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Cecil Miller Aug 2015
I will not call you my baby,
Until I can be your only baby.
You maneuver around a subject
With the litheness of a danseur.
Though I would like to love you,
If you would let me love you,
Loneliness has never been what drives me.
It is love to which I answer.
I can see the youthfulness,
And much more, for my sleuthfulness.
Are you seeking any other than me,
Who is eager to applaud as to centre stage you bound?
For just a while more, I wait for first frame.
It could be so grand to see how you move your frame.
I have wondered if your dance would be as spry
As the clever way you manage to avoid.
I wrote this in about ten minutes. I finished it just now, at 11:30pm.
I hope that this bit of poetry is as exciting as an enthralling ballet.
Cecil Miller May 2017
Every chore is a blessing,
Every blessing a chore.
Everyday holds bad and good.
'Tis but life, and nothing more.
I wrote this last night
Cecil Miller Mar 2016
When I look into the abyss,
Is it just as confused as I?
What does the dark depth ponder,
When it gazes into me?
Am I impossible?
Can it not even
Fathom all my pieces,
Or how they fit?
How cool the wind will blow -
But is the western sand
Still hot when the storm claws at my face
To scratch out my eyes?
Am I a seat to be despised,
Deposed like a future convict
Railing at the charges held over my head?
Why is it judging me
For not playing along with the game I had no part in creating?
I conject no scheme of ill intent.
Peace, I bid Thee well.
I go my way.
I think I will not include too many notes for this one. It is about feeling the object of scrutiny.
Cecil Miller Apr 2015
Read the poem;
Read the poet.
a brief poem
Cecil Miller Jan 2016
The pollywog swims
To the edge of the basin;
Soon it shall have legs.

A bass leaps from pond,
But is not amphibian,
It lives in water.

The worm feeds on green
Foliage sprouting  from soil,
Unaware of flight.

A drop of dew clings
On the underside of a
Leaf splayed like a hand.

A burgundy beam
Of sun burns the soldier ants;
The queen does not grieve.

Feet disturb some twigs;
The crackling sound rapports
All throughout the woods.

Silence gives a heed
To the bird which gathers
Brown straw for its nest.

The lilting song of
A loon rises through the murk;
A sliver of moon glows.
This is a haiku. I hope you enjoy it. Take from it what you will.
Cecil Miller Feb 2018
I can circumvent your systems.
I can infiltrate your ranks.
I can pass inside the shadows
Quietly along your river banks.

Only in the shadows can you find me.
Come on in and see what you will find
In the places I have slithered into,
The darkest, cob-webbed courners of your mind.
Just a little work in verse. I wrote it just now.
Cecil Miller May 2015
I'm here.
I'm queer.
Now, use me.
Just a funny joke (I had to repost because someone initiated a personal conversation. Please send private messages from my profile page and not attached to poetry)
Cecil Miller Apr 2018
I've been around long enough to know
That a good man's word ain't as good as gold,
No matter what he says;
But there are exceptions.
I'm not one.

Well I've been waiting for while on a comeback line,
Avoiding the sting of a bottle of rye.
Come on,
Whatd'ya say?
Let's put the blues away.

Cause when your out of heart,
You need some hope to start
To learn to love again.
You need someone to step out on faith,
No matter what you've done;
To be given a chance
To live at last.

The wide, wild sky will be open to possiblity
When the time is right,
And you let it be.
You've got trust
To be trusted again.
You can't grip your heartache tight
Like a pillow in the night,
If you want to feel the sun.

This is the age of forgiveness,
And to be a fool,
To take a chance,
And for love, too.

This is is the age of angels.
You can see them comimg
From out of the sky
To chase the loneliness
Back into the shadows.

This is the age of internal light,
Not to play it cool,
To take some risks
With your heart, too.

I've been around a block or a few,
And I've learned of little things that a man can do
To get out of himself.
Some maybe perfect,
But I'm not one.

I've been thinking bout getting on time,
Getting in step with the pretty eyes,
Come on,
Whatd'ya say,
And you can have your way.

I surrender to you tonight,
I give myself to your loving light.
I'm yours to love again.
I need you to take a leap of faith
No matter what we've gone.
Let's give ourselves a chance
To live at last.

The wide, wild sky will be open to possiblity
When the time is right,
And you let us be.
You've got trust
To be trusted again.
You can't grip your heartache tight
Like a pillow in the night,
If you want to feel the sun.

This is the age of forgiveness,
And to be a fool,
To take a chance,
And for love, too.

This is is the age of angels.
You can see them comimg
From out of the sky
To chase the loneliness
Back into the shadows.

This is the age of internal light,
Not to play it cool,
To take some risks
With your heart, too.

Can't you see the future now?
I can.
I can see the meadow beyond this fence
That I built on mistakes,
And we went wrong ever since.
But that was then,
And this is now.
Love is how.

The wide, wild sky will be open to possiblity
When the time is right,
And you let love be.
You've got trust
To be trusted again.
You can't grip your heartache tight
Like your pillow in the night,
If you want to feel the sun.

This is the age of forgiveness,
And to be a fool,
To take a chance,
And for love, too.

This is is the age of angels.
You can see them comimg
From out of the sky
To chase the loneliness
Back into the shadows.

This is the age of internal light,
Not to play it cool,
To take some risks
With your heart, too.
Writen in two sessions last night and this morning, this was meant to be a country song, but the construct is so liberal it could accomodate any musical facility.
Cecil Miller Jan 2018
I love to be in love,
I love to be in love,
I love to be in love with you.

I love to be in love,
I love to be in love,
I love to be in love with you.

There was a time
We did not know.
There was a time
We let the music go
Without ambition;
Without guidance to flow,
And it rocked right out of our soul.

I love to be in love,
I love to be in love,
I love to be in love with you.

I love to be in love,
I love to be in love,
I love to be in love with you.

There was a time
We forgot to see
Where it comes from;
Love for you and me.
We let it run
Too wild and free
Cause rock and roll
Just had to be.

There was a time
We gave it all away
Without surrender
And we did not save
There came a time
The account was raked;
Thank God in time
We discoved grace

I love to be in love,
I love to be in love,
I love to be in love with you.

I love to be in love,
I love to be in love,
I love to be in love with you.
Another song. I haven't set it to music, yet.
It isn't a love song. It is really about how music should come from the soul. At some point, music seemed to come from the ego. That's when it suffers the most.
Cecil Miller Mar 2015
Cream-colored cadavors cascade down the currents in the creases  and crevices that are the carnival of Creation crying their crusades.
everybody has a cause. which is priority?
Cecil Miller Apr 2015
The egg decends from the pillowy sky and sinks to the blue-green ocean to be rolled a-shore by fish. It is swaddled in seaweed and remnants of aquatic flowers. The doves come to hatch the egg. From out of the cracked shell comes She, The Queen of Heaven. The swaddles are now like garments. The rabbit becomes her sumbol, for She is the Great Mother who brings with her the season of fertility.
Hope you like it.
Cecil Miller Sep 2016
I dreamt an Angel came to me,
To lead me like a child
Through a cement wilderness-
Through storms and weather mild.

Her skin was dark and wrinkled.
Her hair was sparse and grey.
Her hand held out, "Help me, honey."
Was all she had to say.

I passed her by without much care.
She would return to me.
To haunt my thoughts
And ease, someday,
My angst with her gris-gris.

I was tired of running,
And my fear was closing in.
She took me down, turned me around,
Then gave me life, again.
This poem echoes one I wrote  when I was twenty-five I called, "The Angel" but it describes a character and events in the prologue to my book, Hainted. I retain all copywrites.
Cecil Miller Mar 2015
The air is brittle this ominous, wintry night.

The slivers of a life you used to know still haunt you, as surely as you have permitted them to be a haunt to others.

Without question, it is those memories that spur your ruminations; that cause your copious circumlocutions; which compell you to stand on this somber boulevard in front of this crumbling, but once stately manor that now is a languid presence with the solitary purpose of looming over the vast grounds.

It is obligatory that you proceed along the avenue that used to split the yards that are now overgrown and chocoblock with twisted vines, and thistles.

You pause, to gather your strength.
One deep inhailation and then you hold your breath as you grip the tarnished handle and lock leaver.

With a perfect degree of strength your thumb recalls, the mechanism is undone.

Your arm pushes forward.

The silence is disturbed by a warbling creak as the heavy door is slowly opened.

You exhale, then before you lose your nerve you quickly pass through the ingress and enter into the foyer,
which is instantly familiar in the dim, flickering light and the long, slender adumbrations effected by the gossamer encaked voltives jutting from the dusty walls.

Though it has remaned unchanged  
throughout all the time that has passed, standing in the ornate room affirms that the warmth with which you used to be recieved here has been abandoned to a frigidity.

You feel as if this room remembers you.

This is as far as I dare go with you, my friend, though I know you must continue.

I have listened to your stories, so
I know you have many rooms to search.

The closier that you seek is in a matter that is not my own.

I will depart upon rendering these words of warning:

When visiting the past,

As you daringly explore these often haralded halways,
Be careful what you leave behind.
Take caution not to lose yourself,
For a shadow lingers in the Suite Sublime.
This work is new. I wanted to write something thematic that could be comparable to the tones I encounter when I read Poe or Lovecraft. Trepidation when seeking closier can be one of the most eerie experienses one may have to face. Everybody has their ghosts. That is what this piece, constructed as an experimental hybrid of traditional narrative and poetry, is about.The title is that of a novel I am writing.
Cecil Miller Apr 2015
"My Lord, why is there only one set of footprints?"

"Because, my child, sand people always walk in single file to hide their numbers."
Just some humor
Cecil Miller Dec 2016
I am a town wherein nobody lives.
The residences have long sense been vacated.
The "Cah-caw" of the crow crying ******
Echoes through the crevices of my skeletal structures.
I am alone,
With only the tumbleweeds to move me.
First draft of a poem I am working up. No title, yet.- (artists are more prolific at night, I guess.)
I will probably include it as an opening spoken word stanza to a longer progressive  art rock concept I envision.
Cecil Miller Jul 2016
Regardless of my reagal remonstration, I remain a regular rodent in a rig.
My dearest Mrs. Trump,
THIS is how you rip-off another writer.
Cecil Miller Mar 2015
I've been a fool.
I've been a fool, it's true.
Now I live without you,
Without you in my life,
Not holding you each night.
I can't go on,
I don't want to go on without you.

If it gets lonely in the dark of night,
Think about the light,
I used to bring,
And then we'd sing.
There was a time when you were mine.

If in autom you're sad when leaves are falling,
And there is no voice calling
Out your name,
Just refrain
To a time when you were mine.

Everytime the phone rings
And there's a silence on the line,
Or if you search for something lost,
It's me you'll find
At the end of the mystery.

Though I'm an old man and I am tired,
I'll never tire of loving you.

So let the summer turn to fall,
Let the winter **** it all,
It's born again in spring,
When all the hurtful things we've said, we've shed,
No, they won't mean a thing.

If you're alone and you can't stop crying.
Cry,
Cry for me, too.
I'll weep for you.
There was a time when you were mine.
The opening stanza was the start of a poem I'd intended to write. Around the same time, in '97, I was writing another poem that had a similar cadence and theme (the obsession that can come with a hard break-up and not being able to let go) I decided the two poems would work well together. The two stanzas that act as back to back bridges actually add a sense of balance to the architecture of the finished piece. I call it architecture because the process of arranging this one, for me, was a lot like erecting a structure from a variety of componants. I know this one is dated. (the phone still had a line) I promise some new material is coming.
Cecil Miller Feb 2016
This is another set of poems i wrote that I have been trying to turn into a song. It's composed loosely, for that's the way I write - kind of from the center out, and I don't like to rework my words too much because I find that it alters the original intended feeling, so please forgive the grammarical errors and call it creative liscense.

I've been a fool,
I've been a fool, it's true
Now I live without you
Without you by my side
I can't go on
I don't want to go on without you

If at night you hear the wind is moaning
Your lonely soul is groaning
Think back, you'll find
I'm on your mind
There was a time when you were mine

Everytime the phone rings and there's a hang-up on the line
If you search for what is lost it's me you'll find
At the end of the mystery...

Though I'm a poor man,
And I'm tired
I'll never tire of loving you.

If you're alone and you can't stop crying,
cry,
cry for me, too.
I'll weep for you.
There was a time when you were mine.

Footnote: This was writen about obssession a long time ago, but now I think it's more about the subject just THINKING he was obssessed. And no, it's not about me but, in my writing I have always been able to empathize with various points of view.
I found this older rendition of a poem I posted on HP last year in my facebook memories. I though people who enjoyed it might like to see this. There have been several versions. I think poetry is alive and ever evolving in our thoughts.
Cecil Miller Jun 2015
At times, your flotsom and jetsom gets to me.
Mostly, I think you're beautiful.

At times, I look at you and want to ask,
"Why are you in a frantic, frothing frenzy?"

At times, I exclaim, "Really? Come on! I mean, come on! How bad is it, really?"...

At times, you storm away.

At times, I wonder if you are worth the aggrivation.

At times, I don't think I deserve you.
I wrote this, just now, on this url, from my small, but smart phone the first thing this morning. March 14, 2015.
Cecil Miller Aug 2018
I'm so unique nobody could be me.
The words I say reflect what I see.
I know you; I know what you're thinking.
I see the light, but I don't know why it's shining.

Sometimes, I know, I get too upset
When wrestling with the puzzles that are in my head.
My heart could love, if not for the dread.
It's like a blade that's doing me a chining.

But I can't blame it on the rock-and roll,
It's the only thing that keeps me whole,
Lord knows, it's the only, only thing that's holy.
No you can't say I'm like the other guys,
I was living large before it was fashion wise.
You know, the angels treaded far behind me lightly.

The gossamer was endless and nestling to all it neared.
The tingling within the earth let usher forth a worthless beauty to every person of it's time; but which was to be unknowingly priceless to the lives yet to come.

And the prophet cried before the day he realized he was to die, the hour before he was to find...

Relief.

The automatic writing happens when you give it up,
And you never even know the meaning til it comes to pass.

But divination is a gift, even as the gossamer blinds your eyes.

And the fiber dissolves into the nullity.

When then spasm has become as the tapered wind, there is left but nothing.
The first stanza has been written for decades and been used in several pieces I have written. The rest was written tonight, as I was staring into the mirror this morning to look a little deeper. Much is still a mystery. Who knows?
Cecil Miller Oct 2018
I've been on the edge of my seat
Waiting for a chance to meet
Another bad one.

Wake me up from out of this sleep.
Give to me some secrets to keep.
Start with a bad one.

Where is love and raising hell;
Spitting fire in a cheap motel;
Angry friction in the eyes
Of desire, and fearless rides
On wheels of fury in the night
That burn the roads and holds me tight?

Cover me with intoxication
Like a sheath of skin over blade.

Where is greed and desperation,
And running from them to each other?
I remember when the living was real,
And the passion was always a thrill,
Anchored in the pounding hearts
That were bound to top the charts.

Blowing wilder than the wind,
I'm never going home again.

I've been on the edge of my seat,
Waiting for a chance to meet
Another bad one.

Wake me up from out of this sleep.
Give to me some secrets to keep.
Start with a bad one.

Is love born out of some kind of need?
Is the feeling still somewhere in me?
I need to be a bullet fired
Entangled in what has transpired,
And wispered like a scream on fire.
Climbing night time rage and wire,
Two for one and sacred pyer.
Acid venom and supplier.

Running like a theif in the night
Hiding in the briar from the light.

I've been on the edge of my seat,
Waiting for a chance to meet
Another bad one.

Wake me up from out of this sleep.
Give to me some secrets to keep.
Start with a bad one.

...And it's fast.

...And it's strong.

...And it's done.

...And it's gone.
I wrote this just this early morning and in one sitting. One question, When I shared it to my facebook account, the word "hell" was automatically redacted - why? Fix it. I edit and censor myself enough as it is.
There is a variation of two cadences in this one that don't always fall into a sequencial format. As my writing style is kind of free-flowing; musical and organic, it just turns out that way.
I haven't set it to music exactly, but as I hear it in my head, it is definately going to be a song.
I'm into bad ones.
Cecil Miller Mar 2015
I met a man who cried at a bar.
He told me he mourned, and travelled from far.
So I bought a bottle and he drank with me,
As he regailed me his memory.

"I'm waiting for you, Dear, alone in the dark.
You're dieing, they've told me,
It rips me apart.
You bravely are holding your fear at the start,
As I cry alone in the dark.

I've come to your bedside because you've been ill,
Since the cold winter morning you first felt the chill.
I'm waiting for Jesus to make you alright.
I plead for you not to die.

I ache for the sight of your watery eyes.
I hear you breathing, it sounds like good-bye.
This is a moment I'll relive and cry.
My beautiful songbord has died.

Wait for me, wait for me
on the other side wait for me
wait for me, wait for me
wait for me, wait for me."
I wrote this one in 1997 on an accustic guitar.
Cecil Miller May 2015
I could not believe my luck
To finally find a friend.
We could have taken on the world together,
I never wanted it to end.

Something had to come along and change it.
I know where we went wrong.
We both wanted to be in the same band,
But we both wrote differents songs.

We broke apart like clashing comets
Falling from out of the sky.
I guess inside I always knew
That I could never be your guy.

It wasn't that I lacked self-confidence.
It was not even that I felt shame.
We understood what the other meant.
But, the thing we wanted was the same.

I would have bet my heart on you.
But I could never live a lie.
For a while there, life was a party,
How the time flew by!

You drifted back into my world,
I was drifting far from mind.
About the time I was fragmenting,
Saturn was about to unwind.

Like a stone, I catapulted into the world.
I ricocheted liked a silver ball.
I was making up for lost time.
I would rise, then I would fall.

The colors melded hotly
As I did crash and burn.
The cynicism came with ease,
With every lesson I did learn.

I settled into my routine.
I cooled as I slowed down.
I looked you up to say hello,
And I miss having you around.

I cannot believe my luck.
That you still are my friend.
Sing your songs and tell me stories,
Like you did way back when.
May 5th, 2015 - I wrote this poem after I connected with a friend from the old days. We called each other by the old names.
Cecil Miller Jan 2019
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.
Cecil Miller Sep 2015
I think I could know
How you might feel about her.
I can see it,
The way she makes you smile.
But honestly, you arn't the same
Beside her.
Waiting for boy's night out
Ain't ever gonna be my style.

I remember when you were a rebel,
Just a renegade without a plan.
I can see, somehow, she's got you dreaming
Of playing house.
Think of what you're doing, brotherman!

Can't you see beyond her glamour?
She's cast a wicked spell on you.
That thing you feel for which you clamor,
It ain't true love; don't think she loves you, too.

I know it's not my place to tell you that she's posing,
And posting up inside your bed to get Some of your dough.
Who am I but some kind of little tag along?
But I can see the hurt she's going to put you through...

I'm sorry, Dude.
I don't mean to be a blocker.
Not that anything else could stand
Between you and her,
The pixie with her fairy dust.
All your priorities have been re-arranged.

Every time we meet she has to be a part of it.
It's not my business, but I just don't want to see.
When the lies unfurl,
I don't want you to be mad at me,
For having been the one to have tell you all about her scheming ways.

She knows I know.
She's as sly as night is shady.
When she whispers your name after dark
With her lilt,
You don't care a thing about your pride.
You give it all to her.
Everything you've got to give
Before she even ask for it.
You give it all to her,
Everything, Everything,
Everything to her...

So, I'm giving up
The Times we spend together.
I know right now you're chasing after your high.
I'll still love you
As much as any brother.
I'll be here for you whenever you find the time.

I'm sorry, Dude.
I don't aim to be a blocker.
Not that anything else could stand
Between you and her,
The pixie with her fairy dust.
All your priorities have been re-arranged.

I think I could know,
How you might feel about her.
I can't blame you,
But open up your eyes.
A girl like her
Is never going to be faithful.
Not to you, or anyone she knows.

So, I'm giving up
The Times we spend together.
I know right now you're out chasing your high.
When you hurt, just know that I hate it for you.
Maybe, next time, you won't brush everything else aside.

One day I'll be out strolling.
Or maybe pool, or bowling.
There'll come a time
When the binds
Of fruitless love no longer keep.
One day we'll fly
To far off never ever land.
And leave this past behind.

There'll come a day,
And come what may,
We will pick back up where we let it go,
That's how we roll.

I think I could know
How you feel about her.
What made you think
That's something I couldn't know.
Yes, I will miss you,
Don't want to kiss you,
No ****, Bro,
I love you.
But for now,
I need to let you go.

I'm sorry, Dude.
I don't aim to be a blocker -
Not that anything else could stand
Between you and her,
The pixie with her fairy dust.
All your priorities have been re-arranged.
Anybody who craves brotherly affections and true male bonding has experienced these feelings before. I never really knew my brother. I think if social media had been so accessible as it is today before he took his life about 5 years ago, he might have known how much we all loved him and maybe he would have stayed. But, this song is not really about my brother. It is about many brotherly friendships I have and have had. Like I said, some of you will get it.
Cecil Miller Sep 2015
Blood in my eyes,
Slack in my faith,
Baby, I know it,
Your love is a wraith.

Blood in my eyes,
Slack in my faith,
Baby, You know it,
I commemorate
All who follow
The dream evermore.
Live the dream.
That's what it's for.

Blood in my eyes,
Slack in my faith.
You say it, then you don't,
But, you want me to stay.
You're not the dream
That I've wished for,
I'm going to chase my dream
To the farthest shore.
Then I'm going
To board a vessel,
Without a shred
Of guilt to wrestle.

Blood in my eyes,
Slack in my faith,
Like a bullet on fire,
I break from your gate.
I'll be on distant lands.
You will wonder
Why you have no man.

Blood in my eyes,
Slack in my faith.
Baby, I know it.
Your love is a wraith.
Blood in my eyes,
Stars on my vest,
I linger on
No past regret.

Blood in my eyes,
Slack in my faith,
Baby, I know it,
Your love is a wraith.
This is a mantra,
I often say,
When I think
Of that sweet day
When I'll finally find
The courage to leave you~
This is a companion piece to Dear John, another poem I submitted to this site. It has been decades in the making.
Cecil Miller Sep 2015
Did anybody tell you 'bout them Bourbon blues,
When you're walkin' in the gutter,
Where they guess 'bout your shoes,
When you ain't got no hope,
The greasy Easy isn't fair,
The only sunny side
Is that you haven't got a prayer,

When you done ****** it all away,
When you don't have another cent,
Your too old to be pitied,
And your strut has long since leant...
Ain't no more - bright ideas - left to come?

Oh, the sultry morning due
Makes your damp clothes cling to you,
And the only thing you want
Is to find a place to lay...
You rack your mem'ry hard
To see which way to move your feet,
Cause you used up - your last -
Free mission day...

You need a hustle, boy,
Because the day is at an end,
Your feet are bleeding badly,
And you haven't got a friend
Who can get you an overnight
At the Jesus Do-Right Inn...

Got to keep a-moving,
You are one-hundred sixteen thin,
You know they're looking,
But  your not quite ready
To turn your sorry *** in,
Well, you know, that really is when...

You're in a ******-up - state of - mind~
Early this morning, after a bout of insomnia, I decided to write soIme lyrics about the sometimes seedy circimstances in New Orleans. It didn't take long to work up. I posted about four minutes till 5am on sept 1, 2015. It ain't too pretty, but at times, I do it gritty. At 11:30 pm, on Sept 1, I reworked, and added, some lines.
Cecil Miller Nov 2015
See the emblem waving
Proudly, touted in the sky.
We walk among our brethren.
We recourse, resource the reason why.

All, in trepidation...
We cry out for separation.
Could it be our own downfall,
Equality, but not for all -

But, not for all?

Citizens of the nation,
Before humanitarians,
First comes clicks of locking doors.
Equality does not endure.

A man of any land should be my brother.
The whole earth, to us, our mother.
Could it be our own downfall,
Equality, but not for all -

But, not for all?

See the burden being carried
High upon laden backs,
Tautly stretched, with shoulders bending.
Each fear the other will attack.

The words have been the same,
But for intent that's not their own.
For too long, have we been believed.
Equality is just for some -

Is just for some.

Freedom is only for the free.
The lines that keep the captives buckling,
The doors that keep them let them go.
They have no where to escape.

Always there is tyranny
For the landless refugee.
He is no man as worthy as you.
Equality is just for some -

Is just for some.

All the lessons that teach us to love
The home of brave and free
Are based on notions that could not be true,
If all are not the same as you.

And, are they not the same as we,
Who are decorating for our holidays.
Living in our plentitude,
Singing songs of charity and caring -

Charity and Caring?

Gifts are given and received.
Do we remember the lessons taught
About the kind of men we are,
When another is in need?

Do they not rate the same concern
As the presents and the tree,
As we pray in  Holy Spirit,
Singing songs of charity and caring -

Charity and caring?

See the emblem waving
Proudly, touted in the sky.
We walk among our brethren.
We recourse, resource the reason why.

All, in trepidation...
We cry out for separation.
Could it be our own downfall,
Equality, but not for all -

But, not for all?
This may not make a lot of people happy, but what I have been seeing a lot of on social media is beyond me. We have been better humans that we have been, before.
I don't think I've ever wished a poem I write make the top of the heap as much as this one. I think it is the most important piece I've ever written.
Cecil Miller Jul 2018
By the time
This is through,
I'll be
Far from you,
But not the memory
Of every single thing
You've done to me.
See, I won't be free.

Here's the deal
That is real
No matter what you say,
I bleed this very day.
Nothing's sealed.
I'm not healed.
I just don't talk about
The wounds anymore.

By the time
You are mad,
I'll be
Looking back
Won'dring if you're coming
After me to do to me
What you do to me.
See, I won't be free

Here's the deal
That is real
No matter what you say
I bleed this very day.
Nothing's sealed.
I'm not healed.
I just don't talk about
The wounds anymore.

By the time
You are through,
I'll be
Still trying to
Erase the scars of every single thing
You've done to me.
See, I won't be free.

Here's the deal
That is real
No matter what you say
I bleed this very day.
Nothing's sealed.
I'm not healed.
I just don't talk about
The wounds anymore.
I just wrote this, tonight, in one sitting.
Don't judge too harshly.
I get dark when I am hungry.
Scars, we all have them. We all give them.
Cecil Miller Jun 2015
I don't believe in Cain and Abel.
It is, like, a fairy tale; a fable.
If the world had no glocks,
We could defend ourselves with rocks.
I was sporting with fb friends about a sign that cited the first credited ****** in the world in the gun control debate. I wanted to respond in a cute way. Is bringing up the idea of ****** really a good idea when beseeching to have less gun control?
Cecil Miller May 2015
SATOR
AREPO
TENET
OPERA
ROTAS

Cropsman,
Alpha-Omega is with you, and bids you go forward with a patient but steady momentum.
Keep yourself to the Old Truth.
Your work
Is that of the seasons which are cyclical as the wheels of your sowing and reaping contraptions.
This ancient charm, called the Sator square, was used to ward off bad fortune, and to heal the sick. It has many otber uses. In this piece, I offer my interpretation, an affirmation of the simplistic old faith. It was often used by christians and pagans to heal sick animals like beasts of burdon or domestic pets.
Cecil Miller Mar 2018
Where were you when country music performers did not make political statements?
Did you stand or kneel when they sang, "God Bless the U.S.A."?
If the south would have won, would we really have had it made?
If you don't plan to take a stand, what are all hidden stockpiled rapidfire rifles for?
No wonder you won't talk about current events.
You have been silenced in so many debates.
Seeing how the republican officials are doing, I wouldn't want to talk about it either if I were you.
We hate to say we told you so,
But we did.
I loath hypocrisy
Cecil Miller May 2020
In this moment when I find
The time to picture you
In lace and white chiffon,

I can almost see as clearly
As the day we said our vows,
When no cloud would dare to cast upon.

Ours seemed to be the only shadows,
And the powder blue sky was gleaming
Like an oracle in your eyes.

To all the universe we proclaimed
Forever, not another name nor hand
Would be yours or mine.

You were called to Eden,
or to Heaven or to where all angels go.
I remained here alone, and grieving,
But as it will, on; my life would go.

I somehow know you approve,
I feel it, how you understand.
How she makes me feel, it's not the same,
But pure in another way.

I never could replace you,
And you know I'll love you always,
But it's time for your memory
To give my hand away.

No the yellow sun is shining,
And the guests are nearly pining
For event, a nuptual recital - she and me.

Faithful I shall be to her,
As faithful as you always were,
And honest as a good husband should be.

Perhaps she will not betray my love, and Leave my side to take the hand of shadow, as did you

Beyond the sparse hedgerow of near tomorrow, I cannot tell what is to come.

******* it, anyway...
And bless this union in the sight of these,
Thy congregation.
I have no idea who the hell I was when I wrote this one.
Cecil Miller May 2020
There is comedy in the tragic.
There is dignity in human shame.
There is irony in mundane normality.
We just have to find it.
That's how we'll make it through
I hope it reaches some people in  sentimental places
Cecil Miller Feb 2016
I see your lines.
I read between 'em.
Look in your eyes
And I want to drown myself
In the depths of your soul.
So close, I feel, to this dream of love.
I want to wrap it around me.
I want to wrap my arm around your waist.
Could I talk you into a moment?

I feel you against me
As we begin our sacroiliac dance.
We move to a rhythm of a slow song.
I want you to nuzzle my collar
As I feel the slink of your silky slip against my bare chest.
I want to let my breath
Be felt against your ear
As I whisper your name.
Could I talk you into a moment?

I pass my time
Reading all your loving lines.
I think you may be writing back to me.
The possibility that this is real
Is enough to make me shake with excitement.
I want to hold you forever,
Or maybe we just have this day.
It gets confusing sometimes.
I become disambiguated
With every line I read.
Could you love me, too?
As much as every morning's new?
Could I talk you into a moment?

My eyes are closed.
I am daring to dream of you,
And all the things we'd say and do.
Write to me another poem
And post it on my page.
Every time I read the love,
I can't help but hope
This is more than a flirtatious game.
I'm like a nervous schoolboy,
I'm giddy all over again.
I'm hoping one day
To show you that I'm a man
Who really loves you.
Could you love me, too?
As much as the sky is blue?
Could I talk you into a moment?
A friend, and fellow poet on this sight suggested a topic, and I built this poem around it. If it were a song, it would start soft but wind up being a romantic power ballad. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Cecil Miller Jul 2022
All the seconds that we've wasted
Looking at each other's faces,
Then one day we said, "Hello."
Never close the curtain on this show.

We made friends, then we made love.
We made war, you were above.
You said you were letting go.
You closed the curtain on this show.

The glistening in your corner eye
Becomes a tear that you cry.
I ask you why you have to go.
You close the curtain on this show.

Wall-to-wall the city beats
With hearts and footfalls on the streets.
I'm alone now, they all know.
You've closed the curtain on this show.

Like veins in arms, the avenues
Are winding anywhere, but you.
I wander with no place to go.
You've closed the curtain on this show.

Maybe someday I'll be seen,
Floating stillness in the stream.
Tangled in a bed of stone,
Having closed the curtain on this show.
This isn't about me
Cecil Miller Apr 2015
Dancing on the lifeline,
Flying through the dirt,
Mixing into puddles,
Resembling the sky...

Everything is nothing.
Nothing is everything.
The truth is but a lie
Not looked in the eye.
The spoiled goods we buy!

Dancing on the lifeline,
Spinning dervish, spin.
Aquire all the knowledge you seek,
Find it is within.

Poets are the prophets
To the souls of those that read.
The magick that is in the verses
Always plants a seed
To enlightenment, the need.

We are all
Dancing on the lineline,
Connected by the threads,
That comprise the ribbons
Of the thoughts within our heads.

Everything for which we thirst
Is already in our chalice.
We only need to drink of it,
But need to keep the balance...
Beware the one called valiant.

Never fear that victor,
Who has never seen a challange,
Who has been given everything
On a silver platter.

Listen to the hope inside.
Follow it, as you lead.
As you cast your spells
And spin your webs, take heed.

Dancing on your lifeline,
Holding onto what is true.
Only when you care for others,
Will you know they care for you.
This Poem shares the title of a conceptual collection of poetry I wrote  back in 1997.
Cecil Miller Mar 2015
Thorefin,
Therifen,
Theraphin,
Raven Angel.
I do not expect
you to undestand.

I am he.
He is me.
She are we.
We are thee,
And there are more.
I do not think
This is something
Ordinary men conceive.

All the paintings of darkness
Are not to impress upon the critics
The level of my shallow depth,
Nor are my phrasings for the sake of vanity.

It is the darkness that gives lessons to the light, of things that I am not afraid to learn.

Like a papillon in a  season of change,
I am transformed into a dark lamp,
For I  have stood in many shadows.

I have soaked up the knowledge.

In my shadow,
Illumination awaits.
I have a love for all things Teutonic.
The evocation at the beginning of this piece is of the psuedonyms  I have used. This work is new.
Cecil Miller Feb 2016
Look at me with wide open eyes.
Know that I am not as I appear.
I never did mind the darkness,
Even though it frightens me so.

Sometimes, I fool even myself
Into thinking that I search for answers.           
                                             ­      
The truth is something more
Than I ever will display.

SATOR
AREPO
TENET
OPERA
ROTAS

And I awaken.

I speak for him,
I speak though him.

It does not matter the reason.

Never, never will I leave.

There was a crystal chalice
From which I used to drink.
There was a set of pricipals
On which I used to think.

And once the door is opened
The words begin to flow.
I am his brother, partner, lover.

I am the summate of his fears.

I am the solvant of his tears.

Sometimes all you have is yourself.

Sometimes all he has is me.

I make the decisions,
And take the actions
That are too difficult for him.

There are times I haved saved his life,
But I should never be mistaken for what I am not.

My venom is toxic.
The following previously untitled bit is just a little homage to my dark half...hope you like it.
(writen feb 12fth, 2012)
Cecil Miller Aug 2015
I hear you calling.
Your beckoning to me.
You don't want me to leave.
Your want me to stay.

You tell me how you'll miss me,
Then question my loyalty,
Ask what you could say
To convence me to remain.

I can't turn away
From my destiny.
I'm following the light
That comes to me in dreams
In the hours of the night.

It's rare to see beyond
The scope of one's existence.
I want to live
A life that is enriched
With wide-splayed experience.

There are oceans I want to see,
And parades that honor life.
I want to beat on drums
And stroll along the boulevard.

You grab on to my arm,
As you say you won't let me go.
I sat up last night
And thought of how you wield control.

Now see the blood in my eyes
With the lack of your faith.
Baby, I know it,
Your love is a wraith.

Blood in my eyes,
Slack in my faith,
Baby, I honor,
I commemorate
Those who follow
Their dreams evermore.
Live the dream,
That's what it's for.

The day has come to reconcile
Yourself to what is to come.
The power that you had
Over my life now is gone.

I won't wish you sadness,
And I know I won't reflect.
I put the past behind me,
We never could connect.

I hope your dreams come true.
And your life won't make you blue.
Accept that I am leaving,
And there is nothing to say or do.

Watch, if you want, I'll glisten.
While I'm dancing down the lane.
I'll be a speck of light.
There will be no refrain.
Another piece I started in the mid 1990's, but put the final touches on just recently. Originally titled "(I Can't Turn Away From) My Destiny",  it was writen from an emotional place. The cadence is irregular. Sometimes it rhymes sometimes it does not. It is what it is.
Cecil Miller Nov 2015
There's a sorrow for every season,
When you're a target for love's treason.
The bittersweet and twist that's raw,
There is no love without the fall.
Love is gory; tears at the heart,
Never pauses at the start.
You may vow to skip the pain.
One day, you'd die to love again.

In the springtime, love is young.
In the summer, burns in the sun.
In the autumn, hearts may ache.
In the winter, hearts will break.
Once a hopeful, spry young man
Has been haggard by love's hand,
He may vow to skip the pain.
One day, he'd die to love again.
I came up with the phrase "a sorrow for every season" yesterday. I wrote the rest of it just now. It took about half an hour.  I hope you like it. Nov. 4, 2015
Cecil Miller Jul 2015
This makes my point(fake ******* pay for shine)
http://www.politicususa.com/2015/07/10/ted-cruz-busted-buying-books-ny-times-refuses-put-bestseller-list.html
I don't want my work to have to be bought on any list. Please don't buy, sell, trade or use to fundraise for this or any other sight.
Cecil Miller Dec 2015
My heart was true,
So true, but now it's blue.
You left
Without a saying word.
It beats
All I ever heard.
You treated
Me like a clown.
Now, your gone.
So, you're gone for good.
Don't even think
About comin' back around.
No.
No. No, oh!
Don't even think
About comin' back around.

My fate was cruel,
So cruel, cause I loved you.
You lied,
When you said you'd stay.
I cried,
When you went away.
Must-a took me
For a fool.
But, you're wrong.
Yes, you're gone for good.
Don't even think
About comin' back around.
No.
No. No-oh!
Don't even think
About comin' back around.

If your thinking bout coming my way,
You'd better think again
Cause once love has strayed,
There's no way to rebuilt the past
From your wreck of lies.
I see the truth, at last.

Oh, you took me
For some kind of fool,
But, you're wrong.
Yes, you're gone for good.
Don't even think
About comin' back around.
No.
No, No-oh!
Don't even think
About comin' back around.
I wrote this one two nights ago. Mid tempo, mostly in open A and D chords.
Cecil Miller Jan 2018
Dudley does to Pauline,
He does her right.
Dudley does to Pauline
Day and night.
Dudley does to Pauline
Til he hits the floor.
Dudley does to Pauline
Til he can't anymore

Dudley, Dudley, Dudley
Dudley Do-right.

Dudley never meant
To make a mess.
Dudley never asked Pauline
To wear that dress.
Dudley never needed
To hear her groan.
Dudley would have offered
To drive her home.

Dudley, Dudley, Dudley
Dudley do-right.

Dudley gets the mop
And a soapy pail.
Dudley wouldn't like
To go to jail.
Dudley is relieved
There's no-one to tell.
Dudley is so sweet,
Who'd believe the tale?

Dudley, Dudley, Dudley
Dudley Do-right.
This is a punk song I am working up loosely inspired by the song, "Johnny Hit and Run Pauline."
Of course, I took it to a darker level.
Cecil Miller Jan 2023
They say it's where the heart is,
But I don't know
Exactly what my part is,
Which way to grow.

They say it's where the heart is,
But your love has flown,
From it's guilded caging,
And I'm all alone.

It would be so easy
If you come on home.
It would be so easy,
Like a sigh before a moan,
It would be so easy,
If you throw your dog a bone.
It would be so easy,
Easy as home.

Before, the Earth was quaking;
I'm I a one and then you're done?
I'm waking and I'm baking,
And I'm not sure that I'm done.

I miss the nights we’d spend
Together on our own.
Sometimes, the creaking floorboards,
When you'd sneak in, late for home.

All I do is wonder now,
What more can be done
To convince you where your heart should be,
With me here at home.

It would be so easy
If you come on home.
It would be so easy,
Like a sigh before a moan,
It would be so easy,
If you throw your dog a bone.
It would be so easy,
Easy as home.
Song lyrics, I just wrote them.
Cecil Miller Jan 2018
Slow tempo

(CM)
You'll dream about the love you give up.(Em)

(CM
You'll wonder why you have an empty cup. (Em)

(Am)                 (F)
You'll feel the fire;
(Am)                 (F)
You'll feel the fire
(F#) (Cm) (Em)
Of loniness -


You'll see visions like saphires in the night.

You won't be able to sleep though the night.

You'll know the cold,

You'll know the cold

Of loneliness -


I should have gotten myself away from you.

I shouldn't have given of myself to you.

You'll feel the fire;

You'll feel the fire

Of loneliness -
I wrote this on my accoustic guitar in December. It is coffee house blues.
Cecil Miller Jan 2018
In the darkness of the night,
From where comes the dove,
Materializes
Your envoy of love.

Here for your privelidge,
He fits like a glove.
Wear him like midnight,
Your envoy of love.

You can count on him.
You won't be let down.
The spectre in the night that comes to you
Is the diamond in your crown.

He's nothing but a dream,
Your imagination
Moving in the shadows of your room.
He is the part of you
That will not let go of hope.

He is everything you see,
All and much above
The highest dream you have,
Your envoy of love.

Keep him to you self.
In verse, cantillate of,
But always hide in code
Your envoy of love.
Everybody fantasizes. Don't they?
Cecil Miller Oct 2015
She's got a face for radio,
She wears it best from head to toe.
She's a special kind of homely girl;
Her gift is being in a state of pity, so...

She is eager to shed her burdons,
But never tells the true
Meaning of actions
That always leave her due.

Love would never fix her woes,
She's a woman of motive
Crying on the shoulders of the higher-rated.
Tears are the flames of the voltive,

It's not mine to say.
It's mine to stay away.
She's not mine to slay.
But, I know her, anyway.

She's a vampire, the emotional kind,
One bite, then three times three is nine,
Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine,
And thrice again to make up nine,
Like a Harpee, she goes to them,
And drains from them vitality,
She's a shrewd one, and she's a shrew,
She doesn't even want to *****,
She's a player, till the game is won,
And the sorceress says the charm is done.

No one can ever show her kindness
Without her expecting more.
If you have a dollar of quarters,
She'd not take less than four.

I have seen the hearts of hopeful
Shredded at her feet.
And then the ugliness that thrives her
Gathers the replete.

She's sated til her next desire.
She never rest for long.
There will always be some lonely sap,
That she Will sap upon.

It's not mine to say.
It's mine to stay away.
She's not mine to slay.
But, I know her way.

She's a vampire, the emotional kind,
One bite, then three times three is nine,
Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine,
And thrice again to make up nine,
Like a Harpee, she goes to them,
And drains from them vitality,
She's a shrewd one, and she's a shrew,
She doesn't even want to *****,
She's a player, till the game is won,
And the sorceress says the charm is done.

The only thing she has is blame
To mead out to another sucker's name,
As soon as she has all she can get,
She leaves them, she leaves like all the rest,

Don't they think her heart is good!
They treat her like they think they should.
They don't know that to ease her pain
Is too surrender their gain, and go insane.

She never will come differently
Some things do not change.
Her talons grip them where they live,
Time and time, again.

It's not mine to say.
It's mine to stay away.
She's not mine to slay.
But, I know her way.

She's a vampire, the emotional kind,
One bite, then three times three is nine,
Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine,
And thrice again to make up nine,
Like a Harpee, she goes to them,
And drains from them vitality,
She's a shrewd one, and she's a shrew,
She doesn't even want to *****,
She's a player, till the game is won,
And the sorceress says the charm is done.

She will make them steal
From the future of their children.
She is a guiltless wonder.
She really never lets them in.

All for nothing is the way she lives.
She is gone with the fairer treat.
Every lonely victom she leaves
The bitter without the sweet.

It's not mine to say.
It's mine to stay away.
She's not mine to slay.
But, I know her way.

She's a vampire, the emotional kind,
One bite, then three, times three is nine,
Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine,
And thrice again to make up nine,
Like a Harpee, she goes to them,
And drains from them vitality,
She's a shrewd one, and she's a shrew,
She doesn't even want to *****,
She's a player, till the game is won,
And the sorceress says the charm is done.
I have always thought "a face for radio" was an enjoyable turn of phrase. I knew I would one day use it im a title. I do enjoy the company of a stand-up kind of woman. This piece is not about most woman, but the occasional shady woman with a hustle I have come across from time to time. I am not a player hater as long as it does not affect my life(As a gay man, I've got plenty of game.) but, I am no respector of the dishonest.
Cecil Miller May 2015
You stopped by to see me on your way out of town.
You said you were headed west because the locals were bringing you down.
As you sat across from me,
I looked into your eyes.
Then it hit, how much I'd miss my friend, as we said our good-byes.

I stood on the darkened sidewalk beneath a lamp that wasn't lit,
As you drove your car away from me,
My heart broke a little bit.
I would never tell a young man never to explore,
Because nobody could have held me back in my days of yesteryore.

A piece of me feels envy.
I'm no longer a young man.
If I were, then I would be with you,
Hand in loving hand.

Maybe once in a while think of me, When. like a stallion, you roam free.
When you kiss the pretty ponies,
Give a kiss for me.
As you blaze your fiery trail until you reach the ocean shore,
Remember that my heart is with you
And shall be evermore.
I have been on both sides of this song. Most recently when a friend went to make his way in California a few months ago. I wrote it just now in about twenty minutes. 5/30/15
Cecil Miller Jan 2016
She was here.
She told me how she'd always love me.
It was clear
I was the man in her life.
Why didn't she stay?

I opened up my heart to sorrow,
Not knowing there was no tomorrow.

She was gone
Before I knew.
It hit me hard,
Knocked out my lights,
Quicker than a heartbeat,
Faster than the speed of a lie.

She was here.
I knew she'd have my back always.
It was clear
I would always have her back.
Then, she went away.

She left no way for me to follow.
It happened fast - bitter pill to swallow.

She was gone
Before I knew.
It hit me hard,
Knocked out my lights,
Quicker than a heartbeat,
Faster than the speed of a lie.

It would be better,
If I could only say she had been untrue,
But at the time, I don't even think she knew,
That standing beside me was the one thing she could never do.

All at once my heart was hallow,
Echos of love, my heart is fallow.

She was gone
Before I knew.
It hit me hard,
Knocked out my lights,
Quicker than a heartbeat,
Faster than the speed of a lie.
Written between last night, and this night, 1-29-2016, this is my homage to 80's guitar rock.
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