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Renaissance Activists


Episode 33- Extra! Extra! Read All About It! is here!

Episode 4- God Is Real, The Bible Is Real, Jesus Is Real, Amen

Charlie Poet's Podcasts


I wrote nearly all of my poems between the ages 16-21, (1990-1995). I did not know I was a Christian, yet. At age 17, I was shot in my ear for discovering God's #FlatEarth; and was suffering from amnesia, paranoia, and ptsd, without knowing it, while writing them.


My original, handwritten poems, were stolen, and burned, by witches, in New Orleans, in 2001. I hope you enjoy them. God bless you... -Charlie Poet.

Part 1 Lost Youth




Enter the new world, child

for you will be buried in the future...


A vast cold place

a giant, hollow face

a colorful tongue

that eats it's food

with teeth for numbers 

Enjoy a flower covered slumber

In a temple with birds

that have

radars for eyes

and bombs for legs

The clock in his stomach

tells time to the stars

so they know what they are

and who they are confusing

Miniature monsters

make the dead men

that float on the sea

finally sink

and breed

new bubbles to the suface

for the sun to pop.

as the giant apple tree

shits all summer

on the wet, stuck leaves

Welcome, welcome

Come in

A Poem For You

How can I write a poem for you

a pure and pretty poem for you

a "normal" collection of thoughts

expressed in beautiful


about the world and it's



and mysteries adorned

about man and his great travesties

Accomplishments and wars

his halos and horns

his crown of thorns

his soul, torn

with dark and light

wrong and right

pain and might

death and life

How can I write a poem for you

with my "strange" collection of thoughts

with no prosody or praise

or the will to change my. melancholy ways

all my own

all alone--

in my own form


and adorned

how can I write a poem for you

a pure and pretty poem for you

Dead Stars Falling On Mice

You're like a bag of popcorn

you open up with fleas

you are dead stars falling on mice

you are rats eating disease

you are the end of a nightmare

tricking me with fun

you are the stairway to heaven

walking me downstairs

into the basement

trying to bury me

you are the one who doesn't

believe in me

you are the deciever

capturing me

locking me in your playground

so I wont leave

I am the one that stares at you

with my big brown eyes

trapped in your corner

hoping you will change

your mind


Who are you, people of this world

and why are you stopping me

why wont you let me be me

let me be free

or let me plunge to my death

a broken sparrow

in the canyon of stolen dreams

let me be me

for I am the spirit

of a proud and golden bear

let me roam in the woods

and hunt in the streams

Let me be who I am

for I am what I am

a miraculous man, walking on land

let me be me, let me be free

for I am the spirit

of a galloping stallion

let me trample the hills

from sea to sea

Let me be me, let me follow my dreams

for I am the spirit

of the wizard of bees

let me buzz in gardens


Let me be me

for I am the spirit

of a smiling dragon

let me soar in this world

and paint the sky with my dreams

stop stopping me, stop stopping you

let you be you, let me be me

let me seek what I please

let me believe what I believe

let me go as I need

just let me be me

For i am the spirit of the wild


that bloomed atop the magnolia tree

this morning

I am here but a short time

as you are

appreciate me

Or let me plunge to my death

people of this world

into what I must be

a broken dragon


into the endless abyss

of my demented

cemented dreams

The Child Confused

I remember my red wagon

the lemonade sale

"Five cents, five cents, get your lemonade!"

"Ding, ding! Ding, ding!"

goes the bell-- 

Quickly, it started to rain

the whole city went inside, except me

holding wet signs of five cents

staring at the inconsiderate rain

staring at the lemonade, the acid rain lemonade

I let it drain down the sewer

with the dirty leaves of the dirty city

I rolled my wagon, into the backyard

and sat under my tree, beholden to my tree...

I enter the kingdom of the worms

Frolicking in their garden

stretching on the soil, after rain

It must be nice for them,

to shimmy out of the earth--

I try to play, I try to dig too

I roll and wiggle in the mud

but they scurry, like ambushed soldiers

into their private underworld

and I sit back under my tree

beholden to my tree...

Whose leaves drip drops of rain on me 

On Thanksgiving

When I cover my ears

I hear an earthquake in my head

The shuddering roar

Takes me out of a place

When I'm sad, or scared, or bored

I often cover my ears

And listen to the earthquake

With my eyes closed

and watch, joyfully

the end of the world

One day I opened them

and my whole family,

relatives and all

were staring at me, in shock, and awe

When I said I was listening

to the earthquake in my head

My mother smacked me

and we ate our turkey

And The Pain

I remember seeing my father

fight my mother

I remember it well

And often

It is a constant freak show scene

reeling out of control

on the corrupted side of my mind

I remember my father

And mother

they knew I was watching

they knew I was there

standing in the shadows

of the hallway

weak, compared to him

poor and angry I grew up 

stranded in the echoes of the shatter

my little brother not yet

brave enough to watch

trying to catch the remnants

of a peaceful, childhood dream

myself watching the nightmare

of them, and hating them

for hurting my brother

my father, hurting my mother

myself completly numb

stuck in reality

with the sounds-

and the pain


I lost a shoe

running from the cops...

on the railroad tracks...

Somehow, I woke up this morning

It was 5:30

Still half drunk,

I had to get ready for school 

undress and scrape off the 

ripped, soaked clothes

from my shivering body

shower on

never enough pressure

ouch! I forgot about the bruises

all over my body

and broken eyeglasses--

No clean towels!

I shake myself dry like a dog

Where is everybody?

there is nothing at all to eat


I crawl back in bed,

I'm flunking out-

but I'm too ashamed to flirt

with her, the joy of my youth

I'm too weak to face the cold fog today

the muddy puddles, and long frozen grass

like soldiers, waiting my arrival 

My Childhood Memories

Redeem to me

My childhood memories 

give them back, I ask

There is darkness in my future

confusion in my past

Redeem to me

My childhood memories

I don't want to go forward

I'm not part of this herd

I need to go back

to see it again

if it ever was at all


To see me

And my family, happy

just once in my life

Please-- redeem to me

My childhood memories 


Please don't read my poem


please don't read my poem

you already know

what I have to say

so please don't read my poem


Adrift, lost in the seas of the streets

A teenager sleeping in garages,

behind dumpsters

a kid with nowhere to go,

it's too cold

the land is frozen,

the lake is frozen

Time is cracking

the nuts of my soul

Who can feed me

when everyone is hungry

How can she save

her starving child

when her mind is caving in

How can a child re-cover

if he looks in the mirror

and his eyes are shaking

Is your mirror ignoring you

wishing you would go

are your ceiling's caving in, like mine

are there faces in your memories,

laughing at you-

mirror, mirror, on the wall

who's the most shameful of all

Is your shadow hiding, like mine

My eyes are closed, the pain is too great

So please read my poem,


tell me what to say

I am adrift, lost in the streets

tell me where to go, 


let me stay,


tell me what to say

Intense Dreams

Escalating intense dreams

of blueberries dipped in whip cream

and strawberries on light beams

lighting my intense dreams

Banana cream pies floating in the sky

luscious red tongues and lips

licking giant pies

Angels swimming

in waves of peace

Devils drowning

in pools of grease

Humans immune

to all disease

living forever

in my intense dreams

Candy striped women surrounding me

as honey drips down the trees

along with the bees

that fly me away from disease

and gardens of roses

that show all the poses

and tell me which way

the sun goes

and the sky is bright blue

with images of you

embraced within the clouds

and for centuries I stare

in the heated warm air 


by your cotton candy hair

The bellydancing gypsies

and ruby rock candies

and chocolate medallions

all dancing the mamba

where the air is of crystal

and we dance on the ocean

as the seahorses play in the show

Where golden yellow sunbeams

illuminate the ice cream

that we devour with scrumptous joy


And all my friends are there

shrinking and growing

and eating everything

as they fade along with the show

and my intense dream

Vanilla moonbeams

and apples in my head

and I wake up--


with the sun

glowing on my

Drooling, starving smile!

I was a hungry, hungry child   


Let's ride horses

and jump through rings of fire

and gallop- in slow motion- to the palace

the horses are spotted purple

the pumpkins are day- glow yellow

and ghosts lead the way

we are flying and dreamy floating

we reach for the rabbit

and pick it off the ground

and give it to the princess

as a gift at the palace

and she covets the rabbit

and loves it's pink coat

and stripes of blue

At dinner we eat pineapples, and plums

bananas and pears

and peaches

and we drink wine of centuries old

when Jesus drank

and the bottle never ends

nor does the feast

and we lay in soft, forbidden passages

in the secret garden

the flute, the harp, and slow hollow drums

entertain our delighted ears

as we gallop on the horses

in the field of epiphany

where moons and stars

Jupiter and mars

float around in the bright orange sky

and yellow clouds

and fields of daisies are all around

We picnic by the river

the glowing red river

and the blue grass

and we look out over the abyss

and jump to the bottom

and swim in the river

and fish swim beside us

and lead us to a cave

and we are in caverns

where bats wearing sunglasses

drift sharply about and smile at us

like we are the sacrifice, in their ritual


We reach land in the tunnel

diamonds, gold medallions are shining

and a treasure chest of dreams fills our heads

we look through a curtain

and in the sky we see. black, magestic

floating fingers

telling us to follow, so we follow

and we drop

out of the sky

and land in an inferno

 of burning souls and green eyed midget devils

with glowing, ivory white pitchforks

who begin telling us what to do

so we close our eyes

and open them

and a kaleidoscope of stars fill our vision

we pass the toy

to the unimaginative being

who looks for a moment

and passes it back,

and we float once again

The Fool in my Soul

There is a fool embedded in my soul

he sleeps with tigers

he roams with writers

He shows his name in alcohol

He shows his name in ganja

He is He

while I am me

but we both control my destiny

There is a fool embedded in my soul

he cries with Jesus

he tries to please us

He throws his love toward us

he adores us

He is He

while I am me

but we both control my will to be

There is a fool embedded in my soul

his joy is creating

his tool is dreaming

He shows his name in imagination

He knows that is my fascination

He is Her

while I am me

I love the fool that lives in me

the fool embedded in my soul

the fool in a bed in my soul

Autumn's Lie

The boat eschews above the

tainted, tortured waters

immune to all thoughts of sinking

"How long will you float, ocean misfit?

Where will you go?

What will your travels bring

but stories for back home?

how many years can you ignore

the inevitable


"Why do you insist on floating

the same old waters

don't you want to see

the end of the horizon?"

How can you be happy

tossed and controlled, tossed and controlled,

just to settle down?

Your soul is a ship!

you were born to find the hidden waters

so travel hard and fast

bare the fruits of being lost

bare the labors

I will travel to the Amazon

I will travel to Atlantis

I will hide in the Bermuda triangle

And conjure sea tales

For what is a hero

But the one who bares all odds

to save his kin

Or is the hero the one who

slowly sinks, like a boat with a hole

into laughing, waiting waters?

The Dreamer

Still a dreamer

The slave

steps to the edge of the pond


and walks into the slow, heavy, water

a different version of the sun

sits atop-

a green version

a reflection-

curing him from the great battles

of the hot farm

a winner

an earner,

of a shimmering, respectful

blanket of water to cool his soul

and help him recover

from the tiring hours

of working in the blistering sun

a grateful man


escaping, however brief

from the south

Poison in Grannies Tea

A lemon being squeezed

into a cup

makes a sound I don't want to describe

but it's almost like a clock stopping

and the graham crackers are delicious

but what time is it?

Oh, I really must say goodbye


and you can keep running

and dreaming,

searching, praying, seeking-

no matter what has happened

as you are now,

you can look at this world

and find something important to you

or at least

something important

for you to do, until tomorrow

and remember,

no matter how long you've wandered

naked and sick in the fields

the flowers will always love you

and the dream will still be sitting on it's throne

awaiting your capture

and your queen 

will whisper

into the candle

until you come home

so don't give in

you may still have a long way to go

down a winding,

golden road


So Rarely,

the faces I remember in my dreams

return from the past

and gaze,

at me, with curious eyes

One night in New Orleans

a dear friend of my youth

simply appeared

like a thief of time

a bowler striking ten stars

jarring my soul with pride, 

and surprise

a memory, suddenly, alive

It was so good to see him

the man with the heart of gold

smiling at me

with his bride by my side

shaking off the dust

clouding my memory

reminding me of something

I thought I no longer had-

Pleasant thoughts

of back home

Part 2 Lost Years

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