW2 ended
So they started attacking countries
We really should have befriended.
We let Russia have free reign
To **** and ****** and steal
Almost as if their aggression
Wasn’t really true or even real.

We looked around and made them,
Those evil old warlike excuses,
That some country threatened freedom
And we pretended they weren’t ruses.
We attacked Korea and Vietnam
We were not supposed to observe
That they were yellow people there
To think they got what they deserved.

We didn’t stop there, as Reagan took
A duly elected leader and put him in jail.
If any country did that to our country
The conservatives would howl and rail.
Then the Bushes tried their best to take
Iraq to steal their oil and punish them
And created an era of stronger hatred
And anti-American outrage and mayhem.

No foreign country has attacked America;
So, the point bears repeating once again.
We need to stop acting like bullies here
And start acting like decent statesmen
And women who have the bigger picture;
The growth of peace in our battered world
So, other countries will not take their guns
And shoot our flag when it’s unfurled.
Brent Kincaid Sep 24
I’ve reached that age where I dodder
And when I forget becomes fodder
For impatience and often abuse.
I apologize but it’s seldom any use.
I have learned to smile and tip my hat
As I am now the oldster I once laughed at.
My face tells a story with every wrinkle
And it now takes me longer to ******.
I have to get up two or three times a night
Which means my kidneys aren’t working right.

Getting up from a chair is a three part thing
And I can’t do it without some moaning.
I’m very glad for a thing called remote control
Because it’s a saving grace for growing old.
I moved the coffee maker closer to my chair
So I don’t have to walk so far over there.
I’m thinking of swapping my end table in a smidge
To replace it with a my own personal mini-fridge.
That will save me even more trips over and back
By loading it with sodas and some clever snacks.

Now just in case some might think I’m *******,
I’m not, it’s just that my habits are now switching.
It another phase of living life, is all it means
Like switching to Sansabelt slacks instead of jeans.
I had plenty of fun when I was young and foolish
So, there is no sense of anyone getting ghoulish.
I’m full to the brim with carefully gathered memories
And a scant few of them could be called miseries.
Mostly I have been pretty much a happy kid
And now enjoy the wisdom from all I did.
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