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"tibbs" poems
"WHAT'S this?" I pondered. "Have I slept? Or can I have been drinking?" But soon a gentler feeling crept Upon me, and I sat and wept An hour or so, like winking. "No need for Bones to hurry so!" I sobbed. "In fact, I doubt If it was worth his while to go - And who is Tibbs, I'd like to know, To make such work about? "If Tibbs is anything like me, It's POSSIBLE," I said, "He won't be over-pleased to be Dropped in upon at half-past three, After he's snug in bed. "And if Bones plagues him anyhow - Squeaking and all the rest of it, As he was doing here just now - I prophesy there'll be a row, And Tibbs will have the best of it!" Then, as my tears could never bring The friendly Phantom back, It seemed to me the proper thing To mix another glass, and sing The following Coronach. 'AND ART THOU GONE, BELOVED GHOST? BEST OF FAMILIARS! NAY THEN, FAREWELL, MY DUCKLING ROAST, FAREWELL, FAREWELL, MY TEA AND TOAST, MY MEERSCHAUM AND CIGARS! THE HUES OF LIFE ARE DULL AND GRAY, THE SWEETS OF LIFE INSIPID, WHEN thou, MY CHARMER, ART AWAY - OLD BRICK, OR RATHER, LET ME SAY, OLD PARALLELEPIPED!' Instead of singing Verse the Third, I ceased - abruptly, rather: But, after such a splendid word I felt that it would be absurd To try it any farther. So with a yawn I went my way To seek the welcome downy, And slept, and dreamed till break of day Of Poltergeist and Fetch and Fay And Leprechaun and Brownie! For year I've not been visited By any kind of Sprite; Yet still they echo in my head, Those parting words, so kindly said, "Old Turnip-top, good-night!"
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Phantasmagoria CANTO VII ( Sad Souvenaunce )
"WHAT'S this?" I pondered. "Have I slept? Or can I have been drinking?" But soon a gentler feeling crept Upon me, and I sat and wept An hour or so, like winking. "No need for Bones to hurry so!" I sobbed. "In fact, I doubt If it was worth his while to go - And who is Tibbs, I'd like to know, To make such work about? "If Tibbs is anything like me, It's POSSIBLE," I said, "He won't be over-pleased to be Dropped in upon at half-past three, After he's snug in bed. "And if Bones plagues him anyhow - Squeaking and all the rest of it, As he was doing here just now - I prophesy there'll be a row, And Tibbs will have the best of it!" Then, as my tears could never bring The friendly Phantom back, It seemed to me the proper thing To mix another glass, and sing The following Coronach. 'AND ART THOU GONE, BELOVED GHOST? BEST OF FAMILIARS! NAY THEN, FAREWELL, MY DUCKLING ROAST, FAREWELL, FAREWELL, MY TEA AND TOAST, MY MEERSCHAUM AND CIGARS! THE HUES OF LIFE ARE DULL AND GRAY, THE SWEETS OF LIFE INSIPID, WHEN thou, MY CHARMER, ART AWAY - OLD BRICK, OR RATHER, LET ME SAY, OLD PARALLELEPIPED!' Instead of singing Verse the Third, I ceased - abruptly, rather: But, after such a splendid word I felt that it would be absurd To try it any farther. So with a yawn I went my way To seek the welcome downy, And slept, and dreamed till break of day Of Poltergeist and Fetch and Fay And Leprechaun and Brownie! For year I've not been visited By any kind of Sprite; Yet still they echo in my head, Those parting words, so kindly said, "Old Turnip-top, good-night!"
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What's there to say when your two best friends die a day apart? Greg died crossing the street, smacked by a minivan. Tibbs, from some strange brain quirk. I did C.P.R to no avail. They're both gone. They sailed away. Gone like the last spider of ***** Gone like the songs we sang together. Sometimes I still look for you two. I turn corners and I half expect to see one of you. So ******* alive one minute, so dead the next. Both of them fathers, friends, and men of valor. Iowa City is a ******** place without you. If there's a Brightside, it's a brutal winter and you don't have to suffer through it. I hope death is treating you warm and well. Your hell was here. Struggling for that drink; to be okay- to get that click, to carry on, one more grueling day. It's over now. You're gone. Gone like the last Dodo bird; gone like your impish smiles. Gone like the miles we trod with bags full of aluminum nickels. Words can't express the mess I am without the two of you. I know I'll see you again, out there beyond the purple horizon. #friendship #death
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Feb 18, 2021
Feb 18, 2021 at 4:34 PM UTC
This Poem's for you
My friends are dropping like flies, and by dropping, I mean dying. I mean no longer trying to fly in a world that wanted them grounded. Perry drowned, and Greg was found on Highway 6 hit by a minivan—vodka in hand. They say the best laid plans of mice and men oft go astray—that’s an understatement. My life plays out like a scene from  Dante’s Inferno. Abandon all hope. A month back, Kristin dies from too much dope. Tibbs goes out from a   stroke or some kind of strange brain malfunction. I did C.P.R. at the great wall, the junction where the drunks drink and the dreamers scheme. It doesn’t work—he goes into a coma. No more roaming the streets with my Sancho, no more beating the heat with stolen wine in the   summer slick shade by the river, trying to save the last sliver of our   humanity—only to walk head long into a ****** up destiny. Providence can be a punk *** ***** when it wants to be. See, I’m not fooled by life’s strong arm tactics, one day my friends are fine; the next, they’re in caskets—and I’ll   be a basket case when it’s all said and done. **** standing still and ****   the sun. **** the moon and the stars and the ****** and the bars. **** This silly world I’m done.
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Feb 28, 2023
Feb 28, 2023 at 7:10 AM UTC
Dead Friend's Rap
Oh Mr Tibbs, all dressed up in your tuxedo. Where are you off to? Can I come with you? I see you waiting, in my window. You pretend not to see me... But I know you do. Sometimes you look at me, I don't know what's going on in your head. Sometimes the way that you look at me, makes me feel you want me dead. I know you love me, sometimes it hurt me. Sometimes you hurt me, when you love me. I know you cause me pain... but not intentionally. I'll always love you, even if it hurts me. Oh Mr Tibbs you always dance when you're happy. But when I talk to you, you turn you're back on me. Oh look at your grey hair, you're getting older. The thought of loosing you makes me feel colder. Sometimes you look at me, I don't know what's going on in your head. Sometimes the way that you look at me, makes me feel you want me dead. I know you love me, sometimes it hurt me. Sometimes you hurt me, when you love me. I know you cause me pain... but not intentionally. I'll always love you, even if it hurts me. You wake me at 5 in the morning, scratching at my bedroom door. But when I give in I can't sleep, 'cause you curl up on me, sleep, and snore. I know you love me, sometimes it hurt me. Sometimes you hurt me, when you love me. I know you cause me pain... but not intentionally. I'll always love you, even if it hurts me.
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May 15, 2021
May 15, 2021 at 7:35 PM UTC
Mr Tibbs
Darryl Tibbs. What is truth? Is its meaning valid? Does it speak concrete? Or will it be a habit? Is it more than just the tongue? Does it transform shapes? How can I trust her? When I’ve never seen her face? Her words are exciting. They persuade me to speak. I want more and more. Of her I truly think. The thing is how do I know? How can I trust? How can I believe? When I’ve never even touched? Everyday seems true though. So I guess I’ll take it slow. She could be the one. Hey you may never know. Stranger things have happened. Life’s not always about fun. Yet still I can’t help but think. Is truth only off the tongue?
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Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 4:38 PM UTC
A True Tongue.
Aiyo, you hear me, like your conscious admiring, Ya deepest thoughts, finest gem the **** you talkin' about?, Im speakin' wisdom, along with creation, blurred the stations, Icy decks, like blast from a tech, in a snow storm effect, Feel me like Farrakhan threats, So go ahead and reject, Me ill still be on ya set, Late night like Carson, peep these bars son, spittin' mad arson, Burn up the scene, lyrics gasoline, i just add to fire, beat kerosene, Who can come off this clean? ,all ya see is red, when ya going for the green, and the yellows in between, Peep that, feel the depths of soul because im black, Darker than antimatter, splatter like pieces of a bomb shatter, Or ya mind, i grow on ya cells fatter, Couldn't hit this ball of rhymes, If you was batter, I sit like the mad hatter, in pre school never was a chatter, But had rhymes galore, Frustration made me madder, Since one two, i stayed true, to the rules of the universal, No breaks or commercial, tune in to the world show, I detect like Tibbs, keep a plateful of ribs, for ya fake *** rappers who need bibs, Too much food, might as well give it to the homeless, Bless 'em with plate of glory, yes, Manifest the realist, Who the illest, clocks spinnin' like a gymnist, when ya hear this, Guaranteed you'll rewind this, styles that make ya reminisce, Remember the finest,
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Feb 20, 2024
Feb 20, 2024 at 11:26 PM UTC
The Finest