"caine" poems
Sometimes, when you listen to their enounciation.
You realize, just how beautiful they speak in their British accent.
Every word expressively spoken.
That you're mermorized by each vocal.
Maggie Smith, the lady of class.
Cary Grant, the man of taste.
Oh, that British voice.
That you might chose , if had you that choice.
Or seek ways to adapt them to yours.
Michael Redgrave/Michael Rennie/Vanessa Regraves
All of them had that lovable voice.
Then you notice the beautiful Julie Andrew.
Words spoke so you see the greatness of the phase.
Which we notice too in Richard Attenborough.
Who reminds many of Richard Burton?
Yes, the British accent.
You just got to love it
Similar to loving Honor Blackman when she speaks.
A great difference from Jacqueline Bissett.
Except written about them with great respect.
Who can't admire the British Accent?
Yes, there's the French.
And I'm not kicking it.
Then , there's Spanish.
Which has more trying to learn it.
But this is about the English and the various style of vocals.
Colin Barker and Prince Williams the Royals speaks so wonderful.
Just like, the man called Michael Caine.
I just have to mention Deborah Kerr.
That also goes for Joan Collin.
It's something about their style of speaking.
Maybe because you understand every spoken word.
Which is level toward the great Timothy Dalton.
And Samantha Eggar and **** Jagger.
Plus, the late David Niven.
And honorable mention to Julie Christie.
Jane Asher, Hugh Grant and several more.
Have you wishing to make their voices be yours.
Yes, the British Accent just so lovable.
And the greatest things about it.
You don't have to be famous to be adored.
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 10:23 AM UTC
The murderer and the killer sat
Across from one another
On the banks of the river Shambhal.
The killer said:
“My actions are my own.
My kismet; my own.
My victim's; their own.
My ripples stop without a stone.”
The murderer sat in silence.
He drops a ruby into the river Shambhal.
The killer continues,
With a quote by Johnson
That speaks of man toward man.
“He who makes a beast of himself,
Gets rid of the pain of being a man.”
The murderer stands in silence.
He drops another ruby into the river Shambhal.
And walks away in silence.
The killer laughs,
With a hyena cackle
And wraps himself in a cloak
Woven of mirrors.
The murderer turns in silence.
He smiles with knowledge
And speaks with tears.
“My actions are my own.
My kismet; twofold
With victim and self.
My ripples are not stopped
With stones, or banks
or time or thought.
Brother we differ;
For your's are the actions
Of Caine.
And mine are the actions
Of Hamlet.”
The killer sat in silence
On the banks of the river Shambhal.
Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 2:16 AM UTC
DONT DO DRUGS KIDS
O a sis, John cooper clarke.
Pink floyd, getting ****** in the park.
****** crack co caine.
****** messed up again.
Council estate, tmazipan,
****** taliban.
A paper cup and a ball of string,
Ive lost me phone I'll use anythin.
Trying to get hold of my man,
Thames Valley police catch me if u can.
Tried to get the monkey off my back,
fallen down and landed in the crack ..
between the pavements,
easy street,
walking round no shoes on ma feet.
Touch this and you'll get burnt.
Been 20 years and I still havent learnt.
Loosing teeth, bad legs, getting older.
Are the winters getting colder?
Global warming ... What the ****
****** ..coming in on a salad truck.
Chav pants, naff fkin trainers,
little going on ... no brainers.
Mental health, welfare state,
think your spot on, think your great.
Urban people telling how it is.
Fk me, took to much whizz.
Walking round, feeling fantastic,
look at me dancing,
pretty tragic really ...
Stupidly asked some bloke to dance,
now im in the back of an amb ulance.
A saturday casualty.
Its an average weekend for me.
Going mad, on a ******
**** you world,
No surrender.
(c) mandy rigby and p skez 2012)
(now 4 yrs clean .. can i get an Amen?)
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 8:24 AM UTC
" Lovestance abuse"
Loving someone who's in love elsewhere is a drug that can leave us strung with out healthcare or no welfare
I'm addicted
I'm a hype for her body as cheese is to a mouse, but I didn't read the words that's scripted
Them very small words which list the effects that occur on the side
If I would have skimmed through it I would have been warned to only use her when I'm in need, major side effect is greed
Momentarily I can gain the impression that I'm where she want to be
Soon as my high come down she's no longer around
As my heart cracks from the disappearance of her sweet partnership; scientific term *******
In reality she's with him and no substance can fix that pain
But the reality and severity never stop me from using
And it never stopped her from choosing the option to provide me with her toxins
When my veins bulge she's in control
When my eyes are red I'm being mislead
When she dissolves on my tongue everything goes numb
I try to wing myself off, but I'm withdrawn by the loosening of her drawstrings
It's hard to rehabilitate
I need her in bulk
Grams and ounces is arousing
But now I need to be astounded by her pounds
Her motion and her potion keeps me overdosing
But would I use her all up if I could?
If her loved one became sick of her ***
Would I be alarmed and continue to inject her in my arm?
With witnessing how awful she treat us all in the long-run
Becoming a *** in the marathon
Her truth holds a secret within 400 meters
The truth is if she look, taste, and feel like a drug
She's a drug
Use her, but don't fall in love
Aug 28, 2013
Aug 28, 2013 at 9:20 PM UTC
I would be in heaven,
if I have the style of David Niven.
Or the voice of George Sanders.
I would be in heaven,
if I had the comedic style of Benny Hill.
It would be a delight.
It would be a thrill.
To have the qualities of these Englishmen.
I been in heaven,
if I could play the guitar of Eric Clapton.
Or the theatric of **** Jagger.
Say, what you want?
He knows how to thrill a crowd.
Not once, will you not see them going wild.
Even the gent Peter O' Toole was the best of the cool.
Same, with the great actor Michael Caine.
And it never could be a hurting to not be Richard Burton.
Who had style and grace?
Dalton, Moore and Connery, all contributed a personal style to James Bond.
And , even this man named Daniel Craig.
Not to over look Pierce Bronsnan.
It's something about the guys of the United Kingdom.
We see coolness even in Prince Charles.
Whom probably learn this from his lovely mom.
Notice, the way ladie admires Hugh Jackman.
Only, if I had these gents accent.
I probably could try to fake it.
Except, who woud I be fooling?
Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 11:17 AM UTC
Haven't freestyled in a while
since my name was Kyle
1 out of 10 in the room I'd revile
but I got the world swoon over this goon style
9 out of 10 be jealous of the attention
I be getting how fast these legs run a mile
**** it give me 500 miles
and I would rush 500 more
just to kick in the door
Of whack rappers, hit the floor
That's the D-E-C-K I pray to start my day
not doing this for pay just to play and say
what I need to say the state of the States
Got me in dismay as they pave way
For old goose stepping ways
Like **** learn history
About ****** and his story
Of the rise to glory of the Fascist party
and the deaths of Jewish minorities
That they had as priority
Along with any other minority
that wasn't white skinned with ***** grin
or Aryan origin on that topic it's La Fin
because South Park had them Laughing
and sanding me in wood shop
So going to that school had to stop
so I dropped out by expulsion
which fueled the propulsion
Out of my mom's place
At sixteen I started to chase
independence
'Cause that's all that made sense
I couldn't live on cents had to make dollars
Dreamed of being a baller shot caller
Show poster on the wall sir
But my crafts had to be refined before
I could start my spiritual war
Let my mind soar like a kite
In the white clouds past nine
Turned the phaser to eleven
As shrooms shot me a glimpse of heaven started making bread sans leaven
sick of toaster leave-ins knead the flour
need the flower extra sour
though diesel to ease all the pain
And refrain my brain
From seizing and freezing
The mainframe of my nervous membrane
I swear I'm not insane
but it would take me days to explain
The pain that had me nearly slain
so ride my thought train
'Cause I hate planes & listen to the refrain
you feel this profane pyre burn hotter than
blue flames from the butane or propane
Not real champagne lest it be made in France mane
where they sniff the Caine more than oxygen
I am the Champion.
Nov 27, 2016
Nov 27, 2016 at 1:59 PM UTC
Lidocaine
I lied again
not novocaine
but caning it
a bit.
Rolling up a dollar bill
to get my fill
of instant thrill.
The flash back drill
the door caves out
the cops come in
watching with a stupid grin.
In the 'nick' again
god **** you
lido,novo, pro no caine.
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 2:36 PM UTC
Fade in: Ext. Theater - Day
Cue clouds: gray shrouds
blanket the sky
and the sun's last remaining rays
Cut to: Ext. Theater - Noon
Cue crowd: no sound,
no song comprise
the mise en scene
of this somber scene
Fade in: Int. Theater - Night
Cue sound: few gasps,
some oohs and ahhs,
some cries comprise
the mise en scene
of this joyous scene
Cut to: extreme close up
Their eyes reflect the faces on the screen:
Newman, Hoffman, Brando, Ledger
Pacino, De Niro
Penn, Caine, Dean
Fade out
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 8:02 PM UTC
Theres a story I read in the Bible,
coming from Old Testament,
that taught me I should love my father
taught me how to not resent...
or waste my days waiting on the
semblance of a true repent.
He was Caine and I was Able.
He killed a part of me
in the name of his God,
I called my Devil.
I curse missed opportunities...
He was Caine I wasn't able
to get that needle off his table.
There's a reoccurring vision
that is haunting my sleep.
Would he still do ******
If each time it had been injected by me?
A terrible vision,
a sickening fantasy,
that I'd rather him die by my hand
than left in his life's purgatory.
When looking down at his thigh,
does he think about his son?
Ink beneath the trembling skin,
where I left a mark with my own gun.
When looking up at the sky,
does he think about the sun?
How it shines on everything
and how he's not the only one.
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 8:51 PM UTC
Can't go to sleep again
This is when I miss c*caine
Or anything else
In my brain
In my veins
To numb the pain
Before I go insane
But I've come this far
Hanging by a thread
Looking for a missing star
One amongst the dead
I wish I could show you
The real person inside me
The things I truly can do
And who I can be
I've always been lurking
As well as searching
Through the darkness
Of my soul's promise
"We'll be united once more"
Oh how death I would adore
To melt down to my core
Or wash up cold ashore
See the expressions of apathy
And see mal-sympathy
I've broken and I've torn
Around me ever since I've born
I miss't to feel numb
I used to be so fun
Nowadays I've been shunned
From all that I want
So this' what I've become
Someone with seams undone
So I'd understand
If you'd reprimand
All that I am
And ever will be
For I'm only sand
Blowing away at sea
Jun 8, 2021
Jun 8, 2021 at 1:34 PM UTC
As we fall so shall we rise
where the truth became the lies and the blue that I saw was not the blue deep in your eyes
but the shadows that played underneath azure skies
where judgements like wine
flowed from the vine and the pillars of palaces wrapped in pearl necklaces
came tumbling down.
In the time of nothing and plenty where nothing sufficed
and sacrifices were made upon the altars of Gods we no longer prayed too
and the blue that I saw was not there any more but had challenged itself to turn grey.
This was another day that I sat and waited for inspiration to come
Grey
no sun, just grey
where the lights fade away and the colours wash dry and the cry that tries to creep out from my parched lips is stripped of its sound
and no sound issues forth but a grunting (pig that I am..of course)
Then in the distance it takes for time to make its movements around the night where the aches and the pain can only be cured by (novo.'co)caine'
and in the backlots where hotshots sold cheap goods on the side
I slide deeper in the dark and by the lake within the park where the ducks have long gone to the market a song comes to mind,
(pack up your troubles in your old kit bag..)
and I find it's not that bad
it's not that great
I can take a little stress so let them try to mess with me and we'll see what we will see when I rise to find the blue becomes again the colour in your eyes and the shining from your face is the sun set in another place..yes the day has come once more
the day that I once read about and swore it was a fairy tale.
Thus again the light shines upon the madness of our times and I for one am glad
that today it doesn't seem so mad
but we shall see.
May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 2:56 AM UTC
Lillian Caine was the young lady’s name.
She was a romantic at heart.
She was painfully thin with a wart on her chin,
and stood tall at the end of the line.
Little Jim Coke was a short little bloke,
A cherub like smile his chief charm
He soon won her heart, they were seldom apart,
They looked like a “10” arm in arm.
Lillian thought they were destined to wed;
Her dear little Jim thought the same.
When they wed they became,
by their hyphenated last name,
Mr. & Mrs. Coke-Caine
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 10:28 PM UTC
Things we do and don't understand
knowing things don't go as planned.
Who was that man?
what was his name?
born in London,
ah
Michael Caine.
Sits with Duvall
and shoots at salesmen
until the aeroplane arrives and
opens up more of the skies.
hides money in the cellar
lucky fellas and
got it from some Caliph or
a Sultan that they saved
and the lion roars
old age bored them so they tore then
up the rule book.
I watch these screens go by on
the reels that spin in my minds eye
and wonder why the lion died,
did the writer think that I would blink
and miss the kick
feeling sick about that twist
it was though
a good film.
May 13, 2017
May 13, 2017 at 4:27 AM UTC
Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]
“Anglo-Saxon Students Would Not Like to Be Taught by a Jew”
cited in
-Stanley Kunitz Lyrics, Songs, and Albums | Genius
To the Privileged Youth of Columbia University:
As a child of situational poverty
I am so grateful for all my Jewish teachers
Including
Moses
Joshua
Jeremiah
Samuel
David
Solomon
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph
Saint Peter and the others in The Twelve
Saint Paul
Elie Weisel
Chaim Potok
Herman Wouk
Leon Uris
Franz Kafka
Leonard Cohen
Anne Frank
Bernard Malamud
Isaac Bashevis Singer
Philip Roth
Osip Mandelstam
Saul Bellow
Isaac Asimov
Woody Allen
Mel Brooks
Edna Ferber
Yip Harburg
George Cukor
Mel Brooks
Oscar Hammerstein
Alan Lerner
Carl Reiner
Rod Serling
Franz Werfel
Alan Arkin
Claire Bloom
Leonard Nimoy
Chaim Topol
Ed Asner
Mel Brooks
Peter Falk
Werner Klemperer
Jack Klugman
Walter Matthau
Tony Randall
Mel Torme
John Banner
Kirk Douglas
Lorne Greene
Eli Wallach
Sam Wanamaker
Morey Amsterdam
Leo Genn
Otto Preminger
Jack Benny
Leslie Howard
Ernst Lubitsch
Cecil B. DeMille
Mortimer Adler
Allen Bloom
Harold Bloom
Irving Berlin
Boris Pasternak
Emil Ludwig
Eric Wolfgang Korngold
Elmer Bernstein
Max Steiner
George Gershwin
Dimitri Tiomkin
Samuel Fuller
Alexander Korda
Zoltan Korda
Emeric Pressburger
Erich von Stroheim
Billy Wilder
William Wyler
Fred Zinnemann
J. J. Abrams
Peter Bogdanovich
Michael Curtiz
Stanley Donen
Stanley Kramer
Howard Caine
Leon Askin
Robert Clary
Dinah Shore
Stephen Sondheim
Volodymyr Zelinsky
Simon Schama
Louise Gluck
Siegfried Sassoon
Isaac Rosenberg
Joseph Brodsky
Rob Morrow
Vasily Grossman
Stanley Kubrick
Viktor Frankl
And more, so many more, a cloud of witnesses
Whose names are written in gold on a scroll in Heaven
But somehow, in this world of beauty and truth
And humanity’s aspirations to the good
All you have found are bullhorns, trash fires, chants
Clinched fists, obscenities, lies, and shrieking hate
Apr 19, 2024
Apr 19, 2024 at 12:12 PM UTC
Watching people watch football is like watching a competitive sport of its own.
A kind of histrionical show-down of who can be the most obnoxious;
Who can really drive home the fact that they want this particular group of color-coded men to win more than the other,
with egregious displays of enthusiasm being the most popular mode.
In a parallel world, some of these folks could make decent actors.
My brother, for instance, reminds me of a young Leo:
He yells and shouts but never quite manages to sell me on it.
My uncle's more like a Michael Caine. Calmly sharing reassuring statistics and factoids throughout the game.
Meanwhile, my father's much more stoic. If he has any real interest in who's winning, he doesn't show it.
I've seen this behavior on display in other venues
(the workplace, concerts, church,)
but it definitely seems to be the most pronounced with sports.
Jan 14, 2017
Jan 14, 2017 at 11:01 PM UTC
When your body is full of blades
You can rely on the right aids
Meet Sarah she has a lap to sit
I made a pillow as a gift
She also has wheels that roll
When people don't move we bowl
Then there is Cain
He is, in fact a cane
He is always there to lean on
Some say he is plain
So I gave him pictures I've drawn
My favorite is the black swan
I love my mobility aids
and some days
I don't need my aids
I use what I need for that day
So if you see me with Sarah or Caine
You can always wave, "Hey"
Mar 7, 2022
Mar 7, 2022 at 11:40 AM UTC