The last best hope, the redneck pope the hicks
are counting on, won’t need his travel kit
when he’s on Ricker’s Island. Gavel it!
He orders bedroom windows made of bricks:
aspires to nothing higher than Stevie Nix.
The break-up (that’s why Vaclav Havel quit)
– how cross is Marjorie, how cavil-fit –
is something he would engineer for kicks,
so put him where he can’t mishandle chicks.
He screwed it all. His team unravel, knit:
on Epstein’s isle, he did the Savile bit.
With Kavanaugh and J.D. Vance his picks,
The Hollow Man is running out of tricks.
There’s only one thing left – the Gravel Pit!
(I’m penniless: I have no hint of loot.
I fear no a-hole’s defamation suit.)
to muse...
hicks noted sound-effects
and their re-actions...
with other muse hicks
sound effects to code notes...
muse hicks coughed up
music...
morse code and
computer programming...
stans sand
Quaker Edward Hicks
with religious themes & no tricks
A decorator & untrained artist
his 'peaceable kingdom' * has 60 twists
*https://www.wikiart.org/en/edward-hicks/peaceable-kingdom-1834
flirting with haiku
but married
to the senryu
MagiCicada13
My dog named “Hicks”
'The dog that licks the frog he found in the log'
that delightful, disgusting dog that lick the fluffy, hairy frog he found in the marshy, low log
My dog “Hicks
the dear, domestic dog that lick the fancy frog he found in the lovable log
depressed, dazzling the legendary, lumpy dog
the determined, dumpy dog that wants to eat the fantastic, famous frog he found in the loud, lost log
the funny, fat frog he found in the large, long log
the dank, different dog that lick the fake, fine frog he found in the loving, loyal log
the depressing, dark dog that licks the furry, frightening frog he found in the lit, little log “bark” “ribbit-ribbit rip” Swhoop YUM….
11/22/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.
Does “childish” come to mind when discussing politics
Did you say no??? You must be living in the sticks
With no Internet or TV
Haven't heard of these geeks?
Sure boggles my mind, these backcountry hicks
Does “childish” come to mind when discussing politics
Did you say no??? You must be living in the sticks
Without the Internet or TV
Haven't heard about these geeks?
Totally boggle my mind, these lowlife backcountry hicks
Dewey Hicks
1900-1918
It burns, burns still.
This sweating insidious fever.
This slippery revolting slide
Down down down into the hole here!
I’m on fire mom! More ice!
Strawberries, sweet strawberries!
Please, please something sweet, something
Something cold, some ice
Yes, ice for my parched tongue!
I can still taste!
I can still hear!
But, but I can’t see.
Dear God, where are you?
Dear mother, I need you now!
Please, please, some ice for my lips, my flaming tongue!
It burns! Burns!
Sunset screaming, screaming!
My voice yelling hurling invectives!
My glove, my hat, my ring,
And over there by the door
Her sweet sweet photograph in a glass frame!
Strawberries! Sweet strawberries!
Please please my tongue is scorched!
Down down down into the hole here.
It burns, burns still.
His name is Timothy Hicks
His work sure gives me the kicks
He is a great sage
Despite his young age
He shows us poetry’s tricks
He has an ambitious mind
His posts are ever so kind
He’s special to me
And that’s plain to see
I hope a sweet girl he’ll find
If she will mess with his brain
I’ll beat her up with my cane
I’ll make her regret
That she made him fret
I’ll give her neck a good sprain
Dear Hicks, speak up and speak out
Be sure your words have much clout
You’ve got a great take
Conventions to break
You know what life is about!
“Keep writing” is what I say
We’ll see a new break of day
Where all will be right
Our future so bright
“Be faithful,” is what I pray!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
My mama always told me that
"Hicks in the sticks"
was a thing way back when.
Timeless as mortar and bricks.
But who woulda thought
that someday she'd marry one?
Bet she didn't say hick no more,
her name itself was now and pun.
I'd always be jealous of other kids
and their long and extravagant surnames.
Mine might as well a cough or a sneeze,
p'raps I'll change it if I ever come to fame!
Sure ain't no Guadalajara
or Lamoureux.
Truth be told It'd sound more interesting
to just call me Mr. So 'n' So.
If you look far enough down the family line
you'll find the spelling changes... they ditch the C-K-S.
Can you believe that my already minuscule name
used to be a whole two letters less?
It's a running joke at work that it sounds
more appealing to the opposite sex.
So if I run into someone I like I'll be like
"Call me Mr. Hicks... with an X".
But I guess I'm stuck with it
'til the day they put me in the ground.
I'll be a "Hicks in the sticks" to you if y' fancy.
What's all this fuss about a sound?
NOTE: I wanted to write something reminiscent of Jack Ellison's quirky humor.
Bill beat them to death. Verbose and belligerent, banal and brilliant, Hicks would beat
you with a joke until you weren’t sure it was funny any more. But you’d still laugh.
Advertising advocates he indicated, would be best dealt with through suicide. Like
lemmings, but really jumping.
Clearly he can’t have so concisely come down on those poor cretins alone. Blasting and
berating the bourgeoisie, leaving no stone unturned. Advocating erogenous interaction and
nature’s narcotics never felt so fresh.
He cut a legendary figure, shining in mono on the stage, an anti-hero in the spotlight,
questioning the questionable and querying great quandaries for our bite-sized attention
spans. All joking asides and jeering anecdotes. The great, the goat, Gods and grass
gripped us throughout.
In his own immortal words, life is just a ride. Rails and loops, dips and troughs. Thrills
and chills.
Bill’s the ticket inspector. Taking names and kicking ass.
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