"elsewise" poems
Life was an upward battle
Of intense personal frustration,
As we were treated like cattle
With unabashed discrimination.
And those of us who existed
Without rights or respect
We had a stronger hope
Than we had reason to expect.
When some of us reminded
Jesus said love your brother
They made up ***** jokes
Used ugly names of our mothers.
Some invented a phrase to use
That said God Hates *******
They seemed to imply that God
Treated some children like maggots.
Rights were something given
At birth to regular human beings
To other people who were living
But justice we were not seeing
Because justice was not for us
It was for heterosexual whites.
The rest of us had few rights.
True, it was not legal to **** us
But in court things went elsewise.
Police and judges carried on
And covered their acts with lies.
With them bad could be good.
They behaved themselves oddly
Jailing and imprisoning us
Claiming it was all very godly.
And, today, with communication
Such an instantaneous entity
Things have gotten a bit better.
We’re still surrounded by enemy
That quotes a bible they don’t read
And block those any attempt to heal
Wanting instead to make hatred
And legal discrimination real.
Brent Kincaid
4/7/2015
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 12:27 AM UTC
What does it mean to be real truly?
May be to get up elsewise each morning?
Or drink my coffee elsewise all the time?
To hush elsewise or sound for something?
To be real… What does it mean truly?
To meet rules, fashion or weather folly?
Or may be befit you? No love, no suffer, no joy,
No tenderness - all’s a waste as an ice-lolly.
Don’t think about the sea while watching the sunset?
Don’t dream about the forest while listening to birds?
Don’t walk in the rain and don’t drip with wet?
And don’t have any feelings? No afterwords.
No. I decided one day to be real truly.
But I didn’t break myself while making the same.
I continue to walk in the rain, to drink my coffee.
And I will never tell a lie to myself again.
Aug 14, 2025
Aug 14, 2025 at 6:14 AM UTC
Life is wonderful
With all its precious memories
that still make you smile
even after everyone forgot
and all the moments
you laugh so hard
you think you gonna die
and those where you run
under the pouring rain
through the city,
holding hands with your friend,
making others think you're crazy
and the seconds you make
a complete stranger smile
and those where you feel
like you have to scream
the hell out of you
because you cannot elsewise
tell the ones you love
how much you actually really love them
and the days you wonder
why the world is so amazingly beautiful
and the nights
you just sit there
with a stupid smile,
overwhelmed that life's so perfectly dreamlike
and the moments words become meaningless,
so you just cry tears of joy
and those where you just have to smile.
No reason
just smile.
Some say
yet I simply wouldn't know reality.
I say
maybe I'm just happy.
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 3:34 PM UTC
Are you not what i always wanted ?
if so, i am thankless and crib death mysterious.
i am ****** and clarity
if you are not to be
what's mine.
you are confounding compounded. a rough in the smooth crime.
a jinx in my saving grace... and a loon.
if it be so, that we cannot connect
then let me set my sparrows to arrowheads
and fell the beasties of my wayward
skylarking -
so they may know a noble death in mid-flight
where the downward
and the Midnight are -
eyes, still chirping absurd love
at your dissonance
with cold
blessings.
but give me this.
keep my hands in your robbery.
intertwine my fingers to lay prints
on whatever you stole from god.
let me share the fall
and the fault
so that we may yet share
a single living
Sting.
elsewise,
the ruin and the peck
is only your wound
chirping
and my song is mute
as a victim
in a flock
of ill.
or a grain of hope
in a scarecrow's
eye.
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 12:56 PM UTC
(I.)
Only a fool would try, in line by line
Of fair assessment honestly expressed,
To paint with words the finest of the fine
Beauties of which you solely are possessed.
No elegance would not seem spread too thin;
And he who'd try would never be believed,
For none would see as truth the truth therein,
But think it all a lover's eyes deceived.
So candid pics and videos must record
What speech could never adequately limn,
And would be doubted elsewise word for word,—
The evidence being hearsay and far too slim.
Yet, all of these leave much too much to doubt:—
All flaws would seem, no doubt, photoshopped out.
(II.)
Like two caves spun with dusty cobweb-snares
Guarding a cache of emeralds is your nose.
Your globby eyes find shade 'neath oxen hairs.
Like two thin frowning mustaches are your brows.
With microscopic mites your shiny skin
Glints, like a hanging fruit's with aphid flies
Flitting around about and out and in,
Or a hot, oil-glistened frenchèd fry's.
Like hard, mini marshmallows are your teeth.
Your lips, like jellied dextromethorphan.
Oh! oh! to be that rubber soul beneath
Those knobby tubers made for kicking a can!
But here again the painting is askew:
It lacks that certain something that's in you.
Yes, rubber soul.
*
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 12:59 PM UTC
No second chances!
Once the deed is done,
No changes!
Do only deeds of love and respect.
Elsewise, It may cause regret.
Once done, the effects remain forever,
What's left? A memory to disect.
There are no do-overs.
So be sure of the effects!
Oct 13, 2012
Oct 13, 2012 at 11:41 PM UTC
If not for tomorrow I'd live for today
And treat each breath gifted
Like it could be the last one I'll take
If not for tomorrow I'd find religion
And pray on my knees until
I was too sore then I'd pray some more
If not for tomorrow I'd be more sensible
And I'd take more risks because
I wouldn't have time elsewise
If not for tomorrow I wouldn't take today for granted
And I wouldn't live in the past
But live in the present
But I'm only human
So I think to live for tomorrow
Instead of today
Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 9:29 PM UTC
There are some nights on this earth
when it is easier to ignore the signs
forget the laws and forget the composure.
Some nights ask you to smile
and it would be rude to decline.
It's very easy to forget
how heavy the days are,
sometimes.
We have these nights to remind us that
we try to smile and nothing comes out.
Nights in which it's easier to sit alone
and wait for the world to end
than to try and hold a hand.
Sometimes I wonder
if not all nights
are some-nights.
There are some nights
where joy must be squeezed out
or cracked like an egg --
elsewise it will sit, stagnant:
taunting.
Let the memories flood your mind
and stand in horror at what you find.
On some nights every recollection is
a needle jammed into your cerebral cortex.
Do not fear these nights for they are always.
The world turns and night turns to day
and turns to night and turns to etc.
An old man dies in his sleep,
a flower withdraws into its stalk
the fires subside and guide us
through this oblivion.
She wants him.
He wants to die.
They pass out, one by one.
Words fall to the floor
and sometimes -- if you're lucky--
the humming of insects and streetlights
enfolds every ripple in your brain
and you feel our concrete earth
remind you in a low tone:
'Everything is fine, status quo.
You will live another day.'
There are some nights on this earth
that are almost worth living.
Jun 10, 2010
Jun 10, 2010 at 9:48 AM UTC
I long to see me
As you do,
Entirely foreign and
Mundanely beautiful.
I wish to trace
The curves of my lettering,
Attempting to decode
A message I have already
Memorized.
I have already unraveled
All of my mysteries but you
Still startle at each creak
Of the floor, each squeak
Of the door.
Nevertheless,
That elsewise wonder
Is only reserved for
Strangers.
Oct 17, 2024
Oct 17, 2024 at 12:00 PM UTC
[anonymous woman who definitely knows who she is],
I've wanted to say this to you for a long time. I guess I just haven't had the composure to say it to your face. Suppose I still don't, otherwise I wouldn't have to say this here.
When I came back home and really got to know you, you changed my life. I wasn't looking for or expecting anything like you. I've been hopelessly lost and depressed for years. Immediately I could tell you were different. Something about you makes me feel alive. I like me better when I'm with you. You are the most beautiful free spirited woman I've ever met, and I've met many. Even had relations with a few (believe it or not).
I truly want to know... Did you feel the same feeling I did? If you didn't, I'll accept that. But, every fiber of my being, and every sign from the universe tells me you are something special. Something that I should never let go of. And I'll defy anyone telling me elsewise, whether you or my dad, because I know what love is.
And you say you love me like a brother, I respect that. And in a way, I love you like a sister. But I can't deny that I feel more than that. I want to be there for you, be with you... Always. Regardless of how you feel, I will be.
I get that you've had a rough life, the roughest. And I want to help you in any way I can. I want to show you off to anybody who cares to pay attention.
And can you really blame me? I mean, you're beautiful. Your sense of humor is amazing. And you care so much about others, always seeing the best in people. And most importantly, you make me feel like the luckiest person to walk God's green earth. You inspire me to be a better man in every sense of the word. Your blue eyes peirce right through me. Your voice makes my smile. Being near you helps me sleep at night.
As a beautiful young woman, you have choices. And I understand that I might not be the best looking guy, or even the most capable. But I DARE anyone to test my resolve or care more for you than I do.
I love you so much it hurts. Regardless of how you feel about me, I want the very best for you... And remember, every once and awhile, just breathe.
I love you.
May 9, 2018
May 9, 2018 at 4:19 AM UTC
There’s a lot to be said
For silences.
Spaces open up between heartbeats.
I’m throwing my words against barriers.
Bouncing from Mandible to Maxillary
And retreating back to vocal chords
Rubbed raw by screams.
I have been trying to tell you
That what I have to say is not
What you think.
But pulling teeth apart feels like
Tearing flowers from their beds-
Their petals from their stems-
And discarding them beneath feet
Anyway.
I have been trying to stay silent.
For what I have to say is not
What you think.
I can no longer tell if it is
A lack of things to utter, or too many.
But each contained within throat
Rattles against breath
And how you cannot hear, I
Know not.
They scream louder than
A pounding heart
And at times that echoes, unbidden.
I think they each race the other,
Tempted with reaching ears-
Does the head win,
Or the heart?
I could lead from silence to sound,
Or elsewise
And still feel confined
To passages of speech.
Monologues ringing off instead of
Dialogue.
Confined to self, and always
Yearning
To touch you
We’ve been taught that
Actions speak louder than words,
And I travel with back steps
Hoping –
Perhaps silence will sound loudest
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 2:18 PM UTC
It's only spying
If it's for a cause; Elsewise
It's just called stalking
Apr 14, 2017
Apr 14, 2017 at 5:32 PM UTC
There were things we could not find the words for. A mastery of leaning into. Though I cannot say I didn’t try, didn’t try to immobilize, though the dusk always called for it, in its one’s and two’s. It is always two fingers of sunlight, always two fingers of cornflower blue. At the moment, it is eating off the shores of Northern and Southerly. At the moment it is slick in regret, in paradigm of what was and wasn’t said. Tomorrow it will eat off the coast of tempestuous Eros. It will churn in spoil. The weather will be asking for injury by this rose hour that makes your face glow now, regrettably and earnestly. Wanton will be swimming in the shallows, coated in oil and gloating in the fat of Mercury. The seals will be loose jawed and whorish tonight and prime their grey bodies amongst the sand. It was true, you know, how we would embed it. In the coffee we would see our past lovers. Too much cream, this time. Too much silt, the other. The adjustment of bathroom soap collected a solicit slough of how permissible became habitual. Now yellow, now how obtuse you are, placing the teapot this way, not that. This time the ocean will become other and it will forget. It is migrating deeper now, to the other blue. Feasts are off course, elsewise the ocean flacks and mist creates you. You now, always blissfully aware. Always pardoning yourself as the sunset flocks off in orange claps towards dawn black horizon. She is not there. She has never been there. By morning you will be bones and it will have feasted on forgotten.
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 11:35 PM UTC
I would show you the world,
but there is nothing to show
everything you could see
you would already know.
I could tell you nothing elsewise
unpure or unjust
look into yourself
or perish you must.
This life is a sorrow
feeble and weak
and my outlook right now is
rather bleak
i can tell you one thing
your sorrow and woes:
cannot be counted on fingers and toes
Forget about me
and ill try too
My voice you won't hear
and your mind will be clear
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 10:40 PM UTC