You didn’t notice
Because
You didn’t know us.
You were above us
Because
You didn’t love us.
You found us boring
So you were ignoring
As we suffered neglect
But yet
You demanded respect.
That we couldn’t detect
The love you didn’t reflect
Because
To you we were pains
All the proof that remained
When no profit was gained
Yet you moan about paying
Because
We're all still staying
Here around the family
Where there are no homilies
That save you from indignities
From being constantly haunted
By children you never wanted.

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.

You put the whole world
In his tiny greedy hands!
Is he the type of leader
Who truly understands?
Or does he dole out money
To friends who are foes?
Do really want to quietly wait
And see just how it goes?

Are you just fine with
Your head in the sand?
What will it take to see
This country is out of hand?
Will you be satisfied
With half the planet corrupted
As long as you have beer and
The football game uninterrupted?

Did you stop learning
When you were thirteen
What lack of due process
Can ultimately come to mean?
Did sleep through the classes when
The Constitution was taught?
Or will you blame Obama
For what your ignorance cost?

Then will you ***** and moan
When things don’t go your way
And go vote for some actor
As long as its not a black or gay?
Will you wave your Bible then,
The one you have never read,
When a modern Armageddon
Come crashing down on our heads.

Do you think this government
Is of the people or of the rich?
Do you find yourself calling liberals
A stupid, shameless sonofabitch
When they try to wake you up
That you have elected a cult
With members countrywide
That are robbing us as a result?

Are you just fine with
Your head in the sand?
What will it take to see
This country is out of hand?
Will you be satisfied
With half the planet corrupted
As long as you have beer and
The football game uninterrupted?

Our Congresspeople get rich
No matter how much you *****.
They do it again and again
Because fools voted them in.
You can’t make them stop
Because we don’t have a cop
That works for our side in DC.
We can’t call this the land of the Free.

It’s the land of gouge and overcharge;
Of money laundering crooks at large,
Calling themselves patriots and stealing.
There seems to be no thieving ceiling.
Rave and threaten and lie about it
There seems to be no doubt about it.
We are in the clutches of the greedy
Who fashion themselves as the needy.

And like some Middle Eastern nuts
They are constantly showing their butts.
They commit their crimes daily
Then go about almost gaily
Pointing at the victims they harmed
And claiming the poor are armed
Then trying to take away our rights.
They’re the people that rob us at night.

Yes, they are the crooks and now
They don’t even have to explain how
Because a third of our voters are dolts
Who have no concept of the nuts and bolts
Of the complex offices that lead us.
We’re in the hands of jerks that bleed us.
Once this nation was something great.
I hope we fix this before it’s too late.

They don't know the bubbleheads the ones
They don’t really know what they’ve done
Is a simple matter once we dissect it.
And what they really need to do about it.
They wring their hands as they are *******,
And neurotically grab at an attitude;
Then blame anybody else for their misery.
It’s a frightening case of mistaken identity.

I’m as happy as a billionaire
Counting money in his vault.
I’m as silly as a circus clown
And it's surely all love's fault.
I’m as ***** as a diplomat
Who doesn’t know his facts
And still runs his mouth off.
But that’s just how I act.

Being in love is making me
Act like I have lost my mind.
I’m not crazy, I’m in love
So, please everyone be kind.

I keep on giggling and I know
People think I’ve gone goofy.
There’s a huge smile on my face
And I”m quite sure I look loopy.
I babble like a fool on drugs.
And skip and dance instead of walk.
I’m sure I sound like a big dope
And make no sense when I talk.

Being in love is making me
Act like a bull goose loon.
It’s a pleasant kind of madness
I hope it's not over soon.

Everything looks good to me
When seen through eyes of love.
I like rain and sunshine and all
The gifts from high above
As well as the joys one finds
Just walking through the day.
It’s not my fault, I do insist.
Love has made me this way.

Being in love is making me
Act like I have lost my mind.
I’m not crazy, I’m in love
So, please everyone be kind.

Poor little chunky girl
Never had a chance
Losing to the skinny girls
Alone at the dance.
Poor little skinny girl
It’s making her sick
When her godly classmates
Refer to her as "stick".

Poor little plain faced girl
They tease her for no makeup.
Poor overpainted girl
The social kids just break up.
Poor little not bright girl
They call her by names
Poor little brainy girl
They do the very same.

Poor little boy in glasses
They tease him mercilessly
Poor little nearsighted girl
The tease when she cannot see.
Poor little boy who stumbles
They tease because he’s no ****.
The same boy after school
Who has to work on a dock.

Poor little kids who suffer so much
Because there’s no cash for clothes;
Some of them live in camps so
They can’t always smell like a rose.
Poor little kids who are in trouble
Can expect no help from schools
Because the faculty is gun shy
From being sued by stupid fools.

Find yourself a nit.
So you can noisily pick it.
Find some tiny word’s ***
So you can busily kick it.
Ignore the real issues
Like who’s rotten to the pith,
And ***** about the clothes
Stars are bobbing for apples with.

Let’s pick on non-issues,
Like who is ******* who,
Unless it’s the government;
They can do what they want to.
Listen to the crazy rhetoric
Of some professional liars
And ignore the starving millions.
Boy, have we got crossed wires.

There will always be a nit
You can pick to your heart’s content.
Taxes are too high for the rich
The poor doesn’t pay enough rent.
And too many news channels
Keep telling the people the facts.
That makes the words you say
Sound not like how you act.

So call anyone who disagrees
Creators of alternate truths.
Blame the horrible crime rate
On left leaning depressed youth.
Pick those nits and mince words,
Vilify patriots and make them squeal.
Pick those nits and lie, lie, lie,
Until no it truth seems real.

Is today the day I finally wake up
And start accepting that my life
Is not just something that happens
But something that comes from strife?
Will I finally agree that ambition,
If it is not present inside of me,
Sets me on no forward path at all,
And instead leaves me in entropy.

Will I see for myself, that battle
Is always being waged between
Getting where I really need to go
And some fairy tale in a magazine?
Will I quit looking at friendship
As a search for a good joke?
Or I will finally stop letting my skirt
Be a place for people to blow smoke?

Will I stop finding excuses for sloth
And do the harder things to succeed?
Will I finally see that there are more
Than two motivations, hunger and greed?
Will I take care of my moral housekeeping
As well as I do my home and my car?
When someone mentions caracter traits
Will I even know what those things are?

Every day of life when I was younger
It was always so easy to kick back
And do nothing much of anything about
Those tenets of true adulthood I lack.
I preferred to lie around on my ****
And let other people do all the work
Then have another can of beer, laugh
And call them all just mindless jerks.

All that was fine for endless decades
Then recently I began to look up and see
That my life is a tale of no headway made.
There were four constant pals, one was me.
With dead-end jobs, and dressed the same,
Just as we did when we were tweens.
Here we were middle-aged do-littles
Smoking dope in old 501 jeans.

So, I’m changing directions as of today.
I’m buying some decent clothes to wear,
Shaving my lip beard off right now
And taking some time to fix my hair.
I want to look on the outside as if I were
Less I was something inside more than dust.
I’ll get a real job, save money and then
I know I’ll do more than sit around and rust.

He has a degree in bait and switch
He’s a devious, deceitful sumbitch;
He’s a human hound dog,
A trash talking fat hog,
Ready with a phony smile
And he has been for a while.

Happily taking britches off of *******
If she’s not too fussy with her *****;
Because by gum and dagnab.
That’s the first thing he’ll grab.
As crazy as a lifelong ******
He thinks a nice guy is a loser.

He reverses what he says each day
And if you catch him he’ll always say
He blames it on Obama and Jews,
On Democrats and fake news.
He changes his mind on a whim
Thinks nobody is as good as him.

We need to mention how ugly he got.
His appearance seems to be all rot.
He’s made of pure grease
That keeps him so obese
Still he claims he is as trim
As guys half the size of him.

He got started by his daddy’s dough
Back a flashy half century or so
He has very little taste
Most of his life was a waste.
Every business he touches
Ends up walking on crutches.

Why is his image with so secure?
He’s not a decent man for **** sure.
An adulterer and a predator
Treats his wives like competitors
Who are blocking his limelight
And should be hidden from sight.

My dad told me I shouldn’t sing
Because I didn’t have a musical voice.
So, of course, I felt I had to go
Prove him wrong. I didn’t have a choice.
You see, I knew for sure
From the early age of about ten years
That I was winning contests
And on stage getting lots of cheers.

First it was contests at fairs
And later it was in shows and events
At school, at church and some
Even took place in huge revival tents.
But he never spoke of these
Because he was seldom ever there.
He was either working late
Or home in his favorite big easy chair.

It would be years before I found
It was my actual voice he didn’t enjoy.
At first is was because I was young
And had the flutey piping sound of boy.
I chalked it up to style or poise,
But later, when I grew to be a tenor
I never had that manly sound.
High voiced men were automatically sinners.

So, I kept on singing, in night clubs
And plays and little theater around town
And got my applause from strangers
Because my father always let me down.
As you can probably tell from this
That betrayal still bothers me a little bit.
Sometimes words can hurt as much
As a drawing back and delivering a hit.

Don’t like waking up in the morning
I like to sleep until at least noon.
Breakfast can be any food at all
I drive home under the moon.
My friends are all complaining
They don’t know when to visit
But that never seems to stop me.
That isn’t very balanced is it?

I’m a swing shifter, it’s true
Even if it’s grating on you.
I’m either cooking or cleaning
Or maybe the one waiting on you
So you have your evenings
Free to go out and have fun.
Someone must be there for you
And baby, I’m the very one.

I never see the evening news
Except on my evenings off.
I’m not caught up on politics
To form an opinion or scoff.
I’m not up on television shows
Don’t know about the stars.
But I know the late night spots
And exactly where they are.

I’m a swing shifter, it’s true
Even if it’s grating on you.
I’m either cooking or cleaning
Or maybe the one waiting on you
So you have your evenings
Free to go out and have fun.
Someone must be there for you
And baby, I’m the very one.

Trumpstrumpets, look what you have done.
You couldn’t have done worse if you use a gun.
You are so blind you don’t see where this is leading.
Because of your madness, civil rights are bleeding.
All over the civilized world, he turned back the clock.
Because of his greed, America is a laughing stock.
We listen to your excuses and his lies and shake.
This idea that he is a good man is a major mistake.

He always was a liar and a cheat, from the start.
He swindles, dodges and appears to have no heart.
It’s all about him and his ego and who he can cheat.
If he an become emperor his agenda will be complete.
He can dispense with laws and rules and can instead
Sit on his golden throne and cry, “Off with his head!”
And you people who never seem to have read the bible
Say he is a godly person is a straight up case of libel.

So Trumpstrumpets, keep on telling yourself lies
About how he is so trustworthy, good and wise
When the truth is you all should be hiding and blushing
Because the man is nothing but a tool for the Russians.
He’s out to feather his own nest and line his pockets.
Meanwhile, he is setting us up for bombs and rockets.
We are part of a global village of international trust.
This one man, is turning our sterling image to rust.

I was doing the dishes
And I was thinking of you,
Of back when our love
Was so shiny and new.
I was thinking of how we
Found fun in simple things
Like scrubbing and cleaning
The stubborn bathtub ring.

I was take the trash out
And I was thinking of you
And the looks you’d get
With the things that you’d do;
That beautiful smile when
The meal turns out right
And the bewitching smile
When you’d turn out the light.

I was folding the laundry
And I was thinking of you
Separating the whites from
Red, green, yellow and blue.
I remember you laughing
When I did them all at once,
And that you worked so hard
Not to call me a big dunce.

I was bringing home groceries
And I was thinking of you.
And missing you terribly
And that is so sadly new.
You were always here for us
And now you are gone.
Now I don’t have your love
That I can lean upon.

I went out poontangin’, just the other day.
I only did it so my friends won’t think I’m gay.
I might like the tang, but the **** not so much.
I much prefer the guys, but am afraid to say.

Two, four, six, eight:
Ain’t it great to deviate!
Seven, eight, nine, ten:
What so great about being straight?

I am tired of what some people say about my life
How I should settle down and get myself a wife
But sooner or later she will choose a game to play
That I don’t want to play, you see, because I am gay.

One, two, three, four:
I don’t want to hide no more!
Two, three, four, five:
I’m here, I’m queer, and I’m alive!

I want to come out, but I don’t want to suffer;
I have to be the true person that I am.
Acting like a rapacious macho lady’s man
Is simply a pose, a body language scam.

Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen:
Please accept the truth you’ve seen!
Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen and more:
People pleasing is a crashing bore.

If every black person disappears
you will not be any richer.
If every Jew disappears from the country
you will not be any smarter.
If everyone brown person disappears
you will not lI’ve any longer.
If every yellow person disappears
you will not be any holier.

It wasn’t righteous then,
it isn’t now.

When I was young
I thought I knew
All of the answers,
Red green and blue.
Some were a game
That I had to guess
Sometimes confused
Not just no or yes.
I chose to act like
I was all that aware
Knew what was fact
Nothing could scare.
Then came a moment of truth
That gave no credit for my youth.
I had to pay such a terrible price.
My habit was to scorn good advice.

I was the slave to lazy ways.
I chose to waste away my days
Always the child of constant fun
Until I flew to close to the sun.
And I could lift up my arms
And believed I could fly.
I was headed for heaven
Up there in the sky.

Now I am older, I can see,
After the crash to the earth,
Just what happened to me.
I am not an angel, not by birth.
I have to learn to accept
What I am and accordingly
Act like the human I am
And honor my destiny.
Too long I cherished a dream.
I am a child of the earth, too.
I fell in love with what I believed
Now I must do what people do.
I can still spread my wings wide
But it is to reach and embrace.
Let the winds stay in the sky
Unless they caress my face.

I was the slave to lazy ways.
I chose to waste away my days
Always the child of constant fun
Until I flew to close to the sun.
And I could lift up my arms
And believed I could fly.
I was headed for heaven
Up there in the sky.

I sit here and look at the sea
Just about a half mile from me.
This boy born next to Kansas
Never knew what an ocean was.

As soon as I saw it in front of me
I was moved by the peaceful sea
As wide as my eyes could see
And thought of the word ‘serenity’.

All my problems, worldly concerns
Were pieces of foolscap I could burn,
Multicolor ashes I would soon learn
Would blow away in own their turn.

So here am I now, moved away
From the world of my young day,
Nearer to the end as they way.
This is where I choose to stay.

It took decades from now to then
To live by the sea, beach and wind.
I feel grateful for the world I’m in.
An amazing place for my tale to end.

So, I’m going to stay right here,
In this very comfortable year,
Without worry or the old fears.
Gazing at the sea, it’s right here.

This boy born next to Kansas
Never knew what an ocean was.
I sit here and look at the sea
Just about a half mile from me.

I remember so many warm moments
Like chatting over coffee in the rain
Under an umbrella on the boulevard
It hurts to know we won’t do that again.
We will never again go to a buffet
And eat all the expensive stuff up,
Avoiding bread and pasta as filling
And then sit and drink cocoa by the cup.

I remember when we walked together
Along the shore, a perfect place to be,
The two of us sharing old-time stories
Of what had happened to you and to me.
We caught each other up on the news
Of things that each did not yet know.
Not just the tales of disgust or glory
From the old days so very long ago.

I remember how easily you laughed
At the jokes I had saved up to tell.
The sound was always a happy one
With the undertone of a tinkling bell.
And when I made up stories about
People that walked down the street
You always lightly poked my shoulder;
Chided me that I needed to be sweet.

I remember that it was good to be there,
Seeing your warm smile that truly glowed.
I remember people looking at us, grinning
At two people, happy beside the busy road.
It was that kind of scene for us, it’s true.
Two people sharing cappuccinos that day;
A memory that still resides within me.
A gift you left me before you passed away.

Pastor Peter always had
A loving smile on his face
That hid the thoughts in his mind
And often saved him from disgrace.
He stood up in the pulpit
And looked right in place.
He coddled the congregation
With a tear during Amazing Grace.

They called him a man of God;
And assumed he was on the level.
He spent mornings with Jesus
And evenings with the devil.
A perfect place to hide his sins
Smiling down from the pulpit.
All peace and serenity he seemed.
Who would ever have guessed it?

One would think the ladies would
Be wise enough not to permit
Their daughters to stay afterward
As if he was some sainted hermit
And they were visiting a cave
High on a distant mountain trail
Not leaving them alone, just him
And a far too trusting frail.

But there never seemed to be
An end to superstitious fools
Who gladly made their offspring
Unwittingly one of Satan’s tools.
That is the way it goes sometimes
When people trust in the image
Of what they want to believe
Regardless of the final damage.

No god ever spoke to me.
Not because I never tried!
There were times I cried
And begged to hear a word.
Nothing seemed to be heard.
There was no imperious voice
With avoiding not being a choice.
There was no burning bush;
Nor gentle or heavy push
One direction or the other.

It remained for me to get together
With some paid hack with a book
Who preferred not to look at me
Because he wanted to deal with
Easier sins than I could offer
Then, I was to add to his coffer
For rebuilding his den of thieves
But that couldn't relieve my worry
Or my problems. Maybe the Muslims
Could chant from their book of mysteries.

But no, I had already read their history
And large hunks of their sacred poems.
I recognize double-talk when I see them.
I got plenty of that in my upbringing.
I can still hear the songs they were singing
About eyes on sparrows and loving
But the poor are still naked and dying.
The poor are all nationalities and colors
And they lay in the gutters together
As the godly brothers pass; spit at them
And demand they get up and move away
And take their misery to another doorway.

I, the unhearing, could find no endearing
Reason to put on costumes and dance
To some four thousand year old romance
About gypsies and witches promising
To keep on doing what I was doing
And I would see the kingdom of heaven
Or maybe even six or seven, to suit belief.
Meanwhile here I am on this reef, at sea
With no deity to talk to me and explain
Why none of the miracles remain today
But have been washed away by time.
Or did they ever really exist at all?
Me? I’m still awaiting that divine call;
For my schefflera to catch on fire, or
To receive from god a Western Union wire.

The time is here,
To overcome fear and apathy
That come from a lack of empathy;
When the regular folks don’t need
And those fueled by greed rule,
When our leaders are fools
Who only care about the rich
And those who pay them.

This always is the birth
Of the **** of earth and us
With little fuss by the middle
And even while they fiddle,
Their Rome burns, they don’t learn.
They watch the world turn
And blame it on each other;
Brother hates brother,
Refuse to get together
And end their enmity
To defeat the real enemy.

It’s rule breaking
It’s not just heartbreaking
To see masses raise arms
In dictator salutes to men;
Recreating saviors again
Who fail to rescue or save
The rights of all from a grave
Far too early dug for us.
With little fuss.

The time is here,
But too few choose to hear,
Their toys and games too dear
And their heroes too shallow
While those between rich
And being poor wallow and squeal
While corporations deal and sell
And waves of indignities swell
And too few of us care
As if Armageddon was never there
And patiently waiting.

I brag about my prowess
But I’m really a big mess.
The truth is I’m coasting
Nearly roasting in the fire,
The one I lit when younger
Full of burning desire
And right down to the wire
I hid, lied, swindled me
Double-handedly, as if
There was a rift between
Myself and the truth.
This was my youth.

I believed lies I was told
If I liked them better than truth;
I was such a shallow  youth
And the swindlers could see
When I was coming down the road
They’d load me on with their stories
About what great glories lie
In putting people down so
i could rise as high as the sky
With just a little lie or two.
How easy it was to do;
To lie my way through.

It would be years before
The score would catch me
And ****** me out of my pride
And get me to walk alongside
Those I had walked on, cheated.
At every point I was greeted
With reality standing next to poetry;
The myths that were my story
With very little glory in them.
They were sort of a battle hymn
Of someone who always before
Fought all the wrong wars
And called the dead losers.
Oh, and I was a big ******.

Does that explain a great deal?
That I really didn’t feel,
That I was on autopilot
And made sure to deny it;
That *** was my navigator
And hope was an alligator
Just about to consume me.
You could costume me, but
The way I talked and walked
Gave me away, every time.
Lying was my crime, nor was I
All that good at it. I failed;
I went to jail and confession
But none of these sessions
Helped me at all.
My heart was too small.
My pride too tall.

Why call me names
Because I am an atheist
And say we can be friends?
And if not an atheist;
Because I don’t do church
Especially the church you attend?

Is that any different
Than praying in church
To some invisible God
Sneer if you wish
And call it a sin, but
I call it more than slightly odd.

It’s not my fault
Your religion has built
Loopholes into your credo
That let the bosses
Spend billions of dollars
Protecting millions of pedos?

You religious fanatics
Might take some advice
And look to the mote in your eye
Before you cast aspersions
To the rest of the world
Because some day you will die.

Then, according to your
******* up superstition
You’ll have to deal with the cloud guy.
That thousands of years old
Idea they had way back when
They had children but didn’t know why.

You know, that guy upstairs
With the awful temper
That tells you who you get to love?
That unseen dictator guy
From a mouldy old poem.
Who runs the whole show from above.

You didn't learn from Reagan
You didn't learn from Dubya
And you will not learn from Trump
And his minions and what have you.
Instead, like  a drunken *****
You search for some magic pill
That we can take and instantly
Cure all our country’s various ills.

You let in a multiple bankrupter
Then call him economic genius.
You ignored all his many sins,
You labeled the villain mischievous.
You joined in on the scary throng
Of misguided and rented people who
Bought that the best candidate
With experience was totally wrong.

Picking the flashy sideshow MAN
With all his flash was just human
But there really was no intelligence
In sidelining a talented woman.
They made a tiny side issue
A hyper-important kind of thing
When all the RepublCAN’TS wanted
Was to hear the sound “KACHING”

The biggest tragedy in the tale
Remains what is happening to us
Because quietly and continuously
And without that much fuss
Republicrooks are pilfering
The rights that used to be yours
While you chant slogans and *****
And blame it all on Obama of course.

If I die and I go to hell
One thing I know very well
I’ll take the elevator, and not stairs
And every Republican is sure to be there.
I won’t be lonely, or a little bit scared.
I can always hide in Donald Trump’s hair.
I’ll probably find some dandy premises
If I believe the campaign promises.

When I die and I go to hell
I will see evangelists ringing their bell
To direct their followers to the right
Figuring they finally won the fight
And got all the right people swayed.
They’re in for a revelation, I’m afraid.
As usual, they will have it backward.
Their vision upside down and awkward.

But, don’t worry everyone
If you are going to hell.
Fox News will be there with us
With made-up stories to tell
About how hell is about to freeze
And Democrats, down on their knees
Will repent in the final days
How soft they had treated the gays.

But, do not fear the story I tell.
Some things will be familiar in hell.
For instance, the Congressmen there
Will still be trying to work up a scare
That making them and their buddies rich
Is the right and proper political pitch.
When the field is their kind of level,
They will take over and outlaw the devil.

My life was not always fun
When I was a young kid
So, I often felt better if
I took a book and hid.
As long as Mom didn’t catch me
Find her work for me to do:
I had chores and nobody else
Not even Mom, it seemed.
She lay on the couch
She watched TV and dreamed
Of winning Queen For A Day
And waking up skinny.
Yes, I had some good days
But, really, not all that many.

So, when I could, I read
Every book I could easily find.
I even read romance books
Because Mom only liked that kind.
I read religious books too
Like King James’s Bible translation.
And, I read those Awake pamphlets
That got strewn around the nation.
We weren’t allowed to read
At the table during our meals, so
We read boxes the cereal came in.
Today that seems kind of nuts-o.
But I read what I could find around
And enjoyed Dad’s western books
Because reading their novels
Never got me a nasty look.

But I kept on, far into my adulthood
Reading and learning even more.
After all, increasing knowledge
Is what books are really for.
So, I learned about people and
About some exotic foreign lands
And became amazed at what some
Could accomplish with pen in hand.
And reading help me miss out
On some ugly stuff in my history
Because forewarned is forearmed
And reading removes some mystery
If it’s right there in the paperwork
And if we take the time to look.
We can keep ourselves from error
If we read the proper kind of book.

I read a lot about religious quacks
And I compared them to reality.
And then when I met people in life
I wasn’t easily tricked by duplicity.
When people made wild promises
About products and spiritual claims
I pointed to their documentation
And often questioned their aims.
It sometimes made enemies for me
Because our society is fond of lies
If they are only pretty enough
To fool the greediest gals and guys.
But I tired of schoolyard games
Early on in my literary youth.
I reserved my applause and approval
For moral decency and truth.
I had all the ammunition, I would ever need
Because early on in my life
I learned to love to read.

I dig when you like my poems
And I’m really glad you know them
But you are being too critical
If you demand I not be political.
I’m not the most passive poet
You have ever heard or seen.
I am rather an outspoken
Liberal-minded poetry machine.

I’m not patient with ***-kissers
Or those who applaud crooks,
And flashy overspending creeps
Who got rich cooking the books.
I’m not impressed with how well
They behave at flashy photo-ops.
If they’re criminals, I really think
Someone should call the cops.

Nixon and Reagan, taught us
Being famous doesn’t get it.
If that’s all they have going on
Then, no thanks. Just forget it.
I don’t want to give them keys
To a worldwide nuclear disaster.
Kicking their ***** off the throne
Should be instantly if not faster.

So, if you came here to read
Of flowers, June, moon and spoon,
You’re bound to be disappointed
And it will happen very soon.
As I am in love with words
Not just the sound they make.
I try to move souls and hearts
And shake some people awake.

How do you sleep at night
With so much hate?
You can still fix yourself.
It’s not too late.
Wake up and love people
For who they are.
First you must love yourself.
That heals the scars.

Hate generates much more hate.
It’s a vicious circle you’re in.
Someone upsets you too much
And the cycle will begin.
You lash out at them with hate
Instead of asking why.
Then they lash back at you
Neither of you even try.

Probably all the anger you feel
Has nothing to do with them.
Can’t you see it’s something else?
The chances are very dim.
You don’t want to talk about the thing
That makes you stay ******.
So, the way to fix yourself correctly
Forever gets totally missed.

How do you sleep at night
With so much hate?
You can still fix yourself.
It’s not too late.
Wake up and love people
For who they are.
First you must love yourself.
That heals the scars.

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

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

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

But only for a certain time
Can this kind of crass stupidity
Avoid even my devious vision.
It stole from them and from me.
Sooner or later, even my hard head
Had to want the truth and admit
The book of my life was being read
And my lies were a huge part of it.

I woke all the way up this morning
No snoozing around in my bed.
I was singing Summertime again
Music humming around in my head.
I was singing at a gathering too
A room full of mostly blacks.
With two white friends of mine
And they all asked us to come back.

And I wasn’t singing it like her,
That sad woman in Catfish Row.
I was singing it just like I always do
Since I started so very long ago.
I was singing about a person
Who life was treating way unkind.
A person who had lived through
Every bad choice he could find.

It was a kind of benefit performance
To thank these workers for their toil
And we didn’t want to leave them
Until we made their senses boil
With rhythm and tune and lyric
A break from sweat and tears.
We wanted to give them a show
Like they hadn’t seen in many years.

We each sang our own song
About work or losing a friend.
We blended together in between;
Made it come together in the end.
We let the heart and soul sing
And looked them in their eyes.
We reached down into our spirit
And let the loving feelings rise.

As we shared our last sweet notes
The audience got onto its feet
And sang it right along with us
And they didn’t miss a beat.
They clapped and yelled and said
That they wanted us all to know
They hadn’t seen anything that good
Better than a Broadway show.

Don't let the door hit
Where fatigue makes you sit.
As people like to say,
Don't go away, mad, just go away.

These crusty old adages
Are better than biblical messages.
No meaning suffers loss.
Because the point comes across.

You hide behind double talk
That does not match your walk.
So down the road you go.
Find some other fools you know.

Preach your lies to all of them,
Because the point comes across.
Most know well who you are
And you are no shining star.

Steal from taxpayers and ****
We’ll gladly play back the tape
And show the world that can think
Just how badly the G.O.P. stinks.

You cheat and lie and brag about it.
Frankly we can all do without it.
The only supporters below you
And the people that don’t know you.

Most of your support come from bigotry
And some gun nuts in their zealotry
Who don’t yet see the picture clearly;
You cheat and victimize equally.

When the tally is taken at the end
You’ll find Republicans have no friends
Except those with millions to give.
Who care not if the rest of us live.

(From Ireland, a novel by Frank Delaney)

     "As you probably know, nobody can actually write a poem. There's no such thing as writing a poem. That's not how poems are made. Oh, yes, there's the physical business of pen, ink and paper, but that isn't whence a poem comes. Nor may you send out and fetch a poem from where it's been living. No, like it or like it not, you have to wait for a poem to arrive.
     The people we call poets, by which I mean true, real poets-they're merely very keen listeners who've learned to recognize when a poem is dropping by. Then they copy down what the poem's telling them in their heads."

Horrible, soul-less dissemblers
Who **** children for money
Who starve children to put
More money into their banks
With secret accounts off-shore
And want to make more and more.

Too much money to even even score
Because the books are cooked
To let them **** more children
For money because they think it’s funny
To starve more children and blame others;
Everyone but the mothers themselves.

We let them do it, with no sense to it
Just catastrophic greed, no real need
Because they have more money now
Than they can ever spend but somehow
It drives them like the gold fever of old
In 1849 when gold was more important
ThaN life, or integrity or deportment.

"I get paid to hate you" is a new profession
Coupled with never a single confession
For the crimes they commit, what they have done.
No convictions for anyone because they protect
The archcriminals they elect and applaud
When they buy their yachts and mansions abroad
And laugh at how stupid we are to let them.

And then we go right on and forget them
And they do it all again, the same evil men
We give names like ‘honorable’ and ‘decent’
When we really shouldn’t because they aren’t.
TheY **** children for money and pretend
That starving children is an acceptable end
To their avaricious desires and greed.

Let’s sit under this tree
Just you and me
And see what we can
From this piece of land.
Let’s see what is natural
And something others call
Contrived, manufactured
In their pricey lectures
To sell books and CDs
To clueless entities
Sitting on their couch
Ready to loudly grouch
About how poorly they are used
How they are abused
By the way others live;
Always have an opinion to give
Of what others should do
People like me and you
To whom they’re not related
But somehow got delegated
To a pool of the ******
Who they want to see crammed
Into flaming tour buses to hell
When Gabriel’s horn swells
And Jesus himself decides
Where the line divides
Those worthy to be saved
And those others who were brave
And tell the rest to adhere
To the line dividing queers
And the unbaptized sinners
From the rest of the winners
Who once read The Bible.
The rest are held liable
And will be sent to perdition
Due to their position
On The True Religion
Based on ancient renditions
Of fables and fairy tales
Of water wine and hungry whales.
There will be many Arabs in hell
And these folks know **** well
There will be no Mormons going
No Jewish representation showing,
Just good old fashioned Baptists
And maybe a few of the Papists
Certainly not that many
Maybe not any.
As I said, let’s sit and see
What happens to you and me
While we wait patiently
And see in the meantime
How many faithful commit crime
And intolerance in the name of God.
It should be pretty odd.

I am you and you are me
We are them and they are we.
We’re all one, if they’d just see
We’re joined in our humanity.
We are mostly similarity;
Human souls in multiplicity.
It’s how we’ll succeed eventually.
We’re branches of the same tree.

We’re only different in our names
For the most part, we’re the same.
Some of life gets lost to flame
And some is lost in poker games
But worry not who is to blame
Some veterans are still lame
And represent or common shame.
We’re only different in our names

Yet some of our leaders pretend
That is somehow a fitting end.
They stand on soapboxes again
And wish we were back when
They were not exposed as men
Who steal the eggs from the hens;
Blame the fox coming into the pen
And hide behind the lies of friends.

Still some of us hope for better
And even try to move together
Urging us be good to one another
And follow our laws by the letter.
But if I were any kind of better
I’d  take a test of the weather
And see we must tie a stout tether
Tp those who think themselves our betters.

I am you and you are me
We are them and they are we.
We’re all one, if we’d just see
We’re joined in our humanity.
We are mostly similarity;
Human souls in multiplicity.
It’s how we’ll succeed eventually.
We’re branches of the same tree.

It wasn’t log ago in our history
We had  Presidents we could see
And seeing them didn’t make us puke
Or think of dying from an incoming nuke.
Recently our country was a symbol
Of freedom and hope for the planet.
Now too many people hear America
And, red in the face, say “******!”

The crooks hide behind
The Capitol Hill wall.
What the people want
Is nothing to them at all.

Two, four, six, eight! Who shall we eliminate?
Those who fill their own pockets greedily;
And always kiss the *** of Big Corporate,
While they cheat and steal and lie constantly
We know how much each Congressman makes
We know it’s too much, but certainly not millions.
So come come they get so **** rich in office
And can magically turn thousands into billions?

We know something has gone badly wrong
But decade after decade we just ignore it.
The facts are out there for our scorecards
If we would only sit and simply score it.
Yes, we know they keep moving the posts
And change how we must play the game.
But if we let them cheat us and rob us
Holding a gun to our heads is almost the same.

The crooks hide behind
The Capitol Hill wall.
What the people want
Is nothing to them at all.

It seems like some think this is Old England
And we have our own impervious royalty.
Well, there is only so far this should go
And rightly call it by the name of loyalty.
After a point we are just being dunces
Who bend over and beg them to kick us again.
Anyone else who did that would anger us.
But that’s what happens when we listen to spin.

Open for breakfast and lunch,
It closes every day at two
Perfect for the working folk
In this factory-life milieu.
So, every day, I made sure
To be right there on my stool.
Those people could cook eggs.
I know how to shop, I’m no fool.

Now, let me assure you all before
You knock them down a few pegs,
Not every eatery in the world
Knows how to cook decent eggs.
But that rangy old cook did
And the hash browns were great.
This place knew what to do
And performed it all at first rate.

There was deliciously brewed coffee
And wonderful Danish to be had
And like everything I ate there
Nobody could call anything bad.
They did a cinnamon roll, with butter
And they warmed it on the hot grill
And, while I am not easy about food
That gave me an oralgasmic thrill.

And the people were just people
Nobody there had a bad attitude;
They greeted people like family
And showed their great gratitude.
They told us they were glad
We didn’t rely on the coffee truck.
I can say it better right up front.
Their success was not due to luck.

I was a boy of dreams and songs
And hopes of fine tomorrows
Before someone robbed my joys
And left me all this sorrow.
I believed in people and trust
And had it all taken away from me
And it was all done with lies
That spoke to me so lovingly.

The boy turned into a man
In just that one sad evening
When expectations became
The frost of no longer believing.
There were words and scowling
But mostly on my own part
Because it was obvious then
There was no love in your heart.

How could I know back then
That such people existed?
I would have had a day of fun
And everything else resisted.
I would have looked at you
As a face on a passing train
And never cared if either of us
Ever saw each other again.

But you came to me with words
All polished as smooth as stone
And convinced me, in my youth,
That they were for me alone.
I don’t pretend to understand
How people can be so cruel.
I just see now how my innocence
Was the perfect kind of fuel.

The flame that I felt burning
Was some kind of fantasy
That you wove just for fun
With no relation to reality.
But such is life, I move on
And learn to take my time
To see who is a criminal
And whose care is genuine.

We once had wings
But as we were not angels
We fell from the sky
And were beset by devils
So we no longer fly.
We are bound to the earth
To sweat and to toil
From the moment of birth
On this planet called soil.

We once had wings
And were pure in our hearts
And then we allowed
Ourselves to be distracted;
Our greed and envy to start
Working its black magic
To turn us back into dust.
The outcome was tragic
As our silver began to rust.

We once had wings
And kind hearts full of hope
And joy for each other
Feeling like sister and brother
Wishing good will to all
And praying nobody would fall
But then we turned away.
We started counting our things
And forgot to pray.

We once had wings
But as we were not angels
We fell from the sky
And were beset by devils
So we no longer fly.
We are bound to the earth
To sweat and to toil
From the moment of birth
On this planet called soil.

I want to write my fans
Some more lines about kissy face
And beautiful flowers and lakes
And rainbows all over the place.
But, it is difficult to do today
Because a country of loons
Has elected to take office
A few hundred crazy buffoons.

They are turning our country
Into a place of us and them.
And thermonuclear holocaust
Will be a crazy person’s whim.
A megalomaniac playing soldier
With absolutely no regard
For the outcome of his madness
Makes pretty poetry very hard.

It’s extremely hard to come by
And harder yet to conceive
Because true poetry and art
Only come when we believe
And nothing about our fates now
Are anything other than incredible.
What the GOP has cooked up
Is nowhere close to edible.

To me writing fluffy words in rhyme
Is much like Nero and his fiddling.
I can’t just tap dance for the toffs.
I mean, who would I be kidding?
So, don’t expect hearts and flowers
Or many lovely June, moon tunes.
A completely stupid country has left
Us in the hands of bull goose loons.

There are grassy meadows
And quiet mountain streams
Enough to soothe you
And stimulate your dreams.
There are blue-sky days
With great clouds in the skies
To convince you that dreams
Can come true before your eyes.

The sailing ships and Pegasus
Careen across the open sky.
You can see them, just lie back
Let them parade before your eyes.
Look and see the waterfalls
And mountain tops rising high.
Let your imagination take you up
To that dream show in the sky.

If you listen closely enough
You can hear lovely songs
Played by celestial bands.
Don’t give up, it won’t take long.
Let your soul join in too
And set your mind adrift
In those cloudy canyons
And fluffy white daydream cliffs.

Brent Kincaid
4/17/2015

We are a huge nation of modernity
With a convenient sense of equality
That lets us hold hand on heart
And before the game will start
Talk about the land of the free
Yet apply those words selectively.
This same kind of mindless fool
Urges others to live the Golden Rule.

You, not me!
It’s the land of the free.
I get to do
Whatever pleases me.
You, not me!
If your behavior falls short,
You offend me,
I will take your **** to court!

Women complain about men
Who show too much skin
In speedos at the beach
But what do they teach
In their skimpy bathing suits
And augmented **** to boot?
They condemn the sins of others
Then go on to become mothers.

You, not me!
It’s the land of the free.
I get to do
Whatever pleases me.
You, not me!
If your behavior falls short,
You offend me,
I will take your **** to court!

Christians preach of Jesus
As if they mean to tease us
With their knowledge of religion
But never make it their mission
To read the book they tout
And know so little about.
Like any other carpetbagger
And good for nothing lollygagger.

It’s embarrassing to hear
Words painful to the ear;
The disgusting propaganda
Like ***** on his big veranda
Talking about good old days
When they could beat and flay
And feed human beings slop.
As if the war had never stopped.

You, not me!
It’s the land of the free.
I get to do
Whatever pleases me.
You, not me!
If your behavior falls short,
You offend me,
I will take your **** to court!

I’m slow when I walk now.
My eyes are getting rheumy.
I get crabby sometimes.
I know it. So sue me.
I only hope, when it’s time
That you remember this song;
That you have the fun I’ve had,
That you should live this long.

Being young wasn’t always
The basket of puppies was it?
Remember the growing pains
And all the things that cause it?
It requires that we persevere
And face things less than fun.
It starts right away in life
Well before the age of one.

Every age has it’s roadblocks
And sometimes its outrages.
Some politely refer to them all
As life in all of its stages.
There’s getting back on the bike
After we tumble and fall.
Rollerskating and sports, too.
We manage to learn from them all.

Age makes treasures of memories
And gold of the brass we once had.
The thing is to celebrate age too.
Applaud this stage and be glad.
Slow down when the old must walk
And have some good words to say.
And then walk behind them and smile
Because they are showing you the way.

They didn’t take our rights,
We let them.
They didn’t steal our taxes,
We let them.
They didn’t jigger the laws,
We helped them.
They didn’t become bigots,
They always were.
They didn’t change into crooks,
They always were.
They didn’t take our birthrights,
We surrendered them.
They didn’t arrest criminals,
They arrested us.
They didn’t starve bad guys,
They starved children.
They didn’t steal our Social Security,
They stole all of our security.
They didn’t cancel our insurance,
They gave it to themselves.
They didn’t refuse to raise our wages,
They raised their own.
They didn’t just criminalize us,
They deified themselves.

Thermometers say you are wrong
But you believe greedy businessmen
Seismographs say you were wrong
But you believe religious charlatans
Electrocardiograms say you're wrong
But you believe the words of bigots
Encephalograms tell you you're wrong
Geiger counters tell you you're wrong
Microscopes tell you you're wrong
Yet you believe the Big Oil propaganda
Telescopes tell you you're wrong
Yet you believe the lies of Big Pharma

It is such an unforgiving task to talk
And know there is nobody in there.
Inside your head, soul or heart;
It’s pathetic to know under your hair
There is the kind of sad mentality
That rejects reality if it disagrees
With something another fool has taught
And though you ought to learn reality
You keep looking for more crazies
To say things that match your philosophy
And that perpetrates the tragedy of today
Which may take decades to go away.
It did the last time.

The slamwhackit bird
Just sitting in a tree
Laughing and calling me
Maliciously.
Threating with flying hordes
Of ziddlyboomers eagerly
He sits in that tree
Just constantly.

The tarfaplagedts fly
When slamwhackits cry
They fear the baffysmafflers
Scrafflenee.
The only hope that’s
Left to me, the tree the
Slamwhackit is sitting in
So smuggilly.

No good to run around
And try to avoid the glaffs.
They fly and I don’t
They always find me.
And they are loud birds
Jalking and blorgging
Almost happily.

So, now I resign myself
To coats of slamwhackit zleeb
Raining from the noobit tree
All over me.
It is my shame to say
This is my worst day today.
Slamwhackit birds proliferate
Everywhere for eternity.

Come dream with me
Of a wonderful tomorrow
Where heartache and sorrow
Never come to stay.
Let’s make memories
And let’s make them come true
Through the efforts of we two
Then celebrate every day.

Come try with me.
We can make things better
If we work hard together
And fix whatever is wrong.
If we believe it
I know we can do it
There is no hill we can’t climb
If we just continue to remind
Each other as we go along.

We can reach for the highest goals
From the strongest part of our souls
Never have a moment’s doubt.
Take the chance with me
That even against strong opposition
We are truly in the best position
To face the problems and work it out.

Come dream with me.
Picture what we want to happen
And I know all the doors will open
And let us walk right on through.
Come walk with me.

Love begins with one of us
And, when lonely, still glorious.
At times, the story was libidinous.
When love came life got fabulous!
Sometimes it was truly glamorous;
Often noisy, raucous and clamorous,
And a needed dose of the amorous!
But, that should not cause animus.

My friends called her Gypsy
And other offensive things.
Her clothes were always colorful
And she wore a lot of rings.
Her skin was dark and lovely
As was her long lustrous hair.
She had the second sight
And a lot of love to share.

She knew what she was doing
And I, a youth, surely did not.
I was fascinated from the start
Blown away by the luck I’d got.
Here was this exciting woman,
A creature of such mystery
Who seemed to want to spend
Her time with such as me.

I couldn’t call her Gypsy
Like other of my friends
I loved her and determined to
Stay and see how it ends.
But she took me much further
And showed me the secret me.
She said she was Cassandra
And she meant the world to me.

Her manner seemed to know me
Though we had only just met,
I was sure this was an interlude
I would not let myself forget.
She told me things about myself
She could never have guessed,
And took me into her bed
So I could learn all the rest.

We spent our time those days,
Those first few like a dream
And it may have taken many more
But that was how it seemed.
Then one day I woke up to see
She was packing a few things.
She took away her second sight
Her beauty, her candles and rings.

I couldn’t call her Gypsy
Like other of my friends
I loved her and determined to
Stay and see how it ends.
But she took me much further
And showed me the secret me.
She said she was Cassandra
And she meant the world to me.

The on-screen horror
Was as vivid as the real thing.
We watched as people died
Fighting against an evil king.
While in our own lives
We just smiled and went along.
Maybe we might have stood up
If accompanied by a clever song.

It won for best picture
The saddest we had seen
It shocked and appalled us
In nearly every scene.
The Director thanked Jesus
The author and his wife.
Yet the king is still alive,
But this time in real life.

Screen heroes heroes as shallow
As comic-book supermen;
They are full of flash and dash
Then they run back home again.
We honor them much more
Than the people who save us
And fail to see the blessings
Their dedication gave us.

Day to day our teachers
And our medical personnel,
Our police and our firefighters
Confront a real-life hell.
Those people and the military
Are paid the lower wages
While people who show profit
Get rich while the holocaust rages.

So, filmmakers are delighted
With each new massacre.
After all, making ****** fortunes
Is what entertainment is for.
The media allows much more time
To the ogres in our society.
Villainy is more photogenic
Than any kind of propriety.

As long as the public can’t resist
Buying those pathetic rags,
The tabloid press will still reward
Snoops, gossips and nags.
Those are the same fools
Who then go on to elect
Crooks and thieves and liars
With disastrous global effect.