"dickens" poems
There is one thing that ought to be taught in all the colleges,
Which is that people ought to be taught not to go around always making apologies.
I don't mean the kind of apologies people make when they run over you or borrow five dollars or step on your feet,
Because I think that is sort of sweet;
No, I object to one kind of apology alone,
Which is when people spend their time and yours apologizing for everything they own.
You go to their house for a meal,
And they apologize because the anchovies aren't caviar or the partridge is veal;
They apologize privately for the crudeness of the other guests,
And they apologize publicly for their wife's housekeeping or their husband's jests;
If they give you a book by Dickens they apologize because it isn't by Scott,
And if they take you to the theater, they apologize for the acting and the dialogue and the plot;
They contain more milk of human kindness than the most capacious diary can,
But if you are from out of town they apologize for everything local and if you are a foreigner they apologize for everything American.
I dread these apologizers even as I am depicting them,
I shudder as I think of the hours that must be spend in contradicting them,
Because you are very rude if you let them emerge from an argument victorious,
And when they say something of theirs is awful, it is your duty to convince them politely that it is magnificent and glorious,
And what particularly bores me with them,
Is that half the time you have to politely contradict them when you rudely agree with them,
So I think there is one rule every host and hostess ought to keep with the comb and nail file and bicarbonate and aromatic spirits on a handy shelf,
Which is don't spoil the denouement by telling the guests everything is terrible, but let them have the thrill of finding it out for themselves.
23.7k
Dreadlock Rasta;
No like informa,
No like imposta,
**** smoke; burning da trees
Mango scented leaves,
Burnt grapefruit scented breeze.
Wolly mammoth size locks,
Steal wool, ***** tied in a knot,
Jamaican colors wrap tie; sitting on top.
I and I, believe it or not.
No woman no cry,
No problem;
Him cool as a rock.
Charles Dickens by his side,
Studying stanzas, deciphering plots.
Prayer's meeting;
meditation- never stop.
Water’s blue waves,
Fresh fish after 12’o clock.
Under the bridge, find my spot.
By his sweet Sugarcane from,
Miss Parker Sugarcane shop
Burning a spliff, because the ****
is his only green; pastures plot.
Mary Jane, his only queen be,
Never leaving he; love him or not.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 4:35 PM UTC
\ih-SPAHY-uhl\
noun
1. the act of spying.
2. the act of keeping watch; observation.
Quotes
The landlord of the house had not withdrawn his eye from this place of espial for five minutes, and Barney had only just returned from making the communication above related, when Fagin, in the course of his evening's business, came into the bar to inquire after some of his young pupils.
-- Charles Dickens, Oliver Twist, 1838
s
Origin
Espial is related to the word espy, which comes from the German word spähen meaning "to spy." The suffix -al forms nouns from verbs, as in the word refusal.
Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 8:38 AM UTC
Every now and then
I go deep inside my mind
Just to have a little rest
And see what I can find
I don't go in there often
It dark and I must say
That sometimes I'm afraid
That I may lose my way
There's a little corner café
Where Groucho sits alone
Stan Laurel sits there writing gags
And Greta Garbo sits and moans
Sinatra sings for all of them
John Lennon talks to God
Brian Jones gives swimming lessons
There's Liz Taylor and Mike Todd
Over in the distance
At a table in the corner
Hemmingway sells movie scripts
To mogul man Jack Warner
Elvis does a hip shake
Ruth and Gherig playing catch
Bud and Lou do Who's on First
Humphrey Bogart lights a match
Charles Dickens playing darts
A red balloon comes floating by
Andy Warhol sits with Nico
Where German pop songs go to die
Marilyn and James Dean
Sit quietly talking on the stairs
John Kennedy and his brother Bob
Just pretend that they are both not there
Chico plays piano and
Harpo with his harp
Bad jokes float around the room
being told by silent stars
Phil Everly and Phil Ramone
They're new here so they're woozy
Sit talking of the songs they'll miss
Rick Nelson sings of Susie
You see it is a mad mad place
in my head when I may wander
I don't go in too deep
And I've met Henry Fonda
There's images, and icons
Family, and friends
on a little street inside my head
That's a circle with no ends
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 11:53 AM UTC
if my lips are red.
I had avocado (it does not agree with my body).
Stroke me-
but proceed with caution.
if my lips are read.
Dickens was ******
through my nail-beds.
and is sprouting around my veins.
“Honey” me-
with the dew from his tongue and his alone:
i will open myself up freely to you,
like petals spreading from a bud-
only less graceful.
and not as Chaste.
quite ****** actually;
when my cells are fighting against a forbidden fruit.
- the alligator pear of mexico and birch pollen -
and my tongue is soaked in English verse.
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 12:49 AM UTC
I keep reminding myself, that mental illness goes along with greatness. Hemingway. Sylvia Plath. Billie Holiday. Dickens. Melville. These are just a few of the great minds that suffered from a fine madness. Should they have been medicated into mediocrity? Or lived in mediocrity because they were not properly medicated or in proper treatment?
All of these individuals: exceptional human beings.
Note: Do you want to be exceptional? Or exceptionally dead.
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 12:20 PM UTC
I wrote titles on strips of paper,
Books that I planned on reading,
On my shelf that contained one empty shelve,
I rolled them into *****
And threw them into the cup,
Shaking up the titles,
I get a Mo Yan.
Then I get a Charles Dickens,
The paper ***** get reshuffled again.
I pick again, it’s Mo Yan.
The third time, it’s Mo Yan
READ ME, HE YELLS.
His short stories were read,
a few months ago.
Chinese folktale like stories,
With satire of Modern China.
But none of his novels,
were touched.
In one of them,
The bookmark stops at 300.
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 2:54 PM UTC
The Man in Black
The Silver Fox
Brad Paisley shows
That Country Rocks
Western's gone
But Country's not
Remember those
Who time's forgot
From Red Georgia Clay
To the Tennessee Hills
From Kentucky Blue Grass
I still get the chills
When the music goes through me
It's a feeling so strong
That can only be born
From an old country song
Loretta Lynn
Dottie West
Patsy Cline
They were the best
Old time country
Tennessee tunes
Mountain Bluegrass
My favorite tunes
From Red Georgia Clay
To the Tennessee Hills
From Kentucky Blue Grass
I still get the chills
When the music goes through me
It's a feeling so strong
That can only be born
From an old country song
The singers change
The tunes do not
They still sing the music
That others forgot
Williams and Jones
Acuff and Dickens
Old Buck and Roy
Still Pickin' and grinnin
From Red Georgia Clay
To the Tennessee Hills
From Kentucky Blue Grass
I still get the chills
When the music goes through me
It's a feeling so strong
That can only be born
From an old country song
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 11:19 AM UTC
There was a chap called Charlie.
Who lived in separation.
In total world of degradation.
Father left when he were nine.
A raging alcoholic.
Charlie, his brother and his mother.
Sent off to the workhouse.
In the land of Lambeth.
No palace.
The family were ushered into areas of segregation.
Mother and children apart in our apparently grand nation.
Product of shame documented by satirists.
Dickens's favourite topic.
Poor folks made poorer,
In workhouses designed to embarrass.
Those already destitute,
Not by choice for sure.
Only crime being poor.
Dignity stripped.
Destroyed of heart.
Wrecked in health
To reduce their being even more.
God help you if you were not fit.
**** of the earth, you were purged.
We the Brits now get benefits,
Be grateful that we do.
_____________________________________________________________________________
Charlie found extreme success.
When as a film star of the silent kind.
With a plaque on the wall of his once posh house in Vauxhall.
His surname it was Chaplin!
By ladylivvi1
© 2014 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 10:35 AM UTC
Tucked inside ducts and they wait to erupt,
like ******* volcanoes and not one of you knows
until they spew out their tears.
I don't cry anymore,
my dad used to say,
'cry and you'll *** less'
I guess that's what dads do,
strangle you with words that you can't understand and
you're ******* your pants but you find you don't cry,so
I guess it works both ways.
We tend to grub in the dirt today and blub on some skirt today but it wasn't always that way,
men used to be strong and to cry would be wrong,
we got soft by holding aloft these ideals of what it is to be really a male.
I blame Charles Dickens for making men cry
for destroying the stiff upper lip.
'I spy with my little eye'
which is full of glistening tears,
something that's been happening to the male population for years.
Oh cry me a lake and I'll take a swim,
come in and join me,together we'll both be
wet.
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 3:11 AM UTC
Dickens did lose his socks one day,
he said, oh what a shame,
on this clear yet rainy day,
Dickens socks had run away,
And only Dickens is to blame,
his socks divorced his plates of meat,
and lonely was his sweaty feet,
When Dickens did decide to write,
all he could write was,
what the dickens,
where are my mittens.
By Christos Andreas Kourtis and Larna Kira Kourtis
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 5:44 PM UTC
Wish me luck - like a speech for me to read before I play. I am going to print it out and keep it with me., when I am at the final table, and it's televised, right before I win. The last hand, before I make the call of a lifetime - clock ticking, $35k first place prize money; I am going to take it out, look at it. Then call, Like a Boss. Black tinted classes, headphones looking like speakers, Yankees cap tipped to the side, Charles dickens on my lap. Sipping on some water shipped in from Vergeze. Cool as an icecube, rocking a tight Tee. Blue jeans, tim boots, Blasting ice -Tea; dudes ain't worried about cards, until the check me. I'm nice with calls, I'm like Jordan when he first started wearing the two-three. Sticking my tongue out at dudes that try and bluff me; the lack luster in comparison to me. I'm seeing their tells, like sign language. They try and force my hand, I do maximum carnage. My shine don't tarnish.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 12:07 PM UTC
Crafted like a diamond
with the hands of the greats
Van Gough, Da Vinci
put together like Cubism
with the vision of Picasso
A mind like Shakespeare, Dickens
Intelligent like Artificial Intelligence
Envisioned by God
A perfect being
and made into the best, the most perfect person
Made by perfection into perfection
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 2:37 PM UTC
They say we have these anchors
They drown us out at sea
But this chain bound tight to my ankle
Is not fastened to a weight.
It just keeps going
Link by link
It has no end
No beginning
I was born into this aquatic life
From my earliest days
I was held underwater
And each day on has added to my chain
Not like the chain of Jacob Marley
In Dickens' tale,
Not forged by greed
But birthed from every thought
That I cannot forget
And every blow to my persistance
I have ever recieved
It all stays with me
And we each have these chains.
But most grow gills
And sprout fins.
And learn to swim .
But here I am.
Still drowning.
Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 11:49 PM UTC
Chicken Burgers
McChicken
You smell worse than Charlie Dickens
You smell so bad
It makes me sad
On how bad your chicken smells
Oct 4, 2016
Oct 4, 2016 at 11:15 AM UTC
Sometimes
I write to you
when I’m sad
but today,
I write to you from
all the
love and joy
that is
coursing through me.
From the place of opportunity
and
abundance I find myself in.
I miss you
but I no longer feel
consumed
by this longing.
I feel excited
and oddly
rejuvenated.
Dickens:
"the pain of parting is nothing to the joy of meeting again"
And it is the meeting
again
I find myself focused on.
The pain
of being
torn
away,
although there
is now more akin to
a faint smell that lingers on
well past when
you've left
the room.
This lingering reminds me I’m human.
And for that I am grateful.
Because
no pain holds
me
in its grips
anymore,
for I have turned myself
into water that easily slips
through
the cage meant to hold me.
-
Know that I am sending you love from my heart and warmth from my soul.
I hope this provides you
strength
and
shelter,
however brief.
Till we meet,
M
Feb 2, 2022
Feb 2, 2022 at 6:37 PM UTC
Hemingway said,
There is quite the difference
between kissing goodbye
and kissing goodnight.
I wanted a
"See you later",
but instead got the
"Goodbye".
Steinbeck stated that
Nothing good gets away,
If it's right, it happens.
If that's the case
how did we always end up feeling so
wrong?
Salinger suggested
that after falling in love
you never know
where the hell you are.
This, I can say is true.
Where the hell are we?
Dickens declared that
The truest wisdom
comes from a loving heart.
Yet a heart in love
can sometimes turn out to be
the least wise.
My friend, I think I'll just stick with
Orson Welles' theory:
"We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone."
Anything else is simply illusion.
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 1:08 AM UTC
quanta is better understood outside of physics,
on a grander scale -
quantum is a quality suggestion that
makes two (to, too) things auto-suggestive
as pertaining in the matter -
never mind - take the concept of quanta
out of physics and you get
a man readying himself for a controlled
coma having his wisdom teeth removed,
with the anaesθetician asking about
the readers' digest, the patient replying
quo vadis? / dokąd idziesz? then
the great sleep plateau - 'where are you going?'
puts any man off, whether boxer,
or paediatrician - ****** lays dead floored
for a minute, plays the dog game: play dead,
tongue hanging ready for a guillotine.
CHOP! and there goes the tail of a Doberman
(jamnik / dachshund on stilts)
and a ρoττł-
y
woo woo woo chim chimney
cha cha cha ooh
the rotting wail - rottweiler -
-ειλερ;
you never mention the u with the v due to
the chisel ease, then again, you don't
say double-o'h but say double u -
too shay frowning at a shave;
****** i'll make your language my playground
given all these post-colonial ***** aiming
for a signature and credentials,
this **** could pass the London brigade,
but take it to York, it would be a massacre
of a bureaucratic lapse of credentials...
a viking invasion more-or-less;
oh **** quantum physics, Charles Dickens
and the Victorian Era - Jack the Ripper the antonym,
both are the desired cages of energy requiring expression
to make testimony that such an age existed,
a particular congregate of expression, never universal,
boxes and pockets, however much inside one
is a question of your dietary requirement,
quantum physics is better explained with history
than hard science, and atoms, or the craze of subs,
people need a bigger picture, not everyone own
a ******* microscope or a telescope,
teach quantum physics using history:
Philippe Augustus of France mattered,
at the Battle of Bouvines - Otto IV? not so much.
Jun 26, 2016
Jun 26, 2016 at 7:45 PM UTC
We might not be rich with property
Mom said with education we were rich kids already
We might not have the money to spend for holidays..
In our small home… we were the richest with love, respect and honesty…
With all the simplicity in life we lived contentedly…
We might not have a colored TV…
Never dreamt of a library of Enid Blyton or Dickens
We had MOM who amused us with her amazing bedtime stories…
Kids talked of SUPERMAN and SPIDERMAN in the movies
Lucky we were …we had a living superhero and he was our DADDY…
That was our life back then….
A meal of Hardship a cup of misery…
Mom came home tired but always looked happy…
Dad stood at the door…shouted our names and hugged each of us lovingly…
No success in life would come so easily…
For each teardrop and the past life difficulty,
Each hurdle, each obstacle in life
Each challenge we faced was the greatest pain in past life history…
Together we faced them… with the help of god Almighty…
We became who we are today…eventually
What lesson did we learn from this unforgettable life tragedy?
Bittersweet life…We came to learn to appreciate things in our life so humbly…..
Thank you god, Thank you mom Thank you dad… for this incredible story…
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 10:46 AM UTC
I was very cautious
I knew if I wasn't what it would cost us
I made sure the bedroom was perfect
I wanted MY romantic affect
I hung the plastic, then the curtains
Bed exactly in the middle, I had to be certain
Lit a few candles
Then sliped on my dress, and my sandals
I cruise the street
For my baby to meet
I pick him up at the corner
My heart beats faster, my body warmer
We go back to my house
Where we start to mess about
I lead you to my bedroom
We'll be making love soon
To my bed you are shackled
You have no idea of my feeling of hackles
Straddling you, and ridding you like a horse
All the wail your loving it of course
With you still in me, I bring out my toys
They are only for my collection of boys
They are bright and shiny
I will not treat you kindly
They are so sharp they can split a hair
And in their refection you just stare
You can't believe what you see
As the look on my face is pure glee
You body starts to convulse and thrash
Then with my blades I start to slash
I plunge my toy in
With the evilest grin
I love the squirting gushing sound
It's all so profound
I have loved all my men
That's why I let no one chase them
Forever in death they are mine
I'm one of a kind
I slash him to ribbons
It's as fun as the dickens
He's still alive
And feels every vibe
Covered in blood
Our bodies fit like a glove
I slowly climb off top
And lop of his part
Blood sprays the room
Death will be here soon
I'm so happy I made it romantic
And taped up the plastic
I'm the Black Spider
I **** all I desire
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 2:21 PM UTC
" The year was 1968. My journey in life took me
to a place so unfamiliar to me. Fort Ord Army Base.
There is where i began my Manhood. (Boot Camp)
Week after week of drills that brought sweat out
of me that i never knew existed.
This was in Northern California. Land of American beauty.
Yet i was in Hell. All we thought at that time was, can we make it through?
Then beyond any notice to us, we were all called out for a roll
call.. The Commanding Officer awarded us with a weekend pass.
The cheer was so loud i thought i was in a Football stadium.
We were dismissed, and packed to see what "I Once Saw."
First stop. A town called Carmel. Cobblestone streets, trees with
leaves of color as if they were born out of a Kaleidoscope.
It was though i was living in a Charles Dickens novel.
I walked through stores that held no dust. Nothing out of place, they
had a Heavenly touch.
When i stopped for a bite to eat.
Even that was an unforgettable experience.
The food tasted much better. I didn't want to leave my seat.
What captured me the most as i strolled through these impressive
streets of Carmel, was a view in where i stood overlooking the Pacific
Ocean.
"BIG SUR". I almost fainted. A sight so beautiful to my eyes i wondered
Why? Why do so many people leave this great land of ours to go on
vacations elsewhere?
To be standing on a cliff looking at the raging ocean waves pounding
the walls of these mighty rocks.
"As I Once Saw" I yearn for more.
A sight that comes to me in so many of my nights.
Branded in my mind for the rest of my life."
Aug 17, 2016
Aug 17, 2016 at 12:33 PM UTC
Out Behind the Barn
me and Jimmy Dickens
were in the barnyard feeding chickens
we were both 11 about that time
when up the road came Susie Kasper
with her cousins Ted and Jasper
a couple of teens headed for a life of crime
they signaled out to us
I could hear Teddy cuss
they walked up and whipped out a couple of butts
they said here take a puff
if you like this I got better stuff
so I did just like a dumb old klutz
I coughed and I wheezed
I farted and then I sneezed
my eyes were leaking like a sieve
Jimmy was smarter I guess
but he too finally said yes
took a hit and felt the burn of a shiv
we both puked as they laughed
it was there very special craft
they always managed to make you look like a fool
but they patted us on the backs
said boys now just relax
you won't learn a lesson like this in no school
then Susie gave me a big wet kiss
wow sure wasn't expecting this
I was in a trance until I heard this horn
it was my mom back from the store
she yelled someone help me with this door
but I was busy gettin educated out behind the barn
Gomer LePoet....
Sep 20, 2011
Sep 20, 2011 at 3:44 PM UTC
I put conkers on my door-frame, to keep spiders at bay,
I like my bedroom messy so I don't put things away.
I wish I had a pony, but I know I wouldn't drive it,
I wish I had a bumblebee, but I've no hive to hive it.
I'm a vegetarian but I've no views on rights of chickens,
I love to read the classics but I've no views on ****** Dickens,
I own a hundred thousand scarves but never would I wear one,
I'd envy those who have tattoos, but I would never bare one.
I light candles everyday but they make me cough,
I respect those that speak in Art and understood Van Gogh,
I drink coffee everyday, but never liked it very much,
I've never had a rabbit but I own a cage and hutch.
We all do little, crazy things that no one understands,
we lose control and lose ourselves and always change our plans.
The ones they think are crazy are the ones who cause the change,
whether you love or hate them, you always know their names.
So if you're building up an army , piece by piece by piece,
please remember normal friends, you need one oddball at least!
Oct 7, 2011
Oct 7, 2011 at 7:48 PM UTC
A dope gangsta is when you can slang dime sacks
Everyday of the week
While his honey-dip struts her stuff
Making sure she's at her absolute peak
If I ever get caught
I'll spend some more time at the central booking house
Hopefully, my homie will stick to his alibi
That's if he's able to, use all of his nous
You've got a head you can't think with
An eye you can't see with
***** you can't play with
Your neighbours an RRR hole
And your best friend is a total pussie
My britch loves to slip my Charles Dickens
Into her wet and shaved vertical smile
It's always a different position every night
And she always creates, a smile on my dial
She don't ever scream, when I slide it into her chocolate starfish
She’ll take one for the team, ya know what I mean?
You just wish ya momma was just like mine
Who never minds ya licking her dish, ever so clean
You've got a head you can't think with
An eye you can't see with
***** you can't play with
Your neighbours an RRR hole
And your best friend is a total pussie
Back home where every man is a potential enemy
Every woman a potential ***
There is not one hip-hop star today
Who has original street cred, you know
They're not street, they're just five star suite
Sleeping with girls who think they’ve got hot figures
At least I've walked the walk and everybody knows
I ride for my *** smoking, motley crew of ******
You've got a head you can't think with
An eye you can't see with
***** you can't play with
Your neighbours an RRR hole
And your best friend is a total pussie
Sep 10, 2019
Sep 10, 2019 at 5:52 PM UTC