eye am Bowie ; Jim

eye am Bowie ; Jim

The Original Bowie Knife

a description taken from reading the facts

charlax is reading this then making his own description

then we will go to the Alamo

Bowie’s Knife

eye am Bowie ; Jim James Black made new ones but the one he handed me did not fold up like a pocket knife like the Mexicans carry down south of me they hide them not wanting to fight with everyone they meet my knife was a little over 9 inches long and almost 2 inches wide in the widest point and sharp honed a fighting blade to help me keep my life in real fights on the Frontier. They were wooden handles not Bone and eye held more then one and kept at least two of them on me at the Alamo at all times. When Colenal Travis pulled his sword and dug the line of embarkation eye pulled both my blades and waved them in his direction eye tell you that man gave me a Devils look then softened his gaze when eye begged the men to lift up my cottan bed and carry me over the line they carefully lifted me up and over we went then they set me down and eye waved both my Bowie knives. Travis only frowned surely he was sorry at this loss of life but Proud yes Proud that all of us will fight to keep our Country freedom is the Key and every mothers son available for America was won this way Men fighting impossible odds in battle Falling to death to save her land for those who come after them there were about 14 mexicans in the first wave of them they caved the door inside my bed eye lay eye could only kill one of them so both my blades hit him in the Chest he was surprised for he shot me and expected to win it was the others behind me at least three of them fired into me at close range and eye knoe that eye was a goner but my Death eye figured held some kind of Honor. Just sorry my being sick almost kept me from it the day Travis did his Sword trick in the dirt eye could not even walk is why it happened this way but sick or not even unregulated men will fight to serve with SOldiers shoulder to shoulder or abed and besieged. eye am Bowie ; Jim.

Hice

Hice

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Hice, 

Hice

handwritten from the little notebookmy new Hispanic friend read thishe speaks of delirium and decayand makes it become fantasythis is for himSelf DescriptadjectiveA Library (lieberry) is full of books they cover upp the words is what we use to read the Story Chapters and the Verse the beginning has a middle and the end.From the firs tpoem ever written you will never see the last self descriptadjective is my best one kept for Jesus as eye rest, Rudyard Kiplins stripling lad the Gunga DInn a water boy a better man then eye a Mexican from Mexico or Spain a Jesus man who drinks he smokes he even tokes his self discriptadjective he stones his bone he has his drunk religious bones and yet who am eye to judge this man has fed me solid food while eye can only steal his food not repay my mood is one of acceptance listen and receive this as iff Jesus gives me from this drunk will argue his religion frevor  seems misplaced so why obey some from of Law replaced with Grace perhaps the Jewish Sabbath Day falls on our American Wednesday no He smiles it is on Saturday what matter what is the matter iff drunk and full of more then mere religion everyone has a bananna everyone has something that they must have they place it first in mind in heart in soul so black in need of sin and yet please carry food again come back to me my Mexican GUnga Dinn you Jinn from Old Mexico or Spain. My old freind.

The Jesus Freak

The Jesus Freak

The Jesus Freak

eye walked to the center of the city sqaure in the middle of the city eye began to shamy belly mye tattoe was the original tattoe green my huge thing is jesus preaching on the orange crate eye stand orate my heavens business as eye dance my boots longing to go walking my eyes cryeing at the gestures and the smoking and the drinking in the crowded doorways all the homeless singing Jesus Freak the song eye told them of heavens highway how he walked there from Gethsemane eye told them he is the Rose of Sharon on the highway out of Rome you can get there on any homeless road when they refuse us service in the fast food places when they move you from the open doorways in the rain now you must go eye told them Jesus slept. Jesus slept. Charlax wept. How he walked into the nowhere to be free. Just like us just like ewe just like me we wish to be the Jesus Freak the homeless and the rich the love and the found and lost and the sick the lame and the blind and the wondering and wandering minstrails and the wayside preachers the minstrials and the outright lost and homeless Jesus freaks will find him past the city past the gates past the killing and the hate past the useful mess they made you will find the heavens gate and how my heart did flutter in my haste and how eye danced and how eye preached this homeless Jesus Freak relates took the beatings took the hate took the shame of Jesus on my face my body broken in my haste to be the orignal green belly tattoed Jesus Freak The Jesus Freak today

NOstalgia

NOstalgia

NOstalgia

Life was a small color television set in the living room of a small town middle america when life was young and mother was around and love was still found STOP past is gone now no time for NOstalgia eye am day to day existence is homelessness my life a mess where is my forgivenness eye feel so bad most of the time is spent not giving in to my tendency to suicide the truth hurts that life seems a total waste of time it hurts my pain is broken bones and nerve endings gone wrong CHRONIC pain is often dealt with in the Hospital with Medicines but my funding is severe poor remedies at best my life is still the mess no power here no flag waving at my home no pride no love inside my wasted bones protrude into my flesh it hurts to be alive my head not usable for work for poems and for poetry instead of money and fame eye dead eye dead the words engraved for all who whittle time away to read eye am not completly destitute eye have my institution well in hand the constitution lining the bird cage of the rich the clothing and the food eye need all in all not a bad way to end a life by living dead and making rhyme my poem is my life why do any of you see the strife the storms dumped rain near me and now the key is life the words we write and speak why does any body see the difficulty to be me tripping on my fingers typing of my lost and sordid past is now my life today NOstalgia

SIX ONE SIX TWO SIX THREE

http://www.myspace.com/chxwinningwinningwinning/blog/545422638

https://docs.google.com/document/pub?id=1XbKcetwF8yLzN_CTlSL6K6vju5uYW_kaA4sozhpRPVI

SIX ONE SIX TWO SIX THREE

SIX ONE SIX TWO SIX THREE

sea green peas in cans of solyant brown and green again against the gristle from the meal might be my poor Uncle Tom the Cabin boy is gone or Remus the rabbit bone was hard with barbs like bone sticking in my mouth just glad eye did not swallow it living poor and all alone this accident decided me to write this tome a poem a pome a incidental mess made in the field they love the green and brown of peas in pod cans cans of pods chopped with choppers chopping chipping chirping people not included exclude the people from the peas let them not be found in cans of green and brown of solyant peas poor Uncle Sam stop including victims of the war torn strife in the pea split soup the noise is definitely defiantly deafing me give me lots of cow products from the sea horses let the read mete out the words of justixposition north then south then west then east lima bean porknbean baked bean white tasteless bean human bean left out. Fill in the blank little boys and girls please do not add my Uncle ___ to the can of Solyant Peas. Now count with me to Six One Six Two Six Three