Snow White Kisses
Snow White Kisses
Snow White Kisses
My purple sky hang over me
My purple sky fly over me
Snow White dreams of frolics in the forest
Wanting day to last the whole life time
She remembers dwarves so fine attentive
She remembers drinks of draughts of fruit and vine
She lay down for final time and then upon awakening
The Gragon fly attend ewe Snow White kisses
Purple kisses mounted on her prose
Purple kisses to the breathtaking lady sleeping
mentioning a few more million in her dreaming
meaning to remain in realm of hiding
she is found in soft repose alarmingly cold
until my kisses bring her love.
poem by Charles Hice
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Little Black Sambo
Little Black Sambo
Dance Sambo Dance!
You knoe you are a pancake!
The little black sambo ran around the tigers,
until they blended into batter.
Ewe see it does it matters.
Dance Sambo Dance!
You knoe you are a pancake!
If you even make just one mistake,
the tigers they will eat you.
Dance Sambo Dance!
You knoe you are a pancake!
Unless you can out race them,
the tigers are so fast.
We would rather that you eat them.
Dance Sambo Dance!
Prance and add the butter to the better batter there.
What could also be much better so much neater.
Dance Sambo Dance!
The tigers are just pancakes.Sambo is the eater.
[...] Read more
poem by Charles Hice
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Eye must love ewe.
Eye must love ewe.
Eye must love ewe.
Sometimes it seems that ewe have gone
Sometimes it seems like eye am alone
Sometimes eye wonder how ewe are
Sometimes eye cry and wish for love
Sometimes eye seem to ewe that eye am not someone but still eye am a human trying still sitting and crying and wishing and hoping and knoeing that ewe still love me.
Sometimes it is very hard to love me.
Sometimes today should be tomorrow or mabe even yesterday.
Sometimes it is hard to see the middle of the day.
Sometimes it is the end of time in the beginning of the day.
This is a sadness not a madness and it will soon go away when eye have ewe again.
For eye must love ewe.
poem by Charles Hice
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Food In Heaven
Food In Heaven
Food In Heaven
He made the cows to want the rain to fall he made the grass that they use to eat to fill the want inside a cow he makes grass as bread for cows they just continue there to graze in some places in the desert spaces there is grass for cows to eat this is called heaven sweet to cows they drink water when they have it in a drink flavored pouch oh no see eh ewe caught me making lies no listen while eye smile and tell ewe this poem is so nice there is grass for all the cows there is grass on every hill and every cow can eat in heaven they still have grass for every cow there is food in heaven there is food there in a drink flavored pouch.
poem by Charles Hice
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ThisFlower
ThisFlower
ThisFlower
This flower had a yellow center white lapetals
with Violet edges each little part a much larger
representation of this whole thing was not
as big as mye own hand eye devised a plan quite
similar to pulling stem from apple reading
alphabetic eye have to get to V for Violet
but instead of tempting fate or GOD or Jesus
his own SON or human reflex eye placed no letter
on this game but gamely twisted this flower
in a circle flicking petals in the air until
to mye surprise only one remained with
yellow centered white for love with Violet
edges this Symbol of our love this Flower
stem of green to base this Flower on,
this viable of love.
poem by Charles Hice
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Ewe Transended
ewe transended
ewe transended
fever pitch working against time the clock tock tock the chime in mind the aweful feeling in my gut the test is getting done a valentine a valentine a valentine poem for the only one of love has reached a need for release the day is almost on us the delay is what eye seek eye knoe you miss me more then eye can ever miss the ewe so tell me darling in your heart and eye will hear it eye will know it eye will feel it all brand new eye live with out the dread of worry and of fear eye live with all the love that comes from holding on to you inside a shell of broken hide away nervous conditions given me to overcome the fever is just love for ewe transended
poem by Charles Hice
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Sad But Not Bad
Sad But Not Bad
I am always sad now
when I think of ewe,
please do not fail
to understand me,
it is not bad to feel this way!
I do not mean that ewe have made me sad,
losing ewe would kill me,
worse now than I was;
when life was pain and eating food and walking in the sun!
I never hid away from life from fights or pain!
Now I feel like hiding just to greet the day,
in hopes of being with ewe on a future day!
Time is not an enemy of pain!
It helps me to let time slip bye for days:
for days I let the time go bye
I live to go away
To hide to hide to hide--
-to hide -to abide in hopeful bliss
--just hopeful for one kiss
[...] Read more
poem by Charles Hice
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Mark Of The Beast(666)
Mark of the Beast(666)
Money rules most everyone,
just ask me and you will see.
Even Billy Graham solicits funds,
how else do they do
the crusades...
Money is god(mammon)
ewe can have god or applesauce
money is so nice
with money ewe get applesauce
but money is not nice
murder; killing; and now living
is all tied to the Mark(666)
Public executions will be next
killing people for religion
it will happen soon and never stop
pain is still inside of me but
forgiveness is somewhere near my heart
even now no one cares there is no one
[...] Read more
poem by Charles Hice
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Five Lines of Freedom
Five Lines of Freedom
Five Lines of Freedom
In the eye of the Clergy your husband will not save himself but wind up keeping you from going inn to Glory but shortly you will see the truth again
In the Laymens terms selling items for the living is not work but feeding frenzy needs the job the husband will be home to sleep to love you more then ever more
IN her own eye she wishes she could give the Father back the finger give the finger to the Father of the Man
From the passing stranger the point is the poem he wishes to write poetry he must be homeless to fulfill his destiny
from no viewpoint
in 100 April years God will stop these fears he will wipe away your tears for YOU my April fools who live inn loving Harmony
poem by Charles Hice
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The Date Of Christmas DaY
The Date Of Christmas DaY
A.D.Four plus thirty-three= A.D.Thirty-seven.
The millineum year Two Thousand Thirty Seven has not yet occured.
Inn mye humble opinion never will it ever bee.
Iff Christ was born in September Thirty-Seven,
we should have Christmas on September Three.
December TwentY-fifth is the dead works day of druids.
They still dance the maypole day in May.
May ONE could be the birthday of GODS son.
The time is tricky anyway after more than a few years.
Everything gets blurry after way too many beers.
The moral of this story just accept that it was done.
This Christmas try to worship on December Twenty-One.
Drink less eggnogg and have more FUN.
On this millineum day in Nineteen Fifty-Four;
Eye was not yet one year Young.
poem by Charles Hice
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