I am sharing this opus
It's more of an onus
Of just how things went
But were not really bogus.
I earned my life lumps
Racing over speed bumps
Trying to outrun cards dealt
That were not quite trumps.

Still I made it this far
And while I’m not a star
I suited and showed up.
Things are what they are
And I can debate them
But I can’t dispute them.
It would be a big lie
If I tried to refute them.

So my doddering totter
Gets odder and odder
Telling me loudly
I am Grim Reaper fodder.
Some bridges burned,
Another corner turned
Dealing with the effects
Of the lessons learned.

Now an irascible rascal
Far too frequently wrathful
Warring with too-small print
I am the long-retired radical
No longer marching around
Supporting causes I found.
No longer a crusader, I am
A kind of sad circus clown.

I never expected to have it made
Like a grandee in the shade
Sipping my iced mint julep
Rich from making the grade
But  with youthful short sight
I never saw it in this light
That I would fall so short
Of playing things just right.

Still, I have to cut some slack
When I sit here looking back
At where and what I was.
The view is not so black.
While superstars never came,
My lottery dreams were lame,
I feel I did all that could
To honestly play the game.

He wanted to be minister
And pass laws quite sinister
But nobody would ever elect him.
So, he stood for the seat
And risked his defeat
And let all the people reject him.

But he was the very one
Who in the end won
When the opposition underestimated.
So, the county was undone
When the mountebank won
And the country ended up decimated.

The minister made a war
That was tried once before
And it came to a much worse end.
The country went broke
Except for any bloke
That could be called the minister’s friend.

As always is with war
The few that forbore
And stayed back home made billions.
They country suffered loss
And bore all of war’s cost.
But not so the minister’s minions.

The way politics plays out
Even when there is no doubt
And a minister is a total disaster.
The party he commanded then
Refused to abandon him
And used lies to help bear him out.

When the ruckus was done
The country was undone
But somehow the minister escaped jail.
It’s a sad tale to relate
That although he wasn’t great
His county ended up making his bail.

Scoundrels and rascals
All decked out in pastels
And Brooks Brothers suits
With cufflinks to boot
And five hundred dollars ties
Thinking that makes them wise;
Just one of the rich guys
And nobody to question them,
Never harrumph or an ahem
Because they are above it all,
No boring trips to the mall
They depend on their buyers
And other expensive liars
To tell them how cheap it is
To engage in this dressing biz,
For them to buy for the guy
And never ask why so high.

After all, it’s Armani, not Guess
So why should they confess
That they are smarter than him
The guy they work for is so dim
He pays whatever they say.
After all, he can afford to pay.
Even the water his maid gets
Is so high quality, one forgets
It is only hydrogen and oxygen
Not something created by men;
Probably bottled from the tap.
He never knows he is a sap
That falls for the television ads.
He will die completely glad.

It is so ****-hardening for him
To sup in restaurants so dim
He hardly notices how small
The costly portions are at all.
He lets them uncork the wine
And brays about how fine
The taste and the vintage,
Not caring the damage
It does to his Diner’s card.
This kind of life is not hard.
Plus he gets to go tomorrow
And wreak more sorrow on
Constituents and other peons
And wreak his own opinion
Even though he is but a minion
Doing exactly what he is told.
As long as he rakes in the gold.

Later, a bit under the influence
He'll revel in the confluence
Of a lack of conscience, and
Socially accepted concupiscence
At an appropriate gathering
Where there is a smattering
Of propriety and morality
That allows rented geniality
And permits him to rise up
And drink too many cups
While he beats his chest
Just like all of the rest
And call for the dancers
To come and surrender
To their oh-so rightful rapine
That won’t make the magazines.

Act one, scene one;
A date with drama
Has just begun.
Two youngsters
Hale of body
Ready to run.

Act two, scene one;
Excitement does not
Necessarily mean fun.
Too many secrets
Not enough revealed
By either one.

Act three scene one;
Good news can be
Bad news for some.
A lucky break
A chance to take
One could not shun.

Then comes intermission
Perhaps time for confession.
Sometimes no, sometimes yes
But maybe too much to confess.
Perhaps that’s how it goes
Maybe romance owes
Its success to mystery.
One chooses one’s own misery.

Act four scene four;
Being very careful
What you wish for
Seems obvious
When one looks back.
So very patrician.

Act five, scene one;
The denouement begun.
The finale can be dramatic
All cacophonic static
Or the lovers can walk off
Hand in hand in the sun.

I want to write such words
That can reach out and teach,
And share with the world
What I have found on beaches
And mountain passes, in cities
And the countrysides, like music;
Lilting songs without tunes
But such that please any critic
And help them learn to sing
Even when there is no melody,
Experiences that changes them
To symphonies from threnodies.

I want to help everybody hear
The jigs and tarantellas here
Made from words that keep
Their lively memory very near,
That we may subtly hear it
And love it and treasure
Every beat, rest and thought
In every verbal measure,
So they can ride along with
An orchestra often unheard:
The precious gift to us all,
The magnificent spoken word.

I have set my sights on this,
The mission I have chosen
And shall make it my quest to
Insure my stride is not broken.
Not everyone is given the gift
To say what they deeply feel,
It falls to those who can speak
To show others what is real,
Or what may just be tinsel
And what is golden, or wrong.
Thus is the fate of our poets
To parse it in poetry and song.

Born hate-free, I was taught,
Caught up in a time when crimes
Against millions of people was fine
And the social genocide of bigotry
Was excused for me and practiced hourly
Then daily and yearly and nobody said no,
Oh no, don’t go there! Where was decency
When everybody could use names
Like flames to torch total strangers?

The danger is visible now, almost risible
But indivisible with no liberty or justice
Just issuing slams and slurs like a knife,
A way of life that helped nobody
And anybody that protested, complained
Were given their own names to suffer.
No, they didn’t stutter. ****** lover.
That’s what they called us if we shied,
Chose the wrong side, the side of freedom,.
Equality, morality, principles of Christianity.
Seemed invisible concepts to the likes of me.

Taught hypocrisy, I dissembled easily
Saying all men were equal when evil
Was universal at a “whites only” fountain,
The affronts to decency mounting, hurting,
Atrocities compounding, surrounding
Hanging, shooting, beating, killing
In a society willing to hang and ****
The Martin Luther Kings at will
For being willing to not sit still
And let the falsehood go on and on.
And then he was gone, but The South
Still pours honey from a mouth that claims
To be the right, the good, the family party.

I have watched you cheat and swindle.
I’ve listened to your shallow lies.
I have seen what passes for integrity
In the avarice that shines from your eyes.
You don’t seem to be able to talk much
Without over-exaggerating the truth.
You speak like the infamous cookie-jar kid,
But, you don’t have the advantage of youth.

It doesn’t take long to recognize
That you are just a fake and a crook.
You can’t avoid exhibiting behavior
Of every villain in the story books.
All you need is a handlebar mustache
And a damsel to rope to the tracks
For us to know exactly who you are;
That Snively Whiplash is back!

But alas we have no Dudley Doright
To come along and vanquish the foe.
The heroes have all died out, it seems
And we only ever had eleven or so.
The rest are cowards, covering ***
And hiding behind wimpy excuses
That let the gang leaders do their worst
And heap on us further abuses.

As always the way with dictators
They need the people to lie down
And let themselves be driven over
By a huge car driven by a clown.
Those are the wimps, and the marks
Who quit learning in elementary school
Who can’t tell a statesman from a crook
And applaud when listening to a fool.

But not all of us are hornswoggled;
Some of us can read the danger signs.
We scream and shout all the way through
To idiots that seem deaf and blind.
In vain we insist of those not too bright
That the leaders should go by the book .
No matter how stupid you think we are
We’re not all as dumb as you look.

A song of mad men, many bad men
Sung to sad men, to remind or warn
That trusting can be dangerous to you
Because, sometimes, Goliath gets shorn.
We have to pay attention to our heroes
If they are zeroes we can be misled
Thinking they were something good
With nothing good inside their heads.

It’s amazing how many villains exist
And are powerless to resist being bad;
Who’ll rob  you and cheat you, and love
To really enjoy the pain you have had.
They roam like packs of wolves prowl
And will tear you up if they only could.
So, it’s good to remain ever vigilant
And not be the baby lost in the wood.

They’ve taken over our government
Despite what the mad men have said
And with their total lack of sentiment
It’s like the night of the living dead.
The people who could stop it did not.
It happened quick, while we were asleep
Now we’re stuck with what they’ve brought
We fallen  from the top of the moral heap.

So this is a sad song, of what once was
And what it seems it’s soon to become.
Many citizens were rebels without a cause
And most of those were terminally dumb.
They believed change would be good
When we were doing especially well
Now those deluded heads of solid wood
Have created for us all a scary kind of hell.

On twitter, he's the twit,
And he does it without wit.
His twits aren’t worth a ****,
But still he just won’t quit.
He’s such an outrageous ***;
An obviously halfwitted twit
Whose lightbulb isn’t quite lit
So spoiled, he doesn’t know it.

He constantly throws late night fits
And calls all of his betters twits.
Seems to have a case of mental zits.
We really want to kick him where he sits.
He never found education a good fit,
To him, being rich is as good as it gets.
He argues based on just tats for ****
He hoards every dime he gets in his mitts.

He thinks his taste is the Ritz
But it’s much more like the pits,
Made up like some madame’s kit.
Always the tackiest kind of glitz.
But any place this fat pig sits
Soon is covered with gaudy bits
Like some fairy tale ogre ditz.

Chronic insomnia must be the pits
Early morning hours, there he sits
Posting on the internet, collecting hits
Driving the Liberals out of their wits.
His ideas are the absolute pits
Even though copied by Brits
And they give sane people fits;
A lot like living through The Blitz.

We came from all over the land
To show our hand and our signs
And resign from the silent crowd
That allowed this filth to control
And dig a hole in our Constitution;
To point out the fools that choose
To use our schools to abuse us
With their taking of bribes and
Payoffs for scribes in the media.

It was an amazing time to climb
Off our sofas and it was thrilling
Even with the wind chilling us.
But these kids, friends and families
Had grown tired of homilies by crooks
Justifying what they took from us
And throwing us all under the bus
In the name of patriotism and then
Giving back in nepotism to their
Friend's foreign bank accounts,
As well as a hefty kickback account,
Which amounts to the same thing.

The nation admired the children
They had sired should move to fight
For what is right when leaders
Turned out to be followers of wrong.
They lifted voice in songs and chants
And shocked the pants off mediocrity
By standing in all solemnity to face
The worst of our race who ruled
That murdering children ranked less
Than the mess our country has begun
By protecting horrible guns more
And giving children in school
A much lower overall score.

Not often enough, we wake up
As a country, and stand up
To picket, protest and crowd
Around the symbols we have found
That mean we are being swindled
And the innocent are being starved
And carved up and killed daily
So our leaders can go gaily on
With business as usual; a kind of
Tone-deaf musical for the twisted.

But we stopped liking the lyrics
And cynics doing the singing
With bad voices too loudly,
So, we proudly declare a mistrial
That has gone on too long a while
And needs to quit. Those in power
Need to sit down at home
And leave the real people alone
And we at home need to step in
And begin this freedom and equality
Promise and fulfillment for real
And apply it to the common weal.

I’m so easily distracted
My inner vision gets refracted.
While I’m nothing like a dope
Inside my head a kaleidoscope
Makes the movies in my head
Sometimes keep me in bed
Until I see the world squarely
But, that happens so rarely.

I’m regularly absentminded
And organizationally blinded;
The kind who walks across the floor
And forgot what he was going for.
It’s not that I can’t tie my shoes
But may not know which remote to use.
But, if I set something down somewhere
I might not be able to find it on a dare.

In school I went to the wrong classes
And could almost never find my glasses.
It would be wise if people would wear
Name tags that tell me who and where
We know each other in full detail.
If left to me, every time I will fail.
It’s not that I am a brainless person,
It’s just that I’m the forgetful version.

Hokum, poke ‘em
Fill ‘em full of lies.
Hokus pokus,
Tricking the unwise!
Hinkum dinkum,
Hear the trickster shout!
Joke seen; smokescreen,
Never will find out!

Two, four, six, eight
Stand up and holler
If you think Republican’ts
Should wear a shock collar.
Every time they bark a lie
They get it in the neck.
Maybe then the Democrats
Could fix the D.C. wreck.

Olly, olly, oxen fee
They’ll hang us from the Liberty Tree.
Huff and puff and blow them off
What a perfect thing to see.
If you want to hurt them
I’m sure it would be funny
If every time they lie
They loose most of their money.

Let’s all shout it together
Neener, neener, neener!
Check the Congressional ledger,
The Republicrooks of today?
None were ever meaner.
Isn’t it time we tell them
Nanny, nanny, boo boo?
After all, there’s no debate
They stuck us all in doodoo.

I’ve got a lot to be thankful for
I want to waste no time in *******’.
I may not drive a fancy car
I have no mansion to be rich in.
But I got fingers
And I got toes
And sometimes that’s
Just the way it goes.
I wake up in the morning
And jump out of bed,
And just be thankful
That I’m not dead.

I’ve got clothes on my back
And shoes on my feet.
A place to lay my head
And enough food to eat.
There’s plenty in my life
For which I am grateful.
And absolutely no reason
For me to feel hateful.

I see a lot of people now
Gripe about what they want.
I’m sure when they’re dead
They’ll want a better house to haunt.
It seems they waste their time
And they fail to appreciate
The hundred times a day
What they have is truly great.

I’ve got a lot to be thankful for
I want to waste no time in *******’.
I may not drive a fancy car
I have no mansion to be rich in.
But I got fingers
And I got toes
And sometimes that’s
Just the way it goes.
I wake up in the morning
And jump out of bed,
And just be thankful
That I’m not dead.

It used to be you and me
Separately, distinctively
Distinguished from others
More than sisters and brothers
More than fathers and mothers
A family of our own
Two of us alone
Facing a world ready
To tear us apart
Separate us
Denigrate us
For loving each other
Choosing one another
instead of acquiescing,
Bowing and scraping
To the rules laid out
By those with the clout
To call us names and scorn
Try to deny we were born
As the people we are.
But, it turns out, so far
We are stronger
And out love lasts longer
From when we had begun
Than those who feel none.
As our love moves along
We have become twice as strong.

Sometimes it’s like a magic trick
And suddenly someone is there.
It’s like you’ve known each other
But can’t remember just where.
But quickly thinking is not the thing.
Instead it’s feeling that matters.
Your lifelong fear of heartbreak
And trusting suddenly shatters.

The two of you find yourself
Talking like long-lost friends
And before you even know it
Something wonderful begins.
Looking into each other’s eyes
And it seems to mean so much.
It feels like warm caresses
But you haven’t even touched.

As the evening goes on, joyously
Enjoying laughing and walking.
Then the time has finally come.
You find you need to start talking.
“Now that we have met each other
Won’t you stay just one more hour;
Just be here close together
And let this romance fully flower?”

It’s just that simple, just that easy
For the love affair to get its start.
Two people you were before now
Have become just this one heart.
Everything seems to have changed.
The air is fresher somehow.
The lights are brighter, the colors too.
The world is just perfect now.

Brent Kincaid
4/25/2015

I want to sing songs of peace
But Congress broke its leash
And some nasty snarling curses
With their eyes on the purses
Of a nation of slothful dummies,
Grafters, liars and rummies
Who either had some con game brewing
Or had no idea what they were doing.

This is the story being written now.
Ask any Republican to show you how
Reagan took away people’s rights
And they give them up without a fight.
If you just paint lies with the USA brush
And the fools bow down in a big rush
To let movie stars and corporate thieves
Tell more lies for the dunces to believe.

It’s a sad story, almost Dickensian
In which America’s men and women
Keep thinking we can stop the madness
And end this national reign of sadness
Begun with Reagan and running until now.
And expecting the GOP to show them how.
The GOP subjects them to more slapping.
The fools don’t see, relief will not happen.

It hurts the soul to see this horrific fate
Threatens to take down our fine old state.
“We need no foreign enemies,” some cried.
“Our downfall is coming from deep inside.”
Still some stupid voters with little sense
Keep pointing to Chump and to Pence.
There are still a few human rights to burn
By a voting block that never really learns.

Baby cries
Don’t know why
There’s got to be a reason.
By and by
We’ll know why
It can’t be just the season.
Pick them up
When babies cry
And let the know you love them.
Never beat
Never shout
Never push and shove them.

What could a little kid do
That merited a hard fist?
Go ahead, take your time
Write us out a long list.
Did it cry because hungry,
Lonely in it’s own crib?
Did it need frequent changing,
Spit up on it’s tiny bib?

Baby cries
Don’t know why
There’s got to be a reason.
By and by
We’ll know why
It can’t be just the season.

Was there a rash hurting
Or maybe a sour belly.
Did you feed it liver pate
When it wanted cherry jelly?
Did it say no to your orders
When treated like a slave?
What was the crime you felt
Should send them to the grave?

Pick them up
When babies cry
And let the know you love them.
Never beat
Never shout
Never push and shove them.

Something went very wrong with you
That you feel right to hit children;
To starve and cut and burn them
With a kind of joyous abandon.
Is part of it that you get to do
Whatever outrage you want
As long as you keep it hidden,
As long as you don’t flaunt?

Baby cries
Don’t know why
There’s got to be a reason.
By and by
We’ll know why
It can’t be just the season.
Pick them up
When babies cry
And let the know you love them.
Never beat
Never shout
Never push and shove them.

Memory movies
Little flickers of thought
Of what happened before
About the fish we caught
When Dad and I, together
Went by ourselves to a stream.
We spent the day together
It feels rather like a dream.

Memory moments
Of wonders I have seen
And what they have become
And what they came to mean.
Suddenly recalling back then
Someone I had totally forgot.
Some people stay friends
But sometimes others do not.

Memory music
Seemed to choreograph time.
There were songs playing then
And in a way, they kept time;
The drumbeat to life’s march,
We kept right up with the beat.
It went with us everywhere, then
In our school, home and the street.

Memory maybe
But it’s part of who I’ve become
Today compared to yesterday
Some things are better, and some
Are never going to top them
Those days of bright discovery.
So, I let those memory movies,
When they show up, come cover me.

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.

The current heartthrob,
In a long line of men,
And the goodbye speech
Hearing it all over again.
Said it wasn’t working
And I knew it as well.
Pretending he loved me
For him must have been hell.

By this time in my story
I had learned the ropes.
Neither of us felt we had to
Act like a couple of dopes.
We could divide up the music
The dishes and the clothes.
It didn’t work out this time.
That’s how it always goes.

We picked each other
Because we looked good
And felt things would click
And turn out like they should.
Before long we discovered we
Didn’t have similar dreams.
Two on different tracks together
Is not as easy as it seems.

It happened so many times
I became an expert at it
Because I had no ability
To effectively combat it.
It was love me and leave me
For too long of a time.
As if getting to know each other
Was some kind of a crime.

It would be years before I noticed
How I approached this love task.
They had to guess what I wanted.
It was no good if I had to ask.
That had to figure what I needed
And then they must give it to me.
That was the story every time.
That was my romantic M.O., see?

Today I know it was a stupid game
Like wishing for a dream to come true.
And it didn’t matter one little bit
How many others did the same thing too.
I discovered it wasn’t about good looks
Or some kind of storybook ending.
It’s more like an intense version of us
Becoming friends, our lives blending.

What is all this blather about dawn
And the lies about loving sunrise?
There is very little fun going on.
It doesn’t it make me wealthy and wise.
It’s often cold except in summer.
It’s still mostly dark, not quite light.
Stumbling around is a ******,
And, in my opinion, it’s not right.

What the heck is wrong with bed,
Letting the whole world get up first
Enjoying more dreams in my head,
Before experiencing morning thirst?
Why can’t I let the winos rise up
And move away from my doorstep
Before I try to find my getup
And take my outside first step?

Unless I make it at home, no good
Food is offered in American diners.
They sell no roughage, as they should.
They think health food is for whiners.
Nothing green, not much but meat
Mostly on offer is coffee and sugar;
Fried, and starchy stuff on the street.
Finding food besides that is a ******.

So, no thanks, I much prefer to stay
With dreams of retirement in my head
Until later on in the bright light of day
Snuggled, sleeping in my comfy bed.
I don’t want to wake while it’s still dark.
There is nothing much of dawn I like.
Joggers go on and run in the park.
All of you early risers: go take a hike.

Just in case you wondered
I love all my fellow poets.
Even if you blundered
I think you should know it.
You have taken me places
That I have never been
And unless I read more from you
I will never get there again.

You have painted the insides
Of my mind in psychedelics
Or showed me galleries
Of otherwise forgotten relics.
You let me walk with you
To your personal locations
And taken me on trips
Of twenty-line vacations.

You have used your words
Like brushes full of paint.
You have shown me clarity
And pointed out social taint.
You’ve shared your family
And the lovers in your life.
Some were Lochinvars
And some were a fishwife.

You parsing and your cadence
Helped put shyness aside.
You encouraged me to know you
Where others try to hide.
It’s amazing that in one page
You manage to become a friend
And then you stay with me
Long after the poem ends.

She wanted to be married forever
She learned she can’t do it alone
She conducted half her relationship
Sitting on the couch on the phone.
He was late or wasn’t coming home
Claiming he had to do some work.
Afterward she loudly berated herself
Calling herself a gullible ****.

Waiting for the phone to ring
Sitting beside the window.
Five more hours until dawn
Five more hours to go.

Knowing it was a tired old story
Many told too often before
It didn’t help her suffer any less
Or feel less bruised and sore.
It wasn't that he was beating her up
He was just lying to her face.
It still left her the victim of the tale
In love, abandoned and disgraced.

Fools do all the work in love
When their love doesn’t love them.
They spend their time waiting
As their hope of true love grows dim.

Her friends advised her early
That something was very wrong.
She fought and denied it every time
And ignored their advice all along.
She had a kind of storybook love
That was stuck inside her mind.
It seemed to render her virtually
Senseless, deaf and blind.

Waiting for the phone to ring
Sitting beside the window.
Five more hours until dawn
Five more hours to go.
Fools do all the work in love
When their love doesn’t love them.
They spend their time waiting
As their hope of true love grows dim.

If I can see what you can’t see
Then it must seriously behoove me
To reflect back with total clarity
The image I see so readily.
If you could do it, you surely would
And, while I’m sure not everyone could
Maybe not quite so concise and good
As I can, so therefore I should.

This is not meant to be arrogance
Or some kind of verbal flatulence.
It is just a normal happenstance
That drives me to take a chance
And speak my feelings publically
Expressing myself poetically
And even sometimes politically
Espousing social practicality.

It’s the poet’s job to elucidate
To oh so carefully illuminate
And sometimes even exaggerate
The actions of the conglomerate;
The swath of all humanity
And do so without inanity.
Be the bellwethers of insanity.

So applaud the poet gratefully
For the gift of words used tastefully.
Abandon slams like ‘disgracefully’
And take their lessons gracefully,
Because knowing where we err
Separates us from common curs.
Still the harbingers we ever were
It’s not within most poets to demur.

I sat there, a callow youth
Shallow, unwieldy with the truth,
And fearing to be caught in a lie
My words never gave the by
To my attempt at insouciance.
I gave away the game with my name
And hoped that my meager fame
Would decry any need to explain,
But social curiosity laid its claim
And suddenly I was the luminary
With a silly, boring past to bury.
I knew I should have been more wary.

Why was  I here when it was clear
These people and I were disparate?
Was I so desperate that I needed
To risk an embarrassing removal
To seek these stranger’s approval?
Was I such a egotistical *****
I craved applause when there wasn’t any?
I knew coming here I didn’t know forks,
More accustomed to dinner with sporks,
My napkins had heretofore been disposable.
Socially my thumbs were unopposable
Yet here I sat feeling totally unacceptable.

Yet I was the intended near-inlaw,
Feeling much to be the social outlaw
Recognizing glances and non-glances
Of those who were game to taking chances
To see if I remained seated to brazen it out
Or had I, with an excuse, or better, a shout
Stood and wilted, or scuttled away theatrically
Empowering chatter for those women who natter
And seem of no matter at all to the men
So they can return again to their talk of money
And find nothing in my existence slightly funny;
Finding it necessary to ignore me all the more.

But, raised as a child of little parental concern
I could teach these paragons with so much to learn
That every individual is exactly and precisely that.
They would be wise to take their feet, tip their hat,
And effuse with gratitude, issue some platitudes
And beatitudes that I could so easily obliterate
Their tendencies to pontificate and exacerbate
Their images as characters in a humorous play.
I might receive them of that burden this day
By letting them listen to the tales I could say
Transporting them from this table to non-fables
About what it means to exist with little food.

But I spare them this education, my declarations,
Because I know they desire not any perorations
From a person of my painful lack of pedigree.
I knew I must be satisfied with the planned perigee
Of this cometary gathering, the blathering and chat,
The acceptance of the crucible of where I sat
Like the Cheshire cat, smiling as if this were fine
And my status here were not firmly on the line.
I watched my intended blanch when I said
Or did something she didn’t have in her head.
I counted, the times I was addressed unpleasantly.
I knew this romance was to terminate presently.

Random acts of poetry
Seem to come a lot to me.
No apologies issue from me
Because that is how it is meant to be.

Have you  ever met someone
So odious and evil you cringed?
Someone who was so obviously
From Hell they looked singed?
A person so awful to be around
You badly wanted to move away
So you would not accidentally
Hear a word they had to say?

Someone who, by showing up
Could make a bright day dim?
A person who could *** you out
Without a word from them?
A slimy kind of crap machine
That filled your heart with dread;
So much you feared to hear
A single word they said?

The kind of creep you tried hard
To avoid glancing their way;
To hear their views on anything
Could solidly *** your day.
For years you suspected they
Had no parenting much at all.
A decent parent would have taught
Them better when they were was small.

Sadly though, not watching him
And avoiding the ugly sight
Was not the way that was the best,
It didn’t work out so right.
Thinking he was so obvious
That no body would ever trust
Laissez faire might have worked
Close, but really only just.

Because snakes like that kind
Sneak around and pass out bribes
And play the game of devils
That King James describes.
They rise to the top of criminals
Who have morals just like them;
That is to say no morals at alll
Just greed, lust and whim.

****** rednecks and tabloid editors,
Choosing a big-mouthed wussy,
Voted into office a ****** predator who
Brags he grabs women by the *****.
He goes on and on about himself
Blows that he is highly educated
He only tells lies, braggadocio, or
Unpresidential rot that is R-rated.

He boasted he could shoot
Someone dead in the street
Even that ugly deed would
Not cause his defeat.

It turned out to be
Unfortunately true!
That’s the kind of thing
Ignoramuses will do:
They vote some dingaling
No matter how disgusting
And decide this grifter
Is definitely worth trusting.

He's just bright enough to see
That suckers love a good show
So he’ll dance and sing to them
For three and a half years or so.

He said he keeps the best
People to back up his boasts,
And when he chooses one
His accomplices all toast.
It won’t be very long until
As his TV show has inspired,
He’ll open that ugly mouth
And snarl out “You’re fired!”

He knows he can keep on
In his lucrative term of office
If he just keeps the rich happy, and
Fools who can’t see he’s bogus.

He’s busily going about
Taking the rights of the poor
And wadding all of them up
Then kicking them out the door.
The only people he wants to succeed
Are him and those ***-kissers
Who hang with him out of greed.

He's just bright enough to see
That suckers love a good show
So he’ll dance and sing to them
For three and a half years or so.

You think being so snooty
Makes you superior to me?
I will no longer play that game.
When your enemies shoot us down
And we are lying on the ground
Then we will be basically the same.

You think having all your millions
Counted in offshore bank minions
Means you are above our laws?
When you get to heaven’s book’s
Summation for those final looks
You’ll realize your life was a lost cause.

When you’re face to face with god
And he says you are way too odd
And tosses you on the elevator to hell,
You’ll not have any money in hand
And maybe then you’ll understand
Just how a shallow person can smell.

When you see it is the last dance
You’ll be asking for a second chance
And the answer will be the very same
As the one you gave to your life
To your children and your wife;
Sorry, folks, you didn’t play that game.

The big difference for some of us
Is we never caught that ******* bus
That drove you to your personal perfidy.
We preferred to sleep well at night
Knowing we chose to do things right
And look forward to our fate in infinity.

So when the Devil takes you in
And removes your star of tin
Or your business suit that leaves you ****,
Just remember what a **** you were;
A semi-human version of a rabid cur
Who didn’t care if he was seen as rude.

I sang of you to passersby
To tell them of your grace.
I wished them all the luck
To gaze upon your face.
I hoped they all would be
The luckiest of friends
To feel the peace descend;
Be the joy that never ends.

I sang of all my memories
Of now and days gone by
Where you were a gift to me
And I was just humble I.
I sang a melody of happiness
And life that came complete.
So I was dedicated to lay
The world there at your feet.

I sang though some did think
I was but a simpleton’s fool
Who suffered some diseases
That kept me long from school.
They clucked and bade me quiet
When I most wanted to sing.
They could not feel what I felt.
They felt not a loving thing.

I sang through scowls and scoffs
And heartless catcalls of the many.
I suffered names like half-witted,
Brainless ****, twit and *****.
But did I care what many had said
Who ridiculed my loving song?
Not I, instead I ignored them all
And sang louder as I went along.

My car won’t work,
I’m totally *******!
It’s acting totally rude;
Imbued with a bad attitude.
Like a metal horse
That needs to be shoed
It’s behavior is almost lewd
Waiting around for a rich guy
To come and be the dude
I checked to see if the problem is
Lack of water or life-giving crude,
Oil that is, Texas tea.
It’s silly to expect wealth of me
Always broke, an automotive joke.

All I can do is sit and croak
Like the frog on a log spoke
And since my car chose to croak
I gave my mechanic a poke.
He decided my wallet was too full.
Now I’m in the thrall of a lull
With too much idle time to ****.
I’ll pay the bill, I know I will,
But still, this whole thing is a pill.
It’s not that I hate holding still,
It’s just that I have so few frills
And this is financially uphill.
I will make it work somehow
But for now, it’s back to the plow
That I’ll pull but don’t know how.
A result of the here and the now.

I may just be whining, not sure
But I see no ready-made cure
For now my sense of loss is pure
And there may be no sinecure.
I just have to grin and endure.
I walk and I wait and I cuss
Waiting for the ever-late bus
To ride with other unfortunates.
At least I’m not on a date
And being embarrassed to state
The case of my pauperish state.
Really, none of this is great.

He’s a social chameleon.
He is whoever you want
Whenever you want it
And he’s glad to flaunt it.
He serves me Doctor Pepper
In a crystal champagne flute
And whistles heavy metal
In a double-knit pantsuit
Since he dresses from yard sales
In cheap period clothes
Everybody seems to know him
Wherever he goes.

But, they don’t know his name
Only his audacious style
That either runs people off
Or makes them smile.
He only cares for opinions
That make him happy inside
And assumes any criticism
Is because somebody lied.
He dances like a club kid
But is well into middle age.
He knows all the song lyrics
That are the current rage.

He makes his money painting
HIs canvases of chaos
Covered with a thousand splashes
Of house paint in gloss.
He says they are like music
Each color has a separate tone
And if you can’t enjoy his art
Then leave him the hell alone.
He’s skinny, but delicate
With the bone structure of gods
You’ll not have seen his type before
I will lay you bookable odds.

His one solid weakness
And everybody knows
Is that he sings all the time
And everywhere he goes.
That would be quite lovely
But he can’t carry a tune.
So he looks like an old photo
And makes noises like a loon.

When starting out,
We need no steps
Because we cannot walk;
We use our voices
To state our need
Even before we can talk.

Then, walking, a treasure,
Running, equal measure;
Learning to risk falling down.
Standing up, being tall
Taking stock of it all,
And amazedly looking around.

Watching others too;
What they went through
As they do the things they do
Does it’s duty to teach
Everyone they reach,
And we learn to love what’s new.

We sometimes stumble.
It's no good to grumble
We improve with each new step
Some of us in the middle
Never win the gold medal,
But, somehow we all take the trip.

When running days are gone
We keep on moving on.
When age has slowed our step.
At the end, lying down,
Making helpless sounds;
No step needed for the last trip.

You promised us you’d make the country great again
And that you would build a Mexican wall.
You said you’d make America bigly wonderful
And that you were the smartest of them all.
You said you’d keep the immigrants from coming
To take away our jobs and ruin our land.
You finally came around to getting rid of gays
Now that they are getting out of hand.

Scamboozled, that’s what we got.
We’re hoodwinked. By all the things you’re not.
Plum snookered by all your fancy words.
We’re still waiting for what we heard.

You said you’d fix the country with your knowledge
Of how business should be conducted.
So how come we are starting to feel
Like Russians came here and we’ve been abducted?
You promised you’d put the best minds to work
But you hired a bunch of babbling stupid clowns.
Watching your soap opera presidency
Has really begun to get a lot of us down.

Scamboozled, that’s what we got.
We’re hoodwinked. By all the things you’re not.
Plum snookered by all your fancy words.
We’re still waiting for what we heard.

You said you’d never take any vacations yourself
And be like that black guy you hate
But you have taken forty seven golfing weekends
And plan a two week vacation to date.
When you first got your self elected to the job
It looked like a new era was in reach.
Now I think I’ll join with the majority
And see if we can’t all get you impeached.

Scamboozled, that’s what we got.
We’re hoodwinked. By all the things you’re not.
Plum snookered by all your fancy words.
We’re still waiting for what we heard.

The old man said to me
“Although it may sound strange,
Time will have its effect on you
And your focus will surely change.
Right now getting naked means
A shower or some **** fun.
But when you get to be older
*** is no longer number one.

You see, life has time limits
And then, that’s all there is.
You start out good at things
A sure enough veritable ****.
When young we race around
And later we have to walk.
Early on we are doing things
Later, we prefer to sit and talk.

There is less time for us
To make sure promises are kept
Than the nimble candlesticks
That always have to be leapt.
There are candles that refuse
To stay lit from both ends
And far too soon, we find
That clocks are not our friends.

So celebrate while you can
And sow your own wild oats
Because all that is left is stink
When you deal with old goats.
Having said all that he turned
And looked me in the eye.
Still when the time comes, you
Probably won’t want to say goodbye."

Brent Kincaid
4/19/2015

It started out so quietly
This timeless love we share;
A glance of someone passing
And just a momentary stare.
But in the gaze of a stranger
What should have been a mystery
Was glimpse of a past I had to know;
A tale of a fascinating history.

I didn’t think, just began to move
And put myself within that gaze
So I could find out who this was
That had set my mind ablaze.
Not so much the words we said,
Hello and how are you tonight,
It was that we said anything at all
That somehow made it all just right.

Some might think it was magic
That brought us here that night.
Some would call it a fairy tale
With that idea I will not fight.
It might not be a magic tale, or
It might be just what it seems.
Because something changed then
That fulfilled my sweetest dreams.

Halloween, nineteen seventy six,
My friend and I were prowling.
The holiday spirit was strong
It was powerful and howling.
We were visiting friends,
Both is and mine that night,
We saw some wondrous things
House to house that night.

One house was amazing;
A Los Feliz mansion.
It was glorious, a jewel
Both high, wide and handsome.
Inside, a silent movie ran
From foyer to the third floor.
And every room of the house
Was a delight to see and explore.

The next house was a study
Of **** smoking and chat.
We intended to stay awhile
We saw nothing wrong with that.
And, as we plowed through
The crowd ebbed and waned.
I giggle as we tried our best
To maintain the footing we gained.

Then, from the gabbing throng,
A face of a handsome guy
Came out and apparently he
Decided to give kissing me a try.
He pulled me close and it worked,
He planted on me a warm kiss.
He was aiming for my lips and
He aimed he scored, didn’t miss.

The thing that made it memorable
Was that it was a perfect kiss.
I remember thinking to myself
“It’s been years since a kiss like this.”
In a night of traditional revelry
And simulated comic danger
I got the best Halloween kiss ever
And it came from a total stranger.

I never saw him again or since
As he melted back into the crowd.
They were all talking and shouting
So no good shouting out loud.
I just had to accept this hot gift
And go on with my holiday journey.
But that was a most wonderful kiss
And it lives today in my memory.

I’m a deeply religious person
And though I don’t believe in cursing
As a spiritual individual
It will do no good at all
To try to take my rights away
By telling me how I must pray
And who I have to pray to.
You couldn’t if you wanted to
Because I have the Constitution.
So make a New Year’s resolution
To shove those thoughts, however dumb
Right back where you all got them from.
Consider this great advice of mine
And shove them where the sun don’t shine.

Free is the way for me.
How much better can it be.
Freedom in perpetuity
That’s what you can do for me.
Get all the rich folk taxed equally
Leave all the rest of it up to me.

This country started long ago
The founding fathers made it so
That nobody could push us around
Or run our beliefs into the ground
And yet for several hundred years
Some were beaten about the ears
Because we did not drink from the chalice
Is somebody else’s golden palace;
Of preachers in their fancy duds
Who hang with well-connected buds
That make the laws that work to pry
Our freedom away and let us die
By collectively saying and assuming
If we aren’t their church, we aren’t human.

Free is the way for me.
How much better can it be.
Freedom in perpetuity
That’s what you can do for me.
Get all the rich folk taxed equally
Leave all the rest of it up to me.

Some people think I’m crazy
Because I sing and I dance.
In public and in private, too
I’m known to do it every chance.
I wiggle and I also cha cha
A bit of waltzing and the twist.
I hear a bit of music playing
And it’s just too hard to resist.

I dance to the music I hear
In the commercials on TV.
I boogie under the bright sun
And under the shading trees.
I dance in the morning too,
And in the evening light.
I can’t do it anymore, but
I used to dance all night.

I’ve danced in famous discos
And in seedy little taverns.
I’ve danced on top of bridges,
On mountaintops and caverns.
I’ve danced in my fancy clothes
And if the party could take it
I have even danced with great joy
Totally bare-assed naked.

Many of my older friends tell
Dancing will keep me young
And I’m fairly sure it will
Help me reach the next rung
On the long ladder of my life
From yesterday until tomorrow.
But I am just as sure it does
Chase away aging sorrows.

I looked into your eyes
And I saw our tomorrow.
I couldn’t think of yesterday,
Of lost dreams or sorrow.
I could barely let myself
Believe for that moment
That there can be an end
For loneliness and torment.

It all seemed a fine fantasy
In which time stands still;
When I left my lonely street
And stood with you on a hill.
There was no rain or sirens
Just two people in an embrace,
And I was for sure that I was
Lost in your wonderful face.

Something happened then
Many of my dreams came true.
And every one of those dreams
Seemed to be there in you
I never took a moment to say
To myself, "Go slow, take care!"
I just wanted to soak this in
And suddenly I didn’t care.

I wanted to let all my hopes
Take me over and control me.
Not caring that there was no
Fairy Godmother to bankroll me.
I was on my own, and lost
In a dream that was coming true.
There was me, myself and I
And nobody else but you.

This could have gone so wrong
And this would be a threnody,
A dirge, a sad song of me;
A nearly Shakespearian tragedy.
Instead I played it just right.
I knew a good thing when it showed.
It’s been you and I ever since.
It was The Love Train I rode.

It isn’t fair that you
Look as lovely as you do.
That you are so sweet too.
It’s isn’t fair that you don’t
Love me as much as I do you.

It would be fair if you
Fell in love so hard you
Don’t know what else to do.
Just love me until time is through;
Want nothing but me to love you.

It isn’t fair that we
Can’t be together every day,
That there isn’t time enough to say
All the loving things I want you to say;
Say you’ll love me every single day.

I am aware life isn’t fair
At least not every time I want it to be.
Life isn’t structured for you and me;
To be that perfect couple from history,
The one they write love songs about endlessly.

It isn’t fair that you
Look as lovely as you do.
That you are so sweet too.
It’s isn’t fair that you don’t
Love me as much as I do you.

When I’ve gone to my reward
And finally my tale is told
Folks will gather and hopefully say
He died of being old.

When under the influence of drink
I might have died of driving my car
Or that time I hit on a local cop
In what I thought was a gay bar.
I could have died taking some drugs
Some stranger gave to me one night
With some of the junk going around then
I would have gone down without a fight.

And when I’ve gone to my reward
And finally my tale is told
Folks will gather and hopefully say
He died of being old.

I tailgated, I walked dark streets late
I had a smart mouth, unwise and loud.
I ignored good advice to my misfortune
Because I was too callow and proud.
I might have bought the whole farm
By sneaking texting while I was driving.
So many times I stacked the deck
Against myself ultimately surviving.

And when I’ve gone to my reward
And finally my tale is told
Folks will gather and hopefully say
He died of being old.

The Congressional wag GOPs
Spend most of their time on their knees
Their favorite repast
Is the kissing of ***
Just like the ****** in DC.

Republicans surrendered their shame
They just call it by some other name.
They see their sad schism
As patriotism
And point to Obama to blame.

The Senator from Old Virginia
Just loves shoving it in ya.
At every election
Bigots bow to his *******
And let that Old Turtle come skin ya.

Republicans are making it clear
As we come to the end of this year
Their regime is a mess
But they couldn’t care less
They ***** us with no trace of fear.

The guy now on top is a fake
GOP worked overtime to make.
The cheating and lies
Support the unwise
And hide all the money they take.

Our leadership now is misnamed.
Ignoring the people is their game.
They go golf a few rounds
And throw us to the hounds
Then set the Constitution aflame.

There won’t be  anybody waiting
When the evil get to heaven,
Not even good old Saint Pete.
Just a long slippery slide
Each of them must ride
With no way to land on their feet.

It's sad we have to wait
For the sweet bye and bye
For the evil to get just desserts.
We console ourselves that
When their number comes up
We can't help hoping it hurts.

They might get to heaven
But they'll never get inside
That's one place where lies won't suffice.
If they look good on the surface
But their insides don't match
They're going to the realm of fire and ice.

They're sure to be welcome there
The devil will have use for them
When the righteous world will not.
They'll probably forget the words
Of that time honored phrase:
"If a fish keeps its mouth shut it won't get caught."

It's sad we have to wait
For the sweet bye and bye
For the evil to get just desserts.
We must console ourselves
When their number comes up
We can't help hoping it hurts.

Yesterday and tomorrow
All in a memorable row
Happiness and sorrow
Always a few more to go.
Laughter and sadness
Marching through time.
Dealing out character
Each of us must find.

Lovers and some losers
Each kind had their say.
Whatever they did to us
Made us who we are today.
We all had to learn about
The liars and the thieves.
We taught ourselves not
To do what makes us grieve.

We learned to reward ourselves
For living and getting strong
Even when our history has
Gone quite suddenly wrong.
We are the ones who count
And must add up the score.
So, we are the wones who know
What our life has been for.

Whining does so little good
And makes others turn away.
It’s up to us to find the words
We need to hear and say.
So we do what we can in life
And deal with what we’re given
And learn we can't have it all
Wrapped up in a pretty ribbon.

He was sitting on a fencepost
A mouth harp in his hand
He started making music
Like a ghostly rubber band.
He called me a stranger
And, I asked him how he knew.
He raised his head and stared
And seemed to look me through.
He said:
There is nothing down this highway
But heartbreak and a tale
Nobody will friend you here
There’s nothing good for sale
We are here with no way out
So move right on away
You only have your freedom
If you don’t let yourself stay.

Some people think it’s heaven
‘Cause they never had a chance
They never had a friend before
A storybook romance.
They made some stupid choices
Now there’s a piper to pay.
They’re deaf to rhyme or reason
No matter what you say.
Some believe they never had
The character to change,
That they were born without a dream
The hopeless and strange.

But we know lonely backroads
That never reach the bay.
We live in fogs of memory
Here in Futile Quay.
Where once we were children;
Now we never smile.
Our trip down this highway
Is a never-ending mile.
So go on back to comfort
To security and plans.
Stay too long in Futile Quay
You’re out of fortune’s hands.

Brent Kincaid
10/22/2010

It was a regular night
Trying out a new bar
And something new here
Not like the others are;
There were dancers now
And under the new law
They were naked and I
Could not believe when I saw.

It was dark in that bar
That magical night
But I swear I saw some
Flashing colored lights.
Later the dancer said
There was just a baby spot
But that is not what
My greedy eye caught.

I saw rainbows and then
The moonbeams started.
My enthusiasm and acceptance
Was completely wholehearted.
Nothing like that evening
Had ever happened before
And it was just going to be
Impossible to ignore.

A naive boy from Missouri,
A small city kind of hick
I was told the big city would
Harm me, make me sick.
Well, kinfolk if this is sickness
Then pour me another shot
Because life back home was sad
And this most certainly is not!

The music was throbbing
And parts of me were too.
This experience of experiencing
Was absolutely new.
I felt it was a turning point
In my formerly humdrum life
And the sexuality in this place
Could be sawed up with a knife.

The audience and the dancers
Were here to have **** fun
And the evening’s entertainment
Had only just begun.
I watched guys putting dollars
Into the dancer’s hand.
After all he wore nothing,
Not even a jockstrap band.

That evening I left there
A bunch of dollars gone
And I vowed to return there
Very often from now on.
Later my favorite dancer
Move in with me for a while.
It has been forty years now
And thinking of then, I smile.

Dress your girls
To be a street walker
Teach your boys
To become trash talkers.
Why should they undergo
The first twelve years or so
With no solid understanding
Of prostitution and manhandling?

So paint her face
And shorten her dress.
Copy the working girls
Make her an immoral mess.
All that is important is
The approval of her friends.
Don’t worry about where this
Look of impropriety ends.

You boys wear chains
And motorcycle gang wear
So that you can recognize him
In juvenile jail cells everywhere.
Let him get tattoos young
Of skulls and snakes and chains.
Why should you worry about
The future criminal that remains?

Peer acceptance rules
Parents certainly do not.
Look at all the free time
You suddenly have got.
You can set your kid down
In front of the television
And turn them into totally
Nearly useless men and women.

They say the black holes
Are all in outer space;
But I lived with my own,
Hiding behind my face.
There was never a night
As dark as in my mind
And from time to time
It was as if I were blind.

I couldn’t see reality
Or see what was right.
There was no truth
I was afraid to fight.
I heard the helpful words
Of friends worried for me.
But all their kindness
Only managed to bore me.

I told myself I was looking
For something true and pure,
And what that something was
I was never all that sure.
It was something about trust
And feeling I was needed
But drugs and alcohol always
Came in and interceded.

At first it was to help me
To relax and be what I was,
But soon it became a crutch
And I could not see the cause.
When I lost the ability to stop
Once the first drink was taken.
It seemed just a few months
Then my integrity was forsaken.

Still wanting someone to want me,
My heart missing a huge chunk,
I harbored a huge resentment that
Nobody wanted a hopeless drunk.
I kept ranting to God and the world
That I needed a lover to be found.
I never managed to realize
It had to be the other way around.

Then one day I saw that I
Was in a downward spiral.
The disease I was suffering from
Was not something viral.
And I would never get better.
This was how it would be.
The only soul to rescue me
Was me. Only me.

He was sitting on a fencepost
A mouth harp in his hand
He started making music
Like a ghostly rubber band.
He called me a stranger
And, I asked him how he knew.
He raised his head and stared
And seemed to look me through.

He said:
There is nothing down this highway
But heartbreak and a tale
Nobody will friend you here
There’s nothing good for sale
We are here with no way out
So move right on away
You only have your freedom
If you don't let yourself stay.

Some people think it’s heaven
‘Cause they never had a chance
They never had a friend before
A storybook romance.
They made some stupid choices
Now there’s a piper to pay.
They’re deaf to rhyme or reason
No matter what you say.
Some believe they never had
The character to change,
That they were born without a dream
The hopeless and strange.

But we know lonely backroads
That never reach the bay.
We live in fogs of memory
Here in Futile Quay.
Where once we were children;
Now we never smile.
Our trip down this highway
Is a never-ending mile.
So go on back to comfort
To security and plans.
Stay too long in Futile Quay
You’re out of fortune’s hands.