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The Stepfather

Cast: Dylan Walsh, Penn Badgley, Sherry Stringfield, Paige Turco, Jon Tenney, Braeden Lemasters, Skyler Samuels

trailer for The Stepfather, directed by Nelson McCormick (2009)
Added by Alexandru Uvra
Comment! | Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian

A Girl Named Paige

A girl named Paige
With eyes and a face so bright
A girl named Paige
Came into my dreary life
My life, so dark
So full of strife

A girl named Paige
About her I was told
To keep me away until I was old
A girl named Paige
A lesson she did teach
For me to keep sight of my reach

A girl named Paige
Broke my heart
As my world fell apart
A girl named Paige
Perfectly took the part
While adding another fool to her cart

A girl named Paige
Shook my whole world
My eyes were on no other girl
A girl named Paige
Fooled me into loving her
While she secretly lusted another, and another

A girl named Paige
Caused me endless pain
Of this, I'm not ashamed
A girl named Paige
Made me go insane
This girl is love's bane

A girl named Paige
Caused me to do so much
To love her such
A girl named Paige
Made my heart bleed
The woe of pain it did heed

A girl named Paige
I'll never be the same
In that group, she came
A girl named Paige
I loved a whole whole lot
A feeling she returned, did not

A girl named Paige

[...] Read more

poem by Joseph Shofner
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Suicide Lovers

suicide lovers 6x
suicide lovers are always there in the dark still together
still huging eachother still holding eachother up
suicide lovers are the only ones in the dark
shering ther feeling and shering ther thoughts
feeling pain and feeling love thinking about dieing
and thinking about been with eachotherno matter what
they talk about how there going to die together
holding hands and deareming about the day that comes

suicide lovers are the only ones int he dark still
hugging eachother and holding eachother up dreaming
about love and dreaming about the heart when it stops
we all die and we'll never give it up they think life has no point
theres nothing in the worldfor them exept for eachother
ther thinking about having a baby and dieing together

suicide lovers have a babythere baby is growing up good
and strong. healthy and stands up for herself the
she finds a guy just like her they are together forevere
they will never give it up ther love becomes pure and up ther
thinking about marriageand having a baby of there own
they have a son there dreams come truethey will call him
skyler a name they both like, they are thinking about another
baby so they have a girl and call her carli they thought that carli was
a goog name for there child skyler and carli are getting along
one is 17 and one is 21, damb they grow ou fast and strong
i cant belive what they been throug years dreaming and thinking
the world of each other they both find ther one and the both
are happy so they will be together forever! !
suicide lovers, suicide lovers, suicide lovers
suicide suicide i already diiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeedddddd...... loverrrrrrrrrrrrrss
suicide lovers suicide lovers are always in the dark

suicide lovers 6x
suicide lovers are always there in the dark still together
still huging eachother still holding eachother up
suicide lovers are the only ones in the dark
shering ther feeling and shering ther thoughts
feeling pain and feeling love thinking about dieing
and thinking about been with eachotherno matter what
they talk about how there going to die together
holding hands and deareming about the day that comes

suicide lovers are the only ones int he dark still
hugging eachother and holding eachother up dreaming
about love and dreaming about the heart when it stops
we all die and we'll never give it up they think life has no point
theres nothing in the worldfor them exept for eachother
ther thinking about having a baby and dieing together

[...] Read more

poem by Valya Madden
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Each Morning At The Breakfast Table

Who’ll stone you when you feel unable,
eating at the breakfast table,
to answer who’s the great composer,
implying that you are a loser?
Not my wife, though she’s most brainy;
on my creations never rainy,
she doesn’t let me feel alone,
rolling like a lonely stone.
Less than I a fan of Bob
on no occasions will she rob
me of my confidence. Sure, Dylan
to her appears to be a villain,
because of his association
with other forms of inspiration.
but she won’t stone me ever, that’s
why I won’t settle for ersatz.
She sees through masks, including mine,
but never stones the wearer, she
is morning coffee, evening wine,
and midnight she is ecstasy.
Not number twelve or thirty-five,
she’s number one, and helps me thrive
like Scarlett on the screen with Gable,
each morning at the breakfast table.

Inspired by Bob Dylan’s “Rainy Day Women, #12 and 35, ” which he sang wwith a lot of other songs at Prospect Park Bandshell two days ago. Nate Chinen writes in the NYT, August 14,008 (“In Prospect Park, the Consequences of Love and a Shot of War”) :
In the final moments of his sold-out Celebrate Brooklyn concert at the Prospect Park Bandshell on Tuesday night, Bob Dylan struck a pose. He was standing at center stage, feet planted wide. Dressed in black from his hat on down, he faced outward, proud, flanked by stone-faced band members. Then he formed his hands into pistols — six-shooters, let’s say — and fired shot after shot, roguishly slaying the crowd. It was a pretty good illustration of what had been happening for the past two hours.
Mr. Dylan can be an inconstant performer, and sometimes an indifferent one. But here he was dynamic, enthusiastic, out for blood. His set list featured more than half a dozen irrefutable classics, starting with “Rainy Day Women #12 & 35.” And he showed ironclad focus, commanding the same professionally gritty crew heard on his most recent album, “Modern Times” (Columbia) . As usual Mr. Dylan transformed his old songs, in some cases preserving only the lyrics. “Girl From the North Country” adopted some shadowy new harmonies, and “It’s Alright Ma (I’m Only Bleeding) ” turned up with a Celtic-Appalachian lilt. “Blowin’ in the Wind, ” the civil rights anthem that put Mr. Dylan on the map roughly 45 years ago, underwent the most radical revision, riding a crisp backbeat and rhythm-guitar part that suggested the heyday of Muscle Shoals rhythm and blues. Necessity surely birthed some of these inventions: Mr. Dylan,67, now sings with a (more) limited range, and a coarse, throaty tone. (When he rasped, “Lay across my big brass bed, ” in “Lay Lady Lay, ” he sounded like the Big Bad Wolf entreating Little Red Riding Hood.) And he rarely plays guitar, instead favoring an organlike keyboard, and occasionally the harmonica. Rhythm is his asset, his best means of asserting control; the bassist Tony Garnier and the drummer George Receli dug in but followed his lead.
Mr. Dylan has a new edition of his popular Bootleg Series due out in October: “Tell Tales Signs” (Columbia/Legacy) , consisting of relatively recent recordings, many previously unreleased. Only one track from that package, “Lonesome Day Blues, ” crept into the show. (It can also be found on the 2001 album “Love and Theft.”) Meanwhile the five songs culled from “Modern Times” held up admirably. “The Levee’s Gonna Break, ” set at a hard-rollicking tempo, was especially strong. But the two most potent songs, in a show that often touched upon the consequences of love, had to do explicitly with war. One was “John Brown, ” an early protest song that Mr. Dylan never released on a studio album: its narrative, forcefully told, involves a shattered soldier returning to his chastened mother. The other was “Masters of War, ” a much more celebrated song from the same era, which draws its focus wide but sharp. Here Mr. Dylan enunciated unusually clearly, over a drone-haunted vamp. “I hope that you die, ” he snarled, leaving two bars of open space before the next line, “And your death will come soon.” But his peak of intensity came paired to something other than a death wish. “I can see through your masks, ” he wailed, stretching out the last word of the phrase for emphasis. He seemed to know firsthand about masks, and seeing through them.

8/14/08

poem by Gershon Hepner
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How Does It Feel To Be Alone?

How does it feel to be alone
with no one round with whom you can
hang out, e-mail and telephone
now silent from your loverman?

How does it feel to get no kicks
from your beloved? Who is left,
for you to mix with, will you nix
your lovelife, loverman bereft?

Stone cold and lonely, lady, will
you roll, or will you gather moss?
On empty running, will you fill
your life again, make up your loss?

I knew that you were bound to fall
when first you fell for me. D’you feel
there’s someone else now you can call
and hope that you can make a deal?

With no direction home, is there,
d’you think, another man who’ll hold
you as I did, and if so, where
d’you think that like a stone he’s rolled?

Inspired by an article in the NYT by Adam Liptak on the use of lyrics by Bob Dylan in the Supreme Court (“The Chief Justice, Dylan and the Disappearing Double Negative, ” June 29,2008) :

The last chief justice liked light opera. The new one cites Bob Dylan. oour pages into his dissent on Monday in an achingly boring dispute between pay phone companies and long distance carriers, John G. Roberts Jr., the chief justice of the United States, put a song lyric where the citation to precedent usually goes. “The absence of any right to the substantive recovery means that respondents cannot benefit from the judgment they seek and thus lack Article III standing, ” Chief Justice Roberts wrote. “ ‘When you got nothing, you got nothing to lose.’ Bob Dylan, Like a Rolling Stone, on Highway 61 Revisited (Columbia Records 1965) .”
Alex B. Long, a law professor at the University of Tennessee and perhaps the nation’s leading authority on the citation of popular music in judicial opinions, said this was almost certainly the first use of a rock lyric to buttress a legal proposition in a Supreme Court decision. “It’s a landmark opinion, ” Professor Long said.
In the lower courts, according to a study Professor Long published in the Washington & Lee Law Review last year, Mr. Dylan is by far the most cited songwriter. He has been quoted in 26 opinions. Paul Simon is next, with 8 (12 if you count those attributed to Simon & Garfunkel) . Bruce Springsteen has 5.
But Mr. Dylan has only once before been cited as an authority on Article III standing, which concerns who can bring a lawsuit in federal court. His key contribution to legal discourse has been in another area.
“The correct rule on the necessity of expert testimony has been summarized by Bob Dylan: ‘You don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows, ’ ” a California appeals court wrote in 1981, citing “Subterranean Homesick Blues.” Eighteen other decisions have cited that lyric.
Chief Justice Roberts’s predecessor, William H. Rehnquist, cited his beloved Gilbert & Sullivan in a 1980 dissent from a decision that the press had a constitutional right of access to court proceedings. He was still an associate justice, and he thought the court had made up the right out of whole cloth. In rebuttal, Justice Rehnquist relied on the Lord Chancellor in “Iolanthe” to rebuke the majority. “The Law is the true embodiment of everything that’s excellent, ” the Lord Chancellor says. “It has no kind of fault or flaw, and I, my Lords, embody the Law.”
That made Justice Rehnquist’s point pretty well. The Roberts citation is more problematic. On the one hand, he showed excellent taste. “Like a Rolling Stone, ” as Greil Marcus has written, is “the greatest record ever made, perhaps, or the greatest record that ever would be made.” On the other hand, Chief Justice Roberts gets the citation wrong, proving that he is neither an originalist nor a strict constructionist. What Mr. Dylan actually sings, of course, is, “When you ain’t got nothing, you got nothing to lose.”
It’s true that many Web sites, including Mr. Dylan’s official one, reproduce the lyric as Chief Justice Roberts does. But a more careful Dylanist might have consulted his iPod. “It was almost certainly the clerks who provided the citation, ” Professor Long said. “I suppose their use of the Internet to check the lyrics violates one of the first rules they learned when they were all on law review: when quoting, always check the quote with the original source, not someone else’s characterization of what the source said.” The larger objection is that the citation is not true to the original point Mr. Dylan was making, which was about the freedom that having nothing conveys and not about who may sue a phone company. (See, e.g., “Me and Bobby McGee.”)

6/29/08

poem by Gershon Hepner
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Robin Hood and the Monk

In somer, when the shawes be sheyne,
And leves be large and long,
Hit is full mery in feyre foreste
To here the foulys song,

To se the dere draw to the dale,
And leve the hilles hee,
And shadow hem in the leves grene,
Under the grene wode tre.

Hit befel on Whitson
Erly in a May mornyng,
The son up feyre can shyne,
And the briddis mery can syng.

'This is a mery mornyng,' seid Litull John,
'Be Hym that dyed on tre;
A more mery man then I am one
Lyves not in Cristianté.

'Pluk up thi hert, my dere mayster,'
Litull John can sey,
'And thynk hit is a full fayre tyme
In a mornyng of May.'

'Ye, on thyng greves me,' seid Robyn,
'And does my hert mych woo:
That I may not no solem day
To mas nor matyns goo.

'Hit is a fourtnet and more,' seid he,
'Syn I my Savyour see;
To day wil I to Notyngham,' seid Robyn,
'With the myght of mylde Marye.'

Than spake Moche, the mylner sun,
Ever more wel hym betyde!
'Take twelve of thi wyght yemen,
Well weppynd, be thi side.
Such on wolde thi selfe slon,
That twelve dar not abyde.'

'Of all my mery men,' seid Robyn,
'Be my feith I wil non have,
But Litull John shall beyre my bow,
Til that me list to drawe.'

'Thou shall beyre thin own,' seid Litull Jon,
'Maister, and I wyl beyre myne,
And we well shete a peny,' seid Litull Jon,

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Sherry Darling

Your mammas yappin in the back seat
Tell her to push over and move them big feet
Every monday morning I gotta drive her down to the unemployment agency
Well this morning I aint fighting tell her I give up
Tell her she wins if shell just shut up
But its the last time that shes gonna be ridin with me
(chorus)
You can tell her theres a hot sun beatin on the blacktop
She keeps talkin shell be walkin that last block
She can take a subway back to the ghetto tonight
Well I got some beer and the highways free
And I got you, and baby youve got me.
Hey, hey, hey whataya say sherry darlin
Now theres girls melting on the beach
And theyre so fine but so far out of reach
Cause Im stuck in traffic down here on 53rd street
Now sherry my love for you is real
But I didnt count on this package deal
And baby this car just aint big enough for her and me
(chorus)
So you can tell her theres a hot sun beatin on the blacktop
She keeps talkin shell be walkin that last block
She can take a subway back to the ghetto tonight
Well I got some beer and the highways free
And I got you, and baby youve got me.
Hey, hey, hey whataya say sherry darlin
Well let there be sunlight, let there be rain
Let the brokenhearted love again
Sherry we can run with our arms open before the tide
To all the girls down at sacred heart
And all you operators back in the park
Say hey, hey, hey whataya say sherry darlin
Hey, hey, hey, whataya say sherry darlin

song performed by Bruce Springsteen
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Ancient Banner

In boundless mercy, the Redeemer left,
The bosom of his Father, and assumed
A servant's form, though he had reigned a king,
In realms of glory, ere the worlds were made,
Or the creating words, 'Let there be light'
In heaven were uttered. But though veiled in flesh,
His Deity and his Omnipotence,
Were manifest in miracles. Disease
Fled at his bidding, and the buried dead
Rose from the sepulchre, reanimate,
At his command, or, on the passing bier
Sat upright, when he touched it. But he came,
Not for this only, but to introduce
A glorious dispensation, in the place
Of types and shadows of the Jewish code.
Upon the mount, and round Jerusalem,
He taught a purer, and a holier law,—
His everlasting Gospel, which is yet
To fill the earth with gladness; for all climes
Shall feel its influence, and shall own its power.
He came to suffer, as a sacrifice
Acceptable to God. The sins of all
Were laid upon Him, when in agony
He bowed upon the cross. The temple's veil
Was rent asunder, and the mighty rocks,
Trembled, as the incarnate Deity,
By his atoning blood, opened that door,
Through which the soul, can have communion with
Its great Creator; and when purified,
From all defilements, find acceptance too,
Where it can finally partake of all
The joys of His salvation.
But the pure Church he planted,—the pure Church
Which his apostles watered,—and for which,
The blood of countless martyrs freely flowed,
In Roman Amphitheatres,—on racks,—
And in the dungeon's gloom,—this blessed Church,
Which grew in suffering, when it overspread
Surrounding nations, lost its purity.
Its truth was hidden, and its light obscured
By gross corruption, and idolatry.
As things of worship, it had images,
And even painted canvas was adored.
It had a head and bishop, but this head
Was not the Saviour, but the Pope of Rome.
Religion was a traffic. Men defiled,
Professed to pardon sin, and even sell,
The joys of heaven for money,—and to raise
Souls out of darkness to eternal light,
For paltry silver lavished upon them.

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous Americas
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The Pennsylvania Pilgrim

Prelude

I sing the Pilgrim of a softer clime
And milder speech than those brave men's who brought
To the ice and iron of our winter time
A will as firm, a creed as stern, and wrought
With one mailed hand, and with the other fought.
Simply, as fits my theme, in homely rhyme
I sing the blue-eyed German Spener taught,
Through whose veiled, mystic faith the Inward Light,
Steady and still, an easy brightness, shone,
Transfiguring all things in its radiance white.
The garland which his meekness never sought
I bring him; over fields of harvest sown
With seeds of blessing, now to ripeness grown,
I bid the sower pass before the reapers' sight.

The Pennsylvania Pilgrim

Never in tenderer quiet lapsed the day
From Pennsylvania's vales of spring away,
Where, forest-walled, the scattered hamlets lay

Along the wedded rivers. One long bar
Of purple cloud, on which the evening star
Shone like a jewel on a scimitar,

Held the sky's golden gateway. Through the deep
Hush of the woods a murmur seemed to creep,
The Schuylkill whispering in a voice of sleep.

All else was still. The oxen from their ploughs
Rested at last, and from their long day's browse
Came the dun files of Krisheim's home-bound cows.

And the young city, round whose virgin zone
The rivers like two mighty arms were thrown,
Marked by the smoke of evening fires alone,

Lay in the distance, lovely even then
With its fair women and its stately men
Gracing the forest court of William Penn,

Urban yet sylvan; in its rough-hewn frames
Of oak and pine the dryads held their claims,
And lent its streets their pleasant woodland names.

Anna Pastorius down the leafy lane
Looked city-ward, then stooped to prune again

[...] Read more

poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Sherry's Living In Paradise

Southern California could not hold her dreams
She's happy now it seems
'Cause Sherry's living, living in paradise
Chasing something or running from something
Had a lot of lovers that were good for nothing
And she's thought about leaving once or twice
But she's still in the sun and this laid-back life
Sherry's living in paradise
Sherry's living in paradise
Somehow the salty air, it soothes her soul
Says it makes her whole
She gets hit on by the tourists
But she brushes it off 'cause she's heard every line
She just takes it in stride
'Cause Sherry's living, living in paradise
Chasing something or running from something
Had a lot of lovers that were good for nothing
And she's thought about leaving once or twice
But she's still in the sun and this laid-back life
Sherry's living in paradise
She's thought about leaving once or twice
But she's still in the sun and this laid-back life

song performed by Kenny Chesney
Added by Lucian Velea
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Uncle Fred and The Sand Dance

Your Uncle Fred
on Christmas Eve
at Gran's house

when you were a kid
did the sand dance
wearing an old fashion

man's striped nightgown
and a red fez
(he got that in Egypt

during WW2
Gran said)
and brown

open toed sandals
and Uncle Ed
turned the handle

of the windup gramophone
where an old
78rpm record

was playing
and there were
glasses of sherry

being consumed
and cigarettes being smoked
and you sat watching

clapping your hands
and Gran would get up
afterwards

and do her Can-Can
like she used to
as she young woman

on the stage
and Granddad sat there
quiet saying nothing

looking at
the people gathered
sipping his sherry

watching his wife
lifting her legs

[...] Read more

poem by Terry Collett
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Yeah!

Yeah!"
(feat. Lil' Jon, Ludacris)
[Usher:]
Peace up!
A Town Down!
[Lil' Jon:]
Yeah, Ok! Lil' Jon!
[Usher:]
Yeah, Yeah Yeah, Yeah yeah, Yeaah
Yeah, Yeah yeah, Yeah yeah, Yeaah
[Usher (Verse 1):]
Up in the club with my homies, tryna get a lil V-I, but keep it down on the low key, cause you know how it is.
I saw shorty she was checkin up on me, from the game she was spittin' in my ear you would think that she knew me.
So we decided to chill
Conversation got heavy, she had me feelin like she's ready to blow!
(Watch Out!, Watch Out!)
She's saying come get me, come get me,
So I got up and followed her to the floor, she said baby lets go,
That's when I told her I said
[Usher (Chorus):]
Yeah (yeah) Shorty got down low and said come and get me
Yeah (yeah) I got so caught up I forgot she told me
Yeah (yeah) Her and my girl used to be the best of homies
Yeah (yeah) Next thing I knew she was all up on me screaming:
Yeah, Yeah yeah, Yeah yeah, Yeaah
Yeah, Yeah yeah, Yeah yeah, Yeaah
[Usher (Verse 2):]
So she's all up in my head now, got me thinking that it might good idea to take her with me,
Cause she's ready to leave (ready to leave)
But I gotta keep it real now, cause on a one to ten she's a certified twenty, but that just ain't me. hey.
Because I don't know if I take that chance just where it's gonna lead,
But what I do know is the way she dance makes shorty alright with me.
The way she (get low!)
I'm like yeah, just work that out for me.
She asked for one more dance and I'm
Like yeah, how the hell am I supposed to leave?
And I said
[Chorus]
[Lil' Jon:]
Luda!
[Ludacris (Verse 3):]
Watch out!
My outfit's ridiculous, In the club lookin' so conspicuous.
And Rowl! These women all on the prowl, if you hold the head steady I'm a milk the cow.
Forget about the game I'm a spit the truth, I won't stop till I get em in they birthday suits.
So gimmie the rhythm and it'll be off with they clothes, then bend over to the front and touch your toes.
I left the jag and I took the roles, if they aint cutting then I put em on foot patrol.
How you like me now, when my pinky's valued over three hundred thousand,
Lets drank you the one to please, Ludacris fill cups like double d's.
Me and Ursh once more and we leave em dead, we want a lady in the street but a freak in the bed to say

[...] Read more

song performed by Usher
Added by Lucian Velea
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Are You Down?

Danny: yo, jordan! whats up?
Jordan: hey danny! whats happening?
Oh, here comes little joey joe down the street
Joe: ho! whats happenin fellas?
Jordan: yo, theres jon, but has anyone seen donnie?
Danny: I dont know, but I thought I saw him walking towards the corner store.
Joe: nah, hes at the park playing ball
Jon: oh, here he comes now
(ad libbed greetings)
Donnie: hey guys!
Danny: where have you been?
Donnie: man, Ive got a story to tell!
All: hit it!
Donnie:
Saw a homegirl at the corner store
Eyes started bugging, mouth fell to the floor
She had a miniskirt and a sexy pose
I tried to rap to her, but I just froze
Tell me now fellas, what can I do?
To make a girl like me, like a girl likes you?
Danny:well homeboy get ready!
Joe: cause you want correcting
Jordan: cause a girl needs love
All: and plenty of affection
Jon: if a girl were mine, Id give her the world
Id buy her diamonds and pearls just to make her my girl
Jordan: that might work with your girl, but not with mine.
Shes not the type of girl to fall for any line
Joe: Id take her out to dinner, treat her like a winner
I may be young, but Im no beginner
Danny: all your ways are good, but not as good as mine
You have to be sincere for a girl that fine!
Chorus
Baby, wont you please be mine?
Are you down?
Baby, wont you please be mine?
Are you down? ho!
Danny: alright then, d., since you gave it a try
All: tell us about the girl who caught your eye
Donnie:
It was after school and I was feeling cool
til I saw that girl and I started to drool
So I thought to myself, take it easily
I couldnt let peer pressure get the best of me
I thought to myself, what should I do?
Thats when she came up on me and said i love you
Donnie: who me?
All: yeah, you!
Donnie: couldnt be!
All: but its true!

[...] Read more

song performed by New Kids On The Block
Added by Lucian Velea
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Robin Hood And The Monk

In somer when the shawes be sheyne,
And leves be large and longe,
Hit is full mery in feyre foreste
To here the foulys song.

To se the dere draw to the dale,
And leve the hilles hee,
And shadow hem in the leves grene,
Vndur the grene-wode tre.

Hit befell on Whitsontide,
Erly in a may mornyng,
The son vp fayre can shyne,
And the briddis mery can syng.

'This is a mery mornyng,' seid Litulle Johne,
'Be hym that dyed on tre;
A more mery man than I am one
Lyves not in Cristiante.'

'Pluk vp thi hert, my dere mayster,'
Litulle Johne can sey,
'And thynk hit is a fulle fayre tyme
In a mornynge of may.'

'Ze on thynge greves me,' seid Robyne,
'And does my hert mych woo,
That I may not so solem day
To mas nor matyns goo.

'Hit is a fourtnet and more,' seyd hee,
'Syn I my Sauyour see;
To day will I to Notyngham,' seid Robyn,
'With the myght of mylde Mary.'

Then spake Moche the mylner sune,
Euer more wel hym betyde,
'Take xii thi wyght zemen
Well weppynd be thei side.
Such on wolde thi selfe slon
That xii dar not abyde.'

'Off alle my mery men,' seid Robyne,
'Be my feithe I wil non haue;
But Litulle Johne shall beyre my bow
Til that me list to drawe.'

* * * * *

'Thou shalle beyre thin own,' seid Litulle Jon,

[...] Read more

poem by Andrew Lang
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The Sun Is Hidden (Terzanelle)

(after Lewis Turco)

The sun is hidden, huge shadows gather
while the wind rocks branches blow the leaves
and milling dark clouds draw together

this is the moment when thunderbolts cleaves
when rain drizzles, then pours down steadily
while the wind rocks branches blow the leaves

when full of superstition old people speak guardedly
of branches of thunder, sheets of blue-white lightning
when rain drizzles, then pours down steadily

and the bolts of thunder comes down somewhat frightening
when people draw curtains, sit in the semi-darkness, are afraid
of branches of thunder, sheets of blue-white lightning

and without power at candlelight the table is laid
while the acts of nature, its sheer power we cannot ignore,
when people draw curtains, sit in the semi-darkness, are afraid

and we have experienced this kind of weather sometime before.
The sun is hidden, huge shadows gather
while the acts of nature, its sheer power we cannot ignore
and milling dark clouds draw together.

[Reference: 'Terzanelle in Thunderweather' by Lewis Turco.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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A Vision

Night o'er the earth her dusky robe had spread,
With gloom unwonted, moon and stars conceal'd
By dense and murky clouds, denied their light.
I musing lay reclined, involved in thought,
And pondering o'er the various changing scenes
This land had witness'd, until slumbers soft
Succeeded to my reverie, yet stole
So lightly over me, that I was still
Unconscious that I slept; and still my thoughts
Pursued the path, and wander'd o'er the scenes
Where they had waking roved. What! I exclaim'd,
Would be the feelings, or the words of Penn,
Did he now view the fair wide commonwealth,
Whose infancy was foster'd by his care?
I scarce had spoken, when an airy form
Before me stood. Her dark and piercing eye
Was lighted by a smile, that o'er her face,
In female beauty rich, benignant play'd.
Her tresses unadorn'd, save with a wreath
Of dewy wild-flowers, o'er her shoulders flung,
In glossy ringlets waved, or shaded light,
Her polish'd brow. Yet seem'd she not of gross
Corporeal mould; but rather like the air,
Condensed and visible. I knew the form—
'T was one whose aid I often had invoked,
What time I tuned or swept mine airy lyre,
Imagination! with a kindly smile,
She lightly touch'd, and bade me follow her.
My soul, unfetter'd, instant soar'd aloft,
Far, far above the confines of the earth,
Then paused; and while we hover'd, light in air,
My fair conductress bade me look around.
I look'd! beneath us Pennsylvania lay,
Her ripen'd harvests waving in the breeze,
And wet with dew of morning; for not yet
The sun had risen from his wavy bed,
But redden'd by his beams, the fleecy clouds,
Bright glowing, spoke his near approach. Toward one
That rested nearest earth, with purple tinged,
My guide conducted me. As near we drew,
With wonder I beheld, within its breast,
A form reposed as in an airy car,
Which bore (though half conceal'd and indistinct)
The human likeness. O'er his face beam'd love,
Compassion mild, benevolence divine
And universal. Sin no place had there,
Nor earthly passions—but bright peace serene,
Pure piety, and happiness unmix'd.
“Behold!” exclaim'd my guide, “with awe behold
The sainted spirit of the righteous Penn!”

[...] Read more

poem by Elizabeth Margaret Chandler from Poetical Works (1836)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Trove at Bioda Mor

The last I saw of Sebastian Fudge
He was dancing the hempen jig,
To pay for the years of pirating
At the side of Captain Kidd.
While Kidd was swung at Tilbury,
Was dipped in a coat of tar,
Then hung in chains by the River Thames
As a sign to the faint of heart!

I'd sailed with Fudge on the Emerald,
In the days when men were bold,
And there wasn't a Frenchman privateer
That we couldn't divest of gold,
I thought of the Spanish throats we'd cut
And the nights of rum and hock,
As Fudge went tripping his final jig
At Execution Dock.

That left just me and Jackie Straw,
Midshipman Bowes, and Penn,
The last of the Jolly Roger crew
Of the ships we'd sailed back then,
So we met at the back of Polly's place,
The One-Eyed Tar that night,
And drank to the soul of Fudge, and drank!
We drank to the broad daylight!

And Polly had joined us there at dawn
The tears still on her face,
She'd been with Fudge, his faithful Moll,
As he swung with little grace:
'He scribbled a map for me, ' she said,
'I've kept it safely hid,
We could have collected the treasure trove
If he hadn't sailed with Kidd! '

'Belay that, let us see the map! '
Said Straw, his eyes ablaze,
And I caught a glimpse of his cutlass raised
In the raiding party days,
But 'Aye', said Penn, 'there's gold enough
And a chest of jewels each,
If we follow the trail of the castaways,
And the gold of Captain Teach! '

'You and your Caribbean gold,
I have no mind for that,
Rather a treasure close at hand,
It's marked on Fudge's map! '
Polly drew out a parchment then

[...] Read more

poem by David Lewis Paget
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Unchained Melody (Parody on 'The Streets of London)

(John London’s Radio Talk Show when he was
accidentally locked in the toilet)

Did you hear the shrieks fo London
From the toilet in the station
Calling for Jon-Jon
To come and set him free.

Armine let forth a sigh
Should it be one or two-ply
Nobody worried
The show must go on.

So how can you say
You were lonely
…and things about
where the sun don’t shine…..

So Jon-Jon took you by the hand
And quelled indeed the
shrieks of London
Back to the station….
Unchained melody.

poem by Margaret Kollmer
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I Am Feeling What A Feeling

This city of concrete and steel
Is full of material girls
They don't recognize genius
They throw away all the pearls

They take the fake gems
In God's holy names
I am feeling
What a feeling
What a feeling
I am feeling

Jay Jon Praymer Bhaab Janay Na
Taar Shathay Nai Layna Deyna
Khaati Shona Chhariya Jay Nayy Naucoal Shona
Shay Jon Shona Cheenay Na

They want to live a lavish life
They are not scared of war and strife
They are not scared of telling lie
They leave their minds with the poor guy

They take the wrong steps
They are like the apes
I am feeling
What a feeling
What a feeling
I am feeling

Jay Jon Praymer Bhaab Janay Na
Taar Shathay Nai Layna Deyna
Khaati Shona Chhariya Jay Nayy Naucoal Shona
Shay Jon Shona Cheenay Na

poem by Asif Andalib
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Mars

I'm watching the long red sunset
Cross over the tawny sky,
As Phobos tumbles past my head
And Deimos, by and by,
The light's beginning to fracture
As darkness reigns instead,
While Sylvie shakes her long blond hair
As she leaves her fretful bed.

I'm busy at the Astrodome
Checking the roof for leaks,
A tiny meteoric shower,
(The first for seven weeks) :
Has threatened all the oxygen
We'd saved from the garden beds,
For now that Jon has disappeared,
I do his work instead.

The stars begin to glimmer,
Take form in the empty gloom,
And then I see the blue planet
Steal into the room,
The sapphire set in endless space
That once I'd called my home,
Now seems so far beyond my trace
As I watch it through the dome.

A week now short of seven months
Since I arrived on Mars,
This lonely outpost of despair,
Red wasteland of the stars,
A soil that's mainly iron ore
Whipped up in clouds of dust,
But dry, so dry, no water here -
Won't even start to rust.

We live within the Astrodome,
A perspex, clear balloon,
Much patched and fixed, and worn it is
But still we call it home,
We venture out in oxy-suits,
Explore the wild terrain,
But nothing keeps us out at night
In those swirling winds of pain.

Jon had been here eighteen months
With his wife, a botanist,
His title was 'The Engineer',
His degree was, somehow, 'lost'.
We argued once, we argued twice,

[...] Read more

poem by David Lewis Paget
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The DUFF

Cast: Bella Thorne, Mae Whitman, Robbie Amell, Allison Janney, Skyler Samuels, Bianca A. Santos, Ken Jeong, Nick Eversman

trailer for The DUFF, directed by Ari Sandel, screenplay by Josh A. Cagan, inspired by Kody Keplinger (2015)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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