Citatepedia^®.com

The Bang Bang Club

Cast: Malin Akerman, Ryan Phillippe, Taylor Kitsch, Patrick Lyster, Frank Rautenbach, Neels Van Jaarsveld, Russel Savadier

trailer for The Bang Bang Club, directed by Steven Silver, screenplay by Steven Silver (2010)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian

Twin State

university of chicago summer basketball
university of chicago summer camp
university of cincinati baseball camp
university of cincinnati basketball camp
university of cincinnati football camp
university of cincinnati lacrosse camp
university of cincinnati soccer camp
university of cincinnati youth basketbal
university of cinncinati football camp
university of colorado basketball camp
university of colorado basketball camps
university of colorado cross country cam
university of colorado football camp
university of colorado soccer camp
university of colorado soccer camps
university of colorado sports camps
university of colorado summer camp
university of colorado summer camps
university of colorado team lacrosse cam
university of connecticut basketball cam
university of connecticut football camp
university of connecticut girls volleyba
university of connecticut soccer camp
university of connecticut volleyball sum
university of ct summer volleyball camp
university of dallas cross country camps
university of dayton and goalkeeper camp
university of dayton baseball camp
university of dayton basketball camp
university of dayton camps
university of dayton ohio atheletic camp
university of dayton socccer camp
university of dayton soccer camp
university of dayton summer soccer camp
university of dayton volleyball camp
university of delaware 4h camp
university of delaware 4h camp applicati
university of delaware baseball camp
university of delaware camps
university of delaware field hockey camp
university of delaware football camps
university of delaware girls lacrosse ca
university of delaware lacrosse camp
university of delaware soccer camp
university of delaware tiina martin camp
university of delaware volleyball camp
university of delaware youth camps
university of delware soccer camp
university of denver and lacrosse camp
university of denver swimming summer cam

[...] Read more

poem by Caasder Fronds
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Anything You Can Do

ANNIE: Anything you can do I can do better
......I can do anything better than you
FRANK: No, you can't
ANNIE: Yes, I can
FRANK: No, you can't
ANNIE: Yes, I can
FRANK: No, you can't
ANNIE: Yes, I can, yes, I can
FRANK: Anything you can be I can be greater
......Sooner or later I'm greater than you
ANNIE: No, you're not
FRANK: Yes, I am
ANNIE: No, you're not
FRANK: Yes, I am
ANNIE: No, you're not
FRANK: Yes, I am, yes I am
FRANK: I can shoot a partridge with a single cartridge
ANNIE: I can get a sparrow with a bow and arrow
FRANK: I can live on bread and cheese
ANNIE: And only on that?
FRANK: Yes
ANNIE: So can a rat
FRANK: Any note you can reach I can go higher
ANNIE: I can sing anything higher than you
FRANK: No, you can't
ANNIE: Yes, I can
FRANK: No, you can't
ANNIE: Yes, I can
FRANK: No, you can't
ANNIE: Yes, I can
FRANK: No, you can't
ANNIE: Yes, I can
FRANK: No, you can't
ANNIE: Yes, I can
ANNIE: Anything you can buy I can buy cheaper
......I can buy anything cheaper than you
FRANK: Fifty cents
ANNIE: Forty cents
FRANK: Thirty cents
ANNIE: Twenty cents
FRANK: No, you can't
ANNIE: Yes, I can, yes, I can
FRANK: Anything you can say I can say softer
ANNIE: I can say anything softer than you
FRANK: No, you can't
ANNIE: Yes, I can
FRANK: No, you can't
ANNIE: Yes, I can
FRANK: No, you can't
ANNIE: Yes, I can, yes, I can

[...] Read more

song performed by Irving Berlin
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Allegany Camp

amazing grace circus camp
amazing grace day camp
amazing grace hallelujah jeremy camp
amazing grace jeremy camp
amazing love jeremy camp
amazing place chalet pigeon forge
amazing race church camp
amazing race games for camps
amazing race girl scout camp
amazon camp dutch lodge oven
amazon camp in sweetwater missouri
amazon cast iron dutch lodge camp
amazon dutch oven camp
amazon lodge dutch oven camp
ambassador camp at lake waccamaw nc
ambassador camp inc
ambassador chalet
ambassador chalet at doral
ambassador chalet wgc
amber bowers
amber camp lazlo
amber pow camp
amberg germany dp camp
ambition camp hockey pro
ambler baseball camp
ambleside scotland school camp
ambon pow camp
ambor island pow camp
ambor pow camp
ambulance bower
amc camp dodge
amc camp movie summer
amc camp summer theater
amc little lyford camps
amc movie camp
amc movie camps
amc north west camp bear mountain
amc pinkham notch camp
amc summer camp for s
amc summer camp for s 2007
amc summer camp movies
amc summer movie camp
amc summer movie camp 2007
amc summer movie camp 2008
amc summer movie camp arlington
amc summer movie camp ontario california
amc theater camp hill
amc theatres summer camp
amcmovie camps
amelia earhart in japanese war camp

[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Narrative [ My Perspective ]

Patrick Jonathan Derilus
Mr. Filie
Period 6/7
Poetry

My Perspective

Patrick Jonathan Derilus is a young boy trying to turn his life around by defeating the demons that continue to destroy him….His life is somewhat different from how society sees everything else….
Feeling as if he is a cursed child …Cursed as if he is forever trapped in a cold cell…”Understanding” reality and how things happen is one of the things that attempts to get the best out of him and ironically it is succeeding…
But Patrick tries to look on the bright side of things and persists to becoming the best of the best…but there are spawns in which the devil created that prevents the young warrior from doing so…
“Depression”, “Doubt” and “Self Confidence” are some of the demons capable of easily annihilating Patrick…addressing these entity’s…Patrick is half way through this mile run..
But not aware of what goes on in his Penetrable temple, Destruction carries on to running amuck..
Patrick can hardly make it through the day when these Demons try to pursue him…Blood is spilled, but the low class warrior is still persistently consistent…
The only things that keep him alive are “Hope”, “Faith”, and the little confidence he has left…Inside the doors of the devil, as a New Jack; Patrick was clueless on how and why he reacts to things a certain way…Also to the way he is to this very day…Feeling like he was being controlled by a puppet master, he foolishly is put into one of Satan’s traps..As years went by, Patrick slowly began to picking up things in his mind and how it worked…
He learned on how to adapt and respond to these subliminal messages… but in time, Satan is able to quickly counteract on anything Patrick optimistically attempted to do. Leaving him with loopholes that would destroy Patrick from the inside…”WHY DOES MY MOOD AND PERSONALITY CONTINUE TO FLUCTUATE…? ” Patrick asks himself. So many questions asked but none of them answered… Satan has Patrick right where he wants him. “If I can’t rid of Patrick any other way, I can only destroy him mentally in which Patrick is easily fooled” Satan says.
Once internally defeated, pessimistic venoms leak into the sanctum of Patrick’s temple and slowly it is melting...”WHY ME? ! ” Patrick asks. Having the ability to even think for himself, Patrick wonders if he shall continue to fight off these Demons or become feasted upon…”Words coming from another voice will not be able to help me” Patrick says. Solutions being formed in his mind are to making the evil Entity’s disappear for good by finding an antidote to purifying Patrick’s mind…
But believing they are “antidotes” is too good to be true…Satan has created a loophole for everything in order to rid of Patrick anyway he can… Then realizing Patrick is seemingly hopeless on what to do for himself to Destroy Satan, He comes to the conclusion that Satan cannot destroy what does not exist… “WHEN MY SHACKLES OF DEPRESSION ARE BROKEN, I SHALL FIND TRUE HAPPINESS” Patrick sadly says. But he does not believe he shall rid of himself… He believes he shall continue to fight this everlasting war with Satan until these Demons are extinguished from the inside...Until he is Mentally Strong and is at peace with his mind…Patrick has vowed to attempting to destroy “Depression”, “Doubt” and “Negativity” in order to becoming the Man that he intends to be…Trying to recover from his internal scars.

poem by Patrick Derilus
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Afrikaans: Sterregordels, Stilsonjare, Tydsbroekspypdinge, Haarsliert

Sterregordels

Cosmology in Afrikaans is an ode to joy, the
terms form sing-song strings with delightful
sounds “ewigbewegende elektron”
continuously spinning electron

“elektron in die hart van die atoomkorrel”
electron in the centre of the atom particle
- what a song!

“Triljoene Melkwegstelsels waaromheen ons
Melkweg elke tweehonderdmiljoenjaar
wentel – ‘n mallemeule van sterregordels…”

“Dobberende patrone, mesone en elektrone,
'n konfigurasie van konvekse novae”…

- these terms are singing to me!

A merry-go-round of star systems

Quotes from Adriaan Snyman “Die Messias Kode” (The Messiah Code) pp.9,10

Bombardement Van Frekwensies (English Explanation)

Waarmee sal ek hierdie leë oomblikke,
ankerloos, betekenisloos; aan die ewigheid
vasmaak - die gevoelsruimte in my hart

Is leeg, alle gevoel en denke het gesamentlik
in die donker duisternis van my brein ingeval
‘n laserbrein wat die hologramwêreld

Self moet konsituteer uit ‘n bombardement
van betekenislose frekwensies – maar
vandag is die ligstraalfokus uit

My pendulumgedagtes swaai ongefokus rond
die opgerolde, ingevoude ses-en-twintig of
meer dimensies van die virtuele werklikheid

Wil nie vir my oopgaan nie…

All thought and feeling fell into the black hole in my brain and the twenty-six or more rolled-up frequencies of reality does not want to open for me today…

Geloof In Liefde - Faith In Love

[...] Read more

poem by Margaret Alice
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Ort Jan van Hunks

Many years back an old pirate
Ort Jan van Hunks lived in Cape Town
and he had gathered enough loot
to live an honest life.

Just above the company gardens
he bought some land
and he thought that trustful slaves
would do the work for him
while he would watch his vineyards grow
and it would be possible
to give attention to his weaknesses.

The loneliness caught up with van Hunks
and he got himself a wife
but in Cape Town
at that time the choices was slim
and he was married to a huge woman
that was so broad
that she could not enter a door
without turning sideways
but he thought that in the cold winter evenings
she would keep him warm.

The trouble with his wife
was that she was a strict person
who drove their slave girls
to polish everything,
she had driven him away
from his own fireplace
with a hard hitting elbow,
as she was scared
that the ash from his pipe
would fall on the beautiful yellow-wood floor.

At the trees high up against the saddle
where Devil's peak joins Table Mountain,
van Hunks found a big rock
that was flat like a settee
and there nobody would bother him
as the Citizens thought
that only a lunatic
would climb the peaks of Table Mountain.

With a barrel of rum and a heap of tobacco
that he had carried along secretary
van Hunks was dreaming
with his pipe in his mouth
while he saw the shadow
of the mountain

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

In Pursuit of the Poetic Soul of Ryan Adams

In Pursuit of the Poetic Soul of Ryan Adams

By Uriah Lee Hamilton

Last day of summer, football Saturday afternoon. A Warm breeze was pushing me toward Ann Arbor like a happy autumn leaf in pursuit of the beautiful poetic soul of Ryan Adams. Lovely charming mood all the way playing Easy Tiger and Demolition and feeling like the universe was kind and smiling.
Exit off 94 West onto State Street and all excited to make my way to Liberty Street and the heart of the College town I love. Kids were milling around everywhere in their gold and blue, gleeful and happy that Michigan is now playing 500 football after a discouraging start. Parking spaces across the street from Michigan Theater in the parking structure are all taken, I have to drive to the roof and still wait for a football fan to leave.
Me and my friend Cassandra start walking around and dig everything and everyone we see. Ann Arbor brings out your gentle Jack Kerouac nature, the part of you that wants to praise everything for it’s sad but beautiful, integral purpose to this existence.
We enter an Eastern clothing and folk art store that is positively charming and enlightening. I can’t remember the name of the store. Perhaps, it is called the Enchanted Sarong. It almost felt like George Harrison was there with us, beautiful carved statues of Buddha and Krishna and Ganesha were everywhere. The sales lady was friendly and helpful and said sweetly, “we’re Om friendly” as we asked about carved symbols for the breath-word Om. The serene incense Nag Champa drifted through the room but it was now time to leave and make our way to the Ryan Adams concert at Michigan Theater.
I purchased my tickets the very minute they went on sale and prayed I had front row despite my tickets saying double A. No Such luck, but I was still happy to be in row 27. As I was waiting for the show to begin, I saw my concert friend Jeremy and got his attention. He looked as happy and as excited as myself and said he had spent a fortune at some cool record store. Jeremy then handed me a beautiful soundboard copy of Ryan Adams at the Gem Theater in downtown Detroit June 20th 2007. Man, how I’ve been longing for that show! I then gave Jeremy a copy of Ryan’s punk rock band the Finger.
Now the lights go out and the music begins. Ryan Opens with Goodnight Rose and closes with Goodnight Hollywood Boulevard. Everything in-between is just magical. The first auspicious sign was that Ryan came out playing guitar! ! In June, he only sang, he didn’t play any instruments, some injury sidelined him. The June Show as a result was more subtle, almost like MTV Unplugged. Subtle but amazing. Last night was more rocking and adventurous with reworked extended arrangements, ala the Grateful Dead. In particular was a long and lovely version of Off Broadway from Easy Tiger. At the completion of Off Broadway, I shouted, “That was gorgeous! ” Of course, I may have added an expletive, all in the interest of ecstatic joy for music.
Ryan told a story during the show about running into a girl on her way to the concert that didn’t recognize him because he dresses like a plumber. My friend after the show said she thought she saw Ryan Adams on the street near the theater. I asked, “Really? ” She said, “I saw someone that looked like a plumber.” I can say, I didn’t see Ryan on the streets anywhere in Ann Arbor yesterday, but I have been known to miss a plumber or two in my day.
The first two songs in the encore made the whole show for me. Ryan came out by himself with an acoustic guitar and sang Call Me On Your Way Back Home. Toward the end of the song, Ryan played harmonica and I screamed like a schoolgirl, pretty much the way I do whenever Bobby Dylan plays harmonica! And if that wasn’t enough to make the end of summer completely magical, Ryan then sat down at the piano and sang Sylvia Plath: Oh my God, the point of tears! I’ve waited six years to hear him sing that song live from the Album Gold. As I told my friend, that was the song that sealed the deal making Ryan Adams my modern hero! If you want to get my attention and loyalty, sing about one of the tragic poets I love.

poem by Uriah Hamilton
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Narrative And Dramatic The Wanderings Of Oisin

BOOK I

S. Patrick. You who are bent, and bald, and blind,
With a heavy heart and a wandering mind,
Have known three centuries, poets sing,
Of dalliance with a demon thing.

Oisin. Sad to remember, sick with years,
The swift innumerable spears,
The horsemen with their floating hair,
And bowls of barley, honey, and wine,
Those merry couples dancing in tune,
And the white body that lay by mine;
But the tale, though words be lighter than air.
Must live to be old like the wandering moon.

Caoilte, and Conan, and Finn were there,
When we followed a deer with our baying hounds.
With Bran, Sceolan, and Lomair,
And passing the Firbolgs' burial-motmds,
Came to the cairn-heaped grassy hill
Where passionate Maeve is stony-still;
And found On the dove-grey edge of the sea
A pearl-pale, high-born lady, who rode
On a horse with bridle of findrinny;
And like a sunset were her lips,
A stormy sunset on doomed ships;
A citron colour gloomed in her hair,

But down to her feet white vesture flowed,
And with the glimmering crimson glowed
Of many a figured embroidery;
And it was bound with a pearl-pale shell
That wavered like the summer streams,
As her soft bosom rose and fell.

S. Patrick. You are still wrecked among heathen dreams.

Oisin. 'Why do you wind no horn?' she said
'And every hero droop his head?
The hornless deer is not more sad
That many a peaceful moment had,
More sleek than any granary mouse,
In his own leafy forest house
Among the waving fields of fern:
The hunting of heroes should be glad.'

'O pleasant woman,' answered Finn,
'We think on Oscar's pencilled urn,
And on the heroes lying slain

[...] Read more

poem by William Butler Yeats
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Tamerton Church-Tower, Or, First Love

I.
We left the Church at Tamerton
In gloomy western air;
To greet the day we gallop'd on,
A merry-minded pair.
The hazy East hot noon did bode;
Our horses sniff'd the dawn;
We made ten Cornish miles of road
Before the dew was gone.
We clomb the hill where Lanson's Keep
Fronts Dartmoor's distant ridge;
Thence trotted South; walk'd down the steep
That slants to Gresson Bridge;
And paused awhile, where Tamar waits,
In many a shining coil,
And teeming Devon separates
From Cornwall's sorry soil.

II.
Our English skies contain'd, that Spring,
A Caribbean sun;
The singing birds forgot to sing,
The rivulets to run.
For three noons past, the skies had frown'd,
Obscured with blighting shades
That only mock'd the thirsty ground
And unrejoicing glades.
To-day, before the noon was nigh,
Bright-skirted vapours grew,
And on the sky hung languidly;
The sky was languid too.
Our horses dropp'd their necks, and nosed
The dusty wayside grass,
Whilst we beneath still boughs reposed
And watch'd the water pass.
We spoke of plighted Bertha: Frank
Shot pebbles in the stream;
And I lay by him on the bank,
But dreamt no lover's dream.
She was a blythe and bashful maid,
Much blushing in her glee;
Yet gracing all she did and said
With sweet sufficiency.
‘Is Blanche as fair?’ ask'd I, who yearn'd
To feel my life complete;
To taste unselfish pleasures earn'd
By service strict and sweet.
‘Well, some say fairer: she'll surprise
Your heart with crimson lips;

[...] Read more

poem by Coventry Patmore
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Conroy's Gap

This was the way of it, don't you know --
Ryan was "wanted" for stealing sheep,
And never a trooper, high or low,
Could find him -- catch a weasel asleep!
Till Trooper Scott, from the Stockman's Ford --
A bushman, too, as I've heard them tell --
Chanced to find him drunk as a lord
Round at the Shadow of Death Hotel.
D'you know the place? It's a wayside inn,
A low grog-shanty -- a bushman trap,
Hiding away in its shame and sin
Under the shelter of Conroy's Gap --
Under the shade of that frowning range
The roughest crowd that ever drew breath --
Thieves and rowdies, uncouth and strange,
Were mustered round at the "Shadow of Death".

The trooper knew that his man would slide
Like a dingo pup, if he saw the chance;
And with half a start on the mountain side
Ryan would lead him a merry dance.
Drunk as he was when the trooper came,
to him that did not matter a rap --
Drunk or sober, he was the same,
The boldest rider in Conroy's Gap.

"I want you, Ryan," the trooper said,
"And listen to me, if you dare resist,
So help me heaven, I'll shoot you dead!"
He snapped the steel on his prisoner's wrist,
And Ryan, hearing the handcuffs click,
Recovered his wits as they turned to go,
For fright will sober a man as quick
As all the drugs that the doctors know.

There was a girl in that shanty bar
Went by the name of Kate Carew,
Quiet and shy as the bush girls are,
But ready-witted and plucky, too.
She loved this Ryan, or so they say,
And passing by, while her eyes were dim
With tears, she said in a careless way,
"The Swagman's round in the stable, Jim."

Spoken too low for the trooper's ear,
Why should she care if he heard or not?
Plenty of swagmen far and near --
And yet to Ryan it meant a lot.
That was the name of the grandest horse
In all the district from east to west;

[...] Read more

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Great Hunger

I
Clay is the word and clay is the flesh
Where the potato-gatherers like mechanised scarecrows move
Along the side-fall of the hill - Maguire and his men.
If we watch them an hour is there anything we can prove
Of life as it is broken-backed over the Book
Of Death? Here crows gabble over worms and frogs
And the gulls like old newspapers are blown clear of the hedges, luckily.
Is there some light of imagination in these wet clods?
Or why do we stand here shivering?
Which of these men
Loved the light and the queen
Too long virgin? Yesterday was summer. Who was it promised marriage to himself
Before apples were hung from the ceilings for Hallowe'en?
We will wait and watch the tragedy to the last curtain,
Till the last soul passively like a bag of wet clay
Rolls down the side of the hill, diverted by the angles
Where the plough missed or a spade stands, straitening the way.
A dog lying on a torn jacket under a heeled-up cart,
A horse nosing along the posied headland, trailing
A rusty plough. Three heads hanging between wide-apart legs.
October playing a symphony on a slack wire paling.
Maguire watches the drills flattened out
And the flints that lit a candle for him on a June altar
Flameless. The drills slipped by and the days slipped by
And he trembled his head away and ran free from the world's halter,
And thought himself wiser than any man in the townland
When he laughed over pints of porter
Of how he came free from every net spread
In the gaps of experience. He shook a knowing head
And pretended to his soul
That children are tedious in hurrying fields of April
Where men are spanning across wide furrows.
Lost in the passion that never needs a wife
The pricks that pricked were the pointed pins of harrows.
Children scream so loud that the crows could bring
The seed of an acre away with crow-rude jeers.
Patrick Maguire, he called his dog and he flung a stone in the air
And hallooed the birds away that were the birds of the years.
Turn over the weedy clods and tease out the tangled skeins.
What is he looking for there?
He thinks it is a potato, but we know better
Than his mud-gloved fingers probe in this insensitive hair.
'Move forward the basket and balance it steady
In this hollow. Pull down the shafts of that cart, Joe,
And straddle the horse,' Maguire calls.
'The wind's over Brannagan's, now that means rain.
Graip up some withered stalks and see that no potato falls
Over the tail-board going down the ruckety pass -
And that's a job we'll have to do in December,

[...] Read more

poem by Patrick Kavanagh
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Wanderings of Oisin: Book I

S. Patrick. You who are bent, and bald, and blind,
With a heavy heart and a wandering mind,
Have known three centuries, poets sing,
Of dalliance with a demon thing.

Oisin. Sad to remember, sick with years,
The swift innumerable spears,
The horsemen with their floating hair,
And bowls of barley, honey, and wine,
Those merry couples dancing in tune,
And the white body that lay by mine;
But the tale, though words be lighter than air.
Must live to be old like the wandering moon.

Caoilte, and Conan, and Finn were there,
When we followed a deer with our baying hounds.
With Bran, Sceolan, and Lomair,
And passing the Firbolgs' burial-motmds,
Came to the cairn-heaped grassy hill
Where passionate Maeve is stony-still;
And found On the dove-grey edge of the sea
A pearl-pale, high-born lady, who rode
On a horse with bridle of findrinny;
And like a sunset were her lips,
A stormy sunset on doomed ships;
A citron colour gloomed in her hair,

But down to her feet white vesture flowed,
And with the glimmering crimson glowed
Of many a figured embroidery;
And it was bound with a pearl-pale shell
That wavered like the summer streams,
As her soft bosom rose and fell.

S. Patrick. You are still wrecked among heathen dreams.

Oisin. 'Why do you wind no horn?' she said
'And every hero droop his head?
The hornless deer is not more sad
That many a peaceful moment had,
More sleek than any granary mouse,
In his own leafy forest house
Among the waving fields of fern:
The hunting of heroes should be glad.'

'O pleasant woman,' answered Finn,
'We think on Oscar's pencilled urn,
And on the heroes lying slain
On Gabhra's raven-covered plain;
But where are your noble kith and kin,

[...] Read more

poem by William Butler Yeats
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Frank & Lola

Frank and lola
By: jimmy buffett, steve goodman
1982
Lucy and ricky, fred and ethel, laurel and hardy, spanky
And buckwheat, rocky and bullwinkle, and frank and lola...
Theyre all good for a laugh.
Lola loves frank, frankie loves lola
On their second honeymoon in pensacola
Tryin to find a little privacy
Oh me there been too much screamin, fussin and fightin
The doggies were yellin, the children were bitin
Frank and lola tryin to get together again
So he took her to this movie called body heat
She said the junior mints were mushy and the sex was neat
Oh my, frankie werent we better than that, before our spat
Frank told lola, honey cant you see
That Ill jump start you if youll kick start me
Frank and lola tryin to get together again
So they strolled along the highway, they walked along the beach
They stopped at several raw bars where they slurped a dozen each
Bought a bunch of popcorn from the fat man on the dock
Baby turn back the pages, turn round the clock
Lola told frankie time we put it to the test
After frankie told lola she was still the best
They fell asleep in the sand underneath the florida moon, in june
Lola counted rainbows, frankie counted sheep
til they almost got run over by the lifeguards jeep
Frank and lola tryin to get together again
Go, frank, go
Lo la, lo
Go, frank, go, wow
(instrumental)
So they strolled along the highway, they walked along the beach
Stopped at several raw bars where they slurped a dozen each
Bought a bunch of popcorn from the fat man on the dock
Baby turn back the pages, turn round the clock
Lola loves frank, frankie loves lola
On their second honeymoon in pensacola
Tryin to find a little priva-
Tryin to find a little priva-
Tryin to find a little privacy
Go, frank, go
Lo la, lo
Go, mango
- notes:
Featuring the harmonica of fingers taylor

song performed by Jimmy Buffett
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Et Memoria [2]

Kom stap vanoggend deur my lewe
terwyl ons, ons gisters onthou,
‘n nuwe dag voor ons oopvou

en laat ‘n afdruk van jou
geskilder teen die seildoek van my gedagtes
want elke nuwe môre
word uit ons gisters gebore

en jy bly deel van my, al is
alles tussen ons nou verby,
sien ek jou in die glans van die son,
die dou wat blinkend op blare sit

en ek besef nou, dat liefde
in elke oomblik van onthou
weer van voor af begin

en hoe langsaam rek ek nog
oomblikke wat reeds verby is uit
asof dit altyd deel van my menswees is

maar ek is reeds daarvan bewus
dat dinge vêr by verby tussen ons is,
dat jy vanaand
hitte by iemand anders sal kry
asof ek, net nog
deel van ‘n dooie vlam is.

[Verwysing: Et Memoria deur Japie S. Strydom:

“Kom stap vanaand
deur my môre,
en blaai saam deur my drome,
teken jou liggaam hier
in my sagtebandboek aan,
want ons vandag is in gisters en more gebore:

jy is die ligflits van die son,
die môre-dag se dou;
‘n laat middag in my somer-drome,
‘n vroeë lente more –

Ek weet vanaand,
dat die dae van ons lewe (liefde?) ,
weer,
in elke nuwe onthou begin:

hoe langsaam het ek jou

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Tom Van Arden

Tom Van Arden, my old friend,
Our warm fellowship is one
Far too old to comprehend
Where its bond was first begun:
Mirage-like before my gaze
Gleams a land of other days,
Where two truant boys, astray,
Dream their lazy lives away.

There's a vision, in the guise
Of Midsummer, where the Past
Like a weary beggar lies
In the shadow Time has cast;
And as blends the bloom of trees
With the drowsy hum of bees,
Fragrant thoughts and murmurs blend,
Tom Van Arden, my old friend.

Tom Van Arden, my old friend,
All the pleasures we have known
Thrill me now as I extend
This old hand and grasp your own--
Feeling, in the rude caress,
All affection's tenderness;
Feeling, though the touch be rough,
Our old souls are soft enough.

So we'll make a mellow hour:
Fill your pipe, and taste the wine--
Warp your face, if it be sour,
I can spare a smile from mine;
If it sharpen up your wit,
Let me feel the edge of it--
I have eager ears to lend,
Tom Van Arden, my old friend.

Tom Van Arden, my old friend,
Are we 'lucky dogs,' indeed?
Are we all that we pretend
In the jolly life we lead?--
Bachelors, we must confess,
Boast of 'single blessedness'
To the world, but not alone--
Man's best sorrow is his own!

And the saddest truth is this,--
Life to us has never proved
What we tasted in the kiss
Of the women we have loved:
Vainly we congratulate

[...] Read more

poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Valentine's Day

Roses are red
Violet are blue
I love you with all my heart
You are the only one for me
Happy Valentine's Day
Ryan

Every time I see you
You make me glow
I can't live without you because
I see two worlds come together
All our hopes and dreams will finally came true
Happy Valentine's Day
Ryan

You have a cute smile
You're missing piecing of my heart
There is something about you and just way you are
I can't help it to fall in love with you each and every day
I know you will want me to be in your arms forever
Happy Valentine's Day
Ryan

Roses are red
Violet are blue
I love you with all my heart
You are the only one for me
Happy Valentine's Day
Ryan

Please be mine
I would do anything to be with you
Two worlds come together
My heart will finally have the piece it been looking for and is you and noone else
Happy Valentine's Day
Ryan

I got lost in your eyes
Everything about you is special to me
I love you too much
Happy Valentine's Day
Ryan

If heart is all we searching for
Can you ever give me chance to be with you?
I been looking for someone to love
I never make on my own without you here by myside
Happy Valentine's Day
Ryan

poem by Christina Phan
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

My Defenses Are Down

FRANK BUTLER:
I've had my way with so many girls
An' was lots of fun.
My scheme was to know many girls
To keep me safe from one
I find it can be done.
My defenses are down
She's broken my resistance
And I don't know where I am
I went into the fight like a lion
But I came out like a lamb.
My defenses are down
She's got me where she wants me
And I can't escape no how
I could speak to my heart when it wakened
But my heart won't listen now.
Like a toothless, clawless tiger,
Like an organ-grinder's bear,
Like a knight without his armor,
Like Samson without his hair.
My defenses are down
I might as well surrender
For the battle can't be won.
But I must confess that I like it,
So there's nothing to be done.
Yes, I must confess that I like it
Being miserable's gonna be fun
MALE CHORUS:
His defenses are down
She's broken my resistance
And he's in an awful jam.
FRANK BUTLER:
I went into the fight like a lion
MALE CHORUS:
But you came out like a lamb.
FRANK BUTLER:
My defenses are down
MALE CHORUS:
She's got you where she wants you
And you can't escape no how
FRANK BUTLER:
I could speak to my heart when it wakened
MALE CHORUS:
But my heart won't listen now.
FRANK BUTLER:
Like a toothless, clawless tiger,
Like an organ-grinder's bear,
MALE CHORUS:
Like a knight without his armor,
FRANK BUTLER:

[...] Read more

song performed by Irving Berlin
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Ballad Of The Taylor Pup

Now lithe and listen, gentles all,
Now lithe ye all and hark
Unto a ballad I shall sing
About Buena Park.

Of all the wonders happening there
The strangest hap befell
Upon a famous Aprile morn,
As I you now shall tell.

It is about the Taylor pup
And of his mistress eke
And of the prankish time they had
That I am fain to speak.

FITTE THE FIRST

The pup was of as noble mien
As e'er you gazed upon;
They called his mother Lady
And his father was a Don.

And both his mother and his sire
Were of the race Bernard--
The family famed in histories
And hymned of every bard.

His form was of exuberant mold,
Long, slim, and loose of joints;
There never yet was pointer-dog
So full as he of points.

His hair was like to yellow fleece,
His eyes were black and kind,
And like a nodding, gilded plume
His tail stuck up behind.

His bark was very, very fierce,
And fierce his appetite,
Yet was it only things to eat
That he was prone to bite.

But in that one particular
He was so passing true
That never did he quit a meal
Until he had got through.

Potatoes, biscuits, mush or hash,
Joint, chop, or chicken limb--

[...] Read more

poem by Eugene Field
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Pumping Velvet

Dynamite
Putz karam sheoba kitsch daboum
Waiting for the lady in the red balloon
Putz dada sheoba sleik dabich
Looking for a groove she stares at me, that witch
Dynamite
Poud karoud sheoba diba duglak
Leather and lace, shes wearing black
Poud karoub sheoba diba diboum
Believe it or not, she doesnt know my name
Dynamite
Putz karam sheoba kitsch daboum
Putz dada sheoba sleik dabich
Poud karoub sheoba tipa ziglack
Poud karoub sheoba dib diboum
Putz karam sheoba kitsch daboum
Shes spinning circles around my balloon
Putz karam sheoba kitsch daboum
Shes dynamite the lady and thats unfair
Im stuck in my balloon, stuck in the air

song performed by Yello
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Pumping Velvet

Dynamite
Putz karam sheoba kitsch daboum
Waiting for the lady in the red balloon
Putz dada sheoba sleik dabich
Looking for a groove she stares at me, that witch
Dynamite
Poud karoud sheoba diba duglak
Leather and lace, shes wearing black
Poud karoub sheoba diba diboum
Believe it or not, she doesnt know my name
Dynamite
Putz karam sheoba kitsch daboum
Putz dada sheoba sleik dabich
Poud karoub sheoba tipa ziglack
Poud karoub sheoba dib diboum
Putz karam sheoba kitsch daboum
Shes spinning circles around my balloon
Putz karam sheoba kitsch daboum
Shes dynamite the lady and thats unfair
Im stuck in my balloon, stuck in the air

song performed by Yello
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!