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I've been writing since about 15 when I first discovered what indie music was. Major influences of mine include Aaron Weiss, Bob Dylan, Conor Oberst, …
27/M/KATHMANDU
I could write to the end and read like a fresh start . words can be confusing feelings must confuse .
Poems
Cin Nov 2012
uncertain mr. Ohara
Cin
Nov 2012
Awaiting the arrival of a new day, emotions fluctuating ceaselessly. Cross legged on my fortress, I smile and stretch as my mind is full of linguistically witty poetry of Mr. Ohara.
Perhaps tomorrow shall be a brighter day with new promises and feelings that will bring me temporary relief.
Temporary relief seeing as nothing is ever permanent. It's the darnedest thing, isn't it?
The uncertainty of it all.
We learn to accept.
We learn to keep going on.
Perhaps tomorrow shall be a brighter day with new promises and feelings that will bring me temporary relief.
Temporary relief seeing as nothing is ever permanent. It's the darnedest thing, isn't it?
The uncertainty of it all.
We learn to accept.
We learn to keep going on.
2011
KD Miller
Jul 2015
7/14/2015
"I mean I just don't get excited
anymore, you know?"
but even that
statement drains all the life out of me,
grabs a spot in my ribs, twists it, pulls it out like a dandelion ****.
I decide walking on 3rd avenue in
a Brooklyn neighborhood that I don't
need energy anymore
or, I've been doing well with the scant
supplies I have of it.
The day before, blow dried hair sticking to my neck because the windows are locked,
I had listened to the radio
Billie Holliday: oh lover man where can you be?
I know **** well where mine is,
unfortunately across the hudson
but I think I am happy for him because
any sane person would be otherwise in
princeton after a while
I count and recount the oaks and pines outside my house and the cardinals and bluejays and mocking birds, try to find something, don't find it,
Read a book, and I yell to myself:
"'That’s funny! there’s blood on me.'
- Frank Ohara."
"I mean I just don't get excited
anymore, you know?"
but even that
statement drains all the life out of me,
grabs a spot in my ribs, twists it, pulls it out like a dandelion ****.
I decide walking on 3rd avenue in
a Brooklyn neighborhood that I don't
need energy anymore
or, I've been doing well with the scant
supplies I have of it.
The day before, blow dried hair sticking to my neck because the windows are locked,
I had listened to the radio
Billie Holliday: oh lover man where can you be?
I know **** well where mine is,
unfortunately across the hudson
but I think I am happy for him because
any sane person would be otherwise in
princeton after a while
I count and recount the oaks and pines outside my house and the cardinals and bluejays and mocking birds, try to find something, don't find it,
Read a book, and I yell to myself:
"'That’s funny! there’s blood on me.'
- Frank Ohara."