Charles Hice

Rookie (May 13 2004 / Heaven)

Themefortytwocharlaxtitles42 - Poem by Charles Hice

A Poet has feelings most of them are or were living or dead with depressions and love and alcoholic baby syndrome my problem is too much starch in my potatoes. There is nothing wrong with any thing including alcoholic beverage in moderation the problem stems from over indulgence and drunkenness and there are some of you who are weak vegetarians. Soup is not god or cow or pig or dog or rat or mouse or bug but some small survival rate of the Afrikaans nation they eat slug bugs to survive small crawling things yet still alive and to me well let’s just say eye prefer mine well done. It's a culture thing having been brought up with fast food and money as the lessor god. Food is never sin and sin is never food the sin is the cuss words coming out to blaspheme. The man who full of beers and eating cow has galls to say to veggie eaters and to Afrikaans “Well Howdy pardoner you got to belly up to the BAR to be a Real man and drink them beers fast one after the other and ah rekon iff you can’t than you are just not gonna be a REAL man”, and then he kinda looks sidewise at you and says REAL mean, “the only good POET is a DEAD POET In Society.” The GOD that eye believe in gives a fish to most religions fish is good to eat and less offensive than a tTt bone steak. Eye once poured a beer on a steak and cooked it to perfection just to prove that people do such things only to find out my brother alcoholic crying out how eye wasted the dang thing to heck. Once eye had a girl she showed me how she poured the beer upon her locks and tresses there and eye was shocked at such a waste of drink. Eye cried real tears and had nothing else to do with her she was so alcoholic cleaned. She rinsed it off with holy water from the sink eye bet you thought it stunk she smelled just like a skunk at Christmas feast. My nerves have never been kind to me and now the added bourdon of a broken tooth has made me worthless for any given works involving Jesus or religion except these themes and titles that eye pen eye have got to please remember that the cussing has to end for there are children who read the website and so for them eye tone it down a bit. Coffee is ignored but some older people they seem to think its devils brew oh ewe so sorry eye become for coffee is to me like water and eye never get enought. Remember GOD hath made the coffee bean and fish to eat. There is an argument of PRO and CON the FOR and the AGHAST the limitless belly of a drunk causes many a poor boy to slide into the alleyway drunk in emulation. They then get sicker than a dog and do not ever quite have the understanding of a man for they are not. Not if Drunkard is a man. For he raises hoary head and grabs another gallon of the stuff as he just goes too bedded down. It never seems to bother him until he has a Doctor call or visit him his liver gone his skin a yellow pallor in the sun no do not get mad there is no immunity there is no GOD of all drunks that never gets sick they all get that stuff it's the price of over indulgence they all pay eye just checked on my SOBER self again and I’m healthy all day long just one more fringe benefit of righteous living today. Poet call. Words rhyme in a stimulated pattern like sheathes empty of swords no clatter of the metal on the leather is discernable to the Dead Poets in the Dark. Fortune lays in a sack near the outstretched arms of the Dead Poets in the Park. A Bottle of Vodka full of gallon jug long out of reach of the hand on the arm of the Dead Poet who was Hung by the redneck cowboy full of steak and beer and Afrikaans. Veggie eaters are exempt the rich among them only drink a few wine coolers the color of watermelon rinds. A fish to them is just something gold swimming in the pond.

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Poem Submitted: Monday, August 4, 2008

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