The support I have received the last few days has been beyond anything I have ever dreamed of and I want to thank you all for this.

This is another poem by Bukowski and a movie filmed by me.

I want to hear your opinions and give me feedback about my work whether or not you like the cinematography and the poet of choice.

Support me on Patreon:   / illneas  

Find me:  / _illneas  
  / illneas  
  / illneas  
P.S. Dj Chubbz helped me to edit the music.

Second channel
   / @akidwithacameraorjustillneas  

Communities
  / discord  
  / 2314655172176122  
  / searchingformeaning  

My equipment:
I film handheld with a Panasonic Lumix
G80
https://amzn.to/2uGqmQZ
GX80
https://amzn.to/33e5Tye
Olympus M.Zuiko Digital 45mm F1.8 Lens
https://amzn.to/2vr9P3N

A few Charles Bukowski books
Burning in Water, Drowning in Flame
https://amzn.to/2TjV2Qc

Essential Bukowski: Poetry
https://amzn.to/2IaxnMU

Women: A Novel
https://amzn.to/2Ts5hlz

The Last Night of the Earth Poems
https://amzn.to/2TqKZsP

Ham On Rye: A Novel
https://amzn.to/2uLMnhu

post office: A Novel
https://amzn.to/2VzvKAC

You Get So Alone at Times That It Just Makes Sense
https://amzn.to/2Vx9cAl


This is the original version of the poem.

we had the goldfish and they went around and around
in the bowl on the table near the purple drapes
across our front picture window and
my mother, poor fish, always smiling, wanting to
appear happy, she always told me, "be happy, Henry,"
and she was right: it's better to be happy if you
can be
but my father beat her two or three times a week while
raging through his 6 foot two frame because he couldn't
defeat what was attacking him.
my mother, poor fish, poor goldfish, poor nothing fish,
wanting to be happy, being beaten two or three times a
week and telling me to be happy: "Henry, smile!
why don't you smile?
and then, she always did to show me how, and it was the
saddest smile I ever saw upon the earth, like hell and
hell and hell and hell, and nothing else
one day all the goldfish died, all five of them,
they floated on top of the water, on their sides, the
eye on each top side still open,
and when my father got home he threw them to the cat
there on the kitchen floor and we watched as my mother
smiled

Narrator: Tom o'Bedlam
Music: Suis la lune with wing of feather and glue