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Machine Gun Preacher [God Gave You Purpose]

Cast: Gerard Butler, Michelle Monaghan

clip from Machine Gun Preacher, directed by Marc Forster, screenplay by Jason Keller (2011)
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Healthy Back Bag

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[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Gerard Way your more than just money

Gerard Way your more than just money
Gerard Way your lips taste like honey
Gerard Way you're more than just fame
Gerard Way you'll soon scream my name
Gerard Way you'll always be hot
Gerard way i would love to see you on top
Gerard Way you're so sexy
Gerard Way i would gulp you like pepsi

by Jean Pullman
dedicated to Gerard Way from my chemical romance

poem by Jean Pullman
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Michelle

Michelle
I heard your lured howling
I cant resist temptation
I cant resist your smile
I cought your raddle eyes
Michelle
Michelle
My hagridden goblin
Michelle
My mellow
Michelle
Michelle
I must be insane
Its not me to blame
She loves only fame
Michelle caused me really pain
Michelle
Michelle
Michelle
Michelle
Auw

song performed by Xymox
Added by Lucian Velea
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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
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Joseph’s Dreams and Reuben's Brethren [A Recital in Six Chapters]

CHAPTER I

I cannot blame old Israel yet,
For I am not a sage—
I shall not know until I get
The son of my old age.
The mysteries of this Vale of Tears
We will perchance explain
When we have lived a thousand years
And died and come again.

No doubt old Jacob acted mean
Towards his father’s son;
But other hands were none too clean,
When all is said and done.
There were some things that had to be
In those old days, ’tis true—
But with old Jacob’s history
This tale has nought to do.

(They had to keep the birth-rate up,
And populate the land—
They did it, too, by simple means
That we can’t understand.
The Patriarchs’ way of fixing things
Would make an awful row,
And Sarah’s plain, straightforward plan
Would never answer now.)
his is a tale of simple men
And one precocious boy—
A spoilt kid, and, as usual,
His father’s hope and joy
(It mostly is the way in which
The younger sons behave
That brings the old man’s grey hairs down
In sorrow to the grave.)

Old Jacob loved the whelp, and made,
While meaning to be kind,
A coat of many colours that
Would strike a nigger blind!
It struck the brethren green, ’twas said—
I’d take a pinch of salt
Their coats had coloured patches too—
But that was not their fault.

Young Joseph had a soft thing on,
And, humbugged from his birth,
You may depend he worked the thing
For all that it was worth.

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Lawson
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The Water Tower

I sit and stare at this empty page,
The wind howls long at the winter eaves,
The cloud is heavy, and black with rage
As squalls dance in through the myrtle leaves.

While deep inside in the cottage gloom
My love lies weary, cocooned in dreams,
I hear her cry in the darkened room
Call out one name from a nightmare scene.

‘Michelle, ’ she mutters, then groans aloud
I grit my teeth at the open door,
The wind it eddies in dust and leaves
And echoes long at the water tower.

‘Michelle, Michelle, ’ it grumbles and groans,
‘Michelle, ’ it whispers, then skips and howls;
My love rolls over in deepest sleep
While I keep watch through the early hours.

The storm comes in and the rain drives down,
Batters at windows and roof in vain,
The wires whine in a humming frown:
‘Michelle, Michelle, ’ is its one refrain.

And tears roll at my weathered cheek
The clock chimes five at the early hour,
Michelle once crawled from her bed, asleep,
And went to climb at the water tower.

Her hair was black as a raven’s coat
Her eyes set back in that tiny face,
Three winters long was her spell of dreams
Before she crept to that dreadful place.

Three winters long was our fairy child
Who lisped and chattered from heart to heart,
The cottage door had a faulty latch –
I’d always meant to replace that part.

But now, awake from her nest of dreams
I see my love at the open door,
I wait in hope, but her eyes are ice;
She’s staring out at the water tower.

Then I look down, and the page is full,
I’ve scribbled the words of an ancient rhyme,
Over and over and over again –
‘I’ll fix the latch when I get the time.’

[...] Read more

poem by David Lewis Paget
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Happiness

(b. anderson jr.)
Lea:
You know some kids ask us what happiness really is.
Well, to me happiness is a hamburger, going to the movies, new clothes.
Well, what's your happiness, gerard?
Gerard:
My happiness is a hotdog sandwich, new rubber shoes, new t-shirts,
New jeans and also my favorite part of happiness is love.
Lea:
Happiness is two kinds of ice cream
Finding your skate key, telling the time
Happiness is learning to whistle
Tying your shoe for the very first time
Happiness is playing the drum in your own school band
And happiness is walking hand in hand
Gerard:
Happiness is five different crayons
Knowing a secret, climbing a tree
Happiness is finding a nickel
Catching a firefly, setting him free
Happiness is being alone every now and then
And happiness is coming home again
Lea:
Happiness is morning and evening
Gerard:
Daytime and nighttime, too
Both:
For happiness is anyone and anything at all
That's loved by you
Gerard:
Happiness is having a sister
Lea:
Sharing a sandwich
Both:
Getting along
Happiness is singing together when day is through
And happiness is those who sing with you
Happiness is morning and evening
Daytime and nighttime, too
For happiness is anyone and anything at all
That's loved by you

song performed by Lea Salonga
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Michelle

Michelle, little girl I need you baby more than the air I breathe
My love for you grows stronger babe
My words you must believe
Well I need to see you laugh again and I want to see you smile
Michelle, little girl I love you baby you're my only child
Michelle, little girl the pain for you is hurting me inside
At night I think of you sometimes I lean my head and cry
I need to see you laugh again and I want to see you smile
Michelle, little girl I love you baby you're my only child
Michelle, little girl I need you baby more than the air I breathe
My love for you grows stronger babe
My words you must believe
Well I need to see you laugh again and I want to see you smile
Michelle, little girl I love you baby you're my only child

song performed by Lynyrd Skynyrd
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Michelle

(LennonMcCartney)
Michelle, ma belle
These are words that go together well
My Michelle
Michelle, ma belle
Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble
Tres bien ensemble
I love you, I love you, I love you
That's all I want to say
Until I find a way
I will say the only words I know that
You'll understand
Michelle, ma belle
Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble
Tres bien ensemble
I need to, I need to, I need to
I need to make you see
Oh, what you mean to me
Until I do I'm hoping you will
Know what I mean
I love you
I want you, I want you, I want you
I think you know by now
I'll get to you somehow
Until I do I'm telling you so
You'll understand
Michelle, ma belle
Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble
Tres bien ensemble
I will say the only words I know
That you'll understand, my Michelle

song performed by Paul McCartney
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Finale

FRANK BUTLER:
The cowboys, the wrestlers, the tumblers, the clowns
The roustabouts that move the show at dawn
ANNIE OAKLEY:
The music, the spotlights, the people, the towns
Your baggage with the labels pasted on
FRANK BUTLER:
The sawdust and the horses and the smell
ANNIE OAKLEY:
The towel you've taken from the last hotel
ANNIE OAKLEY, FRANK BUTLER and CHORUS:
There's no business like show business
Like no business I know
Everything about it is appealing
Everything the traffic will allow
No where could you have that happy feeling
When you aren't stealing that extra bow
There's no people like show people
They smile when they are low
Even with a turkey that you know will fold
You may be stranded out in the cold
Still you wouldn't change it for a sack o' gold
Let's go on with the show
Let's go on with the show!
ANNIE OAKLEY and FRANK BUTLER:
They say that falling in love is wonderful
It's wonderful, so they say.
And with a moon up above it's wonderful
It's wonderful, so they tell me.
ANNIE OAKLEY:
I can't recall who said it
FRANK BUTLER:
I know I never read it
I only know that falling in love is grand
And to hold a girl in your arms
Is wonderful,
ANNIE OAKLEY:
Wonderful...
ANNIE OAKLEY and FRANK BUTLER:
In every way
So they say

song performed by Irving Berlin
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Parish Register - Part I: Baptisms

The year revolves, and I again explore
The simple Annals of my Parish poor;
What Infant-members in my flock appear,
What Pairs I bless'd in the departed year;
And who, of Old or Young, or Nymphs or Swains,
Are lost to Life, its pleasures and its pains.
No Muse I ask, before my view to bring
The humble actions of the swains I sing. -
How pass'd the youthful, how the old their days;
Who sank in sloth, and who aspired to praise;
Their tempers, manners, morals, customs, arts,
What parts they had, and how they 'mploy'd their

parts;
By what elated, soothed, seduced, depress'd,
Full well I know-these Records give the rest.
Is there a place, save one the poet sees,
A land of love, of liberty, and ease;
Where labour wearies not, nor cares suppress
Th' eternal flow of rustic happiness;
Where no proud mansion frowns in awful state,
Or keeps the sunshine from the cottage-gate;
Where young and old, intent on pleasure, throng,
And half man's life is holiday and song?
Vain search for scenes like these! no view appears,
By sighs unruffled or unstain'd by tears;
Since vice the world subdued and waters drown'd,
Auburn and Eden can no more be found.
Hence good and evil mixed, but man has skill
And power to part them, when he feels the will!
Toil, care, and patience bless th' abstemious few,
Fear, shame, and want the thoughtless herd pursue.
Behold the Cot! where thrives th' industrious

swain,
Source of his pride, his pleasure, and his gain;
Screen'd from the winter's wind, the sun's last ray
Smiles on the window and prolongs the day;
Projecting thatch the woodbine's branches stop,
And turn their blossoms to the casement's top:
All need requires is in that cot contain'd,
And much that taste untaught and unrestrain'd
Surveys delighted; there she loves to trace,
In one gay picture, all the royal race;
Around the walls are heroes, lovers, kings;
The print that shows them and the verse that sings.
Here the last Louis on his throne is seen,
And there he stands imprison'd, and his Queen;
To these the mother takes her child, and shows
What grateful duty to his God he owes;

[...] Read more

poem by George Crabbe
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Machine Gun Preacher

Cast: Gerard Butler, Michelle Monaghan, Michael Shannon, Madeline Carroll, Kathy Baker, Inga R. Wilson, Justin Michael Brandt, Brett Wagner, Corey Large

trailer for Machine Gun Preacher, directed by Marc Forster, screenplay by Jason Keller (2011)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Machine Gun Preacher [Bug You There]

Cast: Gerard Butler, Madeline Carroll, Michelle Monaghan

clip from Machine Gun Preacher, directed by Marc Forster, screenplay by Jason Keller (2011)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Stony Grey Soil

O stony grey soil of Monaghan
The laugh from my love you thieved;
You took the gay child of my passion
And gave me your clod-conceived.

You clogged the feet of my boyhood
And I believed that my stumble
Had the poise and stride of Apollo
And his voice my thick tongued mumble.

You told me the plough was immortal!
O green-life conquering plough!
The mandril stained, your coulter blunted
In the smooth lea-field of my brow.

You sang on steaming dunghills
A song of cowards' brood,
You perfumed my clothes with weasel itch,
You fed me on swinish food

You flung a ditch on my vision
Of beauty, love and truth.
O stony grey soil of Monaghan
You burgled my bank of youth!

Lost the long hours of pleasure
All the women that love young men.
O can I stilll stroke the monster's back
Or write with unpoisoned pen.

His name in these lonely verses
Or mention the dark fields where
The first gay flight of my lyric
Got caught in a peasant's prayer.

Mullahinsa, Drummeril, Black Shanco-
Wherever I turn I see
In the stony grey soil of Monaghan
Dead loves that were born for me.

poem by Patrick Kavanagh
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Michelle O

Michelle O...
Radiant and blessed.
Stunning in appearance,
With the glow of loveliness.

Strong and delightful...
A mother and wife,
Exuding intelligence that sparkles...
As if dew lifts with a freshness,
That comes with the dawn of sunlight!

Michelle O...
Representing at her best.
And clearly an asset held,
By her husband Barack.
Witness with approval with few who protest!

And others who are captivated,
By her honesty that leaves...
Impressions felt,
From her expressed directness left!

Michelle O...
Smartly dressed and fashioned for excellence,
Frank and brilliant with charm and charisma matched!
She is no one's eye candy.
Nor is she with wits detached.

A woman of grace,
And there unafraid to say what she means.
Without losing her dignity...
She's upfront with no masqueraded face.
Putting those looking for signs of weakness...
Demurely,
If need be...
In their respectful place!

Michelle O,
Has so much class.
Perhaps surpassing that shown,
By her mate who also radiates...
This sensation in demand.
And arriving at a time much needed.
To feed depleted imaginations.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Michelle's Surprise

Michelle is a spinster in her thirties
she's lived and knows the score.
She'd finally found a likeable man,
divorced and single for sure.

She allowed herself several weeks
to ensure he was Mr Right.
Over shadowing all her past lovers,
he was sincere, loving, and bright.

For twelve weeks she lived in heaven,
until she discovered a lie.
He was using an on line dating service,
seeking relationships on the sly.

She thought, don't get mad get even,
and joined the same dating site.
As another woman she replied to his posting
and arranged a date for a Friday night.

Michelle saw her mark anxiously waiting,
like a lion at a table set for two.
Whilst champagne cooled in the bucket,
his ardour was showing through.

She calmly walked up to the table,
pulled out a chair and sat down.
'Hello Mark, what are you doing here? '
He twitched and anxiously looked around.

'Oh, I'm just waiting for someone.'
'Someone special I dare say, ' said Michelle,
'champagne suppers are so romantic,
especially when you expect to do well.'

'Michelle, what you are implying,
I'm just having dinner with a friend.'
'Well aren't you just a cheating liar,
I'm your date, and this is the end!

She took the champagne from the bucket
and emptied the contents on his head.
'I think this concludes our date nicely,
and there's nothing more to be said! '

poem by Orlando Belo
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When you are Old

Sonnet XXXII

Should you survive the number of my days,
Attest to buried bones and grounded hope,
Nervous, by chance, perhaps this book you'll ope,
Grave hand re-reading, when fast passed my ways.
Tender friend recall our comet blaze,
Openly with instinct's gyroscope
Mark, nurture, sight and sound, bright chromascope,
Able to distill implicit ph[r]ase.
Methinks fond thoughts might share this paraphrase:
“As rainbow bridge strips off coarse envelope
Underdeveloped were poor poet’s plays -
Death forced him far too early to elope.
E’er since he died, have other poets flourished.
Competent their works, I’ll read his, who love nourished.”

[c] Jonathan Robin

Shakespeare Sonnet XXXII
(cf Ronsard: When you are old and grey)

If thou survive my well-contented day,
When that churl death my bones with dust shall cover,
And shall by fortune once more re-survey
These poor rude lines of thy deceasèd lover,
Compare them with the bettering of the time,
And though they be outstripp’d by every pen,
Reserve them for my love, not for their rime,
Exceeded by the heights of happier men.
O! then vouchsafe me but this loving thought:
'Had my friend's Muse grown with this growing age,
A dearer birth than this his love had brought,
To march in ranks of better equipage:
But since he died, and poets better prove,
Theirs for their style I'll read, his for his love.'?

Quand vous serez bien vieille

Quand vous serez bien vieille, au soir, à la chandelle,
Assise auprès du feu, dévidant et filant,
Direz, chantant mes vers, en vous émerveillant:
'Ronsard me célébrait du temps que j'étais belle.'

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Monks Of Catalonia

TO you, my friends, allow me to detail,
The feats of monks in Catalonia's vale,
Where oft the holy fathers pow'rs displayed,
And showed such charity to wife and maid,
That o'er their minds sweet fascination reigned,
And made them think, they Paradise had gained.

SUCH characters oft preciously advise,
And youthful easy female minds surprise,
The beauteous FAIR encircle with their net,
And, of the feeling heart, possession get:
Work in the holy vineyard, you may guess,
And, as our tale will show, with full success.

IN times of old, when learning 'mong the FAIR,
Enough to read the testament, was rare,
(Times howsoe'er thought difficult to quote,)
A swarm of monks of gormandizing note,
Arrived and fixed themselves within a town,
For young and beauteous belles of great renown,
While, of gallants, there seemed but very few,
Though num'rous aged husbands you might view.

A NOBLE chapel soon the fathers raised,
To which the females ran and highly praised,
Surveyed it o'er and confidently thought,
'Twas there, of course, salvation should be sought.
And when their faith had thoroughly been proved,
To gain their point the monks the veil removed.--
Good father Andrew scorned to use finesse,
And in discourse the sex would thus address.

IF any thing prevent your sov'reign bliss,
And Paradise incautiously you miss,
Most certainly the evil will arise,
From keeping for your husbands large supplies,
Of what a surplus you have clearly got,
And more than requisite to them allot,
Without bestowing on your trusty friends,
The saving that to no one blessings lends.

PERHAPS you'll tell me, marriage boons we shun;
'Tis true, and Heav'n be praised enough is done,
Without those duties to require our share
You know from direful sin we guard the FAIR.
Ingratitude 's declared the height of crimes,
And God pronounced it such in early times;
For this eternally was Satan curst;
Howe'er you err, be careful of the worst.
Return to Heav'n your thanks for bounteous care,

[...] Read more

poem by La Fontaine
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The Thud Of Silence Was Like A Tsunami

What happened in London-town
Caused traditionalists to sport many a frown
Michelle Obama touched the queen
With bare arm around the royal beam

The thud of silence was like a tsunami
Heard from London to Miami
Never before in all times past
Have Londoners been quite so aghast

They even stalled their daily tea-time
Which they rarely miss in war or peace-time
Yet Prince Charles, the stalwart prince
Didn’t allow his royal feelings to evince

The Queen had never been touched before
Assuming one believes that English lore
But somehow or other she made it through
‘Cause she liked Michelle, her friend so new

The world kept turning in spite of it all
Shoppers still shopped at their local mall
When The Queen placed her arm around our Michelle
The Brits drank their tea, convinced all was well

poem by Stanley Cooper
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Please Mrs Butler

Please Mrs Butler
This boy Derek Drew
Keeps copying my work, Miss.
What shall I do?

Go and sit in the hall, dear.
Go and sit in the sink.
Take your books on the roof, my lamb.
Do whatever you think.

Please Mrs Butler
This boy Derek Drew
Keeps taking my rubber, Miss.
What shall I do?

Keep it in your hand, dear.
Hide it up your vest.
Swallow it if you like, love.
Do what you think best.

Please Mrs Butler
This boy Derek Drew
Keeps calling me rude names, Miss.
What shall I do?

Lock yourself in the cupboard, dear.
Run away to sea.
Do whatever you can, my flower.
But don't ask me!

poem by Allan Ahlberg
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