Those coffee heads
better than
Couch Potato 2 B
wed
One bad chip 3 2 C
Walking dead

Dream chocolate,
Coffee Latte
On the web late
The fourth cup
He knows all the 5 lips
On Live five sips
Her ruffles he's the
fidget spinner whip cream
Sprayed 6 times
Drinking her coffee over the
Brooklyn bridges 7 wishes
Coffee is for brainers
8 sides of the coffee moon


Swinging  Perculator
Streaming all over Adolf
dictator

Like a monkey ***
in cages
High overflowed wages
The pub pix pom girls
Tom like  apud
Coffee like mud with Tod
Eeeee He
  Coffee of God
Two pals I pad


Steaming out mouth
like a hot rod
She is sipping and he is
mouth roaring

Wiped you out
wicker -chair
You mind erased like the
terminator game pair

"I will be back"

Coffee or me__?
That calculator's fingers
Fine pressed coffee
Stirring the Dagar
Superbowl  maneaters
The women coffee lovers
They need another cup

Stocking up Christmas
chimes  ringing
The cafe Jazz chimes

Pazzazz--

6 cups
All gone Girl
666
Not a drop of coffee
Summoned by a spell

Went razzamatazz

The third eye
1-2-3 pouring
The coffee sounds like its
forever snoring 4-5-6

I need a new coffee maker
Lucky 7*
Rock and roll coffee of fame
Tootsie roll truffles

Going Whoopee

Do some French presses or
Roman Cappuccino style
dresses 14 he and he
The Keurig more hugs
She and me

Sugar trail of blackmail
Single served deserved
Party multi-cup you spilled
her beans

Easter feels jumpy
College stud or wimpy
"Humpty Dumpty"
Jitterbugs
Presidential jelly beans
Hot male mugs
Coffee beans

the mountain you can not
top her flavors
He's the hot diver
I will wait to wake him

He fits the"Ferocious Falcon'
Hey pork and beans
The wrong beans stir
Alice, I will fly you too
the moon
They have better coffee
Jackie Gleason
looks worried

He's cupping away from
the lagoon never on a
Sunday to be married

Bring the coffee truly
love flavor
website
streaming
He's the
hothead the chimes
beaming
The boiling bold brave
How it intensified
The heart melting
microwave lucifer

Please wave Sir
The bubbling brew
Chimes R streaming
But Robin's coffee
is steaming classified
What's to be justified

His pacemaker,
she did a whole
new makeover went
snorkeling what the heck
Ringing his neck
The multi-cup  she is
seated
He's the single cup
every morning
Chimes and coffee never boring


Swish swatch stir and spoon
He was born like streaming ***
way too soon

teamara

As in the nub of the remains of crayola crayon that’s been used to color in so many smiling cartoon suns on a piece of paper-
Her favorite color is yellow.
And I don’t mean a wimpy *** pastel yellow or sometimes a pale yellow
I mean her favorite color is bright *** yellow.
Like Pikachu yellow.
Like she’s almost nineteen but she’s still willing to play Gameboy Pokemon yellow.
There’s something innocent yet corny kind of yellow about her.
She’s beautiful like yellow jirasol petals
She’s intricate as yellow thread woven in a Rasta Dom
She’s yellow like gold and Africa
She’s sweet like pineapples and delicate like daffodils
I still don’t know why her favorite color is yellow
Maybe it has to do with her fascination of Asian men…
I mean! ...with the continent of Asia
She thinks she’s more like pink Japanese cherry blossom trees in the summer
But I know she’s truly yellow petals on Paolo Verde trees blowing in the wind spreading around Tucson
A metaphor for her love
She’s yellow like the color in the middle of my pride rainbow- She supports me
She’s yellow like the big painted sun at the hospital with a big grin
I wonder why nobody smiles at hospitals
The place where life is easily given as taken
Where we are reminded that our health is sometimes taken for granted
Other than that great big yellow sun
She is the only that radiates yellow and smiles
In waiting rooms, she seems like she’s the calmest
Even though she’s the only one going through surgery
She’s so beautiful on the inside her body can’t even take it
She doesn’t deserve scions or scalpels to even be considered touching her bronze skin
I wish instead they would strip down the color yellow from my life
And give it to her to make her smile so bright that even word “cancer” would cease to exist
But still. Even through pain and hardships
She still smiles. Not only is she yellow when she’s happy
She tends to radiate yellow even when she’s gloomy
When I’m upset, her aura has way of rubbing off on mine
And I get insight to why her favorite color is yellow
‘*** she’s the kind of yellow that represents strength
She’s yellow like tall forts made from gold bars
She’s yellow like flames that roll of her tongue when she spits fire
She’s yellow like a crayola-crayon… except she can’t be broken
From her, I’m learning
That even when you’re hurting
You can still shine bright like your favorite color.

My father was not good to his body when he was younger.
The smoking and drinking and snorting and fighting and drinking and crashes and drinking were not good for him.
My father was not good to his body when he was younger.
One summer, when he was 16, everyday he would take a bottle of wine from his mother's liquor cabinet, buy a pack of cigarettes at the corner store, meet up with his friend Mario, who also stole a bottle of wine, and together they would ride down to the river and smoke and drink and swim. Everyday, for a full 1970's summer they did this.
And now he tells me, that at the time they were having fun and they were not worried about money or addictions or the future.
They were just having fun.
My father was not good to his body when he was younger.
One day, in the dead of fall 1981, he and his friends Mario, Mark, ****** and John all got together at Mark's apartment on the corner of 51st and Diablo boulevard. They hit the town, drank, snuck into movie theatres, harassed girls and had a good time. They returned to Mark's apartment at 2 am and thought it a good idea to steal Mark's mom's new car. They decided to go to Reno.
Driving, as my dad put it, well above the speed limit on Highway 49, they collided head on with a big rig. There were no fatalities but my dad broke his shoulder and suffered a minor concussion. Mark's mom chose to not press charges nor did the driver of the big rig. The next day my father was back at work, refusing to adhere to the doctor's orders of taking it easy and wearing a soft cast, entrapping his left arm against his chest, climbing under cars, changing oil, and repairing engines.
My father was not good to his body when he was younger.
One cold winter's day, in December of '82, my father's ever faithful companion, Mario, picked my father and his dog, Wimpy, up and they drove over to a small burger joint named Big A's. My father ordered two bacon cheeseburgers and a large rootbeer. Mario got the same, only with a single bacon cheeseburger. My father father gave his second bacon cheeseburger to his pitbull Wimpy.
My father was better to his dog than he was to his own body.
Now, my father coughs himself to sleep every night, and has chronic bronchitis. His liver and kidneys are shot and he plans to not live passed sixty. He will be turning fifty in two weeks.
My father was not good to his body when he was younger.

sometimes when i am trapped inside my own mind
and feel like i’m drowning in the taste of air,

suddenly i am eight years old years,
bobbing up and down in my wimpy life jacket
my legs unsupported

and there is still a chip on my shoulder
a mile wide.

sometimes i am still the five year old who balled her eyes out
when her parents accidentally forgot and were late
picking her up from preschool,

sometimes i am still sixteen years old and in love with you
sometimes i am a person i never thought i’d manage to grow into,
sometimes i am a person i’ve yet to become.
  
i am juxtaposition of a thousand different versions of myself.
i am equally the eight year old girl still afraid of the water

as i am the almost-adult you so naively believed to be fearless,
my self-assurance a really good halloween costume.

i am a newborn at the same time
as i am frail ninety year old grandmother.

i am brave and i am terrified
and i am naive and i am jaded
and i am clean and i am ruined;

i am a blank slate and i have been scribbled all over,
my skin is smooth and untouched
my skin has laughter lines and stretch marks.

i am the creator and i am the destroyer,
i am everything and

nothing at all.

i am the ocean
and i am the desert.

my lungs are failing as i’m breathing fine,
and i can see the end and the beginning in equal clarity.

sometimes i’m too old for my skin,
weary like i’ve lived a thousand lives already

and sometimes i am four years old with
my knees hugged to my chest.

sometimes we are two and sometimes we are twenty,
sometimes we were nine and sometimes we are ninety.

we are young and dumb and reckless at the same time
as we are old and wise and careful.

sometimes my father is still a gap-toothed five year old
and my mother is still a tired old woman

with shaking hands,
and my brother is still an angry teenager with a bad hair cut.

we are existing simultaneously
and growing up is just getting really good at pretending

that you’ve got your **** all figured out
when you still feel like a lonely middle-schooler
without a date to the mixer,

alone in the middle to gymnasium floor.

but that’s the thing, isn’t it?
when you are cut open, when you are bleeding,
when you have gaping holes in your nervous system

your flesh heals over
it scars, brand new.

we are bleeding and we we are healed,
we are ******* up

and we are doing just fine.

They say she sleeps ad infinitum
Eternal recurrence burns my furnace
Warm my bedded head
In her sleep she swoons and croons

Cockatoo flown past what I'd grasp for
Can't catch that flack slack back snapped crack
My pursed lips perched like a mourning dove
Shoos yew canoes past blue pools and coos
"No new news"
In this hallway I walk through it
Acknowledge and be with me here
Not there at the end

She begs for company
An affirmation of the sufficient subsets,
Experienced in essence through forms
She can't sleep

Of course the two of us                        
                                                        want to get away from here
                                                            ­We were so innocent  Running
                                               ­             Hand in hand To the outskirts of this              
                                               Upside – down  town  Where  were  we  going?
                             ­                            To  the  mansion  we  had  built  with  daddy
                                               High in the sky of the     towering sycamore tree
                                                     But now going back           walking the dirt trail that supposedly
                                            brought us to        dreams             Kicking aside pebbles we pushed
                                                          ­     with        all our           might       to
                                                              ­  to        escape              from        the
                 ­                                                 Monsters        ­        chasing    us
                                          ­                         Seeing                              the
­                                                                 ­      Wimpy                   vines
                                                           ­                That                      were
                                  ­                                            once               chains
                                                          ­                    and       shackles
                                                        ­                      intertwined
                               ­                                              imprisoning
                                                                ­           all of the trunk
                                                           ­               seemed   unreal
                                                          ­               But  I  had  made
                                               ­                         Peace   with   it   all
                                                             ­      When I saw our shanty hut
                                                           Atop the mangled, dwarfed skeleton tree

When you're a writer, you get invited to strange gigs
sometimes, where usually, the audience is arty farty
or even a bit precious and pretentious.
You know, the blue rinse set.
But I was once invited to recite poetry in a bar,
where I knew my audience might be ******,
or maybe even abusive, and wouldn't give
a **** about writing.
Yeah? Well, I'm a bit of a word warrior, really,
so I didn't back off.
I stepped right in for the fight.

I said straight up that my poem was especially
for people like them who thought that writers are
wishy-washy, woffling, **** weak and luke-warm.
So then I said,
PPPHHHaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrtttttttt.
Very loud.

I told them this was some royal raspberry,
just for people like them,
who thought this was going to be another boring poem.
And then I threw in a few words like, ah, ****, doggy fashion,
finger up the ****, you know, just to liven things up.

I told them what I really thought.
***** You! Especially seeing as how you think poetry’s
some wimpy, bleeding heart, limp **** stuff. Right?
So let's get right down and ***** here.

Which is much more interesting, eh?
And do you know what that says about you?
No?  You bleeding, blinkered, blind-as-bats
broomstick-up-the-arsed, boring, bonehead *******!

So don't call this poet ****-weak any more
or I'll hit you bang between the eyes
and up between your thighs.
I've got some things to say you'd better not ignore.

When it comes to words, I'm a gouger and a biter.
I'm a brawling, hard-as-nails, no-holds-barred street fighter.
I'm a writer.

Yeah, well, no surprise here. That made them quieter.
I'd shut them up. So what did that prove?
I'd just abused and confused them.
It made me think, well, why did I bother?
Poems are for believers and lovers, aren’t they?
They don't need me to fight for them in bars.
Poems just are.
Yes,and some of them might live
as long as the stars.


Mike T Minehan

"Decision Points" is already atop Amazon's bestseller list. Number two is "Diary of a Wimpy Kid: The Ugly Truth," by Jeff Kinney. If you think we're going to mine that for cheap humor, you're wrong - anyone with pre-teen children knows that Mr.  So many "self-help" books preach, ramble, and simply leave us with a sense of having wasted our time. For men, books of similar titles are simply read as penance for having failed to mow the www.facebook.com toms shoes outlet lawn before the game was over and the rain came. Often they are simply dog-eared to give our partners the impression that we are indeed trying.

To figure out how many things you can plug into an outlet before it will catch fire, first we need to get to the heart of how electricity works. At any given moment, the average American house has 120 volts of electricity flowing though it. Somewhere in your house, you'll find a wall-mounted box, toms outlet store containing either circuit breakers or fuses (found in older homes)..

A bespoke suit is an absolute must. Bespoke, of course means made for you specifically and that means that you have to say exactly what you want the tailor to make. If it an existing style then it is in fact a custom suit. We may view in a big way as well. Let get an insight into behaviour of Georgia in foreign affairs (Georgia is a country in the Caucasus region of Eurasia. Situated at the juncture of Western Asia and Eastern Europe, it is bounded to the west by the Black Sea, to the north by Russia ?note of translator).

The Beggar does not think like an ordinary man. The point is in absolutely other scheme of thinking that differs from mind of decent people. Resemblance between common worker and the Beggar is outward only, in other words it is biological, because both of them are human beings.

By the early 1970s INTERCO's apparel and general merchandise subsidiaries were generating approximately 56 percent of sales and 47 percent of profit. The apparel manufacturing group consisted of 11 apparel companies, with 62 manufacturing plants and 13 distribution centers. The general retail merchandising group operated 856--owned or leased--retail locations in 29 states.

Every fashionable guy knows how to pull off a suit in casual situations. Those post-work cocktails and early evening jaunts to the mall are child's play if you have a navy suit to throw on. The color that's just a wee bit lighter than black helps keep the suit itself from looking too sombre and businesslike..

"We are very excited to introduce Disney Store to outlet customers, who are extremely brand-conscious and passionate about shopping," said Mario Ciampi, president of Disney Store. "Our outlet stores will offer a magical, Disney-themed (babyandyUSA-March-11) retail environment complementary to our mall-based Disney Stores. Given the power of the Disney brand and The Children's Place experience in this channel, we believe the outlet venue will be an effective way to grow the business.".

Or you can choose for the like tweed, corduroy, or houndstooth. And now, Toms even makes wet-weather ready botas, which have a fleece collar and lining and a treated coating to protect her feet from the winter weather. Whatever her style or the weather conditions in which she lives, you will be able to find her something from Toms..  2013-03-15.

THE ALLAN FAMILY STORY, BRIAN WANTS TO BE AN ADULT, BUT HE;S TOO YOUNG



YOU SEE BRIAN ALLAN SINCE HE MOVED TO CANBERRA, HE HAS BEEN GETTING

VOICES IN HIS HEAD, OF HIS FAMILY AND OUTSIDERS, TREATING HIM LIKR A LITTLE

YOUNG DUDE, BUT BRIAN WAS FRUSTRATED, CAUSE, HE LIKED THE ADULTS BETTER

YOU SEE BRIAN WAS A COOL KID, BUT HIS VOICES WERE BOTHERING HIM, WHEN BRIAN

SAID I AM A MAN, HIS BROTHER WOULD SAY, SHUT UP, BABY, THEN ANOTHER VOICE SAYS

FROM AN OUTSIDER, SAYING, MEN BULLY, BRIAN, AND YOUR NO BULLY, BE LIKE USES WITH

THE YOUNG DUDES, AND BRIAN WAS UPSET, AND SAID, NO I AM AN ADULT, THERE IS NOTHING

WRONG WITH BEING AN ADULT, I WAS A COOL KID, YOU SEE, I WANTED TO BE ALLOWED TO RELAX

BUT BECAUSE MY BROTHER WAS ONLY 2 YEARS YOUNGER, HE FORCED ME TO JOIN HIM

WHICH I DIDN’T MIND, CAUSE AS I SAID, I WAS A COOL KID, YOU SEE WE PLAYED YARD CRICKET

AND FOOTBALL AND SPORTS SHOWS, AND BECAUSE OF ALL THIS, I WAS A REAL MAN, WHICH

UPSET MY PARENTS WAY OF LIFE, AND I DID THIS ALL THE WAY THROUGH MY CHILDHOOD

WITH OUTSIDERS CALLING OUT TO ME, SAYING, YOUR STILL A LITTLE YOUNG DUDE, AND

WHEN BRIAN SAID, I AM AN ADULT, THEY SAID, ADULT, ADULT, TRYING TO TAKE THE NOVELTY

OUT OF ME SAYING I AM AN ADULT, CAUSE I AM TOO WOOSEY TO BE LIKE LYLE, AND THIS

YOUNG DUDE SAID, **** MY ****, YOUR STILL A YOUNG DUDE BRIAN, BRIAN AT FIRST

SAID ******* I AM NOT GAY, HE SAID, NO YOUR STILL A YOUNG DUDE MATE, **** MY FUCKEN ****, ****

BRIAN SAID, WHY CAN’T YOU LEAVE ME BE TO BE A REAL MAN, THEN HE SAID, **** MY ****

YOU ARE TOO WOOSEY TO BE A MAN, AND BRIAN SAID, I DON’T WANT TO **** YOUR ****, ****

I AM NOT GAY, YA ****, HE GRABBED MY ARM AND PULLED ME INTO THE ROOM AND FORCED ME

TO **** HIS ****, THE FUCKEN **** HE WAS, AND BRIAN AS SOON AS HE LEFT, WAS FOLLOWING HIM

AND HE SAID, BRIAN ****** MY ****, YA SEE THAT **** IS NOT LIKE ME, AND THEN I WAS PLAYING

A TIE UP GAME, WHERE BRIAN ASKED THIS YOUNG DUDE TO TIE HIM UP, HOPING IT’LL TAKE THE

LITTLE YOUNG DUDE OUT OF THE STREET, BUT BRIAN BECAME WILD, AND HIS DAD, WELL HE AIN’T PERFECT

BUT STILL HIS PRIDE GOT IN THE WAY, I GOT CRANKY WITH DAD, CAUSE, HE LOOKED AS IF HE DIDN’T GIVE A ****

YOU SEE, I WAS TRYING TO GAIN RESPECT AND OPEN UP TO HIM, BUT I FOUND IT HARD, AND DAD HAD A LIFE

LIKE BEING A SCHOOL TEACHER WHERE HE HELPED A LOT OF KIDS, ACTUALLY DAD WAS THE REAL KIDS FRIEND

BUT, ME, I COULDN’T GET THROUGH TO DAD, SO I PUNCHED HIM AND THREATENED HIM WHEN HE LAUGHED AT ME

I SAID, SHUT UP, *******, YOU ARE NOT LIKE US, AND DAD WANTED TO HAVE HIS CHAIR, NOW DAD DID MAKE IT UP TO ME

BUT I WANTED FRIENDS, AND I FUCKEN TRIED TO BE CAREFUL, BUT I HATED THE YOUNG DUDE ASKING ME TO **** HIS ****

AND BRIAN HATED HIS DAD, HAVING A PROBLEM, WITH HIM BEING A KID, I WAS PLAYING BASKETBALL LIKE MY BROTHER

PLAYED TENNIS, AND DAD NEVER UNDERSTOOD, I LIKED THAT LIFE OF GOING OUT AND WALKING AROUND THE MALL

YA KNOW MUCKING AROUND BEING A FOOL ON SOME DAYS, BUT OTHER DAYS, MAINLY ON WEEKENDS I WENT TO THE MALL’
‘
TO HAVE LUNCH AND HAD A BIT OF A MUCK AROUND AT *** BLACK PINNY ARCADE, AND THEN OVER TO THE BOWLING ALLEY

AND ON THE WAY HOME, I ENJOYED ALL THE KIDS PLAYING IN KEANE PLACE, YA KNOW YARD CRICKET, YA KNOW, BEH AND JOSH

AND THIS KID WHO LOOKED LIKE A CARBON COPY OF THE BIG YOUNG DUDES I LIKED AS A KID, BUT HE WAS A TROUBLE MAKER

AS HE ASKED ME TO TIE HIM UP, AND IF I DIDN’T KNOW BETTER, I WOULD HAVE TIED HIM UP, BUT I SAID NO, HOPING KIDS WOULD

STOP TREATING ME LIKE A PHEDAPHILE, AND THEN ANOTHER GAME OF CRICKET WITH BRENDAN AND CANDICE AND MY BROTHER

AND I LOOKED LIKE A REAL COOL KID, CRUISING AROUND, THEN AFTER A WHILE, THE VOICES STARTED, AND EVERY VOICE WENT

TO BED, LEAVING BRIAN THE COOL KID TO STAY UP ALL NIGHT, PLAYING COMPUTER GAMES, WATCHING TALK SHOWS, AND JUST AS

I WENT TO BED, MY MATES RANG ME UP, TO DRINK BEERS OUTSIDE THE SCHOOL, AS WELL AS JUMPING IN OUR FAMILY’S SWIMMING POOL

AND LEAVING SHARP OBJECTS, MAKING MY FATHER, NEVER TRUST ME EVER AGAIN, I WAS TRYING TO BE LIKE A MATE I LIKED, PAT, BACK THEN

BUT I LOOKED LIKE A DRUNKEN WOOSEY *****, CAUSE, I WAS TRYING TO BE THE COOL KID IN THE CLUB, TEASING THE NERDY YEAH MATE YEAH KID

WHO IS LIKE DAD’S NERDY BEING FRIENDS MOTTO, BUT, I WAS A FOOL, BUT I ENJOYED WALKING AROUND FROM PUB TO PUB, WITH THE

LINE IN MY HEAD, MEN DON’T DO THAT, THAT’S WHAT KIDS DO, I AM OFF TO THE PUB, AND WHEN I LOOKED SHY AT A FEW STAGES IN MY LIFE

IN CIVIC, I HEARD DADS VOICE SAYING, GO INTO A PUB BRIAN, RATHER THAN WALK AROUND CIVIC, AND I PARTIED ALL OVER THE CITY CLUB

AND THE PRIVATE BIN, SOMEONE TRIED TO ROUGH ME UP OUTSIDE THE CHARNWOOD INN, AT A CHOIRBOYS GIG THERE, BRIAN LOST EVERYTHING

THAT NIGHT, BUT THE TAXI DRIVER WAS HAPPY TO GIVE ME A FREE RIDE HOME, I AM NOT DOING THAT AGAIN, AND I VISIONED ME AND BRENDAN

WERE ******* TOGETHER, BETWEEN HOUSES, BUT I HATED DAD LOOKING LIKE HE DOESN’T CARE FOR MY WELL-BEING SO I HAD NUMEROUS FIGHTS

WITH HIM, BUT I DON’T BELIEVE IN VIOLENCE, AND DAD, ALWAYS DID THE WIMPY THING TO CALL THE POLICE IN RATHER THAN JUST RELAX AND LET ME YELL

DAD, HAS HIS PRIDE, TO PROTECT, I SAID THEN, **** YOUR FUCKEN PRIDE, I WILL NEVER BE A NERDY ADULT LIKE YOU DAD I SAID, AFTER A WHILE I UNDERSTOOD DAD

BUT I CAN’T UNDERSTAND, WHY IS IT SO IMPORTANT TO BE AN OLD JITTERY MAN, BACK THEN, BRIAN WAS JUST TEASING THE OLD JITTERY MAN IN DAD, DAD

LET HIS PRIDE GET THE BETTER OF HIM, DAD CARED, BUT, HE COULD’VE BEEN A LITTLE NICER BACK THEN, CAUSE I NEVER HELD A GUN TO HIS HEAD

AND I HATE BEING TREATED LIKE A FIGHTING COOL KID, BUT I WAS A COOL KID, WHO LOVES TO PARTY, I HAVE ALWAYS LIKED PARTIES, IN THE PAST

AND I WILL LOVE THEM THROUGH EVERY BUDDHIST LIFE OF MINE, DAD, REMEMBER FRANK SPENSER, BETTY, OH DEAR BETTY, WELL YOUR BETTY NOW DAD

AND NOW, I HAVE TO MAKE PEOPLE UNDERSTAND, I HATED FIGHTING DAD, I WAS HAVING PROBLEMS, LIKE I THOUGHT I WAS DEALING WITH, LIKE A COOL YOUNG DUDE DOES

I WANTED TO BE AN ADULT, DON’T WE ALL

When I kissed you unexpectedly today
it wasn't so you would kiss me back today.
It was so that you would gladly kiss me
unexpectedly on Tuesday.

(20 minute poetry)

Popeyed
I look at the goil with the olive complexion
and the ink drips like oil from the well of my fountain
pen.

It was always the goil that Bluto desired as Wimpy ate burgers
looking awfully tired.

Though Popeyed I tried
to make Bluto see
that the goil in question
was the goil for me.

Lliving a cartoon is like life on the moon where there's no air to breathe, but being here where the atmosphere is rare unlike the burgers that Wimpy won't share
is fine.

The goil is mine and if I eats my spinach there will come a time
when I knock
Bluto out.

(It always sounds like goil to me when Popeye says it.

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

Is there a poem in a sidewalk?
Paths of cratered concrete, cracked
By morning frost and midnight freeze,
Wimpy weeds grow through the fissures.
Children fall and skin their knees.

Is there a poem in a sidewalk?
Canvas for a budding Rembrandt,
Using colored chalk as paint,
Drawing flow’rs, and stick-man family,
Curbing not her young restraint.

Is there a poem in a sidewalk?
Adults dare not let loose the leash,
As they exercise their dogs, and ease their own stress,
Must carry bags and tiny shovels,
To clear the concrete of the mess.

Is there a poem in a sidewalk?
Scooters, skateboards, wagons, bikes,
Off the path, then on again
While yielding the right-of-way
To lovers walking hand in hand.

Is there a poem in a sidewalk?
Collecting children at the corner,
A guard, with yellow vest and sign,
Moses parts the sea of traffic,
Cautiously keeps kids in line.

Through front yards, across drive-ways,
Toward bus stops, stores and schools,
Gathering mown grass, autumn leaves, and winter snow.
There are poems in small town sidewalks,
Imagination on the go.
Phil Lindsey 1/11/17

Pity the wimpy Democrats
They suffer in defeat.
Year after year they don’t learn
Like Republicans you must cheat.
Stuff all the ballot boxes
And monkey with the machines.
You’ll never get a **** thing done
If you keep the elections clean.

And band together solidly
With your chosen party.
Lie and cheat and dissemble
And act like a pompous smarty.
Never worry about what is right.
Just brazen it through out loud.
It seems jerks do the best
When catering to the crowd.

Buy votes from everywhere
Especially from big industry;
Big Oil, Big Banks and Pharma
Kiss their butts shamelessly.
Make sure all the factions
That are stealing the country blind
Understand you have their backs
And treat all of the poor unkind.

Go on tour and television
And make out you’re the good guy:
Dare the opposition to debate
Then Ignore facts and lie.
Remember the public is stupid
And doesn’t know what goes on.
Run a crew of cheaters on the side,
It’s what elections depend on.

But most importantly, you must be
The most obnoxious candidate.
Start early and spend the bucks.
It’s deadly for you to start too late.
Run the most famous people:
They must be Christian and straight.
No matter how you cheat and lie
Promise America will be Great.

Cover your butts before you start.
Plant a lot of baseless rumors.
Make baseless stories about their past.
Swear voting wrong causes tumors.
Do what it takes, Democrats
The GOP has no compunctions
If they could just get by with it
They’d beat you with truncheons.

With the first Roar
Galaxies fell out of your
Void. Here we scream
to throw out all that
checks and chokes us.
In a Roar you created
the limitless Creation of yours
In a Roar, we wish to destroy
the listless creation of ours.

Hoping our roars will resonate
with your mighty Roar of Creation.

Tear we did the chords of Sound
Open we did the doors of the Profound.

May every wimpy sound we
make be in tune with your Roar.

President Comb-Over,
Quite the despicable guy
Got himself elected
But the wise folk wonder why.
Obama wore a tan suit
Conservatives went insane,
But this Wimpy lookalike butterball
Sports a totally artificial mane.

If ****** predation were a soccer game
This **** would win The World Cup.
If you ignored the news and his tweets
You’d think someone made this horror show up.
He’s lied and cheated and swindled his way
In to more lucrative deals than he deserved
Then a large minority of certifiable idiots
Elected him so he could to pretend to serve.

He took the Oath of Office, quite smugly
But that’s where his integrity would end.
He set about making deals for himself
His trophy wives, his offspring and friends.
He made few attempts to cover his tracks,
Mostly just shouted blatantly obvious lies
By which he was fooling no one intelligent.
Just the moronic, the foolish and unwise.

He relied on the vagaries of human nature
That voters are among the laziest humans
And would rather vote for a rascal it seems
Than take a chance on an honest new man
Or woman, or gay or an experienced soul
That could take over the Presidential reins
Instead of driving our country straight to hell
And making huge profits off the remains.

Brent Kincaid
4/23/2019

Alright all you pigeon chests
Came the sound of thunder from the open door
As Big Bad Bart replaced the space
Giant mountain man of lore

Making his way into the bar
Sweeping Nancy boys out of his way
Stepping up to the the jukebox
Kicking it till some good ole country boy music played

This mountain man has made it his goal
To grab hold and unsissify
Any Wimpy Wally's
That happen to catch his manly eye

He started off his conquest
Out in the great North wood
First stop The Red Eye Back Door Saloon
Need I explain the name to you

He went in with his moral barrels a blazing
But there wasn't much he could do
Village people the only band on the jukebox
Y.M.C.A. being the only tune

He didn't let that little nitch stop him
Or slow him down by any means
Giving America back to the menly men
And not the mousey men with their girly dreams

Till the day that Bart locked eyes with Stanly
In that San Francisco flower bar
Those two haven't left each others side
Going through life now arm and arm

They spend their time skipping through fields of pansies
Giggling freely hand in hand
The way Bart now feels this was meant to be
Mia Mono, Man to Man

Bart's lumberjack buddies can't believe it
And don't know what to think of their friend
Although they all secretly admit
He does look good in those Hot Pink Hot Pants

Wimpy baby wimpy baby
Shove it up your ****!

Let me introduce the royal players:

Everyone wants to corner the King
He may be Lord of the board
But he's the most powerless thing!

His lady has to defend her man
He's pretty much a sitting duck
And not one to take command!

The other pieces....what will be their fate?  
They exist to save the wimpy monarch
All the wrong moves...Checkmate!

Manning the front row are the peons, the pawns
Lucky to make it across to promote their rank
Like helpless turtles, they inch forward on

The Bishops, like royal clergy in robes of red
Diagonal in direction, they stride and they glide
Moving this way..and that way...behind or ahead

Shapely horse heads, the gallant Knights
In L - shaped ways, they gallop in battle
Noble beasts who prove their might!

Set upon the four corners are the Rooks
Castles, they have straight-line tactics,
Advancing away from their nooks

Oh, the lovely, noble Queen, not forsaken!
She rules! Nearly limitless, so watch out!
Yet if not careful, even she can be taken!

If Her Majesty is captured...you've lost the very best!
You might as well admit your defeat
You, who play this game called Chess

Let the games begin!

This is my Epic word play, like crippling cliches, putting Shakespeare on a delay, my sentences run a relay.
I speak so quickly you need a replay, but it's still too slick, thats what she say.
I bring dismay like a dark cloud on a clear day, roar so loud I make the lightning pray.
Under my storm the whole world becomes my prey.

Scattered and running, screaming and shouting. Fighting and scratching, clawing and doubting.
This pouting crowd is weak not meek. They sneak peeks at secrets they can't keep.
Living in dreams when they don't sleep. This cheap world carries no beat. Throws fire with no heat.
Full of tricks and no treat. It's a bumpy ride with no seat.
Hope to God you soon meet, cause the Devil's no cheat.

I hear them cry, sigh, whisper, and wan. I walk this wire like a liar,
the path of the insane, but I can't complain.
For it all leads to my reign. These wimpy whimpering children fear their fate.
With no appetite to sate, locked in a fence with no gate.
I can dangle hooks with no bait. And still they snap and still they bite.

It's alright, it's still their right to lose sight of the site.
It's not a lack of sense, but too much ignorance and impudence.
I grant you my two cents. A text to get vexed and hexed. My free verse is like ***.
An ******* hat trick, built brick by brick. No one's immune but no one gets sick.

I'm tired, I quit, hit me back with a single bullet, no clip.
Don't miss and don't slip, or else I'll dip, strike back, your throat I'll split.
Swallow your soul and spit out the pit. It's critical you stand and don't sit.
You'll need to run, the sun is burning out, it's no fun shooting blanks for a toy gun.
Crooked angles over the horizon shows that we're done.

This has been my Epic word play, a day of artistic dismay on display.
The he said she said scene like a play, causes stress make my hair grey.
But I promise you this I.O.U. is A.O.K.
I never right a check that my *** can't pay.
You may be the light but I am the way.

Ode to My Hero (Me)
           to be sung by Donald Trump
    with apologies to Gilbert & Sullivan's
                   H.M.S Pinafore

As a callow youth I served a term
as Senior VP  of  my Daddy's firm
His moxie and his money so suited me
that now I am the ruler of the Trump fam'ly

When asked a question,  my Golden Rule
is to bluster loud and flaunt my cool,    
And this evasion so well suits me
that I've become the master of chicanery.

With legal suits, I've made so free
that all my smitten lenders bow down to me
For I pay my lawyers so liberally
that I never lose a dollar on a bankruptcy.

If now and then my luck runs out
I've buckets of money from my TV route,
And since my ******* up name is Gold
the money keeps a 'comin from the young  and old.

For my great fame they pay and pay
and their paltry savings they fling away
on Trump U studies  they're sure to find, will empty their wallets, not fill their mind.

So listen and learn from my Trumpery
and join white men who hate Hillary
They holler hosannas for their hero DonT, though for Trump adulation they can't beat me!

My heads not troubled by policy woes
'cause I learn all I want at beauty shows
I've put up very well with my three wives,
my yachts & my mansions & my gambling dives.


I've exalted myself unsparingly
and tossed off little lies with impunity
Let fey foes fault me as vain & mean,
their rightful envy leaves me quite serene.

With my big mouth and red regal head
I've clobbered all my rivals until they bled
With frank contempt I dissed Jeb B
bashed Carson & Kasich and Ted's lady.

There's hardly a Republican left to fight
and,  in wimpy Dems,  I inspire fright
while fearful folks seek my mighty arm
to shield them all from ISIS  harm.

Now I've come to the end of this very fine Ode
to march with pride on the Presidential Road
For my boundless bluster's so elevated me
that now I am the ruler of the GOP.

If another Trump you aspire to be,
you must never, never fret about decency.
Just stiff the losers and brag like me,
and you may be the Grand Old Party's nominee.

captured in the psych ward, the man treating a cool kid like a man



you see today was a bad day, when ronald cumpton decided to rebel against his father

for hitting him and stuff when he was young, but the voices in his head made him act

like an old fogie, with the main voice saying, your brother, well he is a kid, you are a man

to a fight Ronald, and we don’t like you anymore and if anyone tried to protect Ronald, they will

tell his mates and brother to just be a kid, so we can bash up Ronald and treat him like a shy man

who can’t do anything, and one man called Ronald a great big ugly snout and another man bullied

Ronald so bad, he felt like being a kid and then the voice came back to his head, Ronald you are still

a man to a fight and your friends and brother are still kids, and we will keep you from being a kid, even if

we could do it religiously and this made Ronald very angry and his mates were saying we ain’t doing anything

and Ronald said someone is teasing me and when i find out the truth i will bash them senseless and the

voices made Ronald think he was a cool young dude sitting over the kids and Ronalds father said we need to

give this boy medication to Ronald  to calm him down but they weren’t really into giving him medication, and

ronald told his dad to ******* and when his father laughed at him like a kid, Ronald yelled at him like a robber

would if they were going to rob him and  this became to much for mr cumpton to understand and he called the police in

to calm him down and Ronald said, you are fucken causing my voices to be violent, and you are causing my voices

to make me look like a ****** and you are the man saying i ain’t a kid, i am a man to a fight, and i am getting fought

by every man in the mall, and i hate it, all i want to do is be a normal young dude, who parties and has a bi of fun and

you are taking it away from me and i need to yell at you and these pigs are not going to lock me away, ok, and then

the voices decided to stop, because the police took ronald to the HDU, where these voices went haywire saying you are

locked away with Ron Cooper because you are a bad boy, and then the men’s voices came into the doctor saying be like a man

and then told his mates to be kids because they haven’t put a foot wrong, and then the forces of evil started to push down on

Ronald’s knee, making it very itchy and Ron gave him some cream to put on it every day, but Ronald said, it’s not a disease it is

the force trying to get me, and i am Don Lane and I am Darly Somers and they are both men of the world and my brother is a wimpy kid

because he ran into his bedroom and i stayed there fighting my dad, and Ron gave Ronald some Largactil, like about 100mg and hopefully

this would calm the voices and say, your dad treated you like a kid he said and if he treated you like a man, he probably thought you were a

grown up and not as misbehaved as a normal kid, and Ronald said, i was getting bashed at the mall and they told the kids to be kids and said

to me not to be a kid because i am not a kid, and Ron said, ok, did you do anything to enforce this and Ronald said, well i did tease them but

i wasn’t in the mood to be a quiet family person, i wanted to be a rebel, i still do, and if i take this medication i will stop taking this medication when

i get free, because as i told my parents, there is nothing wrong with me, and i will put you up for discrimination if you keep me here any longer than

i need and Ron said is there anything that can make you take this medication, and he said, get inside my head and get the bad voices out of my head

because i was a cool kid when i was young and i think cool is the way to go, and I know i am an adult now, but i feel the medication takes my cool away

and i don’t want to take it and the men who teased m me knew i was suffering and sat there saying, ahhh you are still getting teased Ronald and Ron brought out the

inmates dinner and said to Ronald, we want you to stop hitting your parents, and we think we need to give you medication to explain those men who bullied and teased you

are just human beings, everybody is a human being and we have feelings and your starting to hurt your parents feelings when you yell at them when they are trying to help you

and Ronald noticed a knife on the table and said to Ron that he was going to **** him then and there and Ron  reached in and got the knife off Ronald and said eat your meal in you room and

then  in half an hour Ron brought his medication to him and stayed there till they take it and the men said, you just stay in there Ronald because your father mother and brother and your friends are

all kids and you are a man to a tease or fight unless you begin to behave yourself and Ronald told Ron and he said, well i don’t think you are ready to go out if you think those voices are real

because nobody is giving you an itchy leg and nobody makes you hit your father, nobody is m treating you like a fighting man, and while you still think these voices are real,

you need to be in here and we will look after you, if you want to be a kid, be a kid, but remember you probably prefer to be a fighting man, and the voices are doing that because

Ronald, you are just about as messed up as everyone here, and after saying that Ron left Ronald and clocked off and bought chinese food and went home to watch youtube

because he wanted to learn more about what was causing these crazy voices, zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz you are still getting teased Ronald heard all night and the next morning

he told Ron all about this and Ron gave him 100mg of largactil to calm them down and then he told Ronald to calm down because the nurses said you were making noise at night

and Ronald said the reason why was because i was hearing voices saying, your family are still kids and you are still a man to a fight, and then the fighting men put an itch in Ronalds leg saying

you will never be a kid, buddy, NEVER