Not sure of the name, but another was when he goot sent to prison and
his wife and lawyer were in on it tto keep[ him tthere1!!!

What about good ole Chuckie Bronsonn.... he was cool and collected!
dirty Harry was nno pushover either1

I know Jean Claude Van Damne goot his ass kicked at a bar, i tthink by
the head hells angel dude!

Raw Deal's cool!

I can'tt handle Arnoold with long hair in Conan

Yeah, that movie was probably his worst, but I mentioned it for the word
'hero"...Commando was better!

Lets not forget Schwarzneger, the "Last Action hero!"

Steven Seagal, better actor but no hero..

Maybe hero? But I think he sucks as an actor...he's too stiff

A fragrant mist of footsteps leaving.

The mind,
a dark place,
held not to be ransomed.

Thoughts... connecting
as whispering states,
recieve their welcome,
denying none.

Shattered pieces of truth and lies,
better left untouched.

Distance hears their reckless forming.

Intelligence asks,
before safely resting
on the edge of unreliability.

Wounds heal not,
pressuring strands of uncertainty
against our bodies of imagery.

Overindulged in its retired view,
being still unsatisfied,
we weep.

I wish everyone thought like that... very sincere. Hope you find
just that.

THE WINDOW

Snow capped mountains
stand proud, as twins.

Each display mother natures
blanket of incomparable beauty,
her sporadic uniformities,
proportioned delicately,
soundly, across their faces,
dew covered valley,
at their foot.

Burst they with color,
as the sun rises,
magnifying autums intoxicating effect,
veil of darkness slowly being lifted,
exposing their identities,
until fully revealed.

Spring water, glistening,
uninhibited,
flows down their wrinkles of age,
shown more prominent with time,
gently caressing their feet,
before resting in calm waters below,
a lake, timeless in its beauty.

All of this, brief in description,
was captured, photographed,
and cataloged in my mind
as I sat in awe,
apart from natures elements,
in my favorite chair.

At the bottom,
beneath the rubble
of a broken heart
and distorted truths.

At the bottom,
under the pile
of unanswered dreams
and promises not kept.

At the bottom,
below the remains
of torturing memories
and shattered ideas.

At the bottom,
destroyed
by all this fallen debris,
lies, less its structure,
a no-longer useful foundation,
for that,
which had once been,
my life...

I can sing and play guitar, but usually to something more
depressing!!!!

M, slap some music to it and you got the new justsayhi jingle!

So true....dreams once again shattered by reality.

yeah, but sometimes little too deep M....thankyou

Thanks King..

Born amidst an inferno of choice,
I planned my escape, ducking,
weaving through scouring flames
of what was and what is meant to be,
into an entombing catacomb,
where worry has been forgotten
and time remains frozen in mind.

Filled with the cool ashes
of flames unwillingly doused
by abuse of experimental substances,
one on one relations now form
as artificial realms disfigure
both properties of time and space.

Heightening my attention
with unsubstantiated promises
of unexplored knowledge,
I'm continually drawn furhter
from my once accepted surroundings.

Now,having reached the point of dependency,
being unable to truly differentiate
between fantasy and fiction,
containment of my true self
along with natural composure,
has become increasingly difficult.

Facades of reality, intertwined
with my minds distorted perceptions,
now begin to create enough friction,
consolidating those cool ashes
I had so eagerly embraced,
until hot embers re-emerged.

Dancing upon these scorching embers,
no-longer power to choose an option,
I am eventually engulfed by their flames.

A dream come true!