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Savages [Ben and Chon Find Out O Has Been Kidnapped]

Cast: Taylor Kitsch, Aaron Johnson, Salma Hayek

clip from Savages, directed by Oliver Stone (2012)
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Handles Bermuda

bean bag spokane
betty boop retro bowling bag
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benefits of heavy bag use
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b ean bags bulk
bean bag toss tailgate games
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beresford packaging plastic bags
bean bag store toronto
ben sherman messenger bags
bejui bags
beijo bags

[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Luggage Canada

b ean bag stoer
bed liner motorcycle bags
bern aby bag
bed in a bag ty pennington
beetle bags roadstar midnight star
bean bag chairs burbank
bedroom in a bag justine
bean bag guns for purchase
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bed in a bag pink paisley
belt bag tool belt
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bennington golf travel bag
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bean bag stuffing material
bean bag plastic pellets
beijo business bags pastel blue
belkin messenger bag
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beth any bag
bean bag chair indigo denim print
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betty boop harley bag
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ben hogan golf mystique stand bag
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bean bag shells shotgun

[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Canto the Eighth

I
Oh blood and thunder! and oh blood and wounds!
These are but vulgar oaths, as you may deem,
Too gentle reader! and most shocking sounds:
And so they are; yet thus is Glory's dream
Unriddled, and as my true Muse expounds
At present such things, since they are her theme,
So be they her inspirers! Call them Mars,
Bellona, what you will -- they mean but wars.

II
All was prepared -- the fire, the sword, the men
To wield them in their terrible array.
The army, like a lion from his den,
March'd forth with nerve and sinews bent to slay, --
A human Hydra, issuing from its fen
To breathe destruction on its winding way,
Whose heads were heroes, which cut off in vain
Immediately in others grew again.

III
History can only take things in the gross;
But could we know them in detail, perchance
In balancing the profit and the loss,
War's merit it by no means might enhance,
To waste so much gold for a little dross,
As hath been done, mere conquest to advance.
The drying up a single tear has more
Of honest fame, than shedding seas of gore.

IV
And why? -- because it brings self-approbation;
Whereas the other, after all its glare,
Shouts, bridges, arches, pensions from a nation,
Which (it may be) has not much left to spare,
A higher title, or a loftier station,
Though they may make Corruption gape or stare,
Yet, in the end, except in Freedom's battles,
Are nothing but a child of Murder's rattles.

V
And such they are -- and such they will be found:
Not so Leonidas and Washington,
Whose every battle-field is holy ground,
Which breathes of nations saved, not worlds undone.
How sweetly on the ear such echoes sound!
While the mere victor's may appal or stun
The servile and the vain, such names will be
A watchword till the future shall be free.

[...] Read more

poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
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Johnson’s Antidote

Down along the Snakebite River, where the overlanders camp,
Where the serpents are in millions, all of the most deadly stamp;
Where the station-cook in terror, nearly every time he bakes,
Mixes up among the doughboys half-a-dozen poison-snakes:
Where the wily free-selector walks in armour-plated pants,
And defies the stings of scorpions, and the bites of bull-dog ants:
Where the adder and the viper tear each other by the throat,—
There it was that William Johnson sought his snake-bite antidote.
Johnson was a free-selector, and his brain went rather queer,
For the constant sight of serpents filled him with a deadly fear;
So he tramped his free-selection, morning, afternoon, and night,
Seeking for some great specific that would cure the serpent’s bite.
Till King Billy, of the Mooki, chieftain of the flour-bag head,
Told him, “Spos’n snake bite pfeller, pfeller mostly drop down dead;
Spos’n snake bite old goanna, then you watch a while you see,
Old goanna cure himself with eating little pfeller tree.”
“That’s the cure,” said William Johnson, “point me out this plant sublime,”
But King Billy, feeling lazy, said he’d go another time.
Thus it came to pass that Johnson, having got the tale by rote,
Followed every stray goanna, seeking for the antidote.

. . . . .
Loafing once beside the river, while he thought his heart would break,
There he saw a big goanna fighting with a tiger-snake,
In and out they rolled and wriggled, bit each other, heart and soul,
Till the valiant old goanna swallowed his opponent whole.
Breathless, Johnson sat and watched him, saw him struggle up the bank,
Saw him nibbling at the branches of some bushes, green and rank;
Saw him, happy and contented, lick his lips, as off he crept,
While the bulging in his stomach showed where his opponent slept.
Then a cheer of exultation burst aloud from Johnson’s throat;
“Luck at last,” said he, “I’ve struck it! ’tis the famous antidote.

“Here it is, the Grand Elixir, greatest blessing ever known,—
Twenty thousand men in India die each year of snakes alone.
Think of all the foreign nations, negro, chow, and blackamoor,
Saved from sudden expiration, by my wondrous snakebite cure.
It will bring me fame and fortune! In the happy days to be,
Men of every clime and nation will be round to gaze on me—
Scientific men in thousands, men of mark and men of note,
Rushing down the Mooki River, after Johnson’s antidote.
It will cure delirium tremens, when the patient’s eyeballs stare
At imaginary spiders, snakes which really are not there.
When he thinks he sees them wriggle, when he thinks he sees them bloat,
It will cure him just to think of Johnson’s Snakebite Antidote.”

Then he rushed to the museum, found a scientific man—
“Trot me out a deadly serpent, just the deadliest you can;
I intend to let him bite me, all the risk I will endure,

[...] Read more

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Johnson, alias Crow

Where the seasons are divided and the bush begins to change,
and the links are rather broken in the Great Dividing Range;
where the atmosphere is hazy underneath the summer sky,
lies the little town of Eton, rather westward of Mackay.
Near the township, in the graveyard, where the dead of Eton go,
lies the body of a sinner known as “Johnson alias Crow”.
He was sixty-four was Johnson, and in other days, lang syne,
was apprenticed to a ship-wright in the land across the Rhine;
but, whatever were his prospects in the days of long ago,
things went very bad with Johnson—Heinrich Johnson (alias Crow).
He, at Eton—where he drifted in his age, a stranded wreck—
got three pounds by false pretences, in connection with a cheque.
But he didn’t long enjoy it, the police soon got to know;
and the lockup closed on Johnson, lonely Johnson alias Crow.
Friday night, and Crow retired, feeling, as he said, unwell;
and the warder heard the falling of a body in the cell.
Going in, the warder saw him bent with pain and crouching low—
Death had laid his hand on Johnson, Heinrich Johnson, alias Crow.
Then the constable bent o’er him—asked him where he felt the pain. Johnson only said, “I’m dying”—and he never spoke again.
They had waited for a witness, and the local people say
Johnson’s trial would have ended on that very Saturday;
but he took his case for judgment where our cases all must go,
and the higher court is trying Heinrich Johnson (alias Crow).

poem by Henry Lawson
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Dr Samuel Johnson's Dictionary Masterpiece

June 1746 deeply dissatisfied
with the dictionaries of the period
London booksellers contracted

Dr Samuel Johnson to write
'A Dictionary of the English Language'
15 April 1755 finally published.

Johnson took nine years to create
an authoritative dictionary of the English language
could finish in three years he claimed?

Preposterous Académie Française employed;
in comparison over forty learned scholars
spending needing forty years to complete;

its dictionary in the French language.
Forty Frenchmen times forty years
is not nine but 1600 years to complete.

Miracle miracle Johnson 1591 years defeats.
For what princely sum did Johnson contract
with William Strahan and printer associates;

a preeminent Dictionary in English to complete?
18 June 1746 in historic morning was signed
a project prestigious contact worth 1,500 guineas?

This sum of 1,500 guineas is
in pounds £1,575 equivalent
in 2012 to about £230,000.

A consortium of London's most
successful printers including Robert
Dodsley, Thomas Longman, would

finance a dictionary none could afford;
on such scale to undertake alone, thus was
contracted to be; a meticulous feat of legend.

Twas said 'the world contemplated
with wonder so stupendous a work achieved
by one man, while other countries

had thought such undertakings
fit only for whole academies'.'
OED took writers 70 years to complete.

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Hall Of Justice

Part I

VAGRANT.

Take, take away thy barbarous hand,
And let me to thy Master speak;
Remit awhile the harsh command,
And hear me, or my heart will break.

MAGISTRATE.

Fond wretch! and what canst thou relate,
But deeds of sorrow, shame, and sin?
Thy crime is proved, thou know'st thy fate;
But come, thy tale!--begin, begin! -

VAGRANT.

My crime!--This sick'ning child to feed.
I seized the food, your witness saw;
I knew your laws forbade the deed,
But yielded to a stronger law.

Know'st thou, to Nature's great command
All human laws are frail and weak?
Nay! frown not--stay his eager hand,
And hear me, or my heart will break.

In this, th' adopted babe I hold
With anxious fondness to my breast,
My heart's sole comfort I behold,
More dear than life, when life was blest;
I saw her pining, fainting, cold,
I begg'd--but vain was my request.

I saw the tempting food, and seized -
My infant-sufferer found relief;
And in the pilfer'd treasure pleased,
Smiled on my guilt, and hush'd my grief.

But I have griefs of other kind,
Troubles and sorrows more severe;
Give me to ease my tortured mind,
Lend to my woes a patient ear;
And let me--if I may not find
A friend to help--find one to hear.

Yet nameless let me plead--my name
Would only wake the cry of scorn;
A child of sin, conceived in shame,

[...] Read more

poem by George Crabbe
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Savages

Cast: Aaron Johnson, Taylor Kitsch, Blake Lively, Emile Hirsch, John Travolta, Salma Hayek, Uma Thurman, Trevor Donovan, Benicio Del Toro, Joel David Moore

trailer for Savages, directed by Oliver Stone (2012)
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I Want Ya Body (feat. Aaron Hall)

(Yukmouth talking with Aaron Hall singing in backgroud)
Oh boy, Uh, Yea, Uh
I see some fly ladies in the house tonight
Uh, Yea, Me and my nigga A. Hall in this bitch
Hey my nigga we do the video we goin' straight to Brazil my nigga
Believe it
[Verse 1]
(Yukmouth)
You can tell its the summer
Girls in the Hummer
And the new Porsche, Boss Ballers, Tycoons
Swimming pool, Hoop course, Golf course
Miami beach house, Off shore
Hardcore, Sophmore, This album I floss more
Pull up in the Bentley Azure, Just me and A. Hall
Kidnap ya broad, Make her go awol
Real nasty broad who could swallow a eightball
Make a classy broad and model say I hate y'all
Or maybe because I date y'all, shake y'all
Replace y'all with a Daytona spring break broad
Real ballers pop Cris by the case dogg
Haters drink eggnog, Recognize like Nate Dogg
Shake Shake, Move ya body like a snake ma
Every night a hundred g's in ya face ma
Please believe me, Yuk and A. Hezzy
Get it crunk fa sheezy, Slut take it easy
Yea
[Chorus]
(Aaron Hall)
I gotta have ya body
Gotta have ya body
On and on and on an it go like
Anyway you want me to get you away
Your wish is my command, Baby
I gotta have ya body
Gotta have ya body
On and on and on an it go like
Anyway you want me to get you away
Your wish is my command, Baby
[Verse 2]
(Yukmouth and Aaron Hall)
We drinkin' Remy Martin, Mixed with Hypnotiq
All my alcholics, Incredible Hulk it
(Yukmouth)
I live it, I walk it, Talk it
Bad bitch in the cockpit of the Aston Martin
We got this, Hot chick with a body like a hourglass
Pokin' out the Frankie B. jeans, Matchin' Prada bag
I like girls with alot a ass
Long hair, Lotta class, She like dudes with alot a cash

[...] Read more

song performed by Yukmouth
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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
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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
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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
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Tom Johnson's Quit

A passel o' the boys last night--
An' me amongst 'em--kindo got
To talkin' Temper'nce left an' right,
An' workin' up 'blue-ribbon,' _hot_;
An' while we was a-countin' jes'
How many bed gone into hit
An' signed the pledge, some feller says,--
'Tom Johnson's quit!'

We laughed, of course--'cause Tom, you know,
_He's_ spiled more whisky, boy an' man,
And seed more trouble, high an' low,
Than any chap but Tom could stand:
And so, says I '_He's_ too nigh dead.
Far Temper'nce to benefit!'
The feller sighed agin, and said--
'Tom Johnson's quit!'

We all _liked_ Tom, an' that was why
We sorto simmered down agin,
And ast the feller ser'ously
Ef he wa'n't tryin' to draw us in:
He shuck his head--tuck off his hat--
Helt up his hand an' opened hit,
An' says, says he, 'I'll _swear_ to that--
Tom Johnson's quit!'

Well, we was stumpt, an' tickled too,--
Because we knowed ef Tom _had_ signed
Ther wa'n't no man 'at wore the 'blue'
'At was more honester inclined:
An' then and there we kindo riz,--
The hull dern gang of us 'at bit--
An' th'owed our hats and let 'er whizz,--
'_Tom Johnson's quit!_'

I've heerd 'em holler when the balls
Was buzzin' 'round us wus 'n bees,
An' when the ole flag on the walls
Was flappin' o'er the enemy's,
I've heerd a-many a wild 'hooray'
'At made my heart git up an' git--
But Lord!--to hear 'em shout that way!--
'_Tom Johnson's quit!_'

But when we saw the chap 'at fetched
The news wa'n't jinin' in the cheer,
But stood there solemn-like, an' reched
An' kindo wiped away a tear,
We someway sorto' stilled agin,

[...] Read more

poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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You & Me

Im not going out tonight
cos I dont want to go
I am staying at home tonight
cos I dont want to know
You revealed a world to me
And I would never be
Dwelling in such happiness,
Your gift of purity
Eh-ee-oh, eh-ee-oh,
Eh-ee-oh, eh-ee-oh x2
Aahh, you and me it will always be
You and me forever be,
Eternally it will always be you and me
Taylor, taylor, taylor, taylor
I dont pay attention
To the ones who never cared
Find your own direction
cos theres sweetness in the air
You will be the world to me
And I will always be
Dwelling in this happiness,
Your gift of purity
Eh-ee-oh, eh-ee-oh,
Eh-ee-oh, eh-ee-oh x2
Aahh, you and me will always be
You and me forever be,
Eternally will always be
You and me
Always be you and me
Forever be, eternally
It will always be you and me
Forever be, eternally
Taylor, taylor x4

song performed by Cranberries
Added by Lucian Velea
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Taylor Swift- Narrative Poem

Listen my children and you shall hear,
The life story of Taylor Swift loud and clear.
How she touched the hearts of many,
With her amazing songs plenty.

She was born and raised in Wyomissing, Pennsylvania land.
She wrote songs when she felt her social life was offhand.
Taylor always had trouble fitting in.
She always got knocked down like a social bowling pin.

A computer repairman taught her the guitar to play.
He taught her only three chords and she learned the rest someway.
Now she has 6 albums,66 songs, and 10 hit singles.
This breath-taking celebrity came from a timid girl who mingled.

She has had many songs that topped charts.
Her songs are always written straight from her heart.
Her first song was written when she was thirteen.
Taylor wrote songs when she needed to come clean.

Taylor Swift writes her songs about her personal life.
About break-ups, make-ups, and love strive.
"My goal is to never write songs that my fans can't relate to"
Just about every girl feels one or two of her songs that tell their story true.

In 2009, Taylor won the Best Music Video CMA award.
She was so excited and adored.
But then Kanye West ran up and took the microphone
And the event of how he protested that she didn't deserve it is well known

She is very humorous and comical
She is more average and normal,
Than some may think she is.
She's just a teenager trying to have fun and fit in like the rest of us.

Taylor doesn't have a "Love Story".
She also has "Beautiful Eyes"
She knows that she's "…not a princess. This ain't a fairy tale"
She knows when to "Jump than fall".

poem by Khloe Chace
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Sprinkle drinkle in the bar

Sprinkle drinkle in the bar
how I wonder what side car
I’ll rush into as some knight
whets my blurry appetite.
Drinkle, twinkle, little bar –
only hope you’re up to par!

When to blazes one is gone
ten more line up for the fun,
can I, canned, quite see the light,
can I dream of selenite?
Drinkle drinkle nothing bar –
spare a dropp for grandmama!

When rich traveller in the dark
thanks one for the little lark
two play at in dark car park,
take him for a ride stripped stark.
One should thank that lucky star
and save a tip[ple] for mamma!

But – night’s curtains rise – still keep
all Tom’s change to pay for peep,
one should never shut an eye
till its time to say goodbye!
Drinkle’s cost? - what’s lost won’t count
[hope it is a large amount] J

As his drooping tiny spark
stands not on ceremony, mark,
one should heave par[s]ting remark -
“ciao” then leave him in the dark!
Drinkle, drinkle little bar
Closing time’s the best by far!

When at last Night’s curtain falls
Knight takes no more curtain calls,
see his bark grow[l] worse than bite –
both, if witnessed, could indict –...
Help I’m summoned to the bar
no-contest? judgement won by star?

19 March 2005 Parody Ann & Jane TAYLOR The Star, William Blake Tyger

'The Star'

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are!

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Write A Song

This is a song
And I'm holding a guitar
I'm pouring out my long
And lonely heart

Now I know why Taylor said
What she said about teardrops
On her guitar
Every time I'm hurting I
Turn Taylor on
I pick up my guitar
And write a song

I say I'm not over you
But I think I'm moving on
I'm wandering in this desert
Going on and on and on

Now I know why Taylor said
What she said about teardrops
On her guitar
Every time I'm hurting I
Turn Taylor on
I pick up my guitar
And write a song

Drew didn't hurt me
But I still feel the pain
Every time I think of you
Hugging me on that very last day

Now I know why Taylor said
What she said about teardrops
On her guitar
Every time I'm hurting I
Turn Taylor on
I pick up my guitar
And write a song

poem by Nicki Luvetti
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The Monster Diamond

A TALE OF THE PENAL COLONY OF WEST AUSTRALIA.

'I’LL have it, I tell you! Curse you!—there!'
The long knife glittered, was sheathed, and was bare.
The sawyer staggered and tripped and fell,
And falling he uttered a frightened yell:
His face to the sky, he shuddered and gasped,
And tried to put from him the man he had grasped
A moment before in the terrible strife.
'I'll have it, I tell you, or have your life!
Where is it?' The sawyer grew weak, but still
His brown face gleamed with a desperate will.
'Where is it?' he heard, and the red knife's drip
In his slayer's hand fell down on his lip.
'Will you give it?' 'Never!' A curse, the knife
Was raised and buried.

Thus closed the life
Of Samuel Jones, known as 'Number Ten'
On his Ticket-of-Leave; and of all the men
In the Western Colony, bond or free,
None had manlier heart or hand than he.

In digging a sawpit, while all alone,—
For his mate was sleeping,—Sam struck a stone
With the edge of the spade, and it gleamed like fire,
And looked at Sam from its bed in the mire,
Till he dropped the spade and stooped and raised
The wonderful stone that glittered and blazed
As if it were mad at the spade's rude blow;
But its blaze set the sawyer's heart aglow
As he looked and trembled, then turned him round,
And crept from the pit, and lay on the ground,
Looking over the mold-heap at the camp
Where his mate still slept. Then down to the swamp
He ran with the stone, and washed it bright,
And felt like a drunken man at the sight
Of a diamond pure as spring-water and sun,
And larger than ever man's eyes looked on!

Then down sat Sam with the stone on his knees,
And fancies came to him, like swarms of bees
To a sugar-creamed hive; and he dreamed awake
Of the carriage and four in which he'd take
His pals from the Dials to Drury Lane,
The silks and the satins for Susan Jane,
The countless bottles of brandy and beer
He'd call for and pay for, and every year
The dinner he'd give to the Brummagem lads,—

[...] Read more

poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
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Johnson's Boy

The world is turned ag'in' me,
And people says, 'They guess
That nothin' else is in me
But pure maliciousness!'
I git the blame for doin'
What other chaps destroy,
And I'm a-goin' to ruin
Because I'm 'Johnson's boy.'

THAT ain't my name--I'd ruther
They'd call me IKE or PAT--
But they've forgot the other--
And so have _I_, for that!
I reckon it's as handy,
When Nibsy breaks his toy,
Or some one steals his candy,
To say 'twas 'JOHNSON'S BOY!'

You can't git any water
At the pump, and find the spout
So durn chuck-full o' mortar
That you have to bore it out;
You tackle any scholar
In Wisdom's wise employ,
And I'll bet you half a dollar
He'll say it's 'Johnson's boy!'

Folks don't know how I suffer
In my uncomplainin' way--
They think I'm gittin' tougher
And tougher every day.
Last Sunday night, when Flinder
Was a-shoutin' out for joy,
And some one shook the winder,
He prayed for 'Johnson's boy.'

I'm tired of bein' follered
By farmers every day,
And then o' bein' collared
For coaxin' hounds away;
Hounds always plays me double--
It's a trick they all enjoy--
To git me into trouble,
Because I'm 'Johnson's boy.'

But if I git to Heaven,
I hope the Lord'll see
SOME boy has been perfect,
And lay it on to me;
I'll swell the song sonorous,

[...] Read more

poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Added by Poetry Lover
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Savages [Dennis Advises Ben and Chon to Take the Cartel's Deal]

Cast: John Travolta, Taylor Kitsch, Aaron Johnson

clip from Savages, directed by Oliver Stone (2012)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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