this is one of my favorite Kevin Kline Films, I didn't think it had a sad ending I thought the ending was redeeming and beautiful.

So I walk among the empryean sky,
With my head leaning towards the ground,
Faith at times seems waning,
Tears trying to find diamonds in the faintest of light.
I call to the wind, and rove with the Moon,
And I don' t know why?
Much like the spring Rose.

Rebirth and new dreams,
New explorations, and endless roads,
All the while I question my existence.
Am I leaf soon to fall from the tree?

Just like the mountains, what is my greatness,
Will I divide the horizon, or turn to dust and fade away.
The darkest jaunt of my eyes, is the unknowing, the unkown.
Flowers are in April.

Spring and Fall, Spring and Fall,
The Summer eclipses the Winter,
Year after year,
Year after year.

I lay here wondering what will happen next?

In the same hour of the heart falling to the stomachs pit, the celestial being Spreads her wings, in the graveyard of a soulless night. The lachrymal Weeps Silently, weeps dry. Ineptitude in every void, except for that

Wanning light. The soul is an eternity. Is it impossible to remain broken Forever? The shadows are a symptom of reality, much like glue.
The wraith of sadness, sadness, sadness. Is it really me?

Pain like arid broken glass from a lifetime before, sometimes lives fresh,
And alive. I could paint a silhouette of time, of my time, I could paint a
Silhouette of the waves, I could paint a silhouette of dying, dying in time.

I paint lines around my eyes to define my soul, and make a black and
White copy. Is it really me? The angel spreads with vigor, her wings large
And black. She disappears silently like a lamb with no name.

I am left perched in the middle of self discovery. Am I so determined to Know? What right have I got to know? I go alone middled in the woods.

I wrote this poem about two years ago, it is still one of my favorites, and I usually don't like my poetry.



Strange Place

We live in such a strange place,
You,
Me.

A fairy tale if you will, of the
Dittily doo.

The doo's,
The don'ts,
The noose and the muse.

O' YES, YES,
And my fair lady
Too.

Cotton Candy and veggie delight,
In the same fragment of
Father,
You know
Whoooo!

And I divine
So middily
In Autumn and October
Too.

Red, green, brown,
All upon the same branch,
A bird, squirrel, bugs,
And the Morning
Dew.

This is the dittily doo's of don'ts
To soar to miss
Moon,
To smile,
To live like Marble cake,
To live
ZoSo cool.

yes that is the only reason that it is so choppy, dial up is too slow for a streaming connection like that, the only possible cure is to juice up the computers memory(ram) to it max, and that might help some.

When I was a child my stepmother called me a Nigger Child,
This rage and hate.
Hate.
Hate.
Growing up in a universe of unknowns how was I to know
What that meant!
Young, innocent, torn apart by rage and the lack of Nike shoes.
How was I to know that wealth brought a calm childhood.
I lived in a fantasy, I caught bees, created wars in my back yard,
And dreamt of being the greatest sports player,
But none of that was me.

I had taped together glasses, worn out shoes, and Fear.
Fear.
Fear.
The kids would beat me up,
All i really wanted to do was eat candy
Watch cartoons.

If I had been born black I would have been called a cracker or a honky!
You know those useful words,
That deevolve time.

But I was a kid, accidently born,
Yet, born to fight, born to live.
I did not parellel time.
I was shy, I quietly listened,
I quietly grew.

I became troubled,
Drugs, alcohol, then a rebel without,
Because I did not know what else to do.
I was fighting against myself,
What a wonderful picture of a tornado I can draw for you!

The I found LSD, Jack Kerouac, and many others,
And all of a sudden the stars seemed new.
A soul was reborn then. I wanted everything, the sun,
The moon.
I wanted God, I wanted him to light my heart with strength of a hundred men,
I wanted God to set fire to my brain, and I wanted the intelligence of a million men.

I did everything as fast as I could,
I was drunk everyday on whiskey, women, and books,
I was drunk on Poetry and art.
I did it all too fast, and too soon.
I crashed, crashed, crashed,
I dried up and burned out like an abandoned building.

So I left my old life to start a new one.
I cleaned up,
I was able to watch the stars,
After some time the art and poetry moved back through me.
I now move in slow strides, and reflect upon my day.
The heavens are in my soul, the scared child drifted away.

Nigger, poverty, abandonment,,
this hate,
this anger,
this rage,
It all turned out to be illusion and I am,
I am free from it today.

Its a long way to the sea,
Some might say,
Its a long way to the shore.

Its a long way when the fog,
Is like mud.
The hunted, Lonely.

The big gray sky,
Clouds that never end,
Nor fade.

No sun.
No moon.
No stars.
No noise.
No silence.
No pain.
No Love.
It's a long way home.

The heart is a lonely hunter,
The eyes, sad, dismissed raindrops.
The flesh is waning.
Time is a perilous question.
The hunted, Lonely.

The soul is a single roamer.
The brain is a dreamer.
I could walk straight into the sea and be forgotten.

No God.
No Hell.
No saints.
No sinners.
No sanity.
No sleep.
Yet I dream, to dream of thee.

Do I dare dig any deeper,
Do I become void, numb,
And no longer care?

The hollows dwell deep
Within, abstracting straight lines,
Obtusing tears.

What lies beneath the Pyramid,
A maze of endless perception.
The soul stretches over the wind.

The grayness comes and go,
Illness comes, and Illness fades.
Darkness screams in the hollows.

Sing a song for me,
Sing a song of Joy,
Sing, for me!

The sun rises,
Haunted.
Yellow golds,
Fading oranges,
Colorful scripts, and
Shiny names on Tombstones.

The world noisey,
Dances in endless time,
Crying for ghosts to
Relieve our time.

Explosive,
Lies, and
Fire.

The sweet amber of present time.
The sweet bliss of innocence and crying.
My stomach purged at weakness.
My mind gives, and gives, but really takes.

I am beloved, loved, and crying.