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“Write what disturbs you, what you fear, what you have not been willing to speak about. Be willing to be split open.” — Natalie Goldberg, …
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"Please don’t expect me to always be good and kind and loving. There are times when I will be cold and thoughtless and hard to …
20/Non-binary
Poems
Cecil Miller Sep 2016
Mr. Celest
Cecil Miller
Sep 2016
Mr. Celest, won't you please entrance with your stories full of dropping names that I bet no one else could recall, even if the plausible is true?
Long men have a long time to build upon the craft of yarn-spinning , promising the archway, but never daring to get in touch with powerful ways of listening to others.
This prince has a story, too.
The crime of our age is how people live so long that they stop living to fantasize about the old days which were never as glamoruos as we recall.
The only thing you talk about is what you used the think about, when you wished upon a shooting star that once trailed above the ocean blue.
This knave has a story, too.
An automatic pratter or the vocals in the air are not impressive to someone like me who has seen the sins and suffered wages of the ages.
The reason for your phonics is as empty as your wallet, but your name is never in the liner notes to the teary songs you try to sing.
This man has a story, too.
There is a beaker on the burner and it bubbles quite a lot, much like a festering boil, and the words that stream along are never ending.
You might learn there are surprises in the world still left to make you wonder, still there to give you feeling so you have enjoyment in your life.
This sage knows magic, too.
Long men have a long time to build upon the craft of yarn-spinning , promising the archway, but never daring to get in touch with powerful ways of listening to others.
This prince has a story, too.
The crime of our age is how people live so long that they stop living to fantasize about the old days which were never as glamoruos as we recall.
The only thing you talk about is what you used the think about, when you wished upon a shooting star that once trailed above the ocean blue.
This knave has a story, too.
An automatic pratter or the vocals in the air are not impressive to someone like me who has seen the sins and suffered wages of the ages.
The reason for your phonics is as empty as your wallet, but your name is never in the liner notes to the teary songs you try to sing.
This man has a story, too.
There is a beaker on the burner and it bubbles quite a lot, much like a festering boil, and the words that stream along are never ending.
You might learn there are surprises in the world still left to make you wonder, still there to give you feeling so you have enjoyment in your life.
This sage knows magic, too.
Older people tell a lot of yarns.
People want someone to listen to them. I hsve older friends, and listen to them. They rarely engage in a conversation vital of the day. They never ask to hear the stories of the younger set.
People want someone to listen to them. I hsve older friends, and listen to them. They rarely engage in a conversation vital of the day. They never ask to hear the stories of the younger set.
Sa Weol May Apr 2021
Prayer to Celest
Sa Weol May
Apr 2021
Tonight,
I saw the moon,
At night,
I talked 'bout doom,
Alright,
Someday I'll be right
in his eyes.
Almost perfect,
but no,
I'll strive to be the light,
and to fight
for what I need to be
that you want me to be.
And tonight,
I stare at the moon,
At night,
I told the moon,
Please whisper to his ears,
"She loves you from me and back."
-A.M.
I saw the moon,
At night,
I talked 'bout doom,
Alright,
Someday I'll be right
in his eyes.
Almost perfect,
but no,
I'll strive to be the light,
and to fight
for what I need to be
that you want me to be.
And tonight,
I stare at the moon,
At night,
I told the moon,
Please whisper to his ears,
"She loves you from me and back."
-A.M.
LatteQueen Mar 2016
Celest
LatteQueen
Mar 2016
why must we all be
angels or
devils
sometimes both
lets be humans
and laugh
at
our futility
angels or
devils
sometimes both
lets be humans
and laugh
at
our futility