Na Ma brown will you no git ta ya bed.
Awk away with ya heidbanger
Am making myself a brew.
Am dying oh thirst
Wit does it take to get a brew made for ya round here.
Awk away with the lot of ya.

I canna sleep
Weres me bleeding slippers
Awe MA Brown
Wilt you no take it easy.
Watch out ya dinna miss the steps
Awk a dinna want to cart you off
To the medical ward.
Me foot is stuck
I canna put no weight on it.
Awe HUD ya weese woman.
Am no finished yet.        
Right then let's get yah settled
and  back into yah bed

It don't matter if they're Hindus or Muslims
Or Mexicans or Bootyiests.
All them people are the Same.
They all want to take Americans' Jobs away
And commit Terrorist attacks
Against  the United States.

Brent Kincaid Mar 2017

They’s times when I
Jess cain’t say it good
And times when I am
Jess plain amazing;
Then teachers and snobs
Seem to all agree and
Subject whut I say to
Harsh degrees of hazing.

It seems like they ain’t never
Said the wrong word before
Whatever, they jess don’t
Seem to put me on ignore
And move to importanter things
Than grammarical stuff;
As fer me, I’m jess turnin’ them off
‘Cause I have had me enough.

I only had me an education
Up to the eleventh grade or so
A whole buncht of that silly stuff
I got told  but I still don’t know.
My dad and my mom too
They got taught just like me.
And I talk good enough for them.
Change my perfectly acceptable talk?
Really now, the chances are slim.

We say ain’t and cain’t and acrost
And other such acceptable words.
And some of the more ‘proper’ things
Ain’t nothin’ but jess plain absurd.
Like widdershins and tatterdemalion,
Sequipedalian, octogenarian as well.
If I’m expected to talk like that
Y’all can just go straight to hell.

Brent Kincaid Jan 2017

"I always wanted to wander."
"To wander? To where?"
"From Walla Walla to Uganda."
"That's a wide world to wander!"
"You wanna?"
"Wanna what?"
"To wander?"
"To where, Uganda?"
"I don't want to onomatopoeia anymore!"

"Are you refusing me?"
"You're confusing me!"
"Do I do that usually?"
"Yes, and it's abusing me!
"I didn't used to be."
"But you see it's no use to me,
So start talking lucidly!
You're coming across abstrusely
By talking so loosely.
You've got a lot of 'splaining to do Lucy."

"It started out grand!"
"But quickly got out of hand."
"But you fail to understand."
"You should have planned."
"Is that a reprimand?"
"You're like the ampersand."
"I don't understand."
"It means 'and per se and';
The pronunciation became bland
And three Latin words became 'ampersand'."

"But, don't you need a vacation?"
"What is the relation?"
"It's a matter of pronunciation,
And sometimes punctuation.
Some words deserve elimination.
Yes, and some deserve illumination.
Thus my original illustration.
In the interest of communication,
Some things deserve enunciation."
"I will accept that explanation."

"But, I'm still hugely fond of
The two of us going to Uganda;
As we internationally wander
I'm sure it will make you fonder
The more the two of us wander."
"But I really don't wanna!"
"Don't wanna what?"
"Go to Uganda!"
"That's what you don't wanna?"
"You betcha!"
"It's okay. They probably won't letcha."

JR Rhine Oct 2016

Douche Bag in sunglasses
donned indoors where
fluorescent sunlight cannot justify
the obfuscation of haughty eyes
so the visage is one
of pure pretension
and cockiness,
as self-assuredness
and the colloquial term for the phallus,
a literal dick.

(I see him strongly in the memory of a high school field trip returning home school bus late night he sits sideways back to the window head leaning back sunglasses donned smug grin I rendered him the vessel and the scape goat bearing my burning hatred for the inflated ego wrapped in an undesirable chic I deem deplorable, hate hate hate)

Smug grin,
I wrote this poem from a bean bag
in the corner of the library third floor
whilst wearing sunglasses and
a taste of irony
on callous lips
twisted in an invisible sneer.

I am just composing this poem
Before the End of the World
To show you how much I love you
Even if
It don't make no difference at all.

This ain't one of those trippy-ass micropoems
He been writing.
No, this is a REAL poem about REAL issues,
But what the fuck is "Reality" anyways?
I forgot.

Max C Styles May 2016

I'll get me a yappy dog
A small one

He'll screech and holler
Like a rat lost in the dark
Oh how it'd be
To bear such a mark.

I'll get me a mousey dog
A youngish one

She'll annoy me in the mornin'
Back to the height of the sun.
She'll tap and scrap till...

I can't take it anymore...

Maybe I'll get a biggun one
It'll protect me
Like a gun

She'll keep watch
While I be sleepin'
Till they put out some food
And continue on creepin...

Well maybe a medium one
Crazy as can be
Runnin' out in the mornin' sun

He'll play catch and give chase
Run with the pack
Cageless and free
Until I bring it inside...

Well, now it's gone to pee...
On the carpet...
Doggon it
Maybe I'll throw out that dish
Send 'em back to the homestead
Perhaps get a fish instead...

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