MY FATHER THE HERO: Charlie Rose - Kiefer Sutherland / David Gonzalez, Richard Rodriguez, Dale Irvin

Segment 1: Actor Kiefer Sutherland talks about the new season of "24". Segment 2: A conversation about the rise of Pentecostalism among the Latino community in the United States with David Gonzalez of The New York Times, author and journalist Richard Rodriguez, and Dale Irvin, Dean of the New York Theological Seminary.

Games Flirting with Flirtation

The smile that destroys empires smiled at me.
The giggle that fuels champagne filled me.
The whispers of sweet everythings ring in my ears.
Is this a game, are we flirting with flirtation?
Is this the beginning or the end?
Let me inside the mind that launched at least one ship.
Let the light seep in around as it has me.
Let my love slip inside you and make you warm.
I an not winter and I am not summer fall or spring.
I am he that is not I am.
Hear my lust, feel my pain.
Hear my intentions and see my purity.
Hear my screams as I burn with this feeling,
Of Flirting with Flirtation.

The Man in The Glasses Is Smiling:

The man in the glasses knows more than he is letting on.
A smile of protruding teeth and glossy gums masks a great secret.
This haunting fellow sits and stares.
Alone in this world and he has it all figured out.
Alone and enlightened, forever to escape the insanity of society’s norm.
I wish I could be the man in the glasses,
But he is far too wise to wish to be me.

The following day

As I prepare for a new day
I clear my head and honor the dead.
Out of the destruction of my heart
I have been born a new.


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Death to the four-named man

As “The Everlasting Gaze” pumps into my ears I push the pump of the needle hard and the brown hatred burns through my blood. The wondrous honey of the poppy plant of hatred and angst fills body and I am lost. A spiritual suicide. A new beginning, an old ending. It is completely dark as I am dreaming this ending. I rip my skin and tear the flesh. My eye begins to bleed a little. Am I taking this too far?

You know I’m not dead
Now you know where I’ve been
As you sleep
Torn I am
Weighted down
Patiently
Born of love
You know I’m not dead

But I am. I have ceased to be. I must create my death before the heroin of depression kicks in or I will not be able to move. A catatonic fright, no breathing no living, a death for a few hours. To be born again and to rebuild my soul, to rebuild my shell, my protection.

I’m just living in my head
Forever waiting
On the ways of your desire
You always find a way
And thru it all
Into us all you move
Forgotten touch
Forbidden thought
We can never have enough
You know I’m not dead

We sit in the car in which she has invited me. I see in her eyes what I have been projecting all night. She turns her head slightly and when she turns back I am there to kiss her gently. She lets out a blood-curdling scream and pushes me away.

Found below
The creatures scream
Stranglehold
A God machine
Begging to
Tear us out
Worn as hope
You know I’m not dead I’m just the tears inside your head
Forever waiting
On the ways of your desire
You always find a way
And thru it all into us all you move
Forgotten touch
Forbidden thought
We can never have enough
You know I’m not dead

As I start to leave she catches my arm and asks me to stay.
Now I must confess that I am confused.

We all want to hold in the everlasting gaze
Enchanted in the rapture of his sentimental sway
But underneath the wheels lie the skulls of every cog.
The fickle fascination of an everlasting god
You know I’m not dead

This is the perfect ending to a good day. I would not be me if I wasn’t thrashed by god at this juncture in my life. Too much good has happened and I am not allowed to be happy.
“We can’t….I want it to be perfect” that was the excuse. Her eyes told me differently and she peeled off leaving me standing there, my heart snagged by the veins flails behind the exhaust as I stumble defeated and tired and dead.

I’m just living in my head
Forever waiting
Forever waiting on cruel death
You know I’m not dead
I’m just living for myself
Forever waiting
You know I’m not dead

But you now know that I am dead. As dead as anyone could ever be, and my eyes are bleeding as the depression sets in. It won’t last, as any drug, the hatred I poured into myself will wear off and I will be changed by it. I will learn and I will live, but for now I must die an awful dark death here with the lights off and surrounded by the everlasting gaze of an everlasting god. I am his fickle fascination of an everlasting god, a mere cog now dead and broken.

What a fool I am to follow my feelings.
I am to be a miser for the rest of my days.
I have no will to be what I need to be to be loved.
What a fool I was to put my heart on the butchers block.
I thought I was safe, her eyes told me so.
I have no energy to continue the questioning.
What a dolt, he that would allow himself to be tricked by a siren.
He who is me,
And I am he that is me,
But I am dead it seems.
I need to be reborn,
but I do not wish to keep in this existance.
I remain too calm,
no revolution was started with a broken heart.
I am lucky this is my dilema,
I am lucky I am not dead, again.

A heart too soft to support such a tired man

Why must I be in utter shambles before I write anything?
Why does one have to feel self hatred before creativity strikes?
Is it fair to use that pain as a sorry excuse for creativity?
Why must I suffer this unbearable lonliness alone?
Why is the heart so soft that something as frivolous as this can damage it?
Is it my destiny to be so sad the rest of my life?
Why do I detest the bitter taste of gin now?
Why does it remain as the only thing that will calm my pulse?
Is it clear that I cannot breath?
I played my hand and she turned, screamed and pushed me away.
It is not me, is it?