British funnyman Russell Brand is expected to take the lead role in the remake of cult classic The Rocky Horror Picture Show, according to reports.

The original 1975 movie, which starred Tim Curry, Susan Sarandon and Meat Loaf, is set to be remade, with studio bosses were keen to replicate the original's success.

And British comedian Brand, who kicked off his film career in Forgetting Sarah Marshall earlier this year, is favourite to take on Curry's coveted role of transvestite scientist Frank N Furter, according to the London Paper.

A source tells the publication, "It would make sense for him to be Frank N Furter."

The only problem
with Haiku is that you just
get started and then
--Roger McGough

Woodstock
by Joni Mitchell

I came upon a child of god
He was walking along the road
And I asked him, where are you going
And this he told me

I'm going on down to Yasgur's farm
I'm going to join in a rock 'n' roll band
I'm going to camp out on the land
And try and get my soul free

We are stardust
We are golden
And we've got to get ourselves
Back to the garden

Then can I walk beside you
I have come here to lose the smog
And I feel to be a cog
In something turning

Well, maybe it is just the time of year
Or maybe it's the time of man
I don't know who I am
But life is for learning

We are stardust
We are golden
And we've got to get ourselves
Back to the garden

By the time we got to Woodstock
We were half a million strong
And everywhere there was song
And celebration

And I dreamed I saw the bombers
Riding shotgun in the sky
And they were turning into butterflies
Above our nation

We are stardust
million year old carbon
We are golden
caught in the devils bargain
And we've got to get ourselves
Back to the garden

Event
by Sylvia Plath

How the elements solidify! ---
The moonlight, that chalk cliff
In whose rift we lie

Back to back. I here an owl cry
From its cold indigo.
Intolerable vowels enter my heart.

The child in the white crib revolves and sighs,
Opens its mouth now, demanding.
His little face is carved in pained, red wood.

Then there are the stars - ineradicable, hard.
One touch : it burns and sickens.
I cannot see your eyes.

Where apple bloom ices the night
I walk in a ring,
A groove of old faults, deep and bitter.

Love cannot come here.
A black gap discloses itself.
On the opposite lip

A small white soul is waving, a small white maggot.
My limbs, also, have left me.
Who has dismembered us?

The dark is melting. We touch like cripples.

Symptom Recital
by Dorothy Parker

I do not like my state of mind;
I'm bitter, querulous, unkind.
I hate my legs, I hate my hands,
I do not yearn for lovelier lands.
I dread the dawn's recurrent light;
I hate to go to bed at night.
I snoot at simple, earnest folk.
I cannot take the gentlest joke.
I find no peace in paint or type.
My world is but a lot of tripe.
I'm disillusioned, empty-breasted.
For what I think, I'd be arrested.
I am not sick, I am not well.
My quondam dreams are shot to hell.
My soul is crushed, my spirit sore;
I do not like me any more.
I cavil, quarrel, grumble, grouse.
I ponder on the narrow house.
I shudder at the thought of men...
I'm due to fall in love again.

Intoxication
by Boris Pasternak

Under the ivy-circled willow tree
We seek shelter from stormy weather,
A cape covers our shoulders
And my arms circle you.

I am mistaken. The trees of this thicket
Are circled not with ivy but with hops.
So better spread the cape
Flat on the ground.

The Old Man
by George Oppen

The old man
In the mirror
Startles
Me
But the young man
In the photograph
Is stranger
Still.

Portrait of Anne Hébert
by D.J. Jones

The sunlight, here and there,
Touches a table

And a draught at the window
Announces your presence,

You take your place in the room
Without fuss,

Your delicate bones,
Your frock,
Have the grace of disinterested passion.

Words are arrayed
Like surgical instruments
Neatly in trays.

Deftly, you make an incision
Probing
The obscure disease.

Your sensibility
Has the sure fingers of the blind:

Each decision
Cuts like a scalpel
Through tangled emotion.

You define
The morbid tissue, laying it bare

Like a tatter of lace
Dark
On the paper.

Where the Blue Horses
by Ray Souster

The street is quiet,
the noise through the wall is stilled,
the little cat curled up on the chair,
radio turned off, milk bottles outside the door.

And for now
nothing but sleep and dreams and thoughts of sleep,
not even love keep us awake tonight

as we sink into that strange land
where the blue horses toss
riderless and proud.

At Castlewood
by Emily Bronte

The day is done, the winter sun
Is setting in its sullen sky;
And drear the course that has been run,
And dim the hearts that slowly die.

No star will light my coming night;
No morn of hope for me will shine;
I mourn not heaven would blast my sight,
And I ne'er longed for joys divine.

Through life's hard task I did not ask
Celestial aid, celestial cheer;
I saw my fate without its mask,
And met it too without a tear.

The grief that pressed my aching breast
Was heavier far than earth can be;
And who would dread eternal rest
When labour's hour was agony?

Dark falls the fear of this despair
On spirits born of happiness;
But I was bred the mate of care,
The foster-child of sore distress.

No sighs for me, no sympathy,
No wish to keep my soul below;
The heart is dead in infancy,
Unwept-for let the body go.

This is a Photograph of Me
by Margaret Atwood

It was taken some time ago.
At first it seems to be
a smeared
print: blurred lines and grey flecks
blended with the paper;

then, as you scan
it, you can see in the left-hand corner
a thing that is like a branch: part of a tree
(balsam or spruce) emerging
and, to the right, halfway up
what ought to be a gentle
slope, a small frame house.

In the background there is a lake,
and beyond that, some low hills.

(The photograph was taken
the day after I drowned.

I am in the lake, in the center
of the picture, just under the surface.

It is difficult to say where
precisely, or to say
how large or how small I am:
the effect of water
on light is a distortion

but if you look long enough,
eventually
you will be able to see me.)

London, I'm Yours
by Lauren Watkins

Sitting alone in bright Australian sun
My mind has wandered far away
To a place where church spires pierce
The clouds that covers every day.
London, I'm yours.

This sad excuse for winter
Is barely nipping at my toes.
No blustering wind dances,
Or whips through my clothes
London, I'm yours.

The sprawling, heat-flattened houses
And the noisy passing train
Make me wish so very hard
I was in London again.
London, I'm yours.

I have time on my side
To return, over continents and sea
But stranded so far away now
Makes me realise where I'd like to be.
London, I'm yours.

Sorrows of the Elderly
by Leonard Cohen

The old are kind.
The young are hot.
Love may be blind.
Desire is not.

Alone At Last
by Leonard Cohen

How bitter were
the Prozac pills
of the last
few hundred mornings

My Makeup
by Rochelle Kraut

on my cheeks I wear
the flush of two beers

on my eyes I use
the dark circles of sleepless nights
to great advantage

for lipstick
I wear my lips

The Night Is Darkening Round Me
by Emily Bronte

The night is darkening round me,
The wild winds coldly blow;
But a tyrant spell has bound me,
And I cannot, cannot go.

The giant trees are bending
Their bare boughs weighed with snow;
The storm is fast descending,
And yet I cannot go.

Clouds beyond clouds above me,
Wastes beyond wastes below;
But nothing drear can move me:
I will not, cannot go.

Winter Night
by Boris Pasternak

Snow swept over the earth,
Swept it from end to end.
The candle on the table burned,
The candle burned.

Like swarms of summer midges
Drawn to the flame
The snowflakes
Flocked to the window.

The driven snow drew circles and arrows
On the window pane.
The candle on the table burned,
The candle burned.

On the bright ceiling
Fell the shadows
Of crossed hands, crossed feet,
Crossed fate.

Two shoes fell to the floor
With a thud.
From the night-light
Wax tears dropped on frock.

And everything was lost
In the white-haired, white, snowy darkness.
The candle on the table burned,
The candle burned.

A draught from the corner
Puffed at the candle's flame,
And like an angel, the heat of temptation
Raised two wings in the form of a cross.

The snow swept all through February,
And now and again
The candle on the table burned,
The candle burned.

Heart-Shaped Box
by Kurt Cobain

She eyes me like a Pisces when I am weak
I've been locked inside your Heart-Shaped box four whole weeks
I've been drawn into your magnet tar pit trap
I wish I could eat your cancer when you turn black

Hey, Wait
I've got a new complaint
Forever in debt to your priceless advice

Meat-eating orchids forgive no one just yet
Cut myself on angel's hair and baby's breath
Broken hymen of your highness I'm left black
Throw down your umbilical noose so I can climb right back

Hey, Wait
I've got a new complaint
Forever in debt to your priceless advice

Pennyroyal Tea
by Kurt Cobain

I'm on my time with everyone
I have very bad posture

Sit and drink Pennyroyal Tea
Distill the life that's inside of me
Sit and drink Pennyroyal Tea
I'm anemic royalty

Give me a Leonard Cohen afterworld
So I can sigh eternally

I'm so tired I can't sleep
I'm a liar and a thief
Sit and drink Pennyroyal Tea
I'm anemic royalty

I'm on warm milk and laxatives
Cherry-flavoured antacids

Sit and drink Pennyroyal Tea
Distill the life that's inside of me
Sit and drink Pennyroyal Tea
I'm anemic royalty

Serve The Servants
by Kurt Cobain

Teenage angst has paid off well
Now I'm bored and old
Self-appointed judges judge
More than they have sold
If she floats than she's not
A witch like we had thought
A down payment on another
One at Salem's lot
Serve the servants - oh no
That legendary divorce is such a bore
As my bones grew they did hurt
They hurt really bad
I tried hard to have a father
But instead I had a Dad
I just want you to know that I
Don't hate you anymore
There is nothing I could say
That I haven't thought before
Serve the servants - oh no
That legendary divorce is such a bore

Swap Meet
by Kurt Cobain

They lead a lifetime that is comfortable
They travel far to keep their stomachs full
They make their living off of arts and crafts
The kind with seashells driftwood and burlap
They make a deal when they come to town
The Sunday swap meet is a battle ground
She loves him more than he will ever know
He loves her more than he will ever show
--Keeps his cigarettes close to his heart
--Keeps her photographs close to her heart
--Keeps the bitterness close to the heart

Drain You
by Kurt Cobain

One baby to another says,
I'm lucky to have met you
I don't care what you think
Unless it is about me
It is now my duty to completely drain you
I travel through a tube
And end up in your infection

Chew your meat for you
Pass it back and forth
In a passionate kiss
From my mouth to yours
Because I like you

With eyes so dilated,
I've became your pupil
You've taught me everything
Without a poison apple
The water is so yellow, I'm a healthy student
Indebted and so grateful -
Vacuum out the fluids

Chew your meat for you
Pass it back and forth
In a flatulent kiss
From my mouth to yours
Sloppy lips to lips
You're my vitamins
I like you