antitheory

antitheory

antitheory
a penny for your thoughts
money rules this world the people think of nothing less they spill the beans must come from solyant green and brown the very idea that a man could come from being homeless to a millionaire or even a small business in the industry when eye feel eye will never work for pay the students coming out of school get all the smart jobs seem to be gone the way of misery is mine no job no check no prop under my feet is only the sidewalk now eye lay in poverty my homeless shelter edges of a roof iff no one sees me furtively edging into spaces meant for stepping past the sticks and stones omg no one should live this way at all but why eye feel the need to work so hard when all eye need to do is hide my bones beneath the cold cold soil and stop the day to day struggle of existance. Let me tell you it is this certain struggle for food and dry clothing that makes a man what he is it gives me strength that money cannot buy for me the life that eye have chosen seems so harsh until you think of poverty of rich the loss of love the loss of life that comes from worshipping a lessor god just numbers in a book they equal power for some people just add more to swollen bank accountants adding ledgers to existing dollars charging more for services already over extended. Today my heart is full of ewe and friend's who love me too my feet are dry my belly full of food my clothing adequate for a mild winter the first for me in several years of snow pushing the limits of my luck each day brings to me my own crazy satisfaction dropping some names to illustrate my happiness do you think e e cummings his works brought to the public in the form of new york plays do you think it made him happy to be homeless his work his poems his style of keeping rustic crude religion showing in his writings from his golden heart his poetry ruling him in love worth more then many ducats of gold the silver dross when asked to preform on television Jack Kerouac grabbed his tome and read from his book what he had written there in poetry do you not see yet how homeless he once was and yet the poem was his everything to be. Stop feeling sorry for this homeless poet and start reading more of what eye have there written in the vast crinkles of the paper of the web while eye can get online to make this POEM this POET is undone still happy just to thrive alive outside the dead poetry of love one ounce of poem words outweigh all the gold of time

Ruby Red Slippers

Ruby Red Slippers

Ruby Red Slippers
Thoughts of the Yellow Brick Road
CharlaX
the house was spinning spinning like a whirling house
it looked like a farm house with old wooden slats painted whitewash
it fell from the sky the tornado let it go and it fell and it fell from the sky onto the yellow brick roadside
it landed on the bad witch not the bad witch it was her cousin from the emerald city it was the bad witches cousin and she wore those Red Ruby Slippers
Dorothy woke up
she saw the slippers those read ruby slippers she saw them disappear off the witches feet and then she looked down at her feet and there there there were the ruby slippers on her feet on Dorothy's feet
and then the Good Witch Glenna or Glenda ? came from the sky on her Fairy Wings and she asked Dorothy where had she come from and she said from the Sky. Then she said Kansas where is Aunt Em and then she pointed at the house and the witch under the house and her feet pulled up funny sort of curling up and then she just disappeared. The witch not Dorothy. ANd the Good Witch warned her about the Bad Witch would send those Stupid flying monkeys oh my god. ANd the Scare Crow Man oh no oh my god. And when she grew up and stopped smoking Mary Jane Cigarettes she wept. ANd when she Wept eye cried. And TOTO oh my god TOTO and the Happy ending did eye forget the Wizard of Oz ? and now you see it now you see the whole story in my eye perspectively.

APoetryRejectionReply

APoetryRejectionReply

by Charles Robert Hice on Wednesday, October 26, 2011 at 10:09am


APoetryRejectionReply

APoetryRejectionReply

This is apparently written. This is seemingly a submission. It might have won a price. It is supposed to be first place. It could have would have should have taken the poll position in the race. It smells like a lime burger cheese. The shoulder of the ham. The aftermath of the sneeze. A broken pipeline leaves no nose alone and this is sewing fishing line to rods reels. Yes, Rod is reeling at this is news to him. They took the negroes off the boat from Plymouth Rock they unloaded them at ParisMontebank and sold only a few of the ones who had not eaten from the scurvy for the powder in the bisquit sacks was only wormy. They dismanteled the Atomic Bomb the one they kept from World War Three the Cold one it was under wraps at Amarillo Proving ground they kept the core interim for a while. The recycled remains to be seen. Eye wept for the slave not the slaver was rich not the poor beggar who lived from the trip he was docile a non entity a good worker worth any price. They seldom lived until they died. Eye deserve my broken tooth for eye was white once upon a time. A small thin suffering part of Jesus in my mouth how lucky it seems now that Saint Anthony has chosen me to die in the Streets of San Antonio alive and hurt no one to come to help me but the unseen GOD. Sleep and dream of love.


Sleep and Dream of Love

HOBOS

HOBOS.docx

Homeless on bed on Street
There is too many addicts and users and drinkers too many crack users addicted too many winoes for one small downtown area the Bus Line brings them to you they walk from alleys and trash bins to clog the arteries of this city they beg for money and free cigarettes whilst pantomiming for all the other things they seek the crack for the pipes in the basement is locked the office will not see them all they need money the 666 is scrawled on all the important self grandiose citizens eye saw walk in clean clothing but they need money or a smoke or a drink or a crack rock or a crack stone like SHEEN iff they pay more they get a better buzz those rocks make a noise when they hit the pipe it goes CRACK eye guess that’s where they got the namme. Like wineo from wine and alcoholic from any old thing they drink a lot of it and some of them still stink even after the free wash from the terrible storm they are trying to sleep at the Church is calling them Cops downtown they are evicting them from every doorway and back alleyway now. Sure it bothers me sometimes eye get too many of them around me further out near the freeway and then its hard to sleep with so many of them crazy homeless all around me eye only wish the City would be more tolerant of the elder older men who do not smoke or crack or drink we need our doorway and our sleep we need more places in the storm to be. Just challenged for the space to live but keep the drunks away it might be a good idea for SAPD to carry lots of those breathalyzer things that tell them iff the person has been drinking make them blow the thing and take them with you to the Jail iff they fail the test let them sleep in the holding tank four hours is the limit for a drunk it might stop some of them from being downtown.

Bigot

Bigot
BIGOT
Photo bucket REMOVED this PICTURE
it was a Klansman in Robe
arms uplifted
in front of a
BURNING CROSS
There is a reason we do not let the colored vote here down south. They would win the election hands down. Let me explain this biased white thinking. You get the colored vote box. Lock them in the basement. Then we get the boxes we rigged up counting all the dead people in all the little cemetery's all around the town. James Brown and Jonny Dolittle and Tommy Thompson Gun and little Jinny Dickens. Polite Society WHITE names. NO black names here like Doctored Dree. We putt Malcom Powder in our white soap dishes then THE X on the ballot. The Jacksonion institution is boarded up the plantation x is closed. It is almost Halloween we all dress like Ghosts in big white sheets with hoods and lidded lifeless eyes. Possession is nine tenths of the law and eye got mine. We burn crosses on black lawns after five oclock we run from black to house and black once more we fill the town with fun and vote for white indangered folk we vote from nine to five. We prime the ballot box with water from the tap then soak them until dawn no one can read the colored votes they been there wet too long. We fill our ballots up with homemade votes all white and ready to be counted slick backed hair in buzz cuts and chew in all our glasses lipstick on the collar and thumbprints on the tumbler giving states evidence for late opinions just go behind the curtain and cast your white votes. You will come away with the certain feeling that now you are a Bigot.

Tribute 1 11 2011

TEN YEARS LATER

***salute***

11 1 2011 August 31, 2011
Tributetoo911 Adam Mayblum Who was that masked man he walked away without a word expected his horse silver in the sun his friend and Indian companion was so lost without him Tonto and his gunn. He was trapped on the eighty seventh floor. This is not his story it has been done this is only the tribute poem. He had to leave his friend behind to start with a tiny piece of his heart was gone. Mayblum said The very moment the first plane was hijacked, democracy won. I may be the first to say this he had the idea of helping others before he started down and that is why he is a great American. This story is too emotional CharlaX is undone I am near tears reading his email message there is not much left to say except salute. Whatever is still green in me salutes you Adam Mayblum. I love the way you tried to help them. Understand this android would have loved you even iff you only saved your own neck but now I love you sight unseen because you first loved them your friends even your few enemies you may have had to leave some all behind because of circumstances come is what makes a hero out of just a Brave American. That is all. Tributetoo911 Adam Mayblum.
By: Charles Robert Hice

HappyHuntingGround OR Afterlife

HappyHuntingGround OR Afterlife
by Charles Robert Hice on Tuesday, August 30, 2011 at 1:54pm

HappyHuntingGround.docx

HappyHuntingGround

Happy hunting ground OR Afterlife

In the brevity of time we face.

There will of course be no hunting signs in heaven the lion with the lamb both of them eating SLABS OF BACON forget it not going to happen sort of thing do you see the reason NOTHING IN MY HOLY MOUNTAIN shall cause hurt or pain is written in the Bible is full of it now there will be no stinking drinking the wine is new the wheat is on the table the fish falling from the water falling from the waterfall for view each fish in heaven eating just the sort of grasses rushes made for fish to do they seem to like the roots where CANNIBAL'S hide and they swallow goldfish NO it will not ever happen this could have been written by Doctor Stranglove.

IN the Afterlife there will be people living forever the concept not something we who still live on Earth can understand. Eye have said this before in different places and different ways you will not be wandering around looking for people to talk too heaven does not work this way there is not going to be endless coffee klatches there no meeting of the minds for every person there is Jesus worshiping GOD try to get the concept of GOD and WORSHIP it is 24 seven. No more tears no more sorrow. Not your nickel there not your idea not your concept someone elses domain. no corner beer stores in heaven no beer mart drive ons no drunks careening out of control on my freeway is only a dusty unused road eye will stare down it once for ten thousand years this is the idea of heaven for me and no one will come on my road to hurt me again and no one will break me no more did you hear this homeless roar Afterlife.

Not your nickel there not your idea not your concept someone elses domain.