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The Troll Hunter

Cast: Otto Jespersen, Hans Morten Hansen, Tomas Alf Larsen, Johanna Morck, Knut Nærum, Robert Stoltenberg, Glenn Erland Tosterud

trailer for The Troll Hunter, directed by Andre Ovredal, screenplay by Andre Ovredal (2010)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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I would say practical progressive, which means that the Republican party or any political party has got to recognize the problems of a growing and complex industrial civilization. And I don't think the Republican party is really wide awake to that.

quote by Alf Landon
Added by Lucian Velea
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Let’s Remain Friends

Love is capable
Of ruining our marvelous friendship
And destroying our great relationship.

Love is culpable
In every instance, where strong feelings
Are engaged. Love stings
Like the nocturnal killer bees
Like the flower hat jellies of the shallow seas.

Let’s remain friends
Let’s shake hands
And avoid the kisses and the hugs
So we won’t stain our velvety rugs.

Love is a deadly harpoon
With a sharp and invisible blade
Love is an unpredictable weapon.

Let’s not drink that Kool-aid

[...] Read more

poem by Hebert Logerie (January 2012)
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Early Works - TV Madness

You sit with eyes glued to the screen
watching a little beam
in a box
that talks.
Your eyes go perpendicular
and a haze comes over you
the TV madness has got through.

The haze then forms into shapes
of Coronation Street and Ben Casey
as an operation begins on Ena by Kildare
while the Invisible Man sits unnoticed in a chair.
When the TV goes funny,
you hit it like hell
afraid of missing Alf Garnet’s famous yell.

Then comes The Man In The Suitcase
who has such a squeeze
and is nearly blown away
by a Laurel and Hardy sneeze.

[...] Read more

poem by David Harris
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The Exiles

They were a merrie companie,
Who'd dwelt together all these years;
A little mixed in type, maybe;
Yet prone to mingle now as peers,
For old acquaintance sake; and so,
Bewilderment about them swirled
When told, abruptly, they must go,
From these snug shelves, back to the world.

Bill Sikes wept over Little Nell;
Pickwick and Cratchit cried, 'Too bad!'
Tom Pinch and Fagin said farewell;
Uriah Heep was humbly sad,
And Nickleby and Copperfield
Shook hands and said, 'Good-bye, old man!'
And even Daniel Quilp appealed
To gods of fiction 'gainst the ban.

Smike took his leave of Barney Rudge;
Pecksniff pledged Salry one last cup;

[...] Read more

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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My Father

was a truly amazing man
he pretended to be
rich
even though we lived on beans and mush and weenies
when we sat down to eat, he said,
"not everybody can eat like this."

and because he wanted to be rich or because he actually
thought he was rich
he always voted Republican
and he voted for Hoover against Roosevelt
and he lost
and then he voted for Alf Landon against Roosevelt
and he lost again
saying, "I don't know what this world is coming to,
now we've got that god damned Red in there again
and the Russians will be in our backyard next!"

I think it was my father who made me decide to
become a bum.

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poem by Charles Bukowski
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Going Home

I'm goin' 'ome to Blighty -- ain't I glad to 'ave the chance!
I'm loaded up wiv fightin', and I've 'ad my fill o' France;
I'm feelin' so excited-like, I want to sing and dance,
For I'm goin' 'ome to Blighty in the mawnin'.

I'm goin' 'ome to Blighty: can you wonder as I'm gay?
I've got a wound I wouldn't sell for 'alf a year o' pay;
A harm that's mashed to jelly in the nicest sort o' way,
For it takes me 'ome to Blighty in the mawnin'.

'Ow everlastin' keen I was on gettin' to the front!
I'd ginger for a dozen, and I 'elped to bear the brunt;
But Cheese and Crust! I'm crazy, now I've done me little stunt,
To sniff the air of Blighty in the mawnin'.

I've looked upon the wine that's white, and on the wine that's red;
I've looked on cider flowin', till it fairly turned me 'ead;
But oh, the finest scoff will be, when all is done and said,
A pint o' Bass in Blighty in the mawnin'.

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poem by Robert William Service
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A Pot Of Tea

You make it in your mess-tin by the brazier's rosy gleam;
You watch it cloud, then settle amber clear;
You lift it with your bay'nit, and you sniff the fragrant steam;
The very breath of it is ripe with cheer.
You're awful cold and dirty, and a-cursin' of your lot;
You scoff the blushin' 'alf of it, so rich and rippin' 'ot;
It bucks you up like anythink, just seems to touch the spot:
God bless the man that first discovered Tea!

Since I came out to fight in France, which ain't the other day,
I think I've drunk enough to float a barge;
All kinds of fancy foreign dope, from caffy and doo lay,
To rum they serves you out before a charge.
In back rooms of estaminays I've gurgled pints of cham;
I've swilled down mugs of cider till I've felt a bloomin' dam;
But 'struth! they all ain't in it with the vintage of Assam:
God bless the man that first invented Tea!

I think them lazy lumps o' gods wot kips on asphodel
Swigs nectar that's a flavour of Oolong;

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poem by Robert William Service
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The Married Man

Reservist of the Line

The bachelor 'e fights for one
As joyful as can be;
But the married man don't call it fun,
Because 'e fights for three --
For 'Im an' 'Er an' It
(An' Two an' One make Three)
'E wants to finish 'is little bit,
An' e' wants to go 'ome to is tea!

The bachelor pokes up 'is 'ead
To see if you are gone;
But the married man lies down instead,
An' waits till the sights come on,
For 'im an' 'Er an' a hit
(Direct or recochee)
'E wants to finish 'is little bit,
An' 'e wants to go 'ome to 'is tea.

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poem by Rudyard Kipling
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The Widow At Windsor

'Ave you 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor
With a hairy gold crown on 'er 'ead?
She 'as ships on the foam -- she 'as millions at 'ome,
An' she pays us poor beggars in red.
(Ow, poor beggars in red!)
There's 'er nick on the cavalry 'orses,
There's 'er mark on the medical stores --
An' 'er troopers you'll find with a fair wind be'ind
That takes us to various wars.
(Poor beggars! -- barbarious wars!)
Then 'ere's to the Widow at Windsor,
An' 'ere's to the stores an' the guns,
The men an' the 'orses what makes up the forces
O' Missis Victorier's sons.
(Poor beggars! Victorier's sons!)

Walk wide o' the Widow at Windsor,
For 'alf o' Creation she owns:
We 'ave bought 'er the same with the sword an' the flame,
An' we've salted it down with our bones.

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poem by Rudyard Kipling
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