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Jeff Who Lives at Home

Cast: Jason Segel, Ed Helms, Judy Greer, Susan Sarandon, Katie Aselton, Rae Dawn Chong, Joe Chrest, J.D. Evermore, Lance E. Nichols, Tammi Arender

trailer for Jeff Who Lives at Home (2011)
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Give Your Heart To The Hawks

1 he apples hung until a wind at the equinox,

That heaped the beach with black weed, filled the dry grass

Under the old trees with rosy fruit.

In the morning Fayne Fraser gathered the sound ones into a

basket,

The bruised ones into a pan. One place they lay so thickly
She knelt to reach them.

Her husband's brother passing
Along the broken fence of the stubble-field,
His quick brown eyes took in one moving glance
A little gopher-snake at his feet flowing through the stubble
To gain the fence, and Fayne crouched after apples
With her mop of red hair like a glowing coal
Against the shadow in the garden. The small shapely reptile
Flowed into a thicket of dead thistle-stalks
Around a fence-post, but its tail was not hidden.
The young man drew it all out, and as the coil
Whipped over his wrist, smiled at it; he stepped carefully
Across the sag of the wire. When Fayne looked up
His hand was hidden; she looked over her shoulder
And twitched her sunburnt lips from small white teeth
To answer the spark of malice in his eyes, but turned
To the apples, intent again. Michael looked down
At her white neck, rarely touched by the sun,
But now the cinnabar-colored hair fell off from it;
And her shoulders in the light-blue shirt, and long legs like a boy's
Bare-ankled in blue-jean trousers, the country wear;
He stooped quietly and slipped the small cool snake
Up the blue-denim leg. Fayne screamed and writhed,
Clutching her thigh. 'Michael, you beast.' She stood up
And stroked her leg, with little sharp cries, the slender invader
Fell down her ankle.

Fayne snatched for it and missed;

Michael stood by rejoicing, his rather small

Finely cut features in a dance of delight;

Fayne with one sweep flung at his face

All the bruised and half-spoiled apples in the pan,

[...] Read more

poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Superlative Story

Superlative Story

I Syntaxical Sequence

II Strange Stanza Succession Starts

III Scenario Synopsis

IV Sensuality, sense, sensibility,

V Substitute Spousal Suggestions

VI Seesaw Simplicity: Seraglio Simularities Spurned

VII Solution

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I SYNTAXICAL SEQUENCE

Special scansion ‘S’ syllabic
specious solicisms scraps,
solo solving sounds strabismic,
syllogistic systole scraps.
Syllables spring, shuffle, scuttle,
skittle syntax, scintillate
syntonically sans snuffle, shuttle –
synonyms shake sides, spine straight.

Stanza stanza swift succeeding
senses sweeps, song swifter swims,
succulent succession seeding
substitutions, surface skims.
Scrupulous semantics subtle
switchback spiral, summarize,
seek solutions smart, scrolled, supple,
solve set spectrum's smallish size.

Synonymous synchronising
sympathetic symphony
scores - Socratic symbolizing –
swivelling sonority.
Scansion salvo salvo scansion
strong succeeds, succeeding sends
successors streamlined sampling surging –
sanction seems so slight, scourge spends.

Systematic symbol spreading
'sses something sacred, seeks, -

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Idiot Boy

'Tis eight o'clock,--a clear March night,
The moon is up,--the sky is blue,
The owlet, in the moonlight air,
Shouts from nobody knows where;
He lengthens out his lonely shout,
Halloo! halloo! a long halloo!

--Why bustle thus about your door,
What means this bustle, Betty Foy?
Why are you in this mighty fret?
And why on horseback have you set
Him whom you love, your Idiot Boy?

Scarcely a soul is out of bed;
Good Betty, put him down again;
His lips with joy they burr at you;
But, Betty! what has he to do
With stirrup, saddle, or with rein?

But Betty's bent on her intent;
For her good neighbour, Susan Gale,
Old Susan, she who dwells alone,
Is sick, and makes a piteous moan
As if her very life would fail.

There's not a house within a mile,
No hand to help them in distress;
Old Susan lies a-bed in pain,
And sorely puzzled are the twain,
For what she ails they cannot guess.

And Betty's husband's at the wood,
Where by the week he doth abide,
A woodman in the distant vale;
There's none to help poor Susan Gale;
What must be done? what will betide?

And Betty from the lane has fetched
Her Pony, that is mild and good;
Whether he be in joy or pain,
Feeding at will along the lane,
Or bringing faggots from the wood.

And he is all in travelling trim,--
And, by the moonlight, Betty Foy
Has on the well-girt saddle set
(The like was never heard of yet)
Him whom she loves, her Idiot Boy.

And he must post without delay

[...] Read more

poem by William Wordsworth
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Punch & Judy

(fish / marillion)
Punch
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Washing machine, pinstripe dream
Stripped the gloss from a beauty queen
Punch and judy, judy
Found our nest, in the daily express
Met the vicar in a holy vest
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Brought up the children church of e
Now I vegetate with a colour tv
Worst ever thing that ever happened to me
Oh, for d.i.v.o.r.c.e.
Oh judy
Whatever happened to pillow fights
Whatever happened to jeans so tight, friday nights
Whatever happened to lovers lane
Whatever happened to passion games
Sunday walks in the pouring rain
Punch
Punch
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Punch
Punch
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Curling tongs, mogadons, I got a headache baby, dont take so long
Single beds, middle age dread
Losing the war in the waistlands spread
Who left the cap of the toothpaste tube
Who forgot to flush the loo
Leave your sweaty socks outside the door
Dont walk across my polished floor, oh judy
Whatever happened to morning smiles
Whatever happened to wicked wiles, permissive styles
Whatever happened to twinkling eyes
Whatever happened to hard fast drives
Complements on unnatural size
Punch
Punch
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Punch

[...] Read more

song performed by Marillion
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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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Malcolm's Katie: A Love Story - Part III.

The great farm house of Malcolm Graem stood
Square shoulder'd and peak roof'd upon a hill,
With many windows looking everywhere;
So that no distant meadow might lie hid,
Nor corn-field hide its gold--nor lowing herd
Browse in far pastures, out of Malcolm's ken.
He lov'd to sit, grim, grey, and somewhat stern,
And thro' the smoke-clouds from his short clay pipe
Look out upon his riches; while his thoughts
Swung back and forth between the bleak, stern past,
And the near future, for his life had come
To that close balance, when, a pendulum,
The memory swings between me 'Then' and 'Now';
His seldom speech ran thus two diff'rent ways:
'When I was but a laddie, this I did';
Or, 'Katie, in the Fall I'll see to build
'Such fences or such sheds about the place;
'And next year, please the Lord, another barn.'
Katie's gay garden foam'd about the walls,
'Leagur'd the prim-cut modern sills, and rush'd
Up the stone walls--and broke on the peak'd roof.
And Katie's lawn was like a Poet's sward,
Velvet and sheer and di'monded with dew;
For such as win their wealth most aptly take
Smooth, urban ways and blend them with their own;
And Katie's dainty raiment was as fine
As the smooth, silken petals of the rose;
And her light feet, her nimble mind and voice,
In city schools had learn'd the city's ways,
And grafts upon the healthy, lonely vine
They shone, eternal blossoms 'mid the fruit.
For Katie had her sceptre in her hand
And wielded it right queenly there and here,
In dairy, store-room, kitchen--ev'ry spot
Where women's ways were needed on the place.
And Malcolm took her through his mighty fields,
And taught her lore about the change of crops;
And how to see a handsome furrow plough'd;
And how to choose the cattle for the mart;
And how to know a fair day's work when done;
And where to plant young orchards; for he said,
'God sent a lassie, but I need a son--
'Bethankit for His mercies all the same.'
And Katie, when he said it, thought of Max--
Who had been gone two winters and two springs,
And sigh'd, and thought, 'Would he not be your son?'
But all in silence, for she had too much
Of the firm will of Malcolm in her soul
To think of shaking that deep-rooted rock;
But hop'd the crystal current of his love

[...] Read more

poem by Isabella Valancy Crawford
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Malcolm's Katie: A Love Story - Part VI.

'Who curseth Sorrow knows her not at all.
Dark matrix she, from which the human soul
Has its last birth; whence, with its misty thews,
Close-knitted in her blackness, issues out;
Strong for immortal toil up such great heights,
As crown o'er crown rise through Eternity,
Without the loud, deep clamour of her wail,
The iron of her hands; the biting brine
Of her black tears; the Soul but lightly built
of indeterminate spirit, like a mist
Would lapse to Chaos in soft, gilded dreams,
As mists fade in the gazing of the sun.
Sorrow, dark mother of the soul, arise!
Be crown'd with spheres where thy bless'd children dwell,
Who, but for thee, were not. No lesser seat
Be thine, thou Helper of the Universe,
Than planet on planet pil'd!--thou instrument,
Close-clasp'd within the great Creative Hand!'

* * * * *

The Land had put his ruddy gauntlet on,
Of Harvest gold, to dash in Famine's face.
And like a vintage wain, deep dy'd with juice,
The great moon falter'd up the ripe, blue sky,
Drawn by silver stars--like oxen white
And horn'd with rays of light--Down the rich land
Malcolm's small valleys, fill'd with grain, lip-high,
Lay round a lonely hill that fac'd the moon,
And caught the wine-kiss of its ruddy light.
A cusp'd, dark wood caught in its black embrace
The valleys and the hill, and from its wilds,
Spic'd with dark cedars, cried the Whip-poor-will.
A crane, belated, sail'd across the moon;
On the bright, small, close link'd lakes green islets lay,
Dusk knots of tangl'd vines, or maple boughs,
Or tuft'd cedars, boss'd upon the waves.
The gay, enamell'd children of the swamp
Roll'd a low bass to treble, tinkling notes
Of little streamlets leaping from the woods.
Close to old Malcolm's mills, two wooden jaws
Bit up the water on a sloping floor;
And here, in season, rush'd the great logs down,
To seek the river winding on its way.
In a green sheen, smooth as a Naiad's locks,
The water roll'd between the shudd'ring jaws--
Then on the river level roar'd and reel'd--
In ivory-arm'd conflict with itself.
'Look down,' said Alfred, 'Katie, look and see
'How that but pictures my mad heart to you.

[...] Read more

poem by Isabella Valancy Crawford
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Hey Joe

Hey joe, where you goin' with that gun in your hand
I said hey dude joe, where you goin' with that gun in your hand
Going down to shoot my old lady
You know, i've caught her messin' around with another man
Yes i did
You know, i've caught her messin' around with another man
Hey joe, i said where you goin' with that gun in your hand
Hey joe, where you goin' with that gun in your hand
Gonna messin' round
Yes i did
You know, i caught her messin' round man, messin' round town now
So i shot her!
I said hey joe, hey joe,
Where you goin' with that gun in your hand,
I said hey joe,
Where you goin' with that gun in your hand
I caught her messin' round, gonna messin' round town with another man yeah
I said hey joe, hey joe
Where you goin' with that gun in your hand
Hey joe, hey joe, where you goin' , haha-haha-haha
I've caught her messin' around with another man
I've caught her messin' around with another man
I said hey joe, hey joe, hey joe, hey joe, hey dude joe
I said hey hey joe, where you goin' with that gun in your hand
Hey joe, where you goin' with that gun in your hand, hand, hand
Hey joe, hey joe, hey joe, hey joe, hey joe, hey joe, hey haha
Hey joe, hey joe,
Yeah yeah yeah hey hey
Where you goin' with that gun in your hand,
Yeahhhhh, where you goin' with that gun in your hand

song performed by Lenny Kravitz
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Standing In For Joe

Im standing, standing in for joe
Joe called round to ask me, would I do a favor?
While hes gonna be out of town
He says his girl needs company, she gets so restless
Would I keep her safe and sound?
Softly, softly in the night
Why, you can guess the rest...
Now these shoes fit all too well
Standing in for joe
Standing in for joe
Im standing - in for joe
Joe said weve been friends so long
That I would be the one he would trust with his life
And now those words roll round my brain
As darkness falls, as I turn out his bedroom light
Who could resist her tender charms?
So the story goes...
This actor he plays all the parts
Standing in for joe
Standing in for joe
Im standing - in for joe
Love is like a river,
You cannot stop its flow... mmm hmm
Joe called round to ask me, would I do a favor?
While hes gonna be out of town
He says his girl needs company, she gets so restless
Would I check that shes safe and sound?
Softly, softly in the night
Why, you can guess the rest...
Now these shoes fit all too well
Standing in for joe
Im standing in for joe - oh yeah
Im standing in for joe - keep his sweetheart company, yeah
Standing in for joe - just standing in for joe, yeah
Standing in for joe - until he gets back home, yeah
Standing in for joe - gonna keep her insane, yeah
Standing in for joe - gonna keep her safe and sound, yeah
Standing in for joe - keep his sweetheart company, yeah
Standing in for joe - almost full time, which is nice, yeah
Standing in for joe - because she gets so restless
Standing in for joe - always so restless
Standing in for joe - keep his sweetheart company, yeah
Standing in for joe - gonna keep her safe and sound, yeah
Standing in for joe - Im standing in for joe, yeah...

song performed by Xtc
Added by Lucian Velea
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Standing In For Joe

Im standing, standing in for joe
Joe called round to ask me, would I do a favor?
While hes gonna be out of town
He says his girl needs company, she gets so restless
Would I keep her safe and sound?
Softly, softly in the night
Why, you can guess the rest...
Now these shoes fit all too well
Standing in for joe
Standing in for joe
Im standing - in for joe
Joe said weve been friends so long
That I would be the one he would trust with his life
And now those words roll round my brain
As darkness falls, as I turn out his bedroom light
Who could resist her tender charms?
So the story goes...
This actor he plays all the parts
Standing in for joe
Standing in for joe
Im standing - in for joe
Love is like a river,
You cannot stop its flow... mmm hmm
Joe called round to ask me, would I do a favor?
While hes gonna be out of town
He says his girl needs company, she gets so restless
Would I check that shes safe and sound?
Softly, softly in the night
Why, you can guess the rest...
Now these shoes fit all too well
Standing in for joe
Im standing in for joe - oh yeah
Im standing in for joe - keep his sweetheart company, yeah
Standing in for joe - just standing in for joe, yeah
Standing in for joe - until he gets back home, yeah
Standing in for joe - gonna keep her insane, yeah
Standing in for joe - gonna keep her safe and sound, yeah
Standing in for joe - keep his sweetheart company, yeah
Standing in for joe - almost full time, which is nice, yeah
Standing in for joe - because she gets so restless
Standing in for joe - always so restless
Standing in for joe - keep his sweetheart company, yeah
Standing in for joe - gonna keep her safe and sound, yeah
Standing in for joe - Im standing in for joe, yeah...

song performed by Xtc
Added by Lucian Velea
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Malcolm's Katie: A Love Story - Part I.

Max plac'd a ring on little Katie's hand,
A silver ring that he had beaten out
From that same sacred coin--first well-priz'd wage
For boyish labour, kept thro' many years.
'See, Kate,' he said, 'I had no skill to shape
Two hearts fast bound together, so I grav'd
Just K. and M., for Katie and for Max.'
'But, look; you've run the lines in such a way,
That M. is part of K., and K. of M.,'
Said Katie, smiling. 'Did you mean it thus?
I like it better than the double hearts.'
'Well, well,' he said, 'but womankind is wise!
Yet tell me, dear, will such a prophecy
Not hurt you sometimes, when I am away?
Will you not seek, keen ey'd, for some small break
In those deep lines, to part the K. and M.
For you? Nay, Kate, look down amid the globes
Of those large lilies that our light canoe
Divides, and see within the polish'd pool
That small, rose face of yours,--so dear, so fair,--
A seed of love to cleave into a rock,
And bourgeon thence until the granite splits
Before its subtle strength. I being gone--
Poor soldier of the axe--to bloodless fields,
(Inglorious battles, whether lost or won).
That sixteen summer'd heart of yours may say:
''I but was budding, and I did not know
My core was crimson and my perfume sweet;
I did not know how choice a thing I am;
I had not seen the sun, and blind I sway'd
To a strong wind, and thought because I sway'd,
'Twas to the wooer of the perfect rose--
That strong, wild wind has swept beyond my ken--
The breeze I love sighs thro' my ruddy leaves.'
'O, words!' said Katie, blushing, 'only words!
You build them up that I may push them down;
If hearts are flow'rs, I know that flow'rs can root--
'Bud, blossom, die--all in the same lov'd soil;
They do so in my garden. I have made
Your heart my garden. If I am a bud
And only feel unfoldment--feebly stir
Within my leaves: wait patiently; some June,
I'll blush a full-blown rose, and queen it, dear,
In your lov'd garden. Tho' I be a bud,
My roots strike deep, and torn from that dear soil
Would shriek like mandrakes--those witch things I read
Of in your quaint old books. Are you content?'
'Yes--crescent-wise--but not to round, full moon.
Look at yon hill that rounds so gently up
From the wide lake; a lover king it looks,

[...] Read more

poem by Isabella Valancy Crawford
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Katie

It may be through some foreign grace,
And unfamiliar charm of face;
It may be that across the foam
Which bore her from her childhood's home,
By some strange spell, my Katie brought,
Along with English creeds and thought --
Entangled in her golden hair --
Some English sunshine, warmth, and air!
I cannot tell -- but here to-day,
A thousand billowy leagues away
From that green isle whose twilight skies
No darker are than Katie's eyes,
She seems to me, go where she will,
An English girl in England still!

I meet her on the dusty street,
And daisies spring about her feet;
Or, touched to life beneath her tread,
An English cowslip lifts its head;
And, as to do her grace, rise up
The primrose and the buttercup!
I roam with her through fields of cane,
And seem to stroll an English lane,
Which, white with blossoms of the May,
Spreads its green carpet in her way!
As fancy wills, the path beneath
Is golden gorse, or purple heath:
And now we hear in woodlands dim
Their unarticulated hymn,
Now walk through rippling waves of wheat,
Now sink in mats of clover sweet,
Or see before us from the lawn
The lark go up to greet the dawn!
All birds that love the English sky
Throng round my path when she is by:
The blackbird from a neighboring thorn
With music brims the cup of morn,
And in a thick, melodious rain
The mavis pours her mellow strain!
But only when my Katie's voice
Makes all the listening woods rejoice
I hear -- with cheeks that flush and pale --
The passion of the nightingale!

Anon the pictures round her change,
And through an ancient town we range,
Whereto the shadowy memory clings
Of one of England's Saxon kings,
And which to shrine his fading fame
Still keeps his ashes and his name.

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Timrod
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Metamorphoses: Book The Seventh

THE Argonauts now stemm'd the foaming tide,
And to Arcadia's shore their course apply'd;
Where sightless Phineus spent his age in grief,
But Boreas' sons engage in his relief;
And those unwelcome guests, the odious race
Of Harpyes, from the monarch's table chase.
With Jason then they greater toils sustain,
And Phasis' slimy banks at last they gain,
Here boldly they demand the golden prize
Of Scythia's king, who sternly thus replies:
That mighty labours they must first o'ercome,
Or sail their Argo thence unfreighted home.
The Story of Meanwhile Medea, seiz'd with fierce desire,
Medea and By reason strives to quench the raging fire;
Jason But strives in vain!- Some God (she said)
withstands,
And reason's baffl'd council countermands.
What unseen Pow'r does this disorder move?
'Tis love,- at least 'tis like, what men call love.
Else wherefore shou'd the king's commands appear
To me too hard?- But so indeed they are.
Why shou'd I for a stranger fear, lest he
Shou'd perish, whom I did but lately see?
His death, or safety, what are they to me?
Wretch, from thy virgin-breast this flame expel,
And soon- Oh cou'd I, all wou'd then be well!
But love, resistless love, my soul invades;
Discretion this, affection that perswades.
I see the right, and I approve it too,
Condemn the wrong- and yet the wrong pursue.
Why, royal maid, shou'dst thou desire to wed
A wanderer, and court a foreign bed?
Thy native land, tho' barb'rous, can present
A bridegroom worth a royal bride's content:
And whether this advent'rer lives, or dies,
In Fate, and Fortune's fickle pleasure lies.
Yet may be live! for to the Pow'rs above,
A virgin, led by no impulse of love,
So just a suit may, for the guiltless, move.
Whom wou'd not Jason's valour, youth and blood
Invite? or cou'd these merits be withstood,
At least his charming person must encline
The hardest heart- I'm sure 'tis so with mine!
Yet, if I help him not, the flaming breath
Of bulls, and earth-born foes, must be his death.
Or, should he through these dangers force his way,
At last he must be made the dragon's prey.
If no remorse for such distress I feel,
I am a tigress, and my breast is steel.
Why do I scruple then to see him slain,

[...] Read more

poem by Ovid
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Katies Been Gone

(by j. r. robertson and r. manuel)
Katies been gone since the spring time;
She wrote one timen sent her love.
Katies been gone for such a long time now.
I wonder what kind of love shes thinkin of.
Dear katie,
If you can hear me,
I cant wait to have ya near me.
Oh, katie, since ya caught that bus,
Well, I just dont know how things are with us.
Im still here and youre out there.
Katie laughed when I said I was lonely.
She said, theres no need tfeel that way.
Katie said that I was her only one,
But then I wonder why she didnt wanna stay.
Dear katie, if Im the only one,
How much longer will you be gone?
Oh, katie, wont ya tell me straight:
How much longer do I have to wait?
Ill believe you,
But please come through.
I know its wrong to be apart this long;
You should be here, near me.
Katies been gone and now her face is slowly fading from my mind.
Shes gone to find some newer places,
Left the old life far behind.
Dear katie, dont ya miss your home?
I dont see why you had to roam.
Dear katie, since youve been away
I lose a little something every day
I need you here, but youre still out there.
Dear katie, please drop me a line,
Just write, love, to tell me youre fine.
Oh, katie, if you can hear me,
I just cant wait to have you near me.
I can only think
Where are you,
What ya do, may be theres someone new.

song performed by Bob Dylan
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tale XVII

RESENTMENT.

Females there are of unsuspicious mind,
Easy and soft and credulous and kind;
Who, when offended for the twentieth time,
Will hear the offender and forgive the crime:
And there are others whom, like these to cheat,
Asks but the humblest efforts of deceit;
But they, once injured, feel a strong disdain,
And, seldom pardoning, never trust again;
Urged by religion, they forgive--but yet
Guard the warm heart, and never more forget:
Those are like wax--apply them to the fire,
Melting, they take th' impressions you desire;
Easy to mould and fashion as you please,
And again moulded with an equal ease:
Like smelted iron these the forms retain,
But once impress'd, will never melt again.
A busy port a serious Merchant made
His chosen place to recommence his trade;
And brought his Lady, who, their children dead,
Their native seat of recent sorrow fled:
The husband duly on the quay was seen,
The wife at home became at length serene;
There in short time the social couple grew
With all acquainted, friendly with a few;
When the good lady, by disease assail'd,
In vain resisted--hope and science fail'd:
Then spoke the female friends, by pity led,
'Poor merchant Paul! what think ye? will he wed?
A quiet, easy, kind, religious man,
Thus can he rest?--I wonder if he can.'
He too, as grief subsided in his mind,
Gave place to notions of congenial kind:
Grave was the man, as we have told before;
His years were forty--he might pass for more;
Composed his features were, his stature low,
His air important, and his motion slow:
His dress became him, it was neat and plain,
The colour purple, and without a stain;
His words were few, and special was his care
In simplest terms his purpose to declare;
A man more civil, sober, and discreet,
More grave and corteous, you could seldom meet:
Though frugal he, yet sumptuous was his board,
As if to prove how much he could afford;
For though reserved himself, he loved to see
His table plenteous, and his neighbours free:
Among these friends he sat in solemn style,
And rarely soften'd to a sober smile:

[...] Read more

poem by George Crabbe
Added by Poetry Lover
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Rosta Man

(vanilla ice, w. stallings, craig pride)
Strictly from the islands, vanilla ice
The man jam down reggae music
Mash it up ice, mash it
I got the rhyme to keep the body pumpin
Turn the party out while the people are jumpin
Reggae style at the top of my list
Is hitting real hard like mike tysons fist
It is so good that the girlies goin crazy
Vanillas on the mic and you know Im not lazy
Im pumpin up the lyrics in a smooth way
I drop em like a bum rush much as what we say
The other mcs try to duplicate
But with the rosta man they just mediate
Rosta man you be jammin so smooth
You rockin on the mic and you can only improve
Rosta man you know you sound so sweet
I like the way you put the lyrics to the funky beat
Ah rae rue, re rae rah
Reggae rock has the style to chase the blues away
Ah rae rue, re rae rah
Reggae rock has the style to chase the blues away
Me and i, myself and you
The rosta man, deshay and the rest of my crew
Reggae musics been around for a while
Vanilla ice is doin it the hip hop style
Because this is the one that we call the rae rue
Everybody out there you know just what to do
Just clap your hands and stomp your feet
Move around to the sound of the reggae beat
No push, no fall, no shove, no trip
The rosta man wants you get with it
(repeat chorus)
Well the people out there let me hear you scream
If you want to get down and you want to be seen
Then jump up my man, do the rosta man
Move your head up and down to the reggae jam
Just shake your arms and move your hips
All you females out there let me shake your
And just get down like youre makin love
All you people who believe in God above
(repeat chorus)
From the ah rae rue, the re rae rah
The jack tar village in jamaica
Ocho rios or the way to kingston
If we go back to the homeland again
Back on tour from city to city
Rollin with the girls with the big, big ahhh...
Pity the fool who step it to me
I drop em like a fly, I better get the flea

[...] Read more

song performed by Vanilla Ice
Added by Lucian Velea
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Malcolm's Katie: A Love Story - Part V.

Said the high hill, in the morning: 'Look on me--
'Behold, sweet earth, sweet sister sky, behold
'The red flames on my peaks, and how my pines
'Are cressets of pure gold; my quarried scars
'Of black crevase and shadow-fill'd canon,
'Are trac'd in silver mist. How on my breast
'Hang the soft purple fringes of the night;
'Close to my shoulder droops the weary moon,
'Dove-pale, into the crimson surf the sun
'Drives up before his prow; and blackly stands
'On my slim, loftiest peak, an eagle, with
'His angry eyes set sunward, while his cry
'Falls fiercely back from all my ruddy heights;
'And his bald eaglets, in their bare, broad nest,
'Shrill pipe their angry echoes: ''Sun, arise,
''And show me that pale dove, beside her nest,
''Which I shall strike with piercing beak and tear
''With iron talons for my hungry young.''
And that mild dove, secure for yet a space,
Half waken'd, turns her ring'd and glossy neck
To watch dawn's ruby pulsing on her breast,
And see the first bright golden motes slip down
The gnarl'd trunks about her leaf-deep nest,
Nor sees nor fears the eagle on the peak.

* * * * *

'Aye, lassie, sing--I'll smoke my pipe the while,
'And let it be a simple, bonnie song,
'Such as an old, plain man can gather in
'His dulling ear, and feel it slipping thro'
'The cold, dark, stony places of his heart.'
'Yes, sing, sweet Kate,' said Alfred in her ear;
'I often heard you singing in my dreams
'When I was far away the winter past.'
So Katie on the moonlit window lean'd,
And in the airy silver of her voice
Sang of the tender, blue 'Forget-me-not.'

Could every blossom find a voice,
And sing a strain to me;
I know where I would place my choice,
Which my delight should be.
I would not choose the lily tall,
The rose from musky grot;
But I would still my minstrel call
The blue 'Forget-me-not!'

And I on mossy bank would lie
Of brooklet, ripp'ling clear;

[...] Read more

poem by Isabella Valancy Crawford
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Jewel Eyed Judy

Written by danny kirwan, mick fleetwood, and john mcvie.
Moonshine time
Thoughts of you
Spinning round
As thoughts do
I just wondered if
Your eyes still shine
As they did
When you were mine
I can see
In a dream
Thougts so clear
And jewels that gleam
Would your eyes
Still sparkle then
If we were, once again
Jewel eyed judy please come home
Jewel eyed judy dont leave me alone
Jewel eyed judy please come home
Jewel eyed judy dont leave me alone
Lovely judy
Can you see
Where it is
Youre meant to be
Where you lay
Your head tonight
May the stars
Find your light
So am i
Sitting here
Moonlight glistens
On my tears
Is this all
That we could find
Chains of memories
Left behind
Jewel eyed judy please come home
Jewel eyed judy dont leave me alone
Jewel eyed judy please come home
Jewel eyed judy dont leave me alone

song performed by Fleetwood Mac
Added by Lucian Velea
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Soul Psychodelicide

Can we talk about soul?
Good Judy wanna dance 2 this?
Listen Cash, I do believe
I do believe that I wanna battle 2night
Listen Cash (Ooh)
Don't be sad, there's nothing wrong with your player
We have taken control as we bring U the new power
CHORUS:
Soul Psychodelicide (It's a heavenly thing)
Soul Psychodelicide (It's a heavenly thing)
Soul Psychodelicide (It's a heavenly thing)
Soul Psychodelicide
The maxi-pump of power
Good Judy wanna fly the kite
The maxi-pump of sheer delight
Guaranteed 2 pump your body right
Damn skippy, we been here before
Were just comin' on harder now
Hard on this feeling
Holy steppin on solid ground (Oh-we-oh)
Good Judy wanna hear us sing?
CHORUS
(The maxi-pump)
(U wanna try it 2night?)
All over the world theres a new soul goin' on
Brand new singer singin' a brand new song
Of an age-old story, still got 2 be told
The spirit can't be bought and it can't be sold
Because it dwells so deep inside U
No king could put it there
2 get it, U gotta want it, U gotta need it, U gotta care
I'm talkin' about
CHORUS
Good Judy gotta dance 2 this
Every time U cock it I can hit U on the up
I got a funky drummer and he just can't get enough
If U cannot cock it 'less the bass is on the floor
Then I'll have my mixer give U just a little more (Oh-we-oh)
I wanna battle 2night
Good Judy over there with the smoking jacket on
Look at that body pumpin'
Move that body strong (Oh-we-oh)
(Soul Psychodelicide) {x2}
Damn skippy, we been here before
Were just comin' on harder now
Hard on this feeling
Holy steppin on solid ground (Oh-we-oh {x2})
(Soul Psychodelicide)
Judy gon say that? (Oh-we-oh) (Soul Psychodelicide)
Judy wanna hear me sing?

[...] Read more

song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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Gunner Joe

I'll tell you a seafaring story,
Of a lad who won honour and fame
Wi' Nelson at Battle 'Trafalgar,
Joe Moggeridge, that were his name.

He were one of the crew of the Victory,
His job when a battle begun
Was to take cannon balls out o' basket
And shove 'em down front end o' gun.

One day him and Nelson were boxing,
The compass, like sailor lads do.
When 'Ardy comes up wi' a spyglass,
And pointing, says "'Ere, take a screw!"

They looked to were 'Ardy were pointing,
And saw lots o' ships in a row.
Joe says abrupt like but respectful,
"'Oratio lad, yon's the foe."

'What say we attack 'em?' says Nelson,
Says Joe 'Nay lad, not today.'
And 'Ardy says, 'Aye, well let's toss up.'
'Oratio answers 'Okay.'

They tossed... it were heads for attacking,
And tails for t'other way 'bout.
Joe lent them his two-headed penny,
So the answer was never in doubt.

When penny came down 'ead side uppards,
They was in for a do it were plain,
And Joe murmered 'Shiver me timbers.'
And Nelson kissed 'Ardy again.

And then, taking flags out o' locker,
'E strung out a message on high.
'T were all about England and duty,
Crew thought they was 'ung out to dry.

They got the guns ready for action,
And that gave 'em trouble enough.
They 'adn't been fired all the summer,
And touch-holes were bunged up wi' fluff.

Joe's cannon, it weren't 'alf a corker,
The cannon balls went three foot round.
They wasn't no toy balloons either,
They weighed close on sixty-five pound.

[...] Read more

poem by Marriott Edgar
Added by Poetry Lover
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