The Bourne Legacy [Aaron Finds Out That Marta Doesn't Know His Real Name]
Cast: Jeremy Renner, Rachel Weisz
clip from The Bourne Legacy, directed by Tony Gilroy (2012)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Jacob's Wives
These are the words of Jacob’s wives, the words
Which Leah spake and Rachel to his ears,
When, in the shade at eventide, he sat
By the tent door, a palm-tree overhead,
A spring beside him, and the sheep around.
And Rachel spake and said, The nightfall comes
Night, which all day I wait for, and for thee.
And Leah also spake, The day is done;
My lord with toil is weary and would rest.
And Rachel said, Come, O my Jacob, come;
And we will think we sit beside the well,
As in that day, the long long years agone,
When first I met thee with my father’s flock.
And Leah said, Come, Israel, unto me;
And thou shalt reap an harvest of fair sons,
E’en as before I bare thee goodly babes;
For when was Leah fruitless to my lord?
And Rachel said, Ah come! as then thou cam’st,
Come once again to set thy seal of love;
As then, down bending, when the sheep had drunk,
Thou settedst it, my shepherd O sweet seal!
Upon the unwitting, half-foretasting lips,
Which, shy and trembling, thirsted yet for thine
As cattle thirsted never for the spring.
And Leah answered, Are not these their names
As Reuben, Simeon, Levi, Judah four?
Like four young saplings by the water’s brim,
Where straining rivers through the great plain wind
Four saplings soon to rise to goodly trees
Four trees whose growth shall cast an huger shade
Than ever yet on river-side was seen.
And Rachel said, And shall it be again
As, when dissevered far, unheard, alone,
Consumed in bitter anger all night long,
I moaned and wept, while, silent and discreet,
One reaped the fruit of love that Rachel’s was
Upon the breast of him that knew her not?
And Leah said, And was it then a wrong
That, in submission to a father’s word,
Trembling yet hopeful, to that bond I crept,
Which God hath greatly prospered, and my lord,
Content, in after-wisdom not disowned,
[...] Read more
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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How the Boy Stole Christmas
Based on 'How the Grinch Stole Christmas', by Dr. Seuss.
Done for a school project=)
Once, upon a falling snowflake,
In a land far, far away,
There lived all the Whats,
Preparing for Christmas day.
There was one What that stuck out,
The richest What of them all,
He had light brown hair, and big brown eyes
His given name was Paul.
Paul was a greedy boy,
His best friend was Ebenezer Scrooge
And anytime Paul lied,
His little nose turned huge!
Paul was the only What in Whattown,
That really hated this time of the year,
He ruined all the children’s fun,
His pranks were in full gear.
Paul thought Christmas was just trouble,
He only thought of himself,
He thought that Santa Claus was stupid,
And hurt the feelings of every single elf.
He hated everybody that liked Christmas,
There was only one exception of his,
A beautiful What named Rachel,
Whom he never wanted to diss.
Now every story has a problem,
And this one’s is pretty big,
Paul crushed on the Christmas-lover Rachel,
But Rachel thought Paul was a pig.
You see, Rachel was an EXTREME Christmas fanatic,
Loving every aspect of it,
She volunteered everywhere that she could,
And her money? Donated every bit.
She helped out at school and Church,
Sang carols at the old folks’ home,
Baked cookies with younger children,
Made ornaments out of foam.
Rachel hated anybody that hated Christmas,
She was like a packaged deal,
[...] Read more
poem by Selina Marie
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Blush Response
[rachel:]
Do you like our owl?
[deckard:]
Is it artificial?
[rachel:]
Of course it is
[deckard:]
Must be expensive
[rachel:]
Very
[rachel:]
Im rachel
[deckard:]
Deckard
[rachel:]
Its seems you feel our work is not a benefit to the public
[deckard:]
Replicants are like any other machines
They are either a benefit or a hazard
If theyre a benefit, its not my problem
[rachel:]
May I ask you a personal question?
[deckard:]
Sure
[rachel:]
Have you ever retired a human, by mistake?
[deckard:]
No [rachel:]
But in your position that is a risk
[tyrell:]
Is this to be an empathy test?
Capilary dilation of the so called blush response
... fluctuation of the pupil
Involuntary dilation of the iris
[deckard:]
We call it voight-kampf for short
[note: named after the people who developed this test]
[rachel:]
Mr. deckard, dr. elden tyrell
[tyrell:]
Demonstrate it. I want to see it work
[deckard:]
Were is the subject?
[tyrell:]
I want to see it work on a person
I want to see a negative before I provide you with a positive
[deckard:]
Whats that gonna prove?
[tyrell:]
Indulge me
[...] Read more
song performed by Vangelis
Added by Lucian Velea
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Allegany Camp
amazing grace circus camp
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amelia earhart in japanese war camp
[...] Read more
poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Little Rachel
By jim byfield
You dont need no high i.q.
To get right down and sing the blues.
If youre down, heres what to do;
Me and my guitar will sing for you.
Oh, little rachel, oh.
Oh, little rachel, oh.
Oh, little rachel, oh.
Oh, little rachel, oh.
I got a box and an old whisk broom.
We gonna rock around the room.
When my guitar plays this tune,
We gonna dance to the light of the moon.
Chorus
What you feel, that aint no jive.
The get down sound makes you feel alive.
Chorus
Push it, little rachel, push it.
Push it, little rachel, push it.
Pull it, little rachel, pull it.
Pull it, little rachel, pull it.
song performed by Eric Clapton
Added by Lucian Velea
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Five Get Over Excited
Fun, fun, fun (jeremy)
Me, me, me (fifi)
Take, take, take (jeremy)
Fun, fun, fun
James dean posters on their wall
{five killed in a car-crash}
What a sad little end to it all
{five killed in a car-crash}
Last seen having lots of fun
{five dumped in a river}
Barefoot and on the run
{five dumped in a river}
I am mad from scandinavia
I want a guy in the london area
He must be crazy and sagitarius
cause Im leo and Im hilarious
Fun, fun, fun (jeremy)
Me, me, me (fifi)
Take, take, take (jeremy)
Fun, fun, fun
Last seen drinking daddys own beer
{five poisoned over dinner}
Singing abbas mamma mia
{five poisened over dinner}
Drop dead watching thunderbirds fly
{five get over excited}
Poster on their wall says why?
{five get over excited}
I am guy from camden town
My hair is curly but I gel it down
My clothes are black buyt my bread is brown
Im really into early motown
Fun, fun, fun (jeremy)
Me, me, me (fifi)
Take, take, take (jeremy)
Fun, fun, fun
Feigning concern, a conservative pastime
Makes you feel doubtful right from the start
The expression she pulls is exactlly like last time
Youve got to conclude she just hasnt a heart
song performed by Housemartins
Added by Lucian Velea
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University Of Central Florida Volleyball
universoty of fl youth summer camp
universtiy of cincinnati basketball camp
universtiy of colorado soccer camps
universtiy of louisville football traini
universtiy of utah summer camps
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unknown camp sites
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unlicensed day camp
unlimited enthusiasm camp jump and yell
unlv band camp
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unlv summer football camp 2008
[...] Read more
poem by Caasder Fronds
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A Ballad for Elderly Kids
Now this is the ballad of Jeremy Jones,
And likewise of Bobadil Brown,
Of the Snooks and the Snaggers and Macs and Malones,
And Diggle and Daggle and Down.
In fact, 'tis a song of a fatuous throng.
Which embraces 'the man in the street,'
And the bloke on the 'bus, and a crowd more of us.
And a lot of the people we meet.
Yes, this is the story of Jack and of Jill,
Whose surnames are Snawley or Smith,
And of Public Opinion and National Will,
And samples of Popular Myth.
For Jeremy Jones, as a very small boy,
Was encouraged to struggle for pelf,
And to strive very hard in his own little yard,
But never to think for himself.
Then, Hi-diddle-diddle, the cat and the fiddle,
Come, sing us a nursery rhyme.
For, in spite of our whiskers, we elderly friskers
Are kiddes the most of our time.
So this is the song of the juvenile throng,
And its aunts and its big brother Bill,
Its uncles and cousins, and sisters in dozens,
Louisa and 'Liza and Lill.
Now, Jeremy Jones was exceedingly 'loyal,'
And when any procession went by,
He'd cheer very loud with the rest of the crowd,
Though he honestly couldn't tell why.
He was taught that his 'rulers' toiled hard for his sake,
And promoted the 'general good';
That to meddle with 'customs' was quite a mistake.
And Jones didn't see why he should.
To gird at the 'Order of Things as they Are,'
He was told, was the act of a fool.
He was taught, in effect, to regard with respect
Ev'ry' 'Precedent,' 'Practice' and 'Rule.'
And if we deserted the 'Usual Plan'
He believed that the nation would fall.
So Jones became known as a 'right-thinking man,'
Which meant that he didn't at all.
Oh, Little Miss Muffett, she sat on a tuffet,
But fled from a spider in fright;
For no one haa told her that if she was bolder,
She might have asserted her right.
Ho, rub-a-dub-dub, three men in a tub,
[...] Read more
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Bourne Legacy
Cast: Jeremy Renner, Rachel Weisz, Edward Norton, Oscar Isaac, Joan Allen, Albert Finney, Scott Glenn, David Strathairn
trailer for The Bourne Legacy, directed by Tony Gilroy (2012)
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The Bourne Legacy [trailer 2]
Cast: Jeremy Renner, Rachel Weisz, Edward Norton, Oscar Isaac, Joan Allen, Albert Finney, Scott Glenn, David Strathairn
trailer for The Bourne Legacy, directed by Tony Gilroy (2012)
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Rachel
The story of Rachel is a story of great love,
A story shaped by our Heavenly Father above.
A story of great mystery,
A wonderful story of biblical history.
Of a man in search of the love of his life,
The woman God would provide for a wife.
An epic of a wicked father, who cheated and lied,
A man of faith worked seven years and cried.
When the calendar turned over a fourteenth year,
Jacob would hear Rachel's sweet whisper in his ear.
He would remember a dry and dusty by a well,
And Rachel's beauty as well.
Rachel, to be true to your God is to be true to your self,
Follow the book and gain great spiritual wealth.
You have a natural beauty a delight to behold,
Much like the Rachel of old.
You are bright and willing to achieve,
Set your course drive hard and in Jesus believe.
You have parents old and new who in you delight,
And are watching to see you follow in God's might.
poem by R.K. Hart
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The Portrait of Rachel Fayne
She glided into the studio
And dropped her clothes on the floor,
Gave the artist a pirouette,
And said: 'Do you want any more? '
He shrugged, and told her to take a seat
While he etched the background in,
'I'll paint you draped on the canapé,
I'll tell you, when I begin! '
She wandered naked around the room,
At home in the artist's den,
Rachel Fayne was the model's name,
She'd modelled since she was ten.
From auburn hair to her shapely calves
She'd stared from a hundred scenes,
That hung in frames under different names
As a slave, or a Gypsy Queen.
Her lips were full and her eyes were green,
They'd startled men in the past,
Staring from frames in the galleries,
In the windows of shops they passed,
So haughty and so beautiful,
And beyond the reach of men,
Yet here she'd bare, for all to share
Through the brush in the artist's den!
She hadn't sat for John Durrell
Before, but she knew his work,
The famous 'Woman of Paddington',
The 'Girl by the Friendly Kirk, '
His 'Venus under the Waterfall' -
Her heart had skipped a bit,
As she stared green-eyed in her wounded pride,
Would he never ask her to sit?
The summons came through a friend of hers,
'Be there, first thing in the morn! '
She'd bathed, and powdered her body well
By the light of the breaking dawn,
For John Durrell was a master, skilled
And she knew it would seal her fame,
To be tied to an R.A. masterpiece,
And the famous Durrell name.
'Don't ask too many questions, he's
Intense, and immersed in paint,
He's hard and cold, and inclined to scold
If you don't sit still, or faint,
He'll look at you like a curlicue,
[...] Read more
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Jeremy
Jeremy sits in the sun and he stares at the stripes
On the floor from the bars on the door,
Thinking of rabbits he kept as a child
In a chicken wire cage; he remembers the rage
Of his father the night he made his one call;
The relative stranger who left him to fall
To the mercy of judges with no shield at all.
Now he sits and he stares at the punishing wall.
Jeremy picks up the crayon he saved and he
Writes in the dark and he thinks of the park
And the flowers he gave to the girl with the bells.
He remembers he smile; it was gone at the trial.
Hear the footsteps of night guards patrolling the halls.
There are coughers and talkers who dont sleep at all.
midst the cursewords and worse words
That someone had scrawled
He writes her a poem on the punishing wall.
Mary, sweet mary, its dark and its cold;
Its all of the stories youve ever been told.
Keep the jar on the window, keep the lock on the door.
Keep your mind on the man; keep away from the store.
Oh, jeremy gentle, oh, jeremy kind
As you walk with the thieves and the killers believe
That our numbers are growin; the change has to come.
Put resentment aside; dont turn bitter and die
song performed by Joni Mitchell
Added by Lucian Velea
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Jeremy Engle
Jeremy Engle
Lives in a tangled
Rent controlled apartment
With his communist family
There are books all around them
The dining room table is lacquered
With news clippings
Yellowing badly
They argue at dinner
His brother's friends drop by
To throw a line in or two
About Tolstoy
They all play guitar
And they're all very far away
In their own minds
From the upper west side
Of manhattan
I never got past his
Googly eyes
That looked at me sadly
In mocking surprise
The way a lord looks at his placemat
Or a stain on his tie
It never happened for me
And Jeremy Engle though
Wanted to step through that portal
And try on that other dimension
Of high high browism
Jeremy's hair and brow
Grow very high
And no not I
I'm more of a napkin
Not blessed with the vision
Beyond how I'm matching
The china and wine
Now there are the Engles
Skewering men
And chewing through
Six pounds of venison
I bet they they shot up
In upstate New York
At their uncle's
Jeremy needs me
To wipe off his eye
Some gelatinous thingy
That his brother's rebuttaling
Mouthful let fly
Sometimes all you need is a napkin
Sometimes all you need is a napkin
song performed by Liz Phair
Added by Lucian Velea
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Rebekkah
When Abraham was weak and old
he forced his slave to swear an oath,
while grasping of his member hold:
“Make sure that Isaac plights his troth
to someone from my ancient clan;
from Canaanites don’t choose a damsel;
in Canaan I believe each man
to be a mamzer, girl a mamzelle.”
Everybody knows a mamzer
is repulsive to the Jews,
a cockroach rather than Greg Samsa,
but mamzelle is a word I choose
instead of mademoiselle, for rhyming;
a lot of members of my tribe
like them a lot when they’re good-timing,
though outlawed by the Bible scribe.
The slave asked God to make it clear,
by giving him a secret sign:
“The first young girl who will appear
and bring me water, not cool wine,
should be for Isaac lifelong mate.”
She came, of Bethuel the daughter,
and didn’t cause the slave to wait
until she brought him ice-cold water.
A prompt response, what he’d been urgin’,
occurred at once, and what is more
she was what he had asked for, virgin,
a miracle, I’d say, encore.
Some water for the camels, too,
she brought, precisely as he’d bid,
although she clearly never knew
it was God’s will, because He hid,
as later He would hide when Ruth
by Boaz was allowed to glean.
His hidden will reveals the truth
like daylight coming through a screen,
a scrim that only may be lifted
by those who’re spiritually gifted.
I ought to mention here a point.
Though Canaanite, the slaveman thought
that Abraham might yet appoint
him as his heir, and therefore sought
to lie with that young girl, he knew
he ought to bring back to his lord
for Isaac as a virgin. Clue
for this interpretation find
in language that describes him as
a man, a word that should remind
[...] Read more
poem by Gershon Hepner
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The Santa-Fe Trail (A Humoresque)
I asked the old Negro, "What is that bird that sings so well?" He answered: "That is the Rachel-Jane." "Hasn't it another name, lark, or thrush, or the like?" "No. Jus' Rachel-Jane."
I. IN WHICH A RACING AUTO COMES FROM THE EAST
This is the order of the music of the morning: —
First, from the far East comes but a crooning.
The crooning turns to a sunrise singing.
Hark to the calm -horn, balm -horn, psalm -horn.
Hark to the faint -horn, quaint -horn, saint -horn. . . .
Hark to the pace -horn, chase -horn, race -horn.
And the holy veil of the dawn has gone.
Swiftly the brazen ear comes on.
It burns in the East as the sunrise burns.
I see great flashes where the far trail turns.
Its eyes are lamps like the eyes of dragons.
It drinks gasoline from big red flagons.
Butting through the delicate mists of the morning,
It comes like lightning, goes past roaring.
It will hail all the wind-mills, taunting, ringing,
Dodge the cyclones,
Count the milestones,
On through the ranges the prairie-dog tills—
Scooting past the cattle on the thousand hills. . . .
Ho for the tear-horn, scare-horn, dare-horn,
Ho for the gay -horn, bark -horn, bay -horn.
Ho for Kansas, land that restores us
When houses choke us, and great books bore us!
Sunrise Kansas, harvester's Kansas,
A million men have found you before us.
II. IN WHICH MANY AUTOS PASS WESTWARD
I want live things in their pride to remain.
I will not kill one grasshopper vain
Though he eats a hole in my shirt like a door.
I let him out, give him one chance more.
Perhaps, while he gnaws my hat in his whim,
Grasshopper lyrics occur to him.
I am a tramp by the long trail's border,
Given to squalor, rags and disorder.
I nap and amble and yawn and look,
Write fool-thoughts in my grubby book,
Recite to the children, explore at my ease,
Work when I work, beg when I please,
Give crank-drawings, that make folks stare
[...] Read more
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Dream House
Cast: Daniel Craig, Rachel Weisz, Naomi Watts, Marton Csokas, Claire Geare, Rachel G. Fox, Mark Wilson, Jonathan Potts, Elias Koteas, Gregory Smith
trailer for Dream House, directed by Jim Sheridan, screenplay by David Loucka (2011)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Disobedience
Cast: Rachel McAdams, Rachel Weisz, Alessandro Nivola, Anton Lesser, Nicholas Woodeson, Cara Horgan, Bernardo Santos, Allan Corduner, Alexis Zegerman
trailer for Disobedience, directed by Sebastian Lelio, screenplay, inspired by Naomi Alderman (2017)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Ode to the Sublime Porte
Great Sultan, how wise are thy state compositions!
And oh, above all, I admire that Decree,
In which thou command'st, that all she politicians
Shall forthwith be strangled and cast in the sea.
'Tis my fortune to know a lean Benthamite spinster --
A maid, who her faith in old Jeremy puts;
Who talks, with a lisp, of the "last new Westminster,"
And hopes you're delighted with "Mill upon Gluts";
Who tells you how clever one Mr. Fun-blank is,
How charming his Articles 'gainst the Nobility; --
And assures you that even a gentleman's rank is,
In Jeremy's school, of no sort of utility.
To see her, ye Gods, a new number perusing --
Art. 1 - "On the Needle's variations", by Pl--e;
Art. 2 - By her fav'rite Fun-blank - so amusing!
"Dear man! he makes poetry quite a Law case."
Art. 3 -"Upon Fallacies", Jeremy's own --
(Chief Fallacy being, his hope to find readers); -
Art. 4 - "Upon Honesty", author unkown; --
Art. 5 - (by the young Mr. M--) "Hints to Breeders".
Oh, Sultan, oh, Sultan, though oft for the bag
And the bowstring, like thee, I am tempted to call --
Though drowning's too good for each blue-stocking hag,
I would bag this she Benthamite first of them all!
And, lest she should ever again lift her head
From the watery bottom, her clack to renew --
As a clog, as a sinker, far better than lead,
I would hang round her neck her own darling Review.
poem by Thomas Moore
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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
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