Author Archives: DickensianJack

About DickensianJack

Born in Wolverhampton in November '93, moved to Huddersfield in September 2012. Studying at the University of Huddersfield. In love with the town - simple as that. As for the blog itself, I've been doing bits and pieces of writing (with varying quality) for a few years. A friend suggested I start a blog to share my work. Most of the stuff on here is poems, but there's other work interspersed on the page. Feel free to leave any comments on my work. Twitter: @DickensianJack (Jack Dickens) Facebook: Cheers, enjoy.


Buddy told me about The Information Man, told me there were days you wanted to die, that all 92,775 miles of a harmonica perfectly tuned to Georgia might just show you rest and take you to a convenience store with a … Continue reading

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Them Little Brown Bottles

The Voice will try to warn us by running rings around our heads, speak in lowly chorus. But then, my friends, we’ll just pretend that ghosts of what we did and said might not come back to haunt us.

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , | Leave a comment

My Take: The Germanwings Air Crash

Usually when I see a link to a news story and some long Facebook status of someone posting their opinion on it, I usually just think something along the lines of ‘self-serving dickhead’. I know this fits the same category, … Continue reading

Posted in Nonsense | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment


Laugh. And keep laughing as                   you’re walking through                          the                     … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

In Circles [Video-Clip-thing]

Alright, this is about six months old, but Angus persuaded me to record a video for it. Not too sure how it sounds compared to reading it. Still, was fun finding out.

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Burn Marks

The burning paper leaves a scent of disappointment in the air. It permeates, cuts, right to the bone. It stings, it feels like a tattoo digging into the skin, digging deeper deeper deeper. You can taste it, drag it from … Continue reading

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

‘Ere, Neave?

I can’t promise to dance but I can show you my beer mat and tobacco pouch collection, pinned up chronologically next to the the Playboy Bunny and ganja leaf baggies; each one that litters the floor the same as the … Continue reading

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment