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9.7k · Nov 2015
But, Not For All
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.
8.2k · Jun 2015
Cain, Abel, Glocks and Rocks
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?
4.8k · Jun 2015
You're Worth the Risk
Cecil Miller Jun 2015
I thought about you for a while today,
Imagined all the things I’d like to hear you say.
You said many things I wanted to be true,
And when I fantasized I said, “I love you, too.”

If only I could feel the things you feel,
Are you just a friend, or will more be revealed?
I know I’m not the perfect specimen.
But I love you now, and I will love you till the end.

And when you think of me,
Remember me with kindness.
If you go away,
Please, close the door with tenderness.
And all you are,
Is everything you could have been to me.
I know you would,
If only you could love me.

I sat in silence with my thoughts today.
And then I practiced all these things you’ll hear me say.
I never knew I had such feelings inside.
I would have said before, if it weren’t for my pride.

The truth is more like that I fear too much,
And do women like their men to be tough?
I wonder maybe if there could be a chance,
If I am bolder, so I’m here to show my stance.

And when you think of me,
Remember me with kindness.
If you go away,
Please, close the door with tenderness.
And all you are,
Is everything you could have been to me.
I know you would.
If only you could love me.

I knew that if I wore my feelings on my sleeve,
There was a chance that things would change and you would leave.
One in a million lucky few can feel like this.
I want to thank-you.
I love you.
You’re worth the risk.

My heart’s not broken, but it’s fortified.
You’ve taught me lessons, you brought joy to my life.
You’ve shown me kindness, and when to let go.
And lots of other things, I think you should know.

I have to tell you all these words I’ve said
Have just been swimming loudly ‘round in my head.
I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.
I am in love, even though you’re probably not.

And when you think of me,
Remember me with kindness.
If you go away,
Please, close the door with tenderness.
And all you are,
Is everything you could have been to me.
I know you would.
If only you could love me.

I knew that if I wore my feelings on my sleeve,
There was a chance that things would change and you would leave.
One in a million lucky few can feel like this.
I want to thank-you.
I love you.
You’re worth the risk.

Was writing for a musician friend, a guitarist, to see what he could do. Negotiations are on the table. Lyrics completed dec. 29, 2015. All copywrites reserved by the writer.
This is the second time I am posting this today. I deleated what I posted because of a bullying comment. I blocked the silly girl, but was unsure if it would remove her harrasing. Please do not comment, unless it it nice.
4.4k · Apr 2015
Dancing on the Lifeline
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.
4.0k · Dec 2015
The Bell at the Drum Circle
Cecil Miller Dec 2015
It was All Hollow's Eve.  

From all around people were coming to the south eastern seaboard to pay homage to the full moon, and beseech the moon to bless them in the upcoming harvest season.

As was customary, the people brought their bongos to attract the attention of the moon. The drummers settled across the length of the beach in many little groups and began drumming their rituals. They drummed for many reasons.

To this ceremony came a young boy.
He was a quiet boy from a tribe of very meager means. He did not have with him a bongo, ornate and with a bold resounding rhythmic thump. All he had to bring to the ceremony was a single tiny bell and a sounding rod with which to strike it. The bell, when struck, would render a soft, high pitched ring.

The boy knew it was a drum circle and not a bell circle, but he wanted to be a part of the evenings events.

The sun was beginning to set and the drummers had begun.

The boy with the bell joined a group of drummers who drummed to ask the moon that the breeze would be cool and gentle, instead of savage and destructive. The boy was feeling the rhythm, and when he felt he was found the place, struck the bell with the sounding rod.

The drummers stopped drumming. One of the drummers, an older boy around the outside of the circle shooed the young boy with the bell away from the group.

The young boy felt sorry. He hoped he had not been to much of a disturbance to the circle. He walked down the beach a little way. The faintest sparkling of a few stars could begin to be noticed in the sky. The sun had nearly set.

Another circle of drummers drummed so that the moon would intercede with the vast ocean and ask that the tide be gentle instead of large and destructive to the crops in the field.

The small boy liked the rhythm made by the various hands rapping on the tight skins and the sides of the bongos. He could hear in his mind how his bell might fit in with this rhythm. He was patient. He waited. When he felt it was just the right place, the boy struck his bell with the sounding rod.

The drumming ceased. Many drummers scowled at the young boy with the bell from a far off village. One of the drummers waved for the boy to go away from this circle. He pouted a little and left.

The boy did not mean to cause a disturbance. He had only wanted to join the ceremony.

The sun had long since set. The moon and stars illuminated the sky like a silvery blanket. The boy felt the love that was on the beach deep in his chest. He began to smile.

The boy was drawn in by the rhythms of another circle of drummers who were drumming to ask the moon that the crops be plentiful with fruit, the goats to yield plenty of milk, and the chickens many eggs.

The boy thought he might try one last time to find a place for his soft, highly pitched bell tone. He was hopeful because a few of the drummers were rapping and shaking beaded pottery. Surely this circle would be open enough to allow the boy with the bell to join in and help beseech the moon.

He waited and listened. When he felt that he had found the right place in this rhythm, the young boy struck the bell with the sounding rod.

Once again, the drummers stopped. A man wearing a frown pointed sternly with an outstretched muscled arm and sent the boy further down the beach where there were no more circles of drummers.

His head hung low, and with nobody around to see, the young boy with the bell who had been sent away from all the drumming circles on the beach let heavy and hot tears roll down his face and drip from his round cheeks.

"Do not cry, Young One, " the boy heard a soft voice say.

The boy took a breath and the raised his head. Standing before him was a woman in silver robes fettered with strands of fiber shimmered like stardust. A soft mist surrounded her.

"The tone of your bell was most pleasing to me because it was possessed of a sincere gentleness and simplicity that was unique among a multitude of sounds that all bore a similarity to each other. By the time they reach the heavens, they are all the same.

Because your bell was different, it got my attention.

Because you rang your bell with the first circle of drummers, the wind will be gentle. Because you rang your bell with the second circle of drummers, the ocean will be calm. Because you rang your bell at the third circle of drummers, the crops and livestock will produce a plentitude."

The young boy could barely believe what the beautiful woman had said. She seemed to be cloudy through his lingering tears. The boy brought his palms to his face to wipe them from his eyes. When he looked back up to see her clearly, she was gone.

The round full moon was brightly shining in the midnight sky.
This is an original short story. I got the idea on my first night I moved to Miami on South Beach in 1999. There was a young adult latin male who kept going to the different circles and sounding a bell, trying to find his place in the various rhythms ,but getting scowled at by some people, so that part is mostly true. The rest is from my imagination. The bell and the sounding rod are metaphores for the boy's love and hope. It is prose, rather than verse. I wanted to capture a feel kind of like The Velveteen Rabbit, my favorite children's story. I hope you enjoy it. Many of the elements are mystical and poetic. I retain the ownership and all legal rights to this story. Written on 12-15-2015
3.8k · Mar 2015
Dark Lamp
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.
3.4k · Sep 2015
UNITY
Cecil Miller Sep 2015
Long hikes and motorbikes,
Cabins, starlight, kids and tykes,
Parents, and mommies soon to be,
Gather at the greenest tree.
Spirits in ******* are unbound,
Where the silence  drowns the sound;
The victories that love has won.
We are never far when we are one.
I wrote this and posted on the same night after a peaceful day of spirirual recovery in the woods.
3.0k · May 2015
Charmed, I'm Sure
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.
2.9k · Sep 2015
Blocker
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.
2.7k · Sep 2015
Blood In My Eyes
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.
2.6k · May 2015
Farewell, My Fond Explorer
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
2.5k · Oct 2018
Honey
Cecil Miller Oct 2018
You've got a lot to learn now, honey.
You ought to take it slow,
But please don't take forever, honey.
We've got a ways to go
Here on this road to nowhere, honey,
And nothing in between.
Maybe we'll last forever, honey,
Unless we're too obscene.

Timewise, I don't have much too spare
On property, that's not my fare.
Little bits of lost lives; stolen,
Given to the egos; swollen.
I understand security,
I'm my arms, secure you'd be.

Maybe you don't need protection, honey.
But, still, it could be nice to know.
I'd lay my coat down for you, honey,
To bridge the puddles in the road.
Whenever we are elemental, honey,
I'd shield you from the chilly wind.
And raise the walls and ceilings, honey,
To build the house of fire again.

We could sail the oceans blue,
Or a rapid river in a canoe.
Sacred are the hearts of two
Who syncronise the avenue.
I can fix when you have need,
And you can fit my heart, indeed.

The letter of the risen law, honey,
Cannot dam the rushing flood
Of power you have over me, honey
I'm feeling mighty good.
Don't take advantage, honey.
Don't pass a good thing by.
We got some synergy, honey.
All good things will come in time.

Only if we hesitate,
There is a time when love is late.
Maybe love might come again.
Maybe no heart ever wins.
Maybe hearts in hand will soar.
Lesson one: I love *******.
I started writing these verses to a rhythm in my head. I haven't set it to music, yet. I hear it as a moderate pace in the longer verses, and a warbling, pooring like honey in the shorter verses. (Hence, the title Honey)
2.4k · Jul 2015
one word poem
2.4k · Jan 2016
Hash and Good Corned Beef
Cecil Miller Jan 2016
I've borne the heavy load.
I've worked all the day.
Got two children at the house to feed.
Husband's gone away.

I've a bunion on my toe,
But I've got a corn pad.
With a smile upon my face,
Swear, it don't hurt so bad.

Don't the moonlight look so grand,
Shining in the sky!
Walking home from second shift,
Clean cars are wizzing by.

There's a light mist in the air
That gives me some relief.
In the crock *** waits at home
Hash and good corned beef.

My fingers gnarl and seize,
The handle's hard to grip.
I hope the boss don't send me home.
The kids have a field trip.

When the kids get on the bus
To travel out of town,
I might take a few days off
To lay my tired head down.

Don't the moonlight look so grand,
Shining in the sky.
Walking home from second shift,
Clean cars are wizzing by.

There's a light mist in the air
That gives me some relief.
In the crock *** waits at home
Hash and good corned beef.

I am faithful to the work.
I don't call in sick.
I'm hardworking as a man.
The foreman calls me "chick."

I never complain about my back.
Lord, He knows, I need this job.
I can take the stripes they give.
Don't give my raise to Bob.

Don't the moonlight look so grand,
Shining in the sky.
Walking home from second shift,
Clean cars are wizzing by.

There's a light mist in the air
That gives me some relief.
In the crock *** waits at home
Hash and good corned beef.
This is one of my folk songs.
I wrote it this afternoon in about 15 minutes on the notepad of my phone.
I went to copy and paste and deleted it and had to quickly type it in again while it was still fresh in my mind.
I wrote it from the perspective of a single mother as an empathetic homage. I hope I did justice to single mothers everywhere.
12:24am p.s. The title was hash of good corned beef but I remembered we southern folk used to call it corned beef AND hash sometimes, instead of corned beef hash. Anyway, just now I modified the title to include the conjunction AND, replacing the former OF.
2.4k · Jun 2015
Golden Boy
Cecil Miller Jun 2015
You're not a Golden Boy,
And you never were meant to be.
You are a force of desperation,
Seeking salvation.
You live to be free.
That is the reason why
You may forever be bound
To the saviors of the Underground.

You were a bit of a child.
The world was having its way with you.
You tried to make a declaration,
A revelation,
Some celebration.
You tried some chemical shock.
As a dried leaf floats downstream,
It is steryl as an early angel.

You're just a Rolling Roy,
The drifting dust on a beam of sunlight.
You suffer from separation,
By invitation,
And so many things to see.
It is no wonder why
Your golden boy will not be found,
Except by those of the Underground.
This is not a sad poem. It is about how one finds himself, among who seem to be the unlikeliest of people.
It can happen that way sometimes. It means other things, too, but I think I will bask in the accomplishment of what is abstract for a while before giving full disclosure.
2.4k · Apr 2015
Misery is Glue
Cecil Miller Apr 2015
You never were a hater,
But you tried to be a player.
You tried to come off cool,
But there's a devil in your lair.
You tried to be a good one,
But they talk behind your back.
They're plotting, they're wotnotting,
And they're planning their attack.
They severed your reality -
They twisted every turn.
They're burning and they're churning,
They don't render what you yearn.
Then panic triggers fever,
And you feel the fever burn.
If they keep on pushing,
Those suckers gonna learn.
Then the witness understands.
There is reason for concern.
There is a new commander -
And oh!   The worm has turned.

What could you do?
You never knew.
How could have you?
No-one told you.
Misery is glue,
Sticks to you.

You never were a villain
Till they clotted up your chill.
You never needed anyone
To tell you what you feel.
They only know to validate
Themselves - they never love.
If it suits their motives,
They will bite, and kick and shove.
There never was a heartache
That you could not overcome.
You have to have a heart that's hard.
So go out and get you one.
Trample loosers under foot,
Or they'll be too burdensome.
Keep your left hand from your right,
And keep your lovers under thumb.
Finally, you start to see
That life is just a loaded gun.
You can never stop to rest,
You're always on the run.

What could you do?
You never knew.
How could have you?
No-one told you.
Misery is glue,
Sticks to you.

You master all that you survey, Everybody knows your name.
Cream rises to the top -
You are the winner of the game.
If you gave them half the chance,  
They  would cut you down.
You forever have to watch your back,
Never let them gather 'round.
You didn't try to rule the world,
You only wanted to survive.
If they had their way,  
You would no longer be alive.
Your meter's getting weaker,
But you strive to make it through.
You've trudged thicker purposes,
You always make it through.
They will give it all they've got
When they finally come for you.
You have never had a moment's peace,
'Cause misery is glue.

What could you do?
You never knew.
How could have you?
No-one told you.
Misery is glue,
Sticks to you.
I started writing this song in 2000. I was inspired by the rap-pop song by Blondie called No Exit.
2.4k · Jul 2015
The Consequence of Light
Cecil Miller Jul 2015
So, how have you been?
I know it's been awhile.
I couldn't bare to watch this creature feature -
The selling out for style.
What good is luminescence
If there is nothing to be seen?
I choose to light my words
With colors-
Blues, and reds, and greens
And shower it with glistening golden streams.
So, pardon me as I purge my disappointment.
Where does integrity go
When the walls are burning down?
The lanes are blocked with gratuitous frivolity as meaningless as the strands of fiber drifting in a beam of sunlight-
Particles of bodies that settle on the coffee table only to be wiped away by a tattered cloth.
I cry out for the setting of the sun,
That glowing orb which destroys the mysteries,
And robs the seeker of discovery.
I ask,
Are the shadows being driven into the crevices never to be seen again?
There would be no depth perception without them.
A phantom weight is here,
Then just as suddenly as it came,
has gone.
The color is washed away in all the brightness.
What is left is white,
and not much else to write,
But of the sadness of the ways
it takes the texture from the days.
I guess I can understand wanting to shed light on someone else's poem, but when you have to pay to have your own work on the front page, now called "what's hot" you really must be egoic. As I come here to visit my the poets I follow, I will pass over work that  is lighted by the writer just for the principle of integrity. If you were good, you would not be paying. You would be getting paid. I am checking put a site called poetry and quotes. I like it. Please, do not use my work to buy, sell, trade or fundraise for this or any other site.
Cecil Miller Apr 2015
Stiletto heels and a push-up bra,
Hair piled high, bleached and toned and all…
That’s the way you used to shuffle around,
But you ain’t been much since your man went to town.

Who’s that a’ worrin’ bout them wrinkles and lines?
Is that the same broad who fell for all his lines?
Well, since he left you all you do is frown.
No, you ain’t done much since your man went to town.

You could’a picked a man who would’a cherished you
Once upon a time when love was fresh and new,
But you picked the one who was known all around.
Now,  you ain’t known much since your man went to town.

(Interlude)

You could’a picked a man who would’a cherished you
Once upon a time when love was fresh and new,
But you picked the one who was known all around.
Now, you ain’t been much since your man went to town.

What’cha gotta to do to make it right
Is take your piece out of your purse, it’s a Saturday night.
What’cha gotta do is shoot him down,
‘Cause you cry too much since your man went to town.

(I'm still tweaking the arrangement. It should have an upbeat Little Richard or Ray Charles rock-n-roll mid-upbeat tempo with possibly hand claps on the downbeat like a spiritual chorus... since most early rock and r&b; musicians got their starts in small black southern Baptist churches. Let me know what you think. If it *****, tell me.
Notes are posted below the body
2.3k · Mar 2015
The Leaves Blown By The Wind
Cecil Miller Mar 2015
I know That Times Will Change.
The Struggle is the same.
The Battle lines are always where they've been.
We've been charging for so long.
This time we must be strong,
Or be scattered like the leaves blown by the wind.

Yesterday as I was  walking.
I heard these two men talking
About a third man who wasn't there.
I heard them put him down,
Just because his skin is brown.
It's no wonder that the world just isn't fair.

I heard a woman say
She did not have equal pay
As the men who did the same job that she did.
When she asked the bosses why,
The looked her right in the eye,
And told her to go home and raise her kids.

In the poorer neighborhood
Where the roads are never good,
And the prices in the market are too high,
When you bother to compair,
The food is cheaper where
The well-to-do are sure to shop and buy.

I know that times will change.
The struggle stays the same.
The Battle lines are always where they've been.
We've been charging for so long.
This time we must be strong,
Or be scattered like the leaves blown by the wind.

They said in the news cast
A man was beaten bad.
He was on his way for treatment when he died.
He had dared to love a man,
and they called that love a sin.
I think the only sin was how they lied.

There's an teen-ager in jail
Being held without a bail.
His only crime was coming to our land.
Before they let him go,
They'll strip him of his hope,
Then send him to the gangs across the Rio Grande.

I know the times will change.
The struggle stays the same.
The battle lines are always where they've been.
We've been charging for so long.
This time we must be strong,
Or scatter like the leaves blown by the wind.

We've been fighting for so long.
This time we must stand strong,
Stronger than the leaves blown by the wind.
This poem started as a song. A relatively new example of my work, it addressess various social issues relevant in our culture, and holds them in comparison, to examine their commonalities between these scenarios. I wrote it one evening in early March 2015.
2.2k · Dec 2015
Seeds
Cecil Miller Dec 2015
Seeds for birds, and seeds for me. 
Seeds that grow for me a tree.
Nature grows, and flows, is free;
As the way I share my seeds.
More from my poetic banterings
Cecil Miller Apr 2015
You got to know what for, Babe, you got nothin' to lose,
Just like ev'rybody else in the whole **** world.
You gotta break on through
To the other side of your sad attitude,
But you can't shake off
Them muddy Mississippi Bluez.

Well, Hell! She's beatin' on a drum
And she's gettin pretty loose.
Seems like ev'rybody else in the whole **** world
Is comin' down on her
And standin' on some plattitude.
She's just tryin' to groove
To the muddy Mississippi Bluez.

Up and down the water,
You watch the riverboats cruise,
As you drink against the tree beneath a sky of blue.
Sleep wants to take you,
But Honey, you refuse.
You gotta pay your dues
To the muddy Mississippi Blues.

Life along the delta can be simple and fine,
When the stills fill the jugs and the full moon shines.
You're gonna make it through
When you find a little gratitude.
So give your praise
To the muddy Mississippi Bluez

"Well, Hell! Take me away,
Muddy Mississippi.
I know I can count on you.
To stain my soul
Like muddy Mississippi goo.
I owe it all
To the muddy Mississippi Bluez!"
There is a version of this song on hellopoetry.com. I liked the responses to it so I am leaving it up.
This version has an additional verse that I just wrote. It is a song. I really hope you guys enjoy it.
2.2k · May 2017
Papa's In The Cooler
Cecil Miller May 2017
It's my birthday and this year I turn ten
It's my birthday and this year I turn ten
It's my birthday and this year I turn ten
Gonna have a party and invite over all 'o my friends

It's my birthday and Papa's in the cooler again
It's my birthday and Papa's in the cooler again
It's my birthday and Papa's in the cooler again
Gonna use my birthday cash to bail him out again

Mamma says no matter, I should love my dad
Mamma says no matter, I should love my dad
Mamma says no matter, I should love my dad
I already think he's the best I could'a had

It's my birthday and Papa's in the cooler again
It's my birthday and Papa's in the cooler again
It's my birthday and Papa's in the cooler again
Gonna use my birthday cash to bail him out again

When we paid the bail, gonna walk up on a snitch
When we paid the bail, gonna walk up on a snitch
When we paid the bail, gonna walk up on a snitch
Snag him in a snag, we're gonna hitch him to a hitch
Wrote most of this one about three years ago. I finished it just now, as I was posting it. It needed a resolve.
(This seems kinda rockabilly to me)
Cecil Miller Feb 2016
There was a woman with an ecclesiastic body.
I found out I was just one member of its congregation.
She was a soothsayer when the lights were down,
When she proved she was a succubus -
But what the ****, I've never been a saint.
She put the screws to me.

She used to belong to another man.
Now she's putting me through my paces.
If I had paid attention to the signs,
I could have seen my fate before it happened.

There was this dude I knew who was hard pressed.
I thought I might could offer him a place to crash for awhile,
So he could get his **** together.
Apparently demons have an appetite for gutter ****.

They took a ride in my ride,
And didn't forget my checkbook.
They didn't neglect to clean my house
Of nearly everything inside.
It was just a reminder,
Cause it really ain't no surprise.

That there's a burning lake
And gnashing on flesh,
Yeah, it's nothing but any empty, cold black well.
It's a Godless place,
You're on your own.
There ain't no honor among thieves.
Remember this,
There are no friends in Hell.

There are accusations to bring me down,
It's like I'm already dead.
They throw down their gauntlets,
They make every pledge.
I don't trust a word they say.
They're liers and deceivers.
All they want is whatever they can get.

They prey on fools and their believers.
They'll prophesy, then pass you by
Unless you've got an edge,
The dusty demons, dryer than a dessert segde.

They took a ride in my ride,
And didn't forget my checkbook.
They didn't neglect to clean my house
Of nearly everything inside.
It's just a reminder, but it really ain't no surprise.

That there's a burning lake
And gnashing on flesh,
Yeah, it's nothing but any empty, cold black well.
It's a Godless place,
You're on your own.
There ain't no honor among thieves.
Remember this,
There are no friends in Hell.

She never failed to cause me woe.
But, I'm not an innocent soul.
I guess what goes around,
Comes back around.
When it's harvest time, they'll know,
They done ****** with the wrong one.
Everybody reaps what they sow.

They took a ride in my ride,
And didn't forget my checkbook.
They didn't neglect to clean my house
Of nearly everything inside.
It's just a reminder, but it really ain't no surprise.

That there's a burning lake
And gnashing on flesh,
Yeah, it's nothing but any empty, cold black well.
It's a Godless place,
You're on your own.
There ain't no honor among thieves.
Remember this,
There are no friends in Hell

There is no such thing as kindness here.
I'll save troubles for another day,
They only multiply.

The more I see, the more I know
That strumpets belong with urchins.
They never will know,
Until they are each other's paroxysm,
But even then, they won't care.

No good deed is without a price to pay.

They took a ride in my ride,
And didn't forget my checkbook.
They didn't neglect to clean my house
Of nearly everything inside.
It's just a reminder, but it really ain't no surprise.

That there's a burning lake
And gnashing on flesh,
Yeah, it's nothing but any empty, cold black well.
It's a Godless place,
You're on your own.
There ain't no honor among thieves.
Remember this,
There are no friends in Hell.
Last night my song writing partner(I do the Lyrics, he works up the music)  gave me the proverb "There Are No Friends in Hell" and asked me to write a treatment for another hard rock tune. He loves to rip on guitar. We talked many concepts. I reference some of the elements as a starting point, and built the lyrics from inside out.
I figured people don't get to hell by being good people. So the guy in my song is not an innocent victom. He kind of stole a woman from another guy, and in turn, she and another guy ends up ******* him over big time.
As soon as I could get home, nearly midnight, I wrote this piece. I retain ownership of the lyrics. I posted it to hellopoetry as soon as I finished it, around 1:36 the next morning. It is purposely jagged and rough because I wanted to leave a wide option for vocal styling, wailing, growling, moaning or screaming. We will make it fit whatever music he has in mind.
Initially, I wanted our collaborations to be more jazzy and r&b; routed, but our styles are kind of rubbing off on each other. Since all rock music comes from the same place, they fold well into each other.
*one final note - this song has to be very edgy if it is going to work. When you build a song around a cliche, it could easily become campy, or could be a "send up" comedic piece instead of being gritty. Sometimes I like the tounge-in-cheak outlandish approach and work toward an over-the-top affect. This is not the case with this song. It is a little thematic, but I think the real cleaverness is that hidden within the occasional expletives, the deeper subtlety of ****** innuindo can be found if you want to look for it. It is not really hidden.
2.1k · Apr 2015
When a Stranger Calls
Cecil Miller Apr 2015
"You are my friend.
Please do me a favor.
Give Bobby this phone number.
Don't tell him I told you to.
Maybe he'll call before Dr. Mendrokis and his wife get home.
The children are sleeping in their beds.
I don't really care for being alone.
Tell Bobby to call me on the Doctor's phone."

Jill tries to study but it's quiet tonight.
The telephone rings to her delight.
It must be Bobby.

"Hello"

There is a silence, but she can tell someone is on the line.

"Bobby?"

Nobody answers so she hangs up the phone.
Jill Johnson doesn't like
To be alone.

The clock ticks on.
She hears a racket in the kitchen.
It's the ice-maker in the freezer.
She takes a fudgesicle out of the pack,
As she wonders if Bobby will try to call back.

The phone rings.
Jill says,"Hello, Bobby? What do you know?"

"Have you checked the children?"

Jill hangs up the phone.

At the weather, Jill fixes a drink.
They won't notice a little missing brandy, she thinks.
That call was scary.
His voice was dark.
Maybe it was Bobby
Who was just pretending.
Maybe she doesn't like him much, anyway.
He's kind of a ****.

The phone rings again.

"Have you checked the children?"

"This isn't funny, Bobby. Don't call back, anymore."

"Why haven't you checked the children?"

Jill slams down the receiver in a panic.
She dials the police on the rotary as fast as she can.
She's terrified and alone.

The policeman tells her,
If the man calls back,
The call will be traced
If she keeps him on the line.

She sits on the stool by the stairs.
She silently waits.
She's scared.

The phone rings.

"H-Hello..."

"It's me."

"I know."

"Why haven't you checked the children?"

"You, You can see me?"

"Yes."

"I turned the lights down.
I''ll turn them back up if you'd like."

"No."

"You really scared me before,
If that's what you wanted.
Is that what you wanted?"

"No."

"What did you want?"

"Your blood...all over me."

Jill hangs up the the phone,
It rings again.
She answers the phone and screams,
"Leave me alone!"

The policeman then says,
"Your life is in danger.
Soon, police will be there.
Get out of the house...
The call is coming from upstairs!"
This is inspired by the opening sequence to one of the greatest, but most underated suspense movies. When a Stranger Calls, released in 1980. The remake was not very good. Some of the dialogue is from the movie. I really cannot call this an entirely original work. It is an honest homage to one of the greats.
2.1k · Oct 2015
Nous Trois
Cecil Miller Oct 2015
We three wished upon a star.
One is fairest, one had the car.
One is the bind that is the love.
We three stare at clouds above.

Slowly, softy, changing shape;
Like we; folding, holding, loosening chape,
Warmth of breath upon taut strength.
We roll, and stick, and cling.

For each other, we sustain.
Pleasures ache, quakes refrain.
Touch brings shivers, slivers wide,
Ever growing, rolling tide.

Upon the Earth, beneath the sky.
We three embrace, nuzzle, sigh.
We recede from the crest.
Reluctantly, we rise and vest.
I wanted to write something a little ******, but also a bit on the alternative side, a little bit of the underground.
2.0k · Sep 2015
Sink of the Brink
Cecil Miller Sep 2015
Is it love or is it lies?
Perhaps both, or neither,
Inflamed by need,
Quenched by self,
Swollen with desire.
Imagination fans the fire
Until the floorboards creak outside my door
- Then I brink for her no more.
She-bob, he-bop, a we-bop
2.0k · Mar 2016
What It Dew?
Cecil Miller Mar 2016
The pebble doth not portend when it sinks to the bottom of the basin,
Neither doth the sparrow lie when it takes to flight.
Just something I wrote last year about false modesty. It does not exist in nature.
Cecil Miller Jul 2015
Stiletto heels and a push-up bra,
Hair piled high, bleached and toned and all…
That’s the way you used to shuffle around,
But you ain’t been much since your man went to town.

Who’s that a’ worrin’ bout them wrinkles and lines?
Is that the same broad who fell for all his lines?
Well, since he left you all you do is frown.
No, you ain’t done much since your man went to town.

You could’a picked a man who would’a cherished you
Once upon a time when love was fresh and new,
But you picked the one who was known all around.
Now,  you ain’t known much since your man went to town.

(Interlude)

You could’a picked a man who would’a cherished you
Once upon a time when love was fresh and new,
But you picked the one who was known all around.
Now, you ain’t been much since your man went to town.

Whatcha gonna do when the rage runs high,
When the last tear falls cause the well has dried?
Whatcha gonna do when the sun goes down,
Cause you ain't slept much since your man went to town.

What’cha gotta to do to make it right
Is take your piece out of your purse, it’s a Saturday night.
What’cha gotta do is shoot him down,
‘Cause you cry too much since your man went to town.
Please, do not use me work to buy, sell, trade or findraise for this or any other site. I posted an early draft of these song lyrics and was pleased at how well recieved it was. Shortly before I put it on this site I added a stanza before the finale in the second verse, then turned it over to my music partner to work with. Then the computer my work was on crashed. I had not backed up the files. I wanted the lyrics up on hellopoetry because I had just discovered the site, so I gave you the earlier draft that I had. Earlier tonight, while visiting my partner's home studio, I remembered to grab the copies of this, and some other songs he is working on for me. I think the additional stanza adds increase to the momentum of the story this peace is telling. For me, it is the emotional clamax in this version, and the final stanza, though descriptive of an extreme action, becomes the denumont. There is also a new balance of  the architecture in respect to the eveness of stanzas in both verses. (At times, I tend to put great emphasis on the importance of song structure. I have ever since I realized how important structure is to a song.)
I hope you enjoy it.
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 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.
1.8k · Mar 2015
Alliteration
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?
1.8k · Feb 2016
The Ballad of Sheila Carter
Cecil Miller Feb 2016
You wouldn't welsh on a bet with your ******,
And you wouldn't go to bed with the mob.
You wouldn't mess with a street gang ****,
No matter if he's crab, or slob.

You wouldn't backstab a man on death row,
Cause you know he just might **** ya.
If you've got the gumption.
You wouldn't have it long,
If you cross Evil Nurse Sheila.

You shouldn't be like the fool who tried
To play games with her heart.
She left him a crushed, empty man.
Well, he was doomed from the start.

Sheila isn't a ******,
And you'd better not let her hear
You snickering about her at the social club.
You might not have time to fear.

Sheila's makes the headlines
Each time she tries to settle down.
She plans to live a carefree life,
But soon she has to leave town.

Everything she does
Is warped, but in the name of love.
Except when she hates your guts,
When it's Sheila you've run afoul of.

If you've never heard her story.
You'd best take this advise.
If you cross her path just keep walking,
You best not look back twice.

Evil Nurse Sheila's got a heart of stone
That looks like a heart of gold.
If you are responsible for it's tarnish,
There's no hope to which you can hold.

Sheila takes no prisoners.
She don't take any guff.
If she thinks to give you a warning,
You'd better not call her bluff.

You wouldn't want to rouse her wrath,
Because her fury won't be tamed.
She's restless, bold and beautiful.
She cannot be contained.

It seems things have been quiet.
She's been off the grid some time.
If she thinks that you might suspect her,
You may be her next crime.
Sheila Carter was a soap opera villianess played by Kimberlin Beown on the sister soaps The Young and the Restless and The Bold and the Beautiful.
I am extremely pleased that my favorite soap actress, Kimberlin Brown, liked this poem after I shared this link to her facebook page.

fans know Sheila has been featured in the Bold and Beautiful episodes a lot in the last couple of months.
1.8k · Oct 2016
Mosaic Love
Cecil Miller Oct 2016
I felt my world come crashing in.
All of your lies were paper thin.
Why did you have to go
And break my heart?

There is a full moon in the sky
Bigger than the hurt you left inside.
Luna, she knows
I was a fool for you.

I know it shouldn't be a shame,
That I have loved your life in vain.
You could never have been true,
No matter how close I kept you to me.

Your heart's been shattered like a vase.
The pieces, like tile, were mortered
back into place.
The slivers of your pain,
Like a window of glass stained.

Fragmented, and frail,
Contagious and strong,
Lacking conviction,
Can't help but be wrong.

Mosaic love,
You've turned your back on me.
Now I'm to blind to see
Just what I've got to do
To get myself over you.

I felt my world come crashing in.
All of your lies were paper thin.
Why did you have to go
And break my heart, again?

Hecate knows that I've been strong.
I should have seen it all along.
We were destined to fail in -
To each other's orbit.

How in the world will I
Get by with this lowly high?
Diana knows
All your changing faces,
Are a puzzle in the dark.

Mosaic love,
You've turned your back on me.
Now I'm to blind to see
Just what I've got to do
To get myself over you.

This is what it is to love,
And be loved,
By someone with a broken heart.

Never to complete,
The cycle does repeat,
Like a beam of moonlight
In a cathedral panel -

Night after night,
Night after night,
Night after night,
Night after night,
Never again to know
A day without a thought of you.

Mosaic love,
You've turned your back on me.
Now I'm to blind to see
Just what I've got to do
To get myself over you.

I felt my world come crashing in.
All of your lies were paper thin.
Why did you have to go
And break my heart, again?

Mosaic love,
You've turned your back on me.
Now I'm to blind to see
Just what I've got to do
To get myself over you.

This is what it is to love,
And be loved,
By someone with a broken heart.

Mosaic love,
You've turned your back on me.
Now I'm to blind to see
Just what I've got to do
To get myself over you.

Never again to know
A day without a thought of you...
I got the idea for this one a few weeks ago. I wrote the refrain containing the title around an existing melody I had last week. I just finished the rest of it in about half an hour, but it took about an hour longer to work on the arrangement. A mosaic is rarely put together evenly, and for that reason, I created a jagged architecture for this song that would probably topple if I tried to fit more into it. I hope you like it.
1.8k · Jul 2015
The Flower
Cecil Miller Jul 2015
In the forest, there grows a flower
That the night loves with starlit showers.
How it blossoms near the tree beneath the moon!
Its petals are a vibrant indentation
Which, with its beauty, betokens the wilderness.

Rapacious and beguiled
Become the seekers of the bloom.
Ravenous are they for its syrupy nector,
And greedy for its savory and intoxicating effect,
Which is delusive to those who would otherwise be able to reckon.
Its glamour incites a yearning
That, not sated, becomes a burning
Which leaves a hollow place where the logic used to be,
And tangles the chords of one's emotions.

Not everything that is enticing is worth the bill of fare,
Even if it thrives freely throughout the land.
I was bored, so I decided to write. 7/16/2015
Please, do not use my work to buy, sell, trade or fundraise for this or any other sight.
1.8k · Sep 2015
'Bout them Bourbon Blues
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.
1.8k · Jul 2015
Love You Like Luka
Cecil Miller Jul 2015
Once you give yourself to me.
There is no way that you are free.
Mine are eyes that see my prey.
Welcome night, and grieve the day.

I've loved before,
I'll love you more
Than anyone who let you go.

Don't move, don't blink,
Don't cry, don't think -
You can let your free will go.

I love you like Ed.
I love you like Jeffrey.
I love you like John.
I love you like Luka.

Things are going to change for you.
There is nothing you can do.
There is nothing you can say.
You can never get away.

Don't be afraid.
You're in my shade.
I'm never gonna let you go.

You're mine tonight,
And all the nights -
I'm never gonna let you go.

I love you like Ed.
I love you like Jeffrey.
I love you like John.
I love you like Luka.

It rubs the lotion on its skin,
Or else it gets the hose again.
It rubs the lotion on its skin,
Or else it gets the hose again.

It rubs the lotion on its skin,
Or else it gets the hose again.
(Precious)
It rubs the lotion on its skin,
Or else it gets the hose again

I've loved before,
I'll love you more
Than anyone who let you go.

Don't be afraid.
You're in my shade.
I'm never gonna let you go.

I love you like Ed.
I love you like Jeffrey.
I love you like John.
I love you like Luka.
I have been working on this song a few weeks. I just finished it.
Yes, I know it is very, very dark but don't anybody get your knickers in a budge. It's not a love story. It is not real. If you understand certain references, don't get freaked. The title came to me. It had some alliteration that I thought sounded good, so I built it around a soft techno-club beat that would have been heard in dance-a-terias in the early 1990's. I, of course, retain all ownership and rights to all my work. Please do not use it to buy, sell, trade or for fundraising for this or any other sight.
1.7k · Dec 2015
Vigil
Cecil Miller Dec 2015
Yonder burns the vigil,  that beacon that guides me ever closer to the hearth where I once lain the burden of my  innocence with another on that faux bare skin rug. If only I could reclaim it, but only to surrender it again.
I was bantering some poetric quips with a buddy last night. I really dig when that happens. Poetry is its own beautiful language.
1.7k · Jul 2015
Few and Far Between
Cecil Miller Jul 2015
I jumped on a freight in Monticello,
Didn't know where it was going - you
Had given up on me, baby -
So, I'd given up on you.
A rumbling song as the train rolled on,
I had plenty-a shine to drink-
I was trying anything I could,
So I wouldn't have to think.

Few and far between
Are  the hopes I'll ever have
Of loving someone who's loving me.
I've been taken to pity,
Like surely others have.
All of my dreams
Are few and far between.

I could still remember how
You said you wished that I would leave.   
I'm giving you what you wanted.
Something you can believe.
You won't hear from me, anymore.
I know that to you I'm dead.
I won't ever haunt you,
Like your words that won't leave my head.

Few and far between
Are the hopes I'll ever have,
Of loving someone who's loving me.
I've been taken to pity,
Like surely others have.
All of my dreams,
Are few and far between.

The boxcar slowed in the railway yard.
I jump off - the gravel cut up me knee.
I heard them barking, so I took off a'running.
The dogs were closing in on me.
I made it to the Vieux Carr'e
Before the St. Louis clock struck three.
Tell the children I love them.
Or better, tell 'em not to think of me.

Few and far between
Are the hopes I'll ever have,
Of loving someone who's loving me.
I've been taken to pity,
Like surely others have.
All of my dreams,
Are few and far between.

I'll always wish it was different.
I hope you find somebody new,
Hope you find the kids a daddy
Who's good to them and you.
I hope you know that I really tried
To be the man you needed me to be.
I couldn't keep you from happiness,
You couldn't keep me from being me.

Few and far between
Are the hopes I'll ever have,
Of loving someone who's loving me.
I've been taken to pity,
Like surely others have.
All of my dreams,
Are few and far between.
I started writing this song in 1991.
The ispiration was a song called "Talk to me of Mendocino" as performed by Linda Ronstadt (from the albumn Get Closer), and Kris Kristofferson's Me and Bobby Mcgee,and my own exploits of hitchicking around the country at the time. The first and the third verse were writen at that time. The second and the fourth verse were writen about 5 months ago. I touched up the second verse today, as I submitted this work to be more sympathetic to the subject's mindset of depression.
This is kind of my Thomas Wolf piece. Part homage to my experiences, without being autobiographical, as I have no children.
I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I own the copywrites to this and all my work.
Please do not use this poem to buy, sell or fundraise for this or any other site.
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.
1.6k · Oct 2015
Face for Radio
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.
1.6k · Mar 2015
I Miss New Orleans (a song)
Cecil Miller Mar 2015
I miss the street theater at the moonwalk,
The coffee and beignets,
The late-night walks down Bourbon Street,
The scorching summer days,
And I miss you.
I miss the one that I once held
Beneath the city lights.
I'm going to find my way back.
I'm setting out tonight.
I miss New Orleans.

I miss the slow ferry rides
Across the Mississippi river deep.
We always stood on the very top,
So we would be sure to see
The skyline
Of the Vous Carre.
Don't you know,
Somehow, one day, I will return.
I'll sleep out under a bar's alcove
While night-time tourists crash and burn like stars.
I miss New Orleans.

I never thought I'd ever see the day
That I could feel so swept-away.
I'm going home, and there I'll stay.

Only now have I come to realize
Marie Leaveu must have my soul
Locked inside a voodoo grip
And She just won't let go.
I'm captivated.
I miss the one that I once held
Beneath the city lights.
I'm going to find my way back.
I'm setting out tonight.
I miss New Orleans.
I wrote this song in a North Louisiana jail cell when I was twenty years old. I wanted to write a piece that recalled what my time in New Orleans had been for me. I had recently been in The Big Easy for several months and this song came after the first time I had to leave. I have been back several times since. It is my second home city.
1.5k · May 2015
Your Only One
Cecil Miller May 2015
How many hearts are you gonna burn?
How many hearts are you gonna burn?
How many hearts are you gonna burn?
How many hearts are you gonna burn?

I don't put stock in the things you say.
You broke my heart in so many ways.
You say you love me, but you love them, too.
I'll never again make love to you.

You don't want to be tethered to just one man.
On the flip, I guess I can understand.
So, go on and let your heart have fun.
I could have only been your only one.

Love's not a bag of snacks, baby.
You've got a lot of lessons to learn.
I could have been your only one.
How many hearts are you gonna burn?

How many hearts are you gonna burn?
How many hearts are you gonna burn?
How many hearts are you gonna burn?
How many hearts are you gonna burn?

You have many men, but they don't know,
But I'm The ******* Jack Kid, you know.
I won't blow your cover, so don't you fret.
They'll learn soon enough what they don't know, yet.

You know, your logic ain't wrapped too tight.
Your a dead-end bird flying blind at night.
How's it gonna go when the others catch on,
When they all know they weren't your only one?

Love's not a bag of snacks, baby.
You've got a lot of lessons to learn.
I could have been your only one.
How many hearts are you gonna burn?

How many hearts are you gonna burn?
How many hearts are you gonna burn?
How many hearts are you gonna burn?
How many hearts are you gonna burn?
I wrote this at 12:41 am on 5/14/2015. So it is very, very new.
It is kind of a rock-a-billy Homage to Not Fade Away by Buddy Holly and the Cricketts.
Dec 17, 2016, I added backing rhythm and refrain to fill this one out. (I also changed a line in the second verse to reference ******* Jack as a tie in to the first line in the refrain about the bag of snacks. It is very rockabilly Buddy Holly ripping on Bo Diddly.
Cecil Miller Sep 2016
When I turn to you for help you are there whenever you can be.
When I've seen you are in need of aid,
I have been beside you - I have always.

But there's a limit to the trust
Between the two of us.
Don't take it the hard way,
We get through the hard days.

"If you get my back,
I'll get your back on payday.
When payday comes, maybe you
Can hold on just a little longer,
I swear next time my pay will be stronger.
I can catch you up by mid-month,
If I'm not too tired or busy."

Pay it back now while you still can.
I know what can go down.
We've all been there before.

Don't get mad.
Don't get offended.
If we borrow,
We pay as intended,
Or we don't need to borrow -
Not at all.

There is a different between a pack of smokes and thirty dollars.
I maby could write off five or ten,
But I can't afford to write of fifty.
And I'll never try to shark you.
I hate to have to run it down,
But I'm not The Giving Tree.
I don't want to cut off slivers.
And I don't want to give you shivers.
Don't get cold with me.

"If you get my back,
I'll get your back on payday.
When payday comes, maybe you
Can hold on just a little longer,
I swear next time my pay will be stronger.
I can catch you up by mid-month,
If I'm not too tired or busy."

Pay it back now while you still can.
I know what can go down.
We've all been there before.

When you finally catch up to me
On week number four and day three.

I know that much is going on.
But I've got a lot on my mind, too.
I don't ever want to make you sad.
But when it's time to settle up,
Don't have the nerve to come off mad.

Is it right to make me wait,
One more day when you are passing  by
Four times near my way today.
Longer and longer, I would wait.
Then you pay it back with a houndog face, and an silent plattitude.
and not even a word of thank-you.
No, not one word of gratitude.

To save what there is left to save,
Casual fruendly loans are done.
That doesn't mean I wouldn't save your life.
Look at all the ways you've saved my life.
Get your head out of your feelings.
Know that nothing petty would ever stop this love in my heart I feel for you.
But it's not worth the hassle or the dealing
When you take your sweet time,
Like plans do not matter unless they are yours.

"If you get my back,
I'll get your back on payday.
When payday comes, maybe you
Can hold on just a little longer,
I swear next time my pay will be stronger.
I can catch you up by mid-month,
If I'm not too tired or busy."

Pay it back now while you still can.
I know what can go down.
We've all been there before.

There's no reason I can think of you should think look me up for money, And I won't call on you.
That's the last thing I will do.

But, I'll always want whatever's best for you.
I wrote this number just now in one sitting. It's a song that is self explanitory.
1.5k · Jun 2015
Surface Noise
Cecil Miller Jun 2015
Shock to my heart,
Torn all apart,
Still, I can't see,
A better place to be.

Won't somebody come
And save me from myself.
Won't somebody come,
I can't make it by myself.

Trapped by my fears
In my waisted years.
I've searched my soul to find
Some sense of peace of mind.

Won't somebody come
And save me from myself.
Won't sombedy come
I can't make it by myself.

All, all alone.
Never to feel at home.
Why do I feel this way?
Make it all go away...

search on,
for something I won't own
Search, I'm searching on
I'm searching on.
another set of lyrics I wrote in 1998 on an accustic guitar I bought. I  was feeling very Lyndsy Buckingham. I don't think my work in these days was very good, but it came from a raw place. Obviously, I survived all that aingst and fear.
1.5k · Aug 2015
Fortunate Are We
Cecil Miller Aug 2015
He sings with me as if in a dream
on the rolling hills of green
In a voice so clear every man can hear
Every word we mean -

Backed-by-a-choir, he beats on his tamborine
He's soft; and slightly off-key -
We are the ones that we want to love, and fortunate are we -

His lips, they purse around each syllable. His hair is moved in the breeze -
He is the spirit I've been channeling; Forever He and Me -

Two-by-two the dyads move,
Swaying in the dance -
The sun, a bobble, shines in our eyes-  
By the Universe entranced -

Two are joined by the choir, the sun
And the face of the dancing crowds -
The cone-of-power confirms the manifest,
Then we ascend to the clouds -
I started writing this poem in 1995 and finished it about a year ago. Originally it was about a union between Man and God. It reads like story of lovers in song at a music festval. It could be either, or both. Even as I added it to hellopoetry, I was tweeking it. Think of it as lovers being called up to The Rapture. Their Savior is their love. The subject and the object are both male, but in poetry what's in a pronoun anyway?
Cecil Miller Dec 2015
No jingle bells ring around here
Since you've gone away.
White snow blankets ev'rything in sight,
But I don't wanna play.
I don't feel the merriment, the mirth, nor cheer,
It's not like Christmas at all
When you're not here.

It's not like Christmas at all,
When you're not here.
I don't feel like celebrating
When you're not near.
When you were in my life
I never did know drear.
It's not like Christmas at all
When you're not here.

A wreath adorns the cold front door,
Your somewhere on the outside,
Frolicking in the wonderland,
Your world is unfurled and wide.
You will never have to know
A life spent all alone.
You will always find somebody
You can call your own.

It's not like Christmas at all,
When you're not here.
I don't feel like celebrating
Without you, Dear.
I keep hoping by some chance
That in my door you'll reappear,
It's not like Christmas at all
Without you here.

The ornaments, tensile, and lights,
Hang on the evergreen.
The Yule log burns, and warms the harth;
The carollers, outside, they sing.
I can't face the new year
By myself, all on my own.
Things haven't been the same
Sinse you've been gone.

It's not like Christmas at all
When you're not here.
I don't feel like celebrating,
When you're not near.
Come back for the holidays,
Then stay all year.
It's not like Christmas at all,
When you're not here.

(Nobody's under my mistletoe -
I won't cuddle when the night is cold.)

It's not like Christmas at all
When you're not here.
I don't feel like celebrating,
When you're not near.
Come back for the holidays,
Then stay all year.
It's not like Christmas at all,
When you're not here.
I wrote this when I was about 23 years old. (Early 1990's 20 years ago) It was the first in a long series of Christmas inspired lyrics I've written. I reworked it just a little over the years, but it is mostly faithful to the first draft. On June 4th 2016, I added some words for backing harmony about mistletoe. O removed the revious reference that was in the second verse and restored it to an earlier rendition and extended the somg by addion of an additional choral refrain.
1.5k · May 2015
Why Ask Why
Cecil Miller May 2015
Why ask why I like your poem? Be courageous in your ideas and ideals. Be confident enough to know that your work is true to your vision. Artists of all kinds, but especially poets, are the philosophers and prophets of their generation. A revelation does not passive-aggressively seek to be worthy. It just is. Revelators, in the converse, often are compelled to seek praise with false humility via the age old pretentious depreciation of the value of their work in order to reap praise, which is the expected polite response. It is a waltz I choose to sit out. I feel it is less than honest and a disrespect to the poet and the poem to revel in such frivolity. Write for the sake of revelation, not for the accolades of topical praise. It is no business of the poet why a poem strykes chords with a reader. Simply allow it to happen. Talent and truth are not always equatable, nor are beauty and integrity always comparable. In the heart, a poet knows he is a poet. By the very construct of your words, Poet, may you be the caster of many spells. Thank-you for sharing a bit of yourself with me. I bid thee Love and Light.
I am a voracious consumer of the poetry using on this site. Just accept the compliment of a read or a like without having to examine it.
1.5k · May 2015
Affirmation Invitation
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)
1.4k · Apr 2016
Trailblazer
Cecil Miller Apr 2016
It took one who was blind
To teach me how to see.
Someone who was cold
Thawed this heart in me.
I learned from the cruel
How to truly understand.
And when you walked away,
I learned to be my own man.

I learned from the lies
To recognize what is real.
From a stony hand,
I learn how to feel.
I have a new love
That reaches parts of me.
You never could touch.
You showed me who not to be.

You rode off into a bright and blue day.
I went into the dark to be saved,
You came back to lie to my face,
But I...
I Could not see past those trails that you blazed
And I'd...
I'd already found the love that I crave
You loose...
Now your head's in a haze.

Thing about it is -
The heart that you break is yours,
And the love that you take is from you.
The lies you believe are your own.
The suckerpunch you don't see coming
Is the very one you've thrown.

You know you were *****.
You know you were wrong.
I am not judging.
But I wouldn't be in your shoes for long.

Why don't you go and blaze another trail.

You say it's different this time.
But just like all the other times,
What's not different is everything is different.
I am different.
The only thing that is the same is you.
I have been working this one up for a while. It was written with kind of a proggy-rock sound in my head. I retain all rights.
1.4k · Oct 2016
Starfish
Cecil Miller Oct 2016
A star in  water
Washed upon the sunny shore;
Once wet, became dry.
'Cause he don't drink that ***** no mo!
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