They say we can be whatever we want
As long as your rich, above the law, highly intelligent and have no responsiblitys

** hum. Days work I suppose.
They come and go.
Riches they want.
Power they says.
Fame they wants.
Corrupting things these pale sweaty men yearn for poison.
Ah well, they pass bread over to my thin fingers, they can have it all.

But why doesn't anyone every wish for
the lasting sight of rolling hills cut under a deep and dark sunset?
Or to feel soft hands
worked and worn hands
child's hands
loving hands
****** and resting in their finite palms?
Why don't they wish for the pen to touch the paper,
so that when they read it back
they can't help but burst sealed lips whispering

'beautiful'

for themselves but so that themselves can beam at everyone else...?
Gone are the days when simple people wished for truer things;
these are the days of calculated idiocy, of boring invincibility...

It may be spring, but tucked away in my tent on the side of the road,
undying, starving, bored,
I shiver a little as vehicles eternally roar by
following the road into a dull and predictable oblivion.

Worked for thousands of years
For some rich men I still serve

Still dreaming through all of the years
Dreams of all the rich men’s pleasures

Out there among the millions of stars
Time travel faster than I could ever imagine

So many money and ***** tricks to be spend
Fly me up on rockets to the never lasting end

Work for some rich men who got all powers
Burn me up dying for some real bad ideas

Take a last breath and get in the grave
A life with no questions and no answers

Don’t get too excited and claim your rights
Find a man to marry get daughters and sons

Shipping companies transporting goods
Now you’ll work for thousands of years.

And now we're losing interest

Cause we took on things at our own expense

Watch the Dollars burn or go to Bankers

As we all lose our ****** Sense!

How can you put the idea of luck into words?
It’s like the sun rising and falling at just the right times,
like having a parent who gets you a sweet
jacket that you really didn’t want
but now wear it constantly because it’s a pretty nice jacket.

Luck and air equal in appearance.
It was there for me when I was born, when my parents understood me,
when Sandy hits all of New York but my neighborhood, when
my parents got me my first bike, when
the car managed to not hit me, when I outrun
the fitness coach who was rather angry after I spat at him
when I stumbled across this guy on youtube, who encourages
vegan eating. It feels like immortality, like death really
does not want me, maybe life is stronger and luckier
then death.
It feels like I have a silent guard or guardian always
tipping a domino that leads to me still breathing.
No! Really it encourages the most aggressive dare devil
moves like not touching the ground once in Manhattan
red lights just becoming meaningless colors.    
Perhaps luck is the devil building me up to be
more skilled and better just to shatter the thin air.

In every way luck has been there.
Sure I’ve had ****** moments but they always manage to
feel like a set up for something else.

There is a level of pain between death and making you stronger
that simply hurts, a deep soul wound that never kills.
I’ve always been a “victim” of a pain that makes stronger muscles.

Sure things have came very close.
When I was three or so I was bored and cleaned the house
with chemicals and was blinded for three months,
a neuron or whatever sciency very small unit away from
being blind in my left eye.
but then luck came and I can see fine.

How many times can you get lucky, and no not
in the daft punk way, without feeling
something grander is saving you for something insane
something pure and brilliant like creating a chain reaction
that reaches space?

Or perhaps this is how prophecies get fulfilled?
A mortal gets a gods luck and when the mortal
mistakes them self for a god is when they learn
too late of their mortality?

You claim you fight for peace.
You claim you are the reason I live free.
As you stand with pride on both your feet.
Whose helping out your brother who's begging on 42nd street.
He lost both his feet.
You don't fight for me
But for the 1 percent that can afford to put their kids through ivy league.
You think I'm free
within these parameters inposed on me.
where I can't even speak.
You lost your brother, well so did I.
He stepped on a C4,
mine got gun down by the police force.
You fight for peace?
had *** three times last night and I'm still trying to lose my virginity.
You think I'm free
I'm more of a slave now than kutakente was back in eighteen thirty-three.
You think I want you to risk your life for me?
I guess if somebody must die better you than me.

I never saved for anything in my life,
Sold my soul to protect me from the cold.
Pocket change, trying to rearrange my path.
I lay down deep and hold my breath in the tub, I can't even afford death.
I walk along side buses and trains to get where I should of been in my brain an hour ago.
This is no roller coaster, but a steady decent below.

If I had a nickel for every time life kicked me in the ribs while I was down, I tell you man I'd be rich, rich, rich. Rich enough to keep my soul, light my path and let you know life is free.

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

I won the lottery last week. I played the mega millions with a jackpot of 60 million hoping 5 numbers could determine the rest of my life.

Where I live, a man won the lottery only 12 miles from me with a jackpot of 127 million dollars.

I try to fathom how that would feel. How I could take everyone I care about and give them anything they ever wanted.

People are talking about it days after and every time it is mentioned, its like glass shattering in my ears. How could someone be so lucky?

He will probably eat the best food and buy the nicest things. But thats all they will be is "things". The money will slowly push family and friends away.

He will no longer have to work, he will no longer have time for people that were there before. Because the money is all thats there.

Maybe I envy him. Or maybe i'm sorry for him. I'm not sure.

I won the lottery last week. I thought of all the things I could do and places I could go.

A 2 dollar winning lottery ticket made me realize that I won. We are all rich! In our own minds.

Our struggle is what makes our character. Our stories is the poetry of life. We win the lottery everyday, most of us just don't know how to spend it.