"ruses" poems
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 just supposed to observe
That they were yellow people there
And 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.
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 4:56 PM UTC
MY
gender has a big *** problem
we think with our *****
because our brains are in our *******
a nicely curved rear
a subtly protruding chest
imagination always adheres
and the hands do the rest
in our teens we’re rabbits
in our 20’s we’re wolves
by 30 we’re lions
and 40, owls
psychologically volatile
emotionally detached
physically competent
spiritually mismatched
understand, we’re arrogant ********
when we’re trying to save face
we are also capable of shame and regret
not every jack holds an ace
the exterior is tough
showing only what ruses the eyes
true that a man can bluff
but even crocodiles cry
the next time a **** tries to be one
fret not, you can still have fun
start by questioning his masculinity
and move on to “you have a tiny….”
yes that’s right,
go ahead spite ME.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 5:49 PM UTC
Himself, in a crying shame
Spoil me with a door, a fury too overt...
Excuse a jaded court, mellifluent by name?
A rosey future, a mission to earn the word...?
Worlds to weigh, a happier conscience
Ruses and voiced rage, particular to winds
Of times trying, the boot of legends
With the turn of somewhere simple into lent minds...
Fists in the air, a fight will remember remorse...
Sides of same and days rue, to collect a heaven
Is such a fickle repose, the dawn of a new force?
Worth one spare moment, to tell the difference as leavened
Throw after throw - to tell a characters tale
With the gaunt terror of risen voices and deeds
That calmly collected a house, that secluded with what will
A house of reaches of tomorrow, has the sense of entirety of needs...?
A piece of cake, a dread to eat it...
There in an uncertain stare, with a rolling hiccough
The total of vice to share, the challenge of a chosen wit
That has seen the truth, a course to new causes that knew the tough
For a new land, the barriers of meagerness's echo
To a chastity in round eyes, and the curiosity of a waiting hour
Let with the light of opportunity, in these steps we hold
A mind at bay, that knew one thing more than patience, a salt so sour...
Apr 28, 2023
Apr 28, 2023 at 8:14 PM UTC
Subtle ruses she plays with unsuspecting hearts
With an alluring trace of flair
Never meaning anything at all to her
No focus is ever there
A touch, a smile, along with lingering glances
Quickly melt a naïve fool
Manipulating to gain what she is seeking
With her feminine wiles and tools
Such lovely promises are made unspoken
Yet loudly and out of turn
Emptying the pockets of those hearts unskilled
In avoiding manipulation’s burn
User, abuser, or master of her own show
Which one of the three
Is a question asked by many an observer
Watching the travesty
Perhaps one day, those old tables will turn on her
Shift where her wind does not blow
One who is wise, to her unspoken feminine plies
Will smile, while stealing her show
Sep 17, 2010
Sep 17, 2010 at 6:28 PM UTC
Demon of complacency
Yours is the face I see
I never wanted to look back
I knew my life was on the track.
For far too long I had thought
I had the whole world caught.
I should have been afraid
Thinking that I had it made.
Excuses and ruses, I had them
Emotional accounts, I padded them.
I ignored all my past mistakes.
I figured they were just the breaks.
And now it is my time to shine.
I knew for sure I would be fine.
I could go back to my bad ways
I would have nothing but sunny days.
The bad things that happened to me
All came about quite accidentally.
I am so much older and smarter.
I know so many tricks of the trade.
I have this race made in the shade.
Crashing and burning a non-starter.
I could whip any monsters in the room.
I was sweeping with a brand new broom.
Demon of complacency
Yours is the face I see
I never wanted to look back
I knew my life was on the track.
For far too long I had thought
I had the whole world caught.
I should have been afraid
Thinking that I had it made.
I was sure I could run around
With the gang I had always found
The drinkers and smokers of ****
I have all the protection I need.
There is no reason for me to be
Locked up in a kind of high security.
I can take a drink or a tiny hit
Now that I know when to quit.
I miss my friends and fun and dancing.
Besides you need it when romancing.
I would be some kind of wimpy pain
If I didn’t offer a bit of champagne.
So, I know I can make it. I’m strong.
If someone is worried, they’re wrong.
A person can drink a few times a week.
I’ve outgrown all the worry, so to speak.
Demon of complacency
Yours is the face I see
I never wanted to look back
I knew my life was on the track.
For far too long I had thought
I had the whole world caught.
I should have been afraid
Thinking that I had it made.
Brent Kincaid
4/11/2015
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 2:57 AM UTC
Right now, plunder he repayeth,
in the eve of the ground corn thereon;
from his nature, He found out about
the city by hand region of the world
It is stupid; contemplating the move
ax; He felt the dishonor, & by the
smoke, & the madness of the conversion
of the hides & cost teenage glory
stockings & abstract winds; You
bring the mysteries of doctrine; Thick
meeting Mark dark for men; Cut thin,
& the heat in the morning; St. by
a goddess; companion; enough by
sweating; it passionate unseen sixth
light rain? Sometimes it happens
successfully ruses state law the first
hot days of the Jew Street; Stand fast
in your labor, & by Before the start
of elders; The other half of the motion
picture; Especially for the part of the
Gauls, sheath & master of propaganda;
Outside is very bright torches beach
mountain; Please exposed to fortune-telling
After spending the stomach girdle
read the book in the wear on the skin,
Certainly fated half of Asia mountains
and at Queen's Medical point; The voice
of the woman stayed eve bruised grain
& robbery the city and nature
found to be made a dunghill from
the side of the sphere of the countries
from the region It is stupid; Moves
contemplated Muses; She sensed
the smoke of a fire, an injury to one's
country, and the madness of the conversion
of the glory; The cost teenage covert side;
The socks are the winds Secret
doctrine; Mark thick dark to meet men;
Cut thin, & the heat in the morning;
St. by a goddess; sweating; The loving
enough; But he that is of the six
of your mind; unseen one morning,
light rain; Sometimes it happens
successfully ruses state law hot day
was cause pain, Standing in the way
of the Jews: Before the start of the
other elders; The center of the motion
picture crew especially as part of its sheath;
the propaganda; He was bright;
a torch in front of this mountain,
from the same fortune-telling on the
shore of a naked man in her wings,
protection to the body of the stomach
of course, the skin from the scroll,
up to half of weird Asian mountains
it would be the place where the
Medical princess is a criminal
Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 2:51 AM UTC
fingers tapping against your thigh, music note mumblings. subtract everyone else and watch the feeling
m
u
l
t
i
p
l
y
disassemble and reassemble the ensemble and allocate your earnings as earnestly as you can without appearing overeager. overhearing a conspiracy between my lips and your neck. a secret isn't a secret unless you whisper it, so do it, make sure the russians don't hear us as they rush off to give reports on that look I just gave you, the one that is oh so telling. reveling in it. living in the revelation of your skin, pouring down your presence like honey, like sweet molasses dripping thick and sweet, simmering under the sun, glimmering in the water like a jewel, jealous and **** painful and dark and dazzling. beating only in anatomical hearts, out of tune, cacophony and cruel crimson, missing someone not something, left wanting and waning in the light of a lopsided moon, farsighted and fingers that prune in purple light rippling across the walls, willing to travel the planes of your body, embodied travesty traversing the sahara, dunes doomed to be swept away by the wind, breaking and kept away, each grain unable to touch one another more than once, gorgeous enough to be pain, staking your claim on misery before the misers bury it in their own backyards, backwards discovery, a convenient amnesia, believing ruses and runes to decipher in delicate dictum like tricking a language into translating itself.
almost too much of not enough.
Apr 23, 2017
Apr 23, 2017 at 12:14 PM UTC
I had tailored denial for my heart
and for each new sun, that fabric became home.
I had lost taste of the lips of love
Until...
I started dreaming again...
...it feels as though she'd never left
Igniting obscure euphoria bereft of my heart
And...
I'm trying to convince myself...
that it's just another night when she ruses
me with pills of nostalgia.
Pulling strings that remind my body of the excitement when our skins knead.
Teaching my heart, again, how to skip a beat.
I'm trying to convince myself that it's just another night...
...but she is now an anchor in my dreams,
dragging me to what it felt like
to be in love.
Dec 14, 2022
Dec 14, 2022 at 8:24 AM UTC
Sounds like the devil's worship
'fools' see it in the very bright of day
hate's spectrum sold so in grey excuses
with 'light and love' that has never saved
not one 'precious' going under miring mud
What is of self worth in the world of put downs
get above beyond over top with all insidious ruses
so artfully disgraced in lowly tastes into the sweetest
hearts with the most promising starts with arrogance
and the living and learning the condescending tortures
thrown back in ones face must be mastered till disguised
with the brightest pomp flashy emotional romps of starlets
Any format will do without exception there are toasts and cheers
to all of god's little children being taken under in compliant fashion
Diverge we do upon two paths one foot in each by light and by darkness
that is with the grey masters between love and hate consciously delusional
simple choices all the way agreed agreed no fire we started no hell departed
Two paths four eyes just for starters
take a flight through the hearts of all
of god's devils heaven hell commanded
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 10:07 AM UTC
There are tears that fall in the ocean
and tears that fall from the sky
there are tears on the faces of loved ones
don't ask me
I can't tell you why.
In this bltzkrieg I see only compulsion
and the desire to see so much more
In compulsion I see my destruction
Tell me
what is it all for?
I look but can't find
perhaps I am blind to what stares at me in the face
but the forest's no place to play hide and seek
it's so dark and so bleak
and the creaking of trees become the creaking of decks on lost ships on high seas
and I am so weak
can't be bothered to hide or to seek any more.
Tell me
what is it all for?
Is it the lust that burns deep within, for a pipe of tobacco and a pitcher of gin
and do I win when I win or is it the gin?
I lose some
choose some
confuse many
any one could
which brings me again to a knock on the wood for luck.
****
..superstition time
yeah that'll do me real fine
let me throw down the runes in the ruin that I am
let me talk to the man up above
let him lend me some love
let it fit like a glove.
but send an umbrella
the tears will come
they always see
another self fulfilling prophesy
that ties me in knots and would haves and could haves and I have lots of excuses and ruses
and time on my hands
life's metal bands have put me in chains
Link by a link of the words in the ink and bound by a round about
where I never get out
to begin again and to sing again
caged birds
caged words
tired lions
in irons
all in the mess of a life.
I confess it's not good
in the forest you'd think I'd at least see the wood
but blind again
I find again
only the dead bits that fell onto dead ground
and round and round I go again.
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 9:47 AM UTC
Sidereal gaze enriches casual lays beneath the shimmering firmament
Glorified passions is the indignity of benighted scars and brandished armaments
Scour with the owls proctoring over the night for signs that penetrate the tight
That ooze new light and wage an epigamic fight
Temptress like a mainlined ecstasy enlivening a heightened empathy
Our love towers above suburban muses and urban ruses
It showers with meteoric power and consummate flowers that it chooses
The misfortune of star-crossed affections
Is the serendipity of empowering but inclement afflictions
Impenetrably vast like a cavernous space
To make us tremble in insignificance at the petty rats that race
Our lambent passions erupt with paroxysms immune to an unbuttoned snooze
Oneiromancy glistens with prophetic eternities dreamed awake with inordinate *****
Playful jostles and succulent pretended jilts lionize our blessed fates
We reckon with eternity by adducing modernity at its current rate
We disavow transient objections just like gravity impounds its own weight
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 7:47 PM UTC
¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯
i found
her alone
seated amid
sumptuous shelter
crafted of a most clement
terracotta watching
as those chaotic
worldspun towers
whirled around, piercing
through vehement welkin
then stretching down
to ground level.
they went
weaving through the coils
of an ethereal copper jungle
and gifting her skin
with bruises
as they
fled—
each one,
the sputum
of a septic recess
that was ceaseless
in its diction
of ruses
in her
head.
some
people
called her
the dark passenger,
yet she talked herself idyllic
using only stolen words.
*only
twenty
years old*?
what a mess!
several life events
had her under
duress
that augural
September day.
she was depressed
yet she was
pressing
answers
from the void
beneath the drop—
a top-to-bottom
nonsensical
blessing;
funneling logic
behind such curtains
had her stressing out daily.
she grew arrogant and twisted
with the shifting of seasons;
she grew humbled
and wary
for the worst
of reasons.
her life
had become
a shell in every sense,
but it made sense
in the utmost
of naïve and
senseless
respects
...
then
I opened
my mouth
to speak
again.
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 3:46 PM UTC
They listen to the ruses
Use them as excuses
For staying home and getting fat
They ***** because they’re poor
And never open the door
More than to let in the cat.
It’s a quiet existence
If you offer no resistance
When they take your rights away.
The feds commit crimes
But you get to work on time
And limp along with half your pay.
It’s a scary kind of game.
You say you know who to blame
Because you choose to ignore the facts.
You continue half blind;
You have made up your mind
No matter how the one you chose acts.
Regardless how we shout
You vote the other guy out
And leave the crooks to do their worst.
If you actually research
And quit quoting your church
You can make the right choice first.
Instead you and I suffer
And freedom stutters
Because of those who know little.
Then those who study
Get ******* by somebody
Who punishes right left and middle.
Because we are no longer
The wise, the good, the stronger
But the biggest bullies on the block.
We had things headed right
Then, in the middle of the night
You lazies hit liberty in the head with a rock.
Jan 29, 2017
Jan 29, 2017 at 3:16 PM UTC
Tis sad
*To know or not the whys
What difference does it make
Looking back at all the unnecessities*
***To see and feel so clearly
And just cry***
For a true moment awake
*You believe so much it all matters
You can change the future with all your nows
Incrementally believing into every one
Whatever such is but a heart hard matter*
One where yes you do battle
***You do it right on
You do it in the face of obstinate ruses***
*Of any and every justification
of the little hells we normalize
and try to stay straight with our cultish*
***Philosophies
Cultural comforts
Reverenant misguidances***
*Why call this life
When, when clearly*
One can see our daily deathly ploys
*How fun twas musical chairs
Little children run in dancing circles
Till each is beset with the planned failures*
For one and one only
Shall be on top
*While the other
Shall be*
The bottom
Tis not so much the Wild Kingdom
Tis the Wilds of Civilized Being
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 11:18 AM UTC
The angels' dandruff fell with no prints
disturbing, while the world froze outside
us, as we lay inches from
one another with a pounding
heart and electricity
that could melt the ice stone
branches now creaking in pain.
Riding away, the words I wanted to
say, are now just heartfelt ruses
that turn melancholic
as the miles of distance
between us grows but this distance
can't keep me far even
if my car does 360s when it snows.
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 2:39 PM UTC
Making excuses
With hundreds of uses
All kinds of ruses
To cover up abuses
By venal national leaders
Upscale liars and cheaters
And well-armed bush-beaters
Feeding the meat-eaters.
The uptight Right
With its narrow eyesight
Calls daytime night
And loves a grudge fight
So, they create enemies
With deceitful homilies
And live up to the parodies
That leave us on our knees.
They ignore the Constitution
And make new resolutions
To offer no real solutions.
To our national destitution.
All that matters is monetary
So, they bribe the constabulary;
Call civil rights revolutionary
And laugh at those they bury.
The point is, make no mistake
These reprobates always take
They never take a break.
They cut nobody a break.
They steal and call it rights
And love it when the poor fight.
And while we sleep at night
They steal even the street lights.
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 6:05 PM UTC
airs and graces
made up faces
hide weary bones
and holey souls
plastic smiles
haven't seen you in awhile
as internal insecurity riles
the faint heart murmurs
in these desolate piles
that have run,
far too many miles
pacemakers racing,
cracking casings,
death dicing,
panic rising,
polite ruses,
for the aged muses
pacing this,
social green mile
daily shuffle, kerfuffle
as dark winds ruffle
the blue rinse perms
and only partially muffle
comments snide
about bottoms wide,
perkless *******
and unholy rests,
of these none too
permanent guests
at this palace of
mortality and malice.
end of hours
visitors gone
wilting flowers
and dinner gong
release the nurses
put away the purses
slump and sway
end of another day
keeping the old foe
death at bay
granny nightie,
thoughts now flighty
with pins in hair and vacant stare
fervently wishing to be anywhere
wishing for some one to be there
but knowing, life's just not fair
when you've grown this old
knowing that each day is a dare
each day a gem sometimes rare
but more often gravel
yet, better living than stone cold.
tho stone cold.....but without a care
here I stand, I sit, I lie,
thinking dark thoughts
on the protracted art of dying.
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 5:59 PM UTC
Stick to the tides,
know the ruses, the rise
and fall of lunar pulls and gravity
so when you sail
your keel will only graze
what rocks beneath
for if those barnacle-stain
kelp-slapped teeth bite,
no panicked oar stroke
will hide that crimson bloom
they smell blood from a quarter mile
Jan 17, 2022
Jan 17, 2022 at 3:43 PM UTC
I wish I could feel something other than this sadness
I'm really sick of all this madness
the drama I create inside my mind
if only my sanity was something I could find
except for all these joyous ruses
I'm not convinced that all these bruises
will heal and I feel like running away from me
or starting a catastrophe
to hide in the numbness...
and I keep hearing about oneness
and it makes no **** sense
might as well burn some incense
and conjure my demons and tell them that
I'm ready for relapse
so they can prepare the way to my grave
with all the rage of yesterday
oh Lord!
where are you...
I keep feigning faith and trust
yet the only things I seek are out of lust
from a disgusting array of fantasies
even worse when they manifests in my dreams
because I can hear the screams
that are coming from me
I'm not sure I'm going to be okay
I've worked so very hard at changing my ways
my thinking and perceiving of what I see
but the world is exactly as ****** up as I knew it to be
and there's no consoling me at the moment
so here is me trying not to control it
oh, **** it, I'm tired of pretending that all will be well
that all manner of things will be well in this living hell
'cuz my mind is a prison phone with the devil on the line
telling me that all I'll ever have is time...
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 4:56 PM UTC
How do you prove an immunity to
a recurringly exhumed seclusion
when the noise of static, so intrusive when unmuted, easily confuses
and a skewed view produces only illusion's futile ruses?
Can't hands, seamlessly and when misguided, be abusive
from refusing their own bruises and contusions,
manifest and fuse into a multitude of misconstrued, misled misuses?
Yet I will argue choosing to humor the tune communicating through the intuitive music and movement that amuses-
what is heard echoes clues for harmony and hallowed union's
mutual congruence,
even in the crudest beauty and pursuit of human improvement and what we knew, uprooted.
Doubt, when reducing to delusions, always loses when refuted,
and though humility means fragile ****** included,
elusive truths all allude to an absolution through this-
what diffuses, what we keep, and how we do it the conclusion.
May 13, 2017
May 13, 2017 at 3:12 AM UTC
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 butt-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.
Nov 2, 2017
Nov 2, 2017 at 6:54 PM UTC
Why?
When that question
bangs against it's cage
and you can feed it no more
Step lightly into the excuses
for they are demon mired
with artifice and ruses
Demons that lay a coup
just outside your mental door
They litter the floor
with bones of regret
picked clean for their answers
Where they sit, waiting for it
they lay a vigil for second chances
When the whisper floats
softly into your ear
only to rattle inside your head
You will remember, year upon year
It was never anything you did
It was always something you said
Aug 8, 2016
Aug 8, 2016 at 4:57 AM UTC
She may have been quiet, but she wasn't blind. Just because you didn't notice her, doesn't mean she didn't notice you. She saw a lot more than you thought. Like the time you tripped that boy, or pushed that girl over. She saw every little mistake, every defining moment. She was the type of girl to watch, listen and notice. She saw the pain you gave to others, but she also saw the pain you were in. She saw through the masks, the ruses, the indifference. She could see to your heart and soul, and saw what you had been through. She gave you a second chance. She let you heal and become a better person. She believed in you. And what did you do? You brushed her off, pretended like she didn't matter. All because of your friends. You didn't want to look like you cared, even though deep down you really did. You fell for her. The girl who was invisible to everyone else. But you hid it. You hid all your feelings so you would still be cool. The girl who saved you. She could see all your pain, but did you try to see hers? She was breaking, fracturing, splintering as she was trying to piece you back together. She was falling apart and you left. You gave up on her even after all she did for you. Now, she's gone and you are never going to get the chance to make it right...
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 1:27 AM UTC
Speak to me no more, my heartstrings fray
Rush down my cheek, for you have proven fears
To believe from me, you would think to stray!
Love me no more.
Wails from the hall my attention takes,
I listen and know there’s a heart that breaks.
Then remembering put out an arm, I stop the fall;
Only then I see, ‘tis I who is in the hall.
Love me no more.
Friendship teaches but leaves me bruised,
For always I somehow seem to bend,
And believe stupidly falling to ruses.
So broken hearted pain has set a trend,
Love me no more.
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 10:52 PM UTC
Where are you from mind to mother
Are you from the tree of ether midnight lover
Mauve and green, and the timber of autumn chill
Chattering, wait a minute it's winter in green
Care to oblige, into my world, wondering who's it from
To the effect, it's a phenomenon in the embers of eclipsed
Make a couple throws, and roll with the scientist of the cusp of miss emerald
You look like a girl, maiden to the concurrent countess stealing a glance from her Siamese cat
Let it be, and little are we ready to not believe that, die on the silver scent
Where's the feeling at and the inevitable morning reeling out, the perfidy of digressing
The breaking bread and reading takes to the herd, kindly
The wine ages with time and death take the darkness away
Edging on the time is like living life on every way of integrity
Schizoid of the psychoanalysis of the treasonable civilian, here on myrhh
Running away from you never took more gusto, the fact ain't lying
A thousand men fighting and flowing
Specs of the dust like a hurricane, moving just because they can
Galvanizing with the woods, I'd sit with my underground chair with burning papers
Burning with the recession, the economy was on page
Were we in prized papers?
The value of money and the sleepers, in clean ruses and jackknifes killing the heathens
Truth with the people told us of better times
Hitherto, this is just our choice, within the entropy, outside we are in frames within
Aug 4, 2019
Aug 4, 2019 at 9:09 PM UTC