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Miss Bala [Special Delivery]

Cast: Gina Rodriguez, Anthony Mackie

clip from Miss Bala, directed by Catherine Hardwicke, screenplay by Gareth Dunnet-Alcocer (2019)
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Allegany Camp

amazing grace circus camp
amazing grace day camp
amazing grace hallelujah jeremy camp
amazing grace jeremy camp
amazing love jeremy camp
amazing place chalet pigeon forge
amazing race church camp
amazing race games for camps
amazing race girl scout camp
amazon camp dutch lodge oven
amazon camp in sweetwater missouri
amazon cast iron dutch lodge camp
amazon dutch oven camp
amazon lodge dutch oven camp
ambassador camp at lake waccamaw nc
ambassador camp inc
ambassador chalet
ambassador chalet at doral
ambassador chalet wgc
amber bowers
amber camp lazlo
amber pow camp
amberg germany dp camp
ambition camp hockey pro
ambler baseball camp
ambleside scotland school camp
ambon pow camp
ambor island pow camp
ambor pow camp
ambulance bower
amc camp dodge
amc camp movie summer
amc camp summer theater
amc little lyford camps
amc movie camp
amc movie camps
amc north west camp bear mountain
amc pinkham notch camp
amc summer camp for s
amc summer camp for s 2007
amc summer camp movies
amc summer movie camp
amc summer movie camp 2007
amc summer movie camp 2008
amc summer movie camp arlington
amc summer movie camp ontario california
amc theater camp hill
amc theatres summer camp
amcmovie camps
amelia earhart in japanese war camp

[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Gina

Love always seemed an illusion to me
I could never make things fit
But now that thought turned around
Cause everything feels so right

You see I met you on this big day
I saw your face and got filled with emotion
So now the sky seems a different blue
Cause I know my heart belongs to you

Ohh Gina
Could you look at me once more
Before you walk out of that door
Ohh Gina
Just wanna look you in the eye
Cause I can't stand sayin' goodbye

I know it would be hard for us to be
Couldn't we just give it a shot
But I know your heart must agree
Just wanna love you till the end of time

Ohh Gina
Could you look at me once more
Before you walk out of that door
Ohh Gina
Just wanna look you in the eye
Cause I can't stand sayin' goodbye

Don't know how it's gonna be
Don't know what I've gotta do
I'm just tryin' to let you see
That I'm giving this heart to you

Ohh Gina
Could you look at me once more
Before you walk out of that door
Ohh Gina
Come close in my arms tonight
I know that love has never died
Ooh Gina
Just wanna look you in the eye
I just can't stand sayin' goodbye
Ohh Gina
Ohh Gina
Ohh Gina
Just wanna look you in the eye
And never ever say goodbye

song performed by K-otic from Bulletproof
Added by Lucian Velea
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Brent River Bride

Flow proudly fair river,
For one who fell under
Your spell was the liver
Doc, Gershon - asunder
Found all his plans, muddled
By nymphs of the water -
He greatly befuddled
Then married the daughter
Of Count Joe of Wandle
Far south of the city
And went on to fondle
Her milk flowing titty.
I send this wet letter
To Brentische planners;
Such amour is better
Than yekkishe manners.

LRH
6.5.06 In reply to GWH's Bride of Brent of 6.5.06

Bride of Brent

Unlike Lucia from far Lammermoor,
fair Linda, hailing from far Chaumonix,
excels when she’s preparing salmon or
deep-frying spuds and spinach that aren’t gammony.

She tried to keep the frog which wooing went
outside the net she guarded as a goalie
till she became the Bride of River Brent
and played the role of Princess Rowley-Powley.

The frog, he always used to say “Heigh-ho, '
because he knew that he could never find a
more lovely princess once she’d kissed him so
he was more charmed than Chaumonix by Linda.

Inspired by Linda, who married me at the Brent Bridge Hotel in August 1996, and by “A frog he would a-wooing go”: [Old folk song].

A Frog he would a-wooing go,
Heigho! says Rowley,
Whether his mother would let him or no.
With a rowley, powley, gammon and spinach,
Heigho! says Anthony Rowley.

So off he set with his opera hat,
Heigho! says Rowley,
And on the way he met with a Rat.
With a rowley, powley, gammon and spinach,
Heigho! says Anthony Rowley.

[...] Read more

poem by Linda Hepner
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Lunch With Gina

That must be her again
She's leaning on my bell
That cold psychotic brain
The one I know so well
So I'm nailed to the floor in the no-option zone
There's about zero chance she'll give up and go home
This endless afternoon
It started on the day I met her
Lunch with Gina is forever
She's coming round the corner
Her body's just a blur
I peel out like The Flash
It don't mean boo to her
So I duck into Nino'sshe's barred from the place
The minute I walk out she's right in my face
She's got nothing but time
No use in trying to be clever
Lunch with Gina is forever
Now I'm in my apartment
The blinds down the lights out
The phone rings God help me
There's nobody home
I crouch on the carpet
Not breathing just being
Like meat on the bone
I'm in a cozy booth
Maybe my watch is fast
Another Tanqueray
I'll wait till twenty past
I'm about to go postal when she waltzes in
I guess she's a knockouthey where have I been?
The waiter never comes
God knows the service could be better
Lunch with Gina is forever
Coffee and a kiss
Maybe later maybe never
Lunch with Gina

song performed by Steely Dan
Added by Lucian Velea
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Anthony Considine

OUT in the wastes of the West countrie,
Out where the white stars shine,
Grim and silent as such men be,
Rideth a man with a history—
Anthony Considine.
For the ways of men they are manifold
As their differing views in life;
Some sell themselves for the lust of gold,
And some for the lust of strife:
But this man counted the world well lost
For the love of his neighbour’s wife.

They fled together, as those must flee
Whom all men hold in blame;
Each to the other must all things be
Who cross the gulf of iniquity
And live in the land of shame.

But a light-o’-love, if she sins with one,
She sinneth with ninety-nine:
The rule holds good since the world begun—
Since ever the streams began to run
And the stars began to shine.
The rule holds still, and he found it true—
Anthony Considine.

A nobler spirit had turned in scorn
From a love that was stained with mire;
A weaker being might mourn and mourn
For the loss of his Heart’s Desire:
But the anger of Anthony Considine
Blazed up like a gaming fire

And she, with her new love, presently
Came past with her eyes ashine;
And Gad so willed it, and God knows why,
She turned and laughed as they passed hire by—
Anthony Considine.

Her laughter stung as a whip might sting;
And mad with his wounded pride
He turned and sprang with a panther’s spring,
And struck at his rival’s side:
And only the woman, shuddering,
Could tell how the dead man died!

She dared not speak—and the mystery
Is buried in auld lang syne,
But out on the wastes of the West countrie,

[...] Read more

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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The Bagman's Dog, : Mr. Peters's Story

Stant littore Puppies!-- Virgil.

It was a litter, a litter of five,
Four are drown'd and one left alive,
He was thought worthy alone to survive;
And the Bagman resolved upon bringing him up,
To eat of his bread, and to drink of his cup,
He was such a dear little cock-tail'd pup.

The Bagman taught him many a trick;
He would carry and fetch, and run after a stick,
Could well understand
The word of command,
And appear to doze
With a crust on his nose,
Till the Bagman permissively waved his hand:
Then to throw up and catch it he never would fail,
As he sat up on end, on his little cock-tail.
Never was puppy so bien instruit,
Or possess'd of such natural talent as he;
And as he grew older,
Every beholder
Agreed he grew handsomer, sleeker, and bolder.--

Time, however, his wheels we may clog,
Wends steadily still with onward jog,
And the cock-tail'd puppy's a curly-tail'd dog!
When just at the time,
He was reaching his prime,
And all thought he'd be turning out something sublime,
One unlucky day,
How, no one could say,
Whether some soft liaison induced him to stray,
Or some kidnapping vagabond coax'd him away,
He was lost to the view
Like the morning dew;
He had been, and was not -- that's all that they knew;
And the Bagman storm'd, and the Bagman swore,
As never a Bagman had sworn before;
But storming or swearing but little avails,
To recover lost dogs with great curly tails.--

In a large paved court, close by Billiter Square,
Stands a mansion old, but in thorough repair,
The only strange thing, from the general air
Of its size and appearance, is, how it got there;
In front is a short semicircular stair
Of stone steps,-- some half score,--
Then you reach the ground floor,
With a shell-pattern'd architrave over the door.

[...] Read more

poem by Richard Harris Barham
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Mack The Knife

Oh the shark, babe has such teeth, dear
And he shows them pearly white
Just a jack knife has macheath, babe
And he keeps it out of sight
You know when the shark bites with his teeth, babe
Scarlet billows start to spread
Fancy gloves though wears macheath, babe
So there's never, never a trace of red
On the sidewalk, oh sunday morning uh huh
Lies a body just oozing life
Someone's sneaking round the corner
Could that someone be mack the knife?
From a tug boat down by the river don't you know
With cement bag just droopin' on down
Oh that cement is just, it's there for the weight, dear
Five'll get you ten old Mackie's back in town
Now did ya hear about Louie miller, he disappeared, dear
After drawing out all his hard-earned cash
And now macheath spends just like a sailor
Could it be our boy's done something rash?
Now Jenny Diver, Sukey Tawdrey
Polly peachum, and old lucy brown
Oh the line forms on the right, babe
Now that mack is back in town
Jenny Diver,oh, oh Sukey Tawdrey
Polly peachum, and old lucy brown
Oh the line forms on the right, babe
Now that mackie's back in town
Look out old Mackie's back!

song performed by Westlife
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Three Of Them Last Night...

nice watching
it is marcelo and his friend
and they both work
for the pay

gina watches them
last night and she writes a poem
about it
last night...she begins... last night...
she met

love and makes it leave
marcelo and his friend walk away

because gina loves the poem more
marcelo is no writer
to understand what is this poem all about

gina the fading night and marcelo is the
morning and the friend
is a tree carved in the
room of their memories.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Gina

Gina'ya yazmıyorum aylardır
Eski günlerin hatrına demişti Rafael
Hiç olmazsa eski günlerin
Kaç kalem eskitti bu dil, kim bilir?
Tüketti mürekkep duygusal hokkamı
Yazamadım

Kafaları çekip Franco'nun barında
Şiirden, sanattan laflardık,
Music box'ta Eagles, sonra Ajda
Yakıp geçmemişti henüz
Genç kızdı iri gözlü Gina

Yıllar sonra o büyüdü
Ben küçülmeye başladım
Saçlarımda, yüzümde

Zaman değil, cesaretim olmadı söylemeye
Kaç kez kaldık başbaşa, ama anlamalıydı
Anlamalıydı her kaçırdığımda
Kalçalarına endeksli gözlerimdeki utancı
Şimdi pişman mıyım? Bilmem

Evlendiği gün, ağlamıştım gizlice
Mutsuz olur diye
Teselliydi alın çizgilerim

Roma sokaklarından yalpalaya yalpalaya
Yürüdüm Vatikan'a zom
Katedral duvarlarını dönüştürmek için ağlamaya
Bir el dokundu omzuma dostça,
Gam çekiyordu hıçkırıkları Rafael'in

Döndüm başladığım yere
Queens'deki kümese
Yarım kalan romanımda
Yüzüme bakmadı aksiliğimden
Kırıp attım daktilomu çöpe

Aylar sonra,
Yağmurlu bir gece çalındı kapım,
Yoğun bakımda, kocası dövmüş dedi Albert
Zaman benim, ben it'in peşinde
Olgunlaştı öfke dolu dizeler kaderimde
Ve, pis bir pansiyonda buldum
Gözümü kırpmadım alnından vurdum

O nedenle yazmıyorum Gina
Zaman uzun, parmaklıklar ardında...

[...] Read more

poem by Muzaffer Akin
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Attention!

Please
do
not
submit
poems
that
include
words like
(f.ck,
a.shole,
p.nis,
v.gina,
b.stard,
s.ck,
s.n o. a b.tch) .

Please
do not use
such letters
as
u.......to complete the f.ck
s......for the a, shole
s
e
a
a
u
f
i

e tcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

Please read all of the formal rules written on this page.
The poems that do not meet these rules will be removed.

l.od and c.ear

c.py & p.aste

what if i write a poem
with some letters missing

wo.ld yu. l.ke t?

we; ; per.onally i like to u.e the wo.d f.ck too
and the v.gina
in some other artful ways
and the p.nes
in some medical means

[...] Read more

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Blessing In Disguise (ayhan?)

katingalahan sang kalibutan subong
diri sa lugar ko
sa lupang hinirang
ang mga tao
daw lain na gid
sang una ya
ang mga bata nga gagmay
ga piko pa kag ga chinese garter
pero subong
kabalo na mag pangulorete sang guya
kung kis-a
galakat ko sa dalan
kita ko mga bata nga mga lalaki
edad 12
gapanigarilyo na
ang bata nga babaye
edad 14
abaw sa jeep
gasakay may upod nga lalaki
kag naga kup'anay gid
hambal sang tao nga naistorya ko
blessing in disguise lang daw na
kay gina tilawan na sang mga bata
ang mga indi mayo nga butang
samtang bata pa sila
pero kung mag tigulang na sila
mag edad mga 18 asta 90
kung kalab'ot pa
natak'an na mag himo sang sala
kundi gina try naman
ang iban nga kaayuhan
kag naga paka tutum
kay gahambal sila
graduate nako da
matuod man kung kis'a
kay biskan ako
amo man ko na sa mga bata
ilintuon gid
makatilaw lang sang ginadumilian
sang mga ginikanan
pero sa subong
ga edad nako 24
daw natamad na ko mag lapas
sang house rules
daw may ara na ko
responsibilidad sa kaugalingon ko
wala nko gasabay
sa mga bata, kag mga ka edad ko
nga bag'o pa lang ka tinunto
subong nakita ko na

[...] Read more

poem by Shelomith Noarbe
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Only The Best For You, Gina!

Lovely Gina ate cake with some icing
I was there, just to help with the slicing.
Took my eyes off the cake
which was one big mistake.
Well I found lovely Gina enticing.

So the slice was the shape of the Moon
and she called me a greedy buffoon.
So we ate it together
still discussing then whether
we ought to obtain a large spoon.

Full of cake lovely Gina got up
filled with Burgundy one coffee cup.
Then we washed down the cake
and went down to the lake
where I called her my burgundy pup.

So you see, when old geesers start dreaming
and imagining, lusting and scheming
it should not be alluded
or even included
in a limerick that may be redeeming.

Have a Happy and Many Returns!
As the world, that big volleyball turns,
you are one lovely lass
with a beautiful a**
can I meet you at night, in the Ferns?

poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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A Neighborly Guy

Baptist churches and brotherhood
In a tired, aging town
A moribund neighborhood
Where faith and fraternity are found

Cleveland Ohio’s a rust belt town
Ordinary citizens, still work out the days
Life comes and goes, has ups and has downs
But some neighbors are different in unusual ways

Take Anthony Sowell, a neighborly guy
A smile bright as the sunrise, none brighter or quicker
Liked to sit on his porch, by and by
Sippin’ from a bottle of King Cobra Malt Liquor

Had a few girlfriends over, seemed a regular guy
Neighbors came over for barbecue at times
Always said “good mornin’ and evening” and “hi’
Scrounged up ol’ metal for nickels and dimes

Neighbors at times notice odd scents
Of dead things or spoiled meat
Seemed to be coming from beyond a fence
Of a sausage maker just down the street

But Anthony sowell, a neighborly guy
Had compliant companions who sat quietly inside
Four on the couch slowly rotting
and three on the floor where they died

A few in the hallway
several upstairs in the bed
One in the bathroom,
on his workbench, a severed head

Anthony Sowell, a neighborly guy
was led in handcuffs through his front gate
Left his neighbors imaginations to fly
As to what was in that barbecue they ate

Anthony seemed such a neighborly guy
Some said they’d forever feel sickened
Some said they’d never eat barbecue again
Some said it tasted a little like chicken

poem by David Whalen
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When you are Old

Sonnet XXXII

Should you survive the number of my days,
Attest to buried bones and grounded hope,
Nervous, by chance, perhaps this book you'll ope,
Grave hand re-reading, when fast passed my ways.
Tender friend recall our comet blaze,
Openly with instinct's gyroscope
Mark, nurture, sight and sound, bright chromascope,
Able to distill implicit ph[r]ase.
Methinks fond thoughts might share this paraphrase:
“As rainbow bridge strips off coarse envelope
Underdeveloped were poor poet’s plays -
Death forced him far too early to elope.
E’er since he died, have other poets flourished.
Competent their works, I’ll read his, who love nourished.”

[c] Jonathan Robin

Shakespeare Sonnet XXXII
(cf Ronsard: When you are old and grey)

If thou survive my well-contented day,
When that churl death my bones with dust shall cover,
And shall by fortune once more re-survey
These poor rude lines of thy deceasèd lover,
Compare them with the bettering of the time,
And though they be outstripp’d by every pen,
Reserve them for my love, not for their rime,
Exceeded by the heights of happier men.
O! then vouchsafe me but this loving thought:
'Had my friend's Muse grown with this growing age,
A dearer birth than this his love had brought,
To march in ranks of better equipage:
But since he died, and poets better prove,
Theirs for their style I'll read, his for his love.'?

Quand vous serez bien vieille

Quand vous serez bien vieille, au soir, à la chandelle,
Assise auprès du feu, dévidant et filant,
Direz, chantant mes vers, en vous émerveillant:
'Ronsard me célébrait du temps que j'étais belle.'

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Man on a Ledge

Cast: Elizabeth Banks, Sam Worthington, Jamie Bell, Anthony Mackie, Ed Harris, Kyra Sedgwick, Genesis Rodriguez, Edward Burns, William Sadler, Liz Holtan

trailer for Man on a Ledge, directed by Asger Leth, screenplay by Pablo F. Fenjves (2012)
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Ferdinand

Cast: Kate McKinnon, David Tennant, John Cena, Gina Rodriguez, Bobby Cannavale, Anthony Anderson, Daveed Diggs, Sally Phillips

trailer for Ferdinand (2017)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Ferdinand [trailer 2]

Cast: Kate McKinnon, David Tennant, John Cena, Gina Rodriguez, Bobby Cannavale, Anthony Anderson, Daveed Diggs, Sally Phillips

trailer for Ferdinand (2017)
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Nobody Knows

[Anthony Hamilton]
IIIIIIIII didn't know, there'd be troubles along the way
Nobody told me nothin, nobody told me nothin, nothin
Well, well, ohh, ohhhh, ohhhhhh, oahh-ohhhh
Well, ay-heyyy, ay-hey, we-ell
Uh-huh, uh-huh-huh, uh-huh-huh, uh-huh-huh
[Nelly]
I went through, 8 different schools in, 12 different years
That's 30 different teachers, over ten thousand different peers
And I done fought in e'ryone, been suspended e'rytime
Besides a few a felony, done committed e'ry crime
But never braggin on, just want you to see me what I done done
I'm never proud of it, so I don't have to go back there again
And uhh, I used to go like house to house (man)
Sleepin on couch to couch (you know)
Walk around stickin out my hands, lookin for a handout
Only thing I handed out was more bills
Only thing pulled me out was my will
God told me the sun don't chill
Determined to make use of one of these skills
Either that or go beat the block
Ain't no way you can beat the cops
Ain't no way I can beat the clock
Just a matter of time shut down your shop
Ohh, you stay up day and nights, livin this way of life
I was +Young and Restless+
+All My Children+ came and then I had a +Guiding Light+ (hey)
No more of that sittin mayne (c'mon) sittin and waitin
and thinkin somebody comin to take me up off them streets
But now I know..
[Chorus - Anthony Hamilton]
Nobody told me that the road would be easy, yeah
I don't believe, I've made it this far
My whole life, man I've been workin so hard and I know
Nobody told me that the road would be easy (Whoaaaaaa, that the road)
I can't believe, I've made it this far (Whoo, yeahhh)
My whole life, man I've been workin so hard and I know
[Nelly]
I can tell you right now, I'm sayin
I could sit here and count on one hand
How many people seen me graduate
I know a few that did but a bunch that ain't (hey)
Same folks showin up in swarms, waitin for me to go on
Wantin to see Ali perform, wasn't so po' before
I became this household name
I was playin them Little League games
Nobody curred if I go 0-for-3
Nobody out hurr rootin for me but my Momma
Supported me in e'rything, "Why she get e'rything?"
Some people got the nerve to ask

[...] Read more

song performed by Nelly
Added by Lucian Velea
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On a close-up of Anthony Delius, on his Questions to the Universe

So tell me Anthony you start
your wailing against the gods / God
with the sketch of a man gone mad

who does not know his own integrity
nor if he is in reality either good or bad
and maybe a little bit of both

does not know where he stands in life
if he’s cruel to his kids or letting them run amok
if sex with his wife wedded or not

satisfies her or is she only acting it out
and is he a wimp or what, who wears a pink shirt
and hides behind her skirt?

Could he find any help from a doctor,
minister or priest to mend
or is he in the end only a waste to the human race?

Completely mixed up the anti-hero wants to lurk
in the basement as if looking for a replacement
or to find something in his heart or turn to art

and yet he sees a roving universal eye
looking down from the blue sky
somewhat like that of a colonel or a cat

(most probably a rat (if he’s in the basement)
and I wonder to what army did this nut belong?)
and what answer does he anyway get but none
and he decides that it’s up to himself and no one else.

[References: Questions to the Universe by Anthony Delius. My poem was written in reaction to Anthony Delius’s poem: On a Close-up of Dirk Opperman, on the Jacket of his Komas.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 3. The Sicilian's Tale; The Monk of Casal-Maggiore

Once on a time, some centuries ago,
In the hot sunshine two Franciscan friars
Wended their weary way, with footsteps slow
Back to their convent, whose white walls and spires
Gleamed on the hillside like a patch of snow;
Covered with dust they were, and torn by briers,
And bore like sumpter-mules upon their backs
The badge of poverty, their beggar's sacks.

The first was Brother Anthony, a spare
And silent man, with pallid cheeks and thin,
Much given to vigils, penance, fasting, prayer,
Solemn and gray, and worn with discipline,
As if his body but white ashes were,
Heaped on the living coals that glowed within;
A simple monk, like many of his day,
Whose instinct was to listen and obey.

A different man was Brother Timothy,
Of larger mould and of a coarser paste;
A rubicund and stalwart monk was he,
Broad in the shoulders, broader in the waist,
Who often filled the dull refectory
With noise by which the convent was disgraced,
But to the mass-book gave but little heed,
By reason he had never learned to read.

Now, as they passed the outskirts of a wood,
They saw, with mingled pleasure and surprise,
Fast tethered to a tree an ass, that stood
Lazily winking his large, limpid eyes.
The farmer Gilbert of that neighborhood
His owner was, who, looking for supplies
Of fagots, deeper in the wood had strayed,
Leaving his beast to ponder in the shade.

As soon as Brother Timothy espied
The patient animal, he said: 'Good-lack!
Thus for our needs doth Providence provide;
We'll lay our wallets on the creature's back.'
This being done, he leisurely untied
From head and neck the halter of the jack,
And put it round his own, and to the tree
Stood tethered fast as if the ass were he.

And, bursting forth into a merry laugh,
He cried to Brother Anthony: 'Away!
And drive the ass before you with your staff;
And when you reach the convent you may say
You left me at a farm, half tired and half

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Added by Poetry Lover
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