Re Publishing

Re Publishing

failure after the first few successes it is only failure where is the fanfare eye desire where is the lieberry book upon the shelf for them mexicanas to see my namme in lights the few online things working for me offset by the fish that swaned away they do not like poor homeless people on the internet or is it my religion could it be they dont like jesus or the combination lock of both those things decievers promises pulling all my resources out of me iff eye made a  mapp of the United States then placed an X upon those States the ones eye cannot live there anymore there would be a large number mostly southern states for eye have never been much upp north of the masonic dixons those people who lay bricks in stone edifices and offices of purple ivy hanging outside on the walls Re Publishing my free things wll last virtually forever on the world wide web how can you tell someone who does not get online just what they are missing these windows on this world we have our love incased inside small boxes waiting to be sent with numbers for a namme true love is like the vision of the forgotten pain of jesus as he danced before the romans as he carried the heavy burden of his cross eye carry my laptop eye carry my laptop for you my heart incased in electric housing of plastic made in Chinese places in the snow iff this does not ever prove my love as least of all it does then try to understand how much eye really do love you its more then any fear eye have my poetry is free all my online things are free no paypal for me no credit card or plastic jesus will you see :) ) let them eat cake in three car garages eye will stay homeless :((((( thinking no one really loves me hate is much to closely installed next to the love button inside the heart eye cannot find the switch to turn either of them off the side of the world is where eye should just leap like a dead fish into the water of time iff this sounds like eye am crying it is only Re Publishing most people have a friend inside the prison walls some people have a friend her faulty thinking comes between them she sees lies in poets eyes she sees prosperous as the color of the man he has green money for his backyard plan too bad some people see things so differntly they miss the most important idea of just being a friend without adding to the money that they have or what eye believe she is really doing they call it smoozzing huddling with the rich masses of black poets who use gutteral languages using rapp and cursing making rhymes of unutterable usages making real poets shudder and feel worthless why do women like the limelight missing real true puppy love eye refused to black out oklahoma on the map of xes it iiis one of those places where eye only visited and might go back Canada is there the big black run off in the dark where they make Potatoes Idaho is marked eye did not want to hit INdiana by mistake you see i love Potato Flakes and Corn but the secret of oklahoma is the reason eye was borne in the desert full of purple flowers torn from my hand the wind holds the secret word for you polite society has no idea what a man might do for love or for Re Publishing 

Winners Losers Draw

Winners Losers Draw

some people win hands down they win the brass ring every time they play they win the game they win they win they win

some people lose

every time they lose every time they play the game they lose the game

some people Draw

this is silly  but its fun

they draw pictures

they draw guns

the people who drew pictures won

the people who drew the guns

they were the losers

the important thing to remember is what they always say

it is not how you play the game

but you must win

you do not want to be the loser kid

the gold is harder then the  silver the third place ribbon does not ever get received with warmth and taste

but the  painters of the pictures were remembered more in history of the human race then the killers who drew the guns and died mostly in disgrace

Draw a picture with your words

The Last Poem It could Be

The Last Poem It could Be

by Charles Robert Hice on Wednesday, August 8, 2012 at 10:36am ·


The Last Poem It could Be

OR

is my fuller brush so stiff

The Fly is as thick as a thief on Sunrise

The belly of my enemy is full of Gin again they drink the stolen funds they stink in this heat they smell like alcholic drama queens they merley act like normal people but they are getting meaner by the drought they bought  the Ballistic mention of the dimensions  of my missive peacock will please my bunder under the moon we rock and eat the breaded rolls the kisses sweeter then the wine she drinks alone eye find the time to write this poem could be the last one ever done on time the nerve of the drunks they make the sun hide itself it is a little behind the cloudy skidding sky the light confusing diffusing into the splintering day time eye dine in the comfort of the air the beauregard  in my hand iff only eye were not in public the strokes of the painting brush your lips my sinful thrusting your edifice trembles like a chicken eating peas for a supper dish lost in the time it must take them to serve the diner closed. Sitting in high cotton smelling like a rose. Working my soft repose to a milky way response a knee jerking dance of love. Making mention of you in my last will and testament eye suppose you will be the one to keep my love you always had it and you will never lose it after all is said and done the things we thought were life but they were nought they were not life they did not last they went away a poem within a poem

Anchient Child

old man full of days bearded wisdom seen above

child of grace full of life yet slain

immortal sacrifice

clay vessels needing love

we should be ashamed that god

needed to prove to us his love

Jesus this is The Last Poem It could Be


to thine own self be true

BUM

BUM

BUM

and what will you be lttle boy when you grow up and did anyone say eye wish to grow up to be a  BUM ?

describe your job please what is it that you do a description please

This is a paroday this is a BUM speaking

eye panhandle money from honest people they would never give me any but eye beg eye lie and tell them its for food then eye buy booze and smoke

when eye run out of cigarettes and cigars eye hunt snipe

eye play dress upp at night

big huge red necks but nothing butt a belly sagging down nothing down below the belt iff you catch my drift not a real real man butt one of them is usually missing half the brain incase eye did not mention rude is what they do they get in face and punch the words at you refusing to believe the shifting sand dos not smell the same for them the same for you BUTT UPP MEE they say it carefully what can you do when the bum he comes just to annoy you his visit done it lingers like a song played in the background the unmitigated gall of BUM as he surrounds the person here you need a bus pass for the bus give to me only twenty cents and you can ride instead of walk it makes me wonder where he got such a prize find and he still wanders needing twenty centavoes eye just do not contribute to the panhandler needing beer it is so shallow a see threw idea elephant sits on his breasted wing awaiting the arrival of the BUM never in the History of this country has the Hierarchy been so removed from the Populace agrees the ones in charge need to Rule the poor need to be hidden from the street packed in green and brown packages of Solyant cans as human beans for all the rest of this if this dont bother you must be among the ruling class and money is your god god god the 666 is thine you BUM