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Cecil Miller Aug 22
I was between boy and man.
Had no direction, but I wanted to stand.
On solid ground, only had quicksand.

One night I pulled from the bone.
There was a voice like my own.
I didn't feel quite so alone.
I tried to flex, but I wasn't fully grown.

I was a member, but just an ember,
I was an elemental, I was fire.

I was a teen-age outlaw,
A living, diseased claw
Not yet in the prime of my life.
I was a savage' young,
a raving romantic
Surviving under cover of night.

They never knew what to do with me.
When I look back, it wasn't easy.
I tried to be how they said I should be.
There was no way that it ever could be.

One time I thought I might be alright.
Then I picked someone else's fight.
I gladly gave my time in the light.
And I went back under the cover of night.

I was a sinner, but I was a winner.
I was eternal, I was fire.

I was a teen-age outlaw,
A living, diseased claw
Not yet in the prime of my life.
I was a savage' young,
a raving romantic
Surviving under cover of night.

Behind the moonwalk,
Long before the swelling sea,
The riverbank was eroding,
Crumbling like the memory
Of my only dream.

I was a teen-age outlaw,
A living, diseased claw
Not yet in the prime of my life.
I was a savage' young,
a raving romantic
Surviving under cover of night.

I was a renagade, I slipped from the iron cage.
I was insane, crazed,
Steered by the moon's phase.
I had a long way to crawl.

I was a teen-age outlaw,
A living, diseased claw
Not yet in the prime of my life.
I was a savage' young,
a raving romantic
Surviving under cover of night.
I wrote this early this morning, August 22, 2019 in about 30 minutes.

It's a basic structure of a song. It's not especially innovative. It is autobiographical, somewhat. You have to know me to know my psychoanalizing phrazes. Read the poem; read the poet.
Cecil Miller Aug 16
Ravaging cyan,
That crashing and ever changing
Wetness that is life,
Is the very monster filled vast cup Wherein is tossed about until, alas;
Your sepulcre is reposed to a gentle shore.
I just wrote this brief piece tonight. It is a companion to the painting in my profile, which I also created and was the first painting I sold.
Cecil Miller Aug 13
Sometimes I want to hold.

Sometimes I want to be held.

I'd rather not ruminate upon her face, study it on the canvas in my mind, because I am reminded of the distance between us, separated by seas of immeasurable volume, not unlike my fidelity.

No placemarker could ever feel the same.

There has never been such serenity as the time she let my fingers play in her hair, and dance along her forhead, while she was resting beside me in a bed that was too large for the room.

Did she feel the quickening of my pulse? My recess was not timorous, but rather love, respect, and desire to be who she needed.

It was later that I learned
I waited long and lost my turn.

Energy never dies,
But it changes like the ocean tide.
Like I, evaporated to the sky.

Like she, wonderment in definition."
I wrote the poem this afternoon. The title is just because I cannot think of a decent one. I get busy so I don't write as much poetry as I used to.
Cecil Miller May 20
It's like a round-about, around and 'round.
Everything that goes up must come crashing down.
It should be easy like a certain fate.
I've never even asked you out on a date, cause...

You won't want me when you're sober.
I don't want you when your getting high.
All in all I guess we're out of luck.
I guess the two of us will never...

Well okay,
I see you over there,
And I wonder what's that scent you wear.
I see,
There's a glimmer in your smile for me.
But our harlequin romance ain't ever gonna be,
Cause...

You won't want me when you're sober.
I don't want you when your getting high.
All in all I guess we're out of luck.
I guess the two of us will never...

Ah, ah, ah, ah,
La, la, la...
For better or worse,
We're differently cursed.

What they're saying is probably true.
I could never be what's good for you.
Of all the lives on Earth you come into mine,
And struck by something sort of love
I'm going blind, but...

You won't want me when you're sober.
I don't want you when your getting high.
All in all I guess we're out of luck.
I guess the two of us will never...

Never gonna be in touch with each other
In the way that a lover touches another,
Never gonna know it, we won't say it,
We won't show it, cause...

You won't want me when you're sober.
I don't want you when your getting high.
All in all I guess we're out of luck.
I guess the two of us will never...
I just wrote this in one sitting. I'll put it to chords later. A contemporary song in the making.
Cecil Miller Feb 26
Since the fury,
Since the rage,
Know you'll never be the same.
See that lightning stikes
Only once
in a life,
Except a lucky few
Who get another
Chance or two.
So the storm
Is like the sage,
In the way it clears the day
In sweeping strokes
Across the sky
So the darkness
Is gone,
And soon begins another day.
There's little time to say
All things
That you'd ever have to.
You'd better get it under way.
Nothing waits forever.
The deluge is at the frey.
Cecil Miller Jan 25
She had a sort of beauty that gets taken for granted.
Other than that,
Nothing seemed special about the lady.

He had model composure
That didn't shake too easily.
Anyone could look
Up to him,
This man that boys would want to be.

They were the perfect couple,
Too sweet too even envy.
There never was a moment
When they didn't seem carefree.

Down came the night,
And when they were in
Nobody else's sight
With all the window
Shades had been drawn
Completely closed -
That's when he drank it up tight.
And when she dared to get too bold.
That's when he'd get her mind right.

She was quaint in all she would say
When out to lunch.
Nothing was mentioned of her long sleeves.

She'd never break the bubble
Of the illusion that they
Created especially
For all the world to see.

The light would always find them
From the way they beemed
In daytime spectacular
Whereever they might be.

Down came the night,
And when they were in
Nobody else's sight
With all the window
Shades had been drawn
Completely closed -
That's when he drank it up tight.
And when she dared to get too bold.
That's when he'd get her mind right

And all he wanted from her
Was a bit of levity
In gentle bits of laughter
But her love was never true.

There was never a time
When he didn't see the truth.
She was too good for him,
And he would always loose.

Why did she look upon him?
He gave security.
He gave her all he had all through the time.
He would never ever measure up to size.

Down came the night,
And when they were in
Nobody else's sight
With all the window
Shades had been drawn
Completely closed -
That's when he drank it up tight.
And when she dared to get too bold.
That's when he'd get her mind right

The children understood
Though no-one knew they could.
It was so normal for them,
Night after scary night.

And once upon a time
Was nothing but a dream
The over flowing ocean of love
Was trickling like a stream
Through tainted territory
Surrounded by a shroud,
Encompanied by sounds of
Screaming through the walls.

Down came the night,
And when they were in
Nobody else's sight
With all the window
Shades had been drawn
Completely closed -
That's when he drank it up tight.
And when she dared to get too bold.
That's when he'd get her mind right

Nobody saw the signs.
Or if they did they let it go.
Nobody would have believed
The way their story'd go.

They were those aweful gunshots.
The children slept right through.
They say she must have drugged them.
She had a job to do.

The note she left them
Told all the world their fate.
She took her husband with her
Beyond the living gate.

The secret lives, discovered.
But moments much too late.
So much is still unanswered,
When the night sees light of day.

When the night sees light of day.
When the night sees light of day.
When the night...
This song is about violence in the home.
I am writing a book. Part of my procesd is writing poems and lyrics to the soundtrack in my head as the events in the story unfold.
Cecil Miller Jan 13
I followed the trades to the center of Mecca,
Maybe looking for my soul.

All I found in the people around,
Were pieces of what made the whole.

I searched in the sun for the purest light,
But my eyes could never see.

The hollowness inside my every thought
Was a hunger I couldn't feed.

There was a rubble in the sands of time,
It all turned upside down.

Suddenly I was under the water,
And hearing not a sound.

Everything was nothing then the moment came,
When everything was alight.

An opening of eyes, there was clarity,
I was passing through the light.

I can still remember serenity,
When I was safe inside the arms.

All I knew was comfort and love in the moment,
There were no alarms.

I didn't know that I was fragile,
Or an aging ghost of an old man yet to come.

I only knew in the moment that I never knew a moment,
Or where the next was from.

It would last forever, in this familiar place
Where I might have been before.

Because I recognise the light,
But not the purest light that was vacant at its core.
Written Jan 14th, 2019

Now this might offend some people, but this isn't my intention. How is it that someone could post one or two whiney lines about some break up and it winds up all over the front page, however, when effort is put into a piece of work, to create something of a poetic nature it goes by hardly noticed?
I mean, writing a one line diary entry to cry about getting dumped is not poetic. Put some effort into your art, a little structure or something. Some creative turn of phrase. Anything that is metophoric, or oximoronic might work, also. Otherwise, it might be an honest feeling that's going to get some sympathy likes, but there is nothing creative in simply declairing a broken heart. Even if it is very brief, without structure, saying something like "I'm not good enough," is not poetic or musical. Without more content, I wouldn't call it prose. At best it might be a brief, singular undetailed narative. Then hashtag some trendy words that usually have little to do with the entry. It's just doesn't make this site seem fit for decent writers.
So try this: poets, take your singular line and dual lined entries and see if you can construct an actual poem with some rhythm. An online thesaurus might help some of you when you want to rhyme, or when you don't because poetry doesn't have to rhyme.
Very, very seldom does one phrase make a poetic statement. How many times can people praise, "my boyfriend dumped me" one liners before they get eye-rolly and cynical? Let's ask Mr. Owl to lick the tootsie roll.
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