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Life

Cast: Rebecca Ferguson, Ryan Reynolds, Jake Gyllenhaal, Hiroyuki Sanada, Ariyon Bakare, Olga Dihovichnaya, Alexandre Nguyen

trailer for Life, directed by Daniel Espinosa (2017)
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I Saw It Myself (Short Verse Drama)

Dramatis Personae: Adrian, his wife Ester, his sisters Rebecca and Johanna, his mother Elizabeth, the high priest Chiapas, the disciple Simon Peter, the disciple John, Mary Magdalene, worshipers, priests, two angels and Jesus Christ.

Act I

Scene I.- Adrian’s house in Jerusalem. Adrian has just returned home after a business journey in Galilee, in time to attend the Passover feast. He sits at the table with his wife Ester and his sisters, Rebecca and Johanna. It’s just before sunset on the Friday afternoon.

Adrian. (Somewhat puzzled) Strange things are happening,
some say demons dwell upon the earth,
others angelic beings, miracles take place
and all of this when they had put a man to death,
had crucified a criminal. Everybody knows
the cross is used for degenerates only!

Rebecca. (With a pleasant voice) Such harsh words used,
for a good, a great man brother?
They say that without charge
he healed the sick, brought back sight,
cured leprosy, even made some more food,
from a few fishes and loafs of bread…

Adrian. (Somewhat harsh) They say many things!
That he rode into Jerusalem
to be crowned as the new king,
was a rebel against the state,
even claimed to be
the very Son of God,
now that is blasphemy
if there is no truth to it!

Johanna. I met him once.
He’s not the man
that you make him, brother.
There was a strange tranquilly to Him.
Some would say a divine presence,
while He spoke of love that is selfless,
visited the sick, the poor
and even the destitute, even harlots.

Adrian. (Looks up) There you have it!
Harlots! Tax collecting thieves!
A man is know by his friends,
or so they say and probably
there is some truth to it.

Ester. Husband, do not be so quick to judge.
I have seen Him myself, have seen
Roman soldiers marching Him to the hill
to take His life, with a angry crowd
following and mocking Him.

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
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Rebecca

In my mind , talk about rebecca , suddenly so fine
In my mind , visions of rebecca , suddenly shes mine
All night , seems she put a spell on me , oh yeah
All night , gonna be the death of me
Ill go out and get her
Rebecca , youre dreamin out loud
Rebecca , you got your head in the clouds
Youre savin yourself for someone , rebecca
Hangin on tight , waiting for rebecca , dancin in the dark
Satin and lace , shes so fine and mellow
Creature from the stars
So wrong , runnin with rebecca now , oh yeah
So wrong , gonna be the death of me
Ill go out and get her
Rebecca , youre dreamin out loud
Rebecca , you got your head in the clouds , alright
Youre savin yourself for someone , rebecca
Rebecca , youre runnin away
Rebecca , you cant face the day , alright
Cos you only live for the night
Rebecca , youre always runnin around
(break)
Ooh , talk about rebeccas eyes
Evrything you fantasize
Well, she drag you down to earth
Shes the devil in disguise
Break you down to size
Rebecca , youre dreamin out loud
Rebecca , you got your head in the clouds , alright
Savin yourself for someone
Rebecca , ooh , youre runnin away
Rebecca , you cant face the day , alright
You only live for the night , rebecca
Rebecca , youre dreamin out loud
Rebecca , you got your head in the clouds , alright
Savin yourself for someone , rebecca (fade)

song performed by Bee Gees
Added by Lucian Velea
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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
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Tale III

THE GENTLEMAN FARMER.

Gwyn was a farmer, whom the farmers all,
Who dwelt around, 'the Gentleman' would call;
Whether in pure humility or pride,
They only knew, and they would not decide.
Far different he from that dull plodding tribe
Whom it was his amusement to describe;
Creatures no more enliven'd than a clod,
But treading still as their dull fathers trod;
Who lived in times when not a man had seen
Corn sown by drill, or thresh'd by a machine!
He was of those whose skill assigns the prize
For creatures fed in pens, and stalls, and sties;
And who, in places where improvers meet,
To fill the land with fatness, had a seat;
Who in large mansions live like petty kings,
And speak of farms but as amusing things;
Who plans encourage, and who journals keep,
And talk with lords about a breed of sheep.
Two are the species in this genus known;
One, who is rich in his profession grown,
Who yearly finds his ample stores increase,
From fortune's favours and a favouring lease;
Who rides his hunter, who his house adorns;
Who drinks his wine, and his disbursements scorns;
Who freely lives, and loves to show he can, -
This is the Farmer made the Gentleman.
The second species from the world is sent,
Tired with its strife, or with his wealth content;
In books and men beyond the former read
To farming solely by a passion led,
Or by a fashion; curious in his land;
Now planning much, now changing what he plann'd;
Pleased by each trial, not by failures vex'd,
And ever certain to succeed the next;
Quick to resolve, and easy to persuade, -
This is the Gentleman, a farmer made.
Gwyn was of these; he from the world withdrew
Early in life, his reasons known to few;
Some disappointments said, some pure good sense,
The love of land, the press of indolence;
His fortune known, and coming to retire,
If not a Farmer, men had call'd him 'Squire.
Forty and five his years, no child or wife
Cross'd the still tenour of his chosen life;
Much land he purchased, planted far around,
And let some portions of superfluous ground
To farmers near him, not displeased to say
'My tenants,' nor 'our worthy landlord,' they.

[...] Read more

poem by George Crabbe
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Tasker Norcross

“Whether all towns and all who live in them—
So long as they be somewhere in this world
That we in our complacency call ours—
Are more or less the same, I leave to you.
I should say less. Whether or not, meanwhile,
We’ve all two legs—and as for that, we haven’t—
There were three kinds of men where I was born:
The good, the not so good, and Tasker Norcross.
Now there are two kinds.”

“Meaning, as I divine,
Your friend is dead,” I ventured.

Ferguson,
Who talked himself at last out of the world
He censured, and is therefore silent now,
Agreed indifferently: “My friends are dead—
Or most of them.”

“Remember one that isn’t,”
I said, protesting. “Honor him for his ears;
Treasure him also for his understanding.”
Ferguson sighed, and then talked on again:
“You have an overgrown alacrity
For saying nothing much and hearing less;
And I’ve a thankless wonder, at the start,
How much it is to you that I shall tell
What I have now to say of Tasker Norcross,
And how much to the air that is around you.
But given a patience that is not averse
To the slow tragedies of haunted men—
Horrors, in fact, if you’ve a skilful eye
To know them at their firesides, or out walking,—”

“Horrors,” I said, “are my necessity;
And I would have them, for their best effect,
Always out walking.”

Ferguson frowned at me:
“The wisest of us are not those who laugh
Before they know. Most of us never know—
Or the long toil of our mortality
Would not be done. Most of us never know—
And there you have a reason to believe
In God, if you may have no other. Norcross,
Or so I gather of his infirmity,
Was given to know more than he should have known,
And only God knows why. See for yourself
An old house full of ghosts of ancestors,
Who did their best, or worst, and having done it,

[...] Read more

poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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Tough Love

Tough love

Rebecca was a horrid child.
Her antics drove her mother wild..
Child experts offered their advice
but seldom came to visit twice.

Although her mother tried her best
Rebecca outdid all the rest.
She was unpleasant rude and crude.
An anti social attitude.

She seldom did as she was told
and thought she had the right to scold.
Her mother’s efforts at control
She seemed to have no other goal.

Than making life a misery
for members of her family.
But then her grandma came to stay.
Rebecca came to rue the day.

Grandma applied psychology
Rebecca placed across her knee
She tanned her little bottom hard.
Grandma had but scant regard.

For what the experts had to say
She raised her kids in the old way.
A firm hand lovingly applied
across Rebecca’s small backside.

Quickly changed her attitude.
Because her Grandma understood.
That little girls should never be
allowed to think that they were free.

To act and speak unpleasantly
without they paid the penalty.
Rebecca very swiftly learned
she got exactly what she earned..

She soon became a paragon.
Her bad behaviour was all gone.
Which demonstrates that Grandma knew
exactly what she had to do.

To make Rebecca toe the line
applied a little discipline.
In her own old fashioned way.

[...] Read more

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Conroy's Gap

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

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

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

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

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

[...] Read more

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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6-11 (true Story)

A softball game,
With two 7th grade teams.
In a open grass field kids play,
In the hot sun.
Along the first base line, were the moms
Cheering their girls on.
It was the top of the 8th inning,
No outs and Centrals down by one.
Junction City is up to bat,
Central out in the field.

It took four pitches to get the batter out.
Gale Anders is up next, strike one.
Turning to terror in the next swing of the bat.
The ball goes flying over the fence,
Missis all the moms, all but one,
Nursing her baby she didn’t see the ball coming.
The ball hits the baby in the head whose life has just begun,
Just three weeks ago ReBecca Purkey was born.

ReBecca’s mom rushes her to the hospital.
Where the doctors told her,
That she could go home after the MRI.
If anything happened within 24 hours call.
They called ReBecca’s mom with the MRI results,
They told her the ball shattered her skull,
Into something like a spider web.
But the skull repairs itself,
So not to be alarmed.

ReBecca lasted 23 hours then,
Her little brain just couldn’t take it anymore,
She started having seizures.
Taking her back to the doctor,
Her mom was scared and,
Didn’t understand what’s wrong with her baby,
That is perfect in every other way.

The doctors said that it’s unlikely,
ReBecca will ever walk, talk, or feed herself,
She will be a veggie.
If this child was to live.
Because she has a traumatic brain injury,
Which lead to the seizures,
And she has epilepsy.
Hard pill to swallow for her family.
One minute this baby was healthy and happy
The next doctors are telling them she will die.

P.S. My name is ReBecca Purkey this is the story of my life. we are not as medically advanced back then as we are today, We didn’t know as much about the brain that is why doctors sent me home. This shows you anyone can overcome anything. I am 18 and have now graduated from high school with a regular diploma and soon go to college, become an Autistic teacher. I will always have a brain injury and epilepsy but that doesn’t stop me from doing anything. I am ReBecca Purkey and this is my story, what’s yours?

poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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Valentine's Day

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

poem by Christina Phan
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Nha Trang, Viet Nam Catholic Bishop’s Family

I do not love you with any of my heart
I see you & your family are part of the devil’s cart

Bishop Pierre I trusted & believed he taught you all
Honestly, Truth, God & not lying, stealing and abusing a human that causes him/her to fall

In time I learned when Bishop Pierre died the devil took 100% control
You and your family stole my money, my life, my love, my heart and my soul

Medically disabled does not matter to Nguyen Thi Dieu Tran, Pham Chi Tai, your family is true
Both of you and Nguyen Elizabeth & others in your family know it is wrong to do

Losing my life would have been easier with Ho Chi Minh
Now I identify the Catholic Bishop Pierre’s family in the USA and Viet Nam as VC who find it easy to sin

Live & die in peace is hard to find
Due to medical and financial pain caused by the Bishop’s family members who have the Devil’s mind

The stress from the expenses to take care of the house, the car and my life causes my heart to cry
Due Tai Chi Pham the Trustee of my Irrevocable Trust Fund illegally caused it be dry

With the Catholic Vietnamese family I learned what you can feel and see
Even with Bishop Pierre Nguyen Van Nho in the family can still act like the VC

I ask all of you who read this poem to give your response about this zone
It would help me understand if I am all alone

You can see a public copy of the signed and stamped TEMPORARY ORDER OF PROHIBITION against Tai Chi Pham by the State of Illinois Secretary of State Securities Department in July 2009 at: http: //www.cyberdriveillinois.com/departments/securiti es/administrative_actions/2009/july/taipham_top.p df

And you can see a public copy of the signed and stamped FINAL ORDER OF PROHIBITION against Mr. Tai Chi Pham at the State of Illinois Secretary of State Securities Department Internet Site August 2009 at:
http: //www.cyberdriveillinois.com/departments/securiti es/administrative_actions/2009/august/taipham_op. pdf

poem by Michael Appleman
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Olga The Professional

Olga is the best skin professional to be found
she is very smart and her knowledge is sound.
She really cares how my skin looks
she makes sure I am comfortable
and asks what antibiotics I took.
Yes, Olga does laser to remove my hair
she is kind, and she really does care.
I request her all the time
she is gracious and one of a kind.
Olga is from Russia and has accomplished a lot.
she is very smart and her expertise is sought.
Mention Olga's name when you call American Laser
of Boca Rotan.
You can visit them on the web
or call them on the phone.

Written by Suzae Chevalier on October 29,2012
www.suzae.com

poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Old Enough To Know

Words & music:michael w. smith and wayne kirkpatrick
In the passion your heart is abused
He is pushing you, you have to choose
Oh, rebecca love is never
Easy anymore
Oh, rebecca so afraid of
Losing what is yours
Chorus:
Are you giving in to the pressure
Holding you again, now he tells you
What it takes to be in love
He believes youre old enough
But how you gonna feel tomorrow
When the day reveals
What you believed was for the sake of love
Dont you think youre old enough to know
Youre a breed of few and far between
Holding on to your romantic dream
Oh, rebecca, love is patient
Love would understand
Oh, rebecca, your decision
Is your only chance
Chorus
Bridge:
Oh, rebecca dont confuse what love is
With what some say love should be
Should be...
Chorus

song performed by Michael W. Smith
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A Woman Is A Sometime Thing

Jake
(to clara)
What, that chile aint asleep yet? give him to me.
Ill fix him for you.
(jake takes the baby from clara)
Lissen to yo daddy warn you,
fore you start a-travelling,
Woman may born you, love you and mourn you,
But a woman is a sometime thing,
Yes, a woman is a sometime thing.
Mingo
Oh, a woman is a sometime thing.
Jake
Yo mammy is the first to name you,
Then shell tie you to her apron string,
Then shell shame you and shell blame you
Till yo woman comes to claim you,
cause a woman is a sometime thing,
Yes, a woman is a sometime thing.
Sporting life
Oh, a woman is a sometime thing.
Jake
Dont you never let a woman grieve you
Jus cause she got yo weddin ring.
Shell love you and deceive you,
Take yo clothes and leave you
cause a woman is a sometime thing.
All
Yes, a woman is a sometime thing.
Yes, a woman is a sometime thing,
Yes, a woman is a sometime thing.
Jake
There now, what I tells you; hes asleep already.
(baby wails)
(men at crap game laugh).

song performed by Ella Fitzgerald
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Jake

The boy gets crazy when he's sittin' at the bar
Don't you mess with Jake don't you push him to far
Rot gut whiskey and home made wine
Make a good country boy just lose his mind
Like a run away train rollin' through the night
The boy ain't got no fear
Like a race car hittin' the wall he gets hard to steer
Waitin' for the smoke to clear
OOOOHH
Betty got caught in the back of Bobby's car
Bobby got caught with his hand in the cookie jar
Her daddy blew a fuse and he went for his gun
EEEEE
Now Bobby and Betty thier on the run
Like a run away train rollin' through the nite
Nothin's gonna stop them now
Gotta keep on movin', coverin' tracks somehow
Like a run away train rollin' through the night
The kids ain't got no fear
Daddy's (wizz?) bang is the last sound Bobby's gonna hear
ooohhh
Waitin for the smoke to clear
Daddy finally caught him in the end of his gun
Put a dead end to all of Bobby's fun
OOhh
Good God almighty, Oh heaven sakes
Betty's Daddy turned out to be Jake
Like a run away train rollin' through the nite
Jake ain't got no fear
Know the hangman judge gonna give the boy 99 years
Here sits Jake at the back of this bar
Sippin' on a nice cold beer
If the law had a clue all they'd do is look right here
When they see Jake..... waitin' for the smoke to clear
Waitin for...OOOOHHHAAA

song performed by Lynyrd Skynyrd
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Reaping

You want to know what's the matter with me, do yer?
My! ain't men blinder'n moles?
It ain't nothin' new, be sure o' that.
Why, ef you'd had eyes you'd ha' seed
Me changin' under your very nose,
Each day a little diff'rent.
But you never see nothin', you don't.
Don't touch me, Jake,
Don't you dars't to touch me,
I ain't in no humour.
That's what's come over me;
Jest a change clear through.
You lay still, an' I'll tell yer,
I've had it on my mind to tell yer
Fer some time.
It's a strain livin' a lie from mornin' till night,
An' I'm goin' to put an end to it right now.
An' don't make any mistake about one thing,
When I married yer I loved yer.
Why, your voice 'ud make
Me go hot and cold all over,
An' your kisses most stopped my heart from beatin'.
Lord! I was a silly fool.
But that's the way 'twas.
Well, I married yer
An' thought Heav'n was comin'
To set on the door-step.
Heav'n didn't do no settin',
Though the first year warn't so bad.
The baby's fever threw you off some, I guess,
An' then I took her death real hard,
An' a mopey wife kind o' disgusts a man.
I ain't blamin' yer exactly.
But that's how 'twas.
Do lay quiet,
I know I'm slow, but it's harder to say 'n I thought.
There come a time when I got to be
More wife agin than mother.
The mother part was sort of a waste
When we didn't have no other child.
But you'd got used ter lots o' things,
An' you was all took up with the farm.
Many's the time I've laid awake
Watchin' the moon go clear through the elm-tree,
Out o' sight.
I'd foller yer around like a dog,
An' set in the chair you'd be'n settin' in,
Jest to feel its arms around me,
So long's I didn't have yours.
It preyed on me, I guess,

[...] Read more

poem by Amy Lowell
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47 Ronin

Cast: Keanu Reeves, Hiroyuki Sanada, Ko Shibasaki, Rinko Kikuchi, Rick Genest, Cary-Hiroyuki Tagawa, Tadanobu Asano

trailer for 47 Ronin, directed by Carl Rinsch (2013)
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47 Ronin [trailer 2]

Cast: Keanu Reeves, Hiroyuki Sanada, Ko Shibasaki, Rinko Kikuchi, Rick Genest, Cary-Hiroyuki Tagawa, Tadanobu Asano

trailer for 47 Ronin, directed by Carl Rinsch (2013)
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Frankie

Cast: Marisa Tomei, Greg Kinnear, Brendan Gleeson, Isabelle Huppert, Vinette Robinson, Ariyon Bakare, Jérémie Renier, Sennia Nanua

trailer for Frankie, directed by Ira Sachs (2019)
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Mrs. Weatherby

Woe to you Mrs. Weatherby...
So greedy, self centered, always first
Real feelings are not hidden anymore...
Love only, your unquenchable thirst;
Rebecca, Rebecca, Rebecca...
Leaving your Andrew, just standing there!
Doing what Susan would never have done...
And what Martha, surely wouldn't dare;
So caught up in your 'Real World'
Is July 3rd, always a Happy B-day?
Post office boxes and moving around, constantly..
Insurance for Andy's birthday, come May?
Lost track of how many times that we read it!
A Southwest saying for sure-
'You're always first...real feelings...love only'
Today, are you feeling more secure?
Real estate investing now, Rebecca?
Or marketing insurance, Ms. Monroe?
Oops, sorry about using your former name...
What a viscious web you've woven & look how it still grows! ! ! !

By: Theodora Onken

March 24,2012

poem by Theodora Onken
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Nerves, up to Date - after Olga Katzin Miller

Nerves, up to Date

I think I’ll call At Home, Excite,
I think my cell phone’s down,
imagine being on a flight
that struck Manhattan town.

From CNN to Internet
both buildings, markets, crash
scare fare flies fast, none know as yet,
our confidence was rash.

Rumour rampant rises high
relief seems rather slow
comparisons are sad and wry
as DJ sinks too low,

It’s just like Black September –
absurd how Time loops still –
since ever we remember
time cycles round at will!

I can’t stroll round, cement and glass
at skittles play with men,
I can’t just stay inside and pass
for an energumen.

It looks like twin tornadoes struck
ground zero to the dust,
within five years or so with luck
we’ll build it back, we must!

A Boeing here, a Boeing there, –
that this should come to be! –
FBI where? Fib everywhere,
- what difference to me!

I think I’ll roll a joint or two,
or pour another drink,
I really don’t know what to do, –
should I consult my shrink?

Since cell phones point to point fell through,
its like a traffic jam,
its pointless trying, none get through
since terrorists did slam

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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