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Derek Miller May 2013
The silhouette of a fallen man lay on the vertical horizon
                         ¬–watch the Moon light the way
Vultures howl at the hint of Death
                         –Dead men are deaf, on the vertical horizon

Some light will always shine through a closed curtain
                         –open up and let it all in
Dilation ensures that the waters are steady
                          but on the vertical horizon, nothing is certain

A silhouette of descending doves falls onto the ground
                         –watch the Moon shed his tears
Poachers of Peace ascend the vertical horizon,
                           now presuming the ultimate power of God

Only Time will tell
if they were right or wrong
But patience is virtuous
and this won’t take very long

The silhouette of a fallen man lay on the vertical horizon
                     –imagine that his soul is free
His figure parts into a million grieving doves,
                       ascending beyond the brim of the vertical horizon

Only Time will tell
if he was right or wrong
But patience is a virtue
and this won’t take very long
Derek Miller May 2013
I am a prism.
I refract the simplicities of life into rainbowic expression.
I defract the color of my skill into honorable modesty.
*I am a prism.
Derek Miller May 2013
These sunny, summer days remind me of you.
They remind me of the wonderful days you spent
                 in my arms and in my heart.
Oh, I would give anything to make this explosive
                 nostalgia reality once again.
I need only one more day with you;
But, hell? who am I kidding?
One day is not enough.
A lifetime isn't enough with someone who amounts
                to such an incredulous beauty as
I can't help but miss you dearly.
I can't help but to cry.
I can't help but ponder on your permanent departure
                 from the physical realm that we know
                 as LIFE.
I should be proud of you -- well, I am -- but my arrogance
                tells me to mourn; so what do I do?
I mourn,
and I mourn,
and I mourn some more.
I am struck by the mourningful remembrance of your eccentric
                 existence and of my experience with it.
But I know that one day all of these memories will bring upon
                the polar opposite of the feelings they
                trigger today.
That is Happiness.
I will be happy.
As a matter of fact,
I am happy.
I am happy that your everlasting fight was began, was
                 endured, and was ended with a smile.
I am happy for the cease of your suffering.
I am happy that you are no longer a victim for the trauma
                 that comes with living.
I am happy for the infinite hearts and souls that you touched
                with your aspiring inspiration.
I am happy to have, at a point in time, been one of the few and
                 only who you encased in your affectionate
                 passion, and ,with a bit of luck, changed my
                 life forever.
But to speak the least,

I am happy for YOU

*Breathe Easy Alexandria
Derek Miller Mar 2013
Oh, smooth, smooth unity

A stylistic rhythm penetrates the
boundaries of the world's
appraisal of orthodoxy


Lively arpeggios and Righteous
time lift the soul with
tones of emotion


Transitions that manifest an
endless terrain of flowing


An orange kite
swiftly descends
from the ominous,
yellow skies

Spontaneous strokes
of my brush dance in
a pool of glowing,
comfortable mist

The angry bullfrog
sits aimlessly in a
black lagoon, waiting
for the return of his heart


You can see more than the eye

Music is your telescope
Derek Miller Mar 2013
The orchard of life has
seen it's final harvest

                                     Dying leaves hang carelessly
                                                 in pale, yellow agony
                                     Rotting apples reminisce on
                                                 their days of vibrant,
                                                 golden youth
                                     Naked trees stare blatantly
                                                  with sad faces into
                                                  the endless oblivion
                                                  of memory

The orchard of life rings with
desperate cries for salvation
Derek Miller Feb 2013
Happy-hearted but not all there
His awkward smile lingers through my mind
             Yet Unforunate
That staggering physique & that waddling
            walk & that dauntful dance & that
            unstable eye: a precise entailment
            of his persona,  
                       though never ******
                                   never vacant
                                   never violent

                      ...UNTIL NOW

when the demon of his soul prevails
       no mercy
                     no mercy
                                    no mercy
Not even for a loving mother; a loving
     mother who provided a comforting
     home & the essential care & three
     daily dishes of food & the one thing
     a loving mother provides best:
              Unconditional Love
He is now ripped of a warm heart; will
he ever find salvation?

I hope so.

His possessed actions are ample
punishment and will eventually
tear the boy to shreds:

Those memories of an unreasonable death;
            a death that spilt blood into every
            crevice of his character
Those memories of innocent bloodshed;
             the blood of his own race...the
          same blood that stirs in his viens
Those memories of pure insanity;
    an insanity that taught anger
    the ways of mutilation
Those memories of his murdered mother;
         a "horrendous" scene that plays on
         constant repeat in his head
...and those future memories of remorse;
                    remorse for his ***** deeds
                     of spontaneous psychosis  

his awkward smile
still lingers through
my mind;=a.298260023622904.72189.100003167250519&type;=1&theater;

"There is without a doubt that this kid has something possessing him... I believe it wasn't him who killed the mother he loved with all his heart, how can such a kindhearted loving teenager change in less than two months and ****** the woman who loved him the most and who he loved. This teenager has a demon inside him.... look at the pictures ya'll.... on the right is him less than six months ago. He doesn't even look the same...."
Derek Miller Jan 2013
Is this conscious state of existence really real?

or will my words and I soon drift into the
                infinite possibilities of my sweet,
                 oh, sweet Lucidity?

Life is strange
but I am stranger.
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