James Bond is cool
but I'm not sure
the armed guy should be the one
to rule,
to save a belle
from hell.

A man with a gun - it could be anyone,
not only Bond.
But guns are wrong,
and we all know, it won't
make world a better place, oh no.
Violence is not the way.

I'd like to see Prince William as James Bond,
with bunch of flowers in his hands,
instead of gun.
That would be fun.

And Duchess Kate
as real Bond's girl,
always a smile away from her man.

That would be great.

Sixty-six chapters and sixty-six books
(please, Catholic brothers – no ***** looks)
were needed for God to make known His plan:
the gift of salvation and future of Man.

Yet sometimes it seems rather cryptically stated;
poor Israel must wait and will wait (as they’ve waited).

Isaiah took sixty-six chapters to tell it;
for two-thousand years has the Church tried to sell it –
must Christ and his teaching thus languish in mystery,
waiting offstage in the wings of His history?
(Wings of the cherubim, angels, and vultures
now beat down upon us, uniting our cultures
while tech surges up in a dizzy parabola
micro in management, global in formula…)

Sixty-six chapters to say it in Greek
(Aramaic – or Latin;  whatever they speak)
while the somnolent audience scrolls on their screens
in apocalypse trance over zombie machines.
The scrolls are unopened, the parchment still sealed
the slot-machine handle refuses to yield;
as the sixes line up towards the threshold of seven
the virgins sleep late in the Kingdom of Heaven.

Our future was built on revolution.
A mythos of courageously vanquishing the empire.
Such is the birthright of our citizens.
Our history created us in its image.

Villains seeking conciliation
must bear the title and charge
of treason.

Wielders of swords and rifles
stand immortalized in every town square.
Liberty or Death proclaims the stone and bronze
in which they are cast.

What will be the names of these great black men,
who crush the oppression of the old revolution?

In the blackness of the darkest hour
I felt his arms tight around my waist
Loosening as they drew nearer towards by stretched
Naked, fevered neck
His stars all bolted my nerves to the bottom of my feet
Stuck like pink bubble gum, melty and stringy
Like 97 degrees
His sweet breath grazed by cooled, burning cheeks
His touch reminded be of swimming under the moon of
The darkest hour
Freely
Wildly
I drink in his laughter
It trembles the pads of my fingers
Shattering my vision all over again
I wait for him on the loneliest nights, when
Rusted wheels of cargo trains roll in, tight and full of history
The neighborhoods won't quit, even when the day does
He's always there
Nonchalantly kicked up against some shiny car, titled to another
He's wearing his darkest jeans and his James Dean smirk today
I slurp it up
Soak it in like he belongs to me
Like I belong to him

Where is she please someone
Tell for I must know
Out there I'm sure to find her
Love has to show

I hear her calling softly from a far away meadow
I peer through every shadow, silence echoes...

Wake from every strange dream
To the sound of my lovely queen...

She's the one who draws me near her
Oh yes the girl I've never seen...

So where is she please someone tell for I must know
Out there I'm sure to find her love has to grow...

Ever day when I go outside I think about my life.

So, they took his life,
And what harm did James ever do?
Nothing at all; just a man, a good man,
Doing his job, reporting the truth.
Only some people, murderers, is the correct term,
Dislike that he did not share their beliefs.
Islamic fundamentalists are often that way inclined,
Seeing those who are not like themselves,
As disposable human waste,
So, they took his life.

James Foley R.I.P

© Paul M Chafer 2014

I remember being ten
And watching "You Only Live Twice" with my grandfather
I knew then,
That day,
I wanted to be James Bond.
Every time me and my friends would play,
They'd be Spider-Man or Batman...
But me, I'd always be Agent 007
(And somehow win)
I wanted so bad to be so tough
So smooth, So witty.
But I fell face first into the realization that I would always sadly be a double-oh nothing.

Ten years later,
A lot has changed, yet nothing at all.
I could never be 007.
I show too much emotion.
Hurt too often.
But I have found my one true Bond Girl.
And I still hold tight to that dream
That one day I'll wake up and I'll be Bond. **James Bond

Because by James Franco
-adaptation-

Because

Because I read some books
and I was at museums.
Because I made no money,
Because I was handsome,
Because I travelled by bike,
Because I was not arrogant,
A bunch of people seemed to hate me.
I never met most of these people,
I only heard of them.
The only people I saw were the ones who carried me love,
And there were not many those people.
It was not easy to forget about the ones I heard
Hated me, and ****, some of them were actually accomplished names.
I closed the book, but I kept on reading,
I watched my move a million times,
But I did not understand myself any better.
But because I read some books,
Because I made no money,
This was the life I made for myself.
Years later, I decided to look at what I accomplished,
And I watched myself in the mirror, like an old movie, I hated who I saw.
And now he was the guy who died, after I stayed.