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Brent Kincaid Nov 2017
Almost all the crap in my life
Is something I’ve done wrong;
Bad decisions I have made
As I stumbled my way along.
When I was an adolescent
I blamed my stuff on others;
My peers, friends and brothers.

I made up stories and finger-pointed.
Soon nobody wanted to trust me,
My social posture became disjointed.
Was it all of them or was it just me?
I taught myself to quickly lie
And to make elaborate excuses.
It’s almost like I had no gift
To live without ****-saving ruses.

Early I learned polite society
Would not say to my face.
That my sense of personal ethics
Had become a huge disgrace.
Folks smiled and said empty words.
None had the care and grace to say
They’d quickly check their watches
If I told them the time of day.

But only for a certain time
Can this kind of crass stupidity
Avoid even my devious vision.
It stole from them and from me.
Sooner or later, even my hard head
Had to want the truth and admit
The book of my life was being read
And my lies were a huge part of it.
Brent Kincaid Aug 2017
How are things at the country club?
Was the glitter group too much?
Was that hot young rock star there?
Did you try to get in touch?
Did you catch the ear of
That famous new playwright?
Did the paparazzi catch your act?
Did you do your thing tonight?


Who got mad and who got drunk?
Give me all the dirt.
Who got ****** and struck a blow
And, oh yes, who got hurt?
You see now I understand;
I’m your after dinner lover.
When you’re going somewhere publicly
You find yourself another.

And I guess that’s just not good enough
To keep me satisfied.
To be the after dinner rose
You tried so hard to hide.
So call up Central Casting
And find yourself another.
For I am not content to be
Your after dinner lover.
CERCA 1972 After one of Bobby Allan's dreadful soirees.
Softly Spoken Mar 2017
Break it
Fix it
Re-use it
Tear it apart
Built it up as new again
Tear it down once more
Offer it to others
Only to have it torn apart
So then gently stitch it
**** it
Edge it with the finest silken lace
Tie all the pieces together
Put on display
for all to see it’s splendour
then wait
Wait
Await the second it gets thrown into the fire
Take the ashes
Mix with unending fear
Salt the earth around
Parch the landscape
Rage
Then simmer
Fester and wait
Wait long enough
Wait
Wait
Wait
To see the city others had built
laid to waste
Wait amongst the ruins
Realise that this city was never yours and run
Run fast
Run further
Keep running head down
Eyes blinded with tears
Throat choked by words never said
Torn by all the words that were
Keep running
Til feet bleed then crawl
Pull yourself along by grit
By very nails
By hate
By denial
By despair
By sorrow
Finally a gentle landscape
Softly rolling
Your worn hands giving their last
By grudge
So lie down
Lie still
Dust accepting the blood from your ruined self
As you realised you have come back to the same ruins
The same salted earth
The same city built by others worn away by rains and nature
Lie peacefully but not at peace
Lie still
Lie unmoving til breathe ceases
Eyes staring blindly as stars wheel overhead
Till at last no eyes
No skin
Pearls of teeth
The final circle in the dust
Whiteness of bone
This poem has an opposite...
spysgrandson Sep 2016
raindrops dimple the pond
fishes near the surface snap at them
expecting red reward

those in the depths, bellies
barely above the silt, rest easy,
ignoring the folly above

when the heavens grow restless
and pound the pool with hail, the bottom
dwellers remain placid

unperturbed by the sky's fury
or the whipping tails of the once fanciful
who now descend to their depths
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