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Mark Miller Poem
By Mark Miller 03/09/2018
Love seems to take different roads
traveling on its own alone
never stopping for directions
Landing where it wants
not making a sound,
how does it choose?
While some care, happy when it finds them
others are just confused.
Giving in is not a weakness
If you are befriended by this traveling mystery.
appreciate its gestures as guides
for it may only visit once,
and its worth the ride.
By Mark Miller
Copyright © Mark Miller | Year Posted 2018
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Mark Miller Poem
Absurd Walls:
By Mark Miller 03/08/2018
I sit in wait,
For melancholic relief
Consumes self-trust resistance.
Out from the clear and into the black shatter dust.
Although, I cannot explain its purpose or meaning for there is none.
Awareness prevents comprehension to the future posture rectitude.
Only leftovers illuminate on that origin which brings me to this momentary lapse.
Where time and space have no relevance.
The feeling of structure fades into the microwave static.
Only the emotion healing sustains.
Somewhere, out there in the cosmos lies the basal complexional of coexistence.
The complicit deranges.
The peaceful transits,
Our group comfort loneliness
Between the minimal change of selves,
Through the pulsar's suddenness
I return and am one with myself,
Time wraps around the feeling dissipates,
Gone like childhood memory from everywhere.-
Copyright © Mark Miller | Year Posted 2018
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Mark Miller Poem
By Mark Miller © 02/19/2014
Compass of memories held loosely
Misdirection pointing in iota
Exquisitely anchored hangs an eminent noose
Minds of subdivisions wage illusion of wars in retribution
Fragments estranged states out of place in time and space
Mirrors alone in fears absent of frames reflect emotions after forever
Autobiographical absence in self reflect sedimentary memory
Shattered pieces held together through novel history of cursed metaphor
Reference into live characters pretense lies symbols scorn design of substance.
Features sensations realism in dreams creation a demons personification;
Subserviently locked behind shades shadows seeks the many repentance,
Fate of shame determines designation into bestiary summons
If offered crown of thorns I refuse,
Defacement of natures subliminal defiance
Diffused screams of thunder leaves pride aside embracing dark's grace,
In nearness lies the wait in reality's unconsciousness,
The gradual self-effacement of my dead.
Copyright © Mark Miller | Year Posted 2018
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Mark Miller Poem
by Mark Miller 12/30/2017
Traveler starlight dusts
Our color emotion departed
Ever within never dissident
Below sordid toss assortment
Blooms circuit substance
Our obsessive privy throws
Living symptom circular gaze
Before myopic oceans deep gray
Grasping worlds structure foray
By shipwrecked days estrange
In homes left untouched the many
For whom history appoints
The fill of sentry tales
Holds purpose tenants void
Copyright © Mark Miller | Year Posted 2018
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Mark Miller Poem
Souls Apart
By Mark Miller © 05/01/2014
Mimes voices rehearse beacons host of estrangement,
Identities detachment gaze a frayed displacement-
Dance of death blind of twisted Macabre of lunacy,
Maps quiet refuge Masque in spectacles
Globes pain rolls round silent boys procession
Mortals many mischief play records of hanging cords disorder,
Seek to break the lesson ways to lest en final departure-
Souls connection surround sewn bones conversation UN-heard,
Myths legends posthumous censored Mother's sickened earth-
Decorum language pressed suits emptied improper,
Daytime drama lies fake in the wake for stupor soap opera
Poetic power plays fiddle burning hours stay,
Blank, Blank, Blank-Beat drums grey stones, O honor
King of slaves sips cup full sorrow sour brew-?
Copyright © Mark Miller | Year Posted 2018
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Mark Miller Poem
by Mark Miller © 06/15/2014
Signs stained white written by twilight's blacken Knight,
Raining silent sights depressants drown the conscience might-
Feeling venereal waves sullen air on standing skin shivers
Ridding stallions frailty of fear scorn folly appears,
Warning scent of scowl substance -
Seeking in cause and effect applies not in this lullaby,
For the mind belongs to it's own song and dance-
Willow trees weep beside the empty fractal houses,
An ethos fills body's soul with a depraved dreadful chorus-
In jostle of moments lined faster a hurried escape from felt hidden disaster,
An alter of one espousing blight of blithely blister-
Sympathetic one of other removes contents in empty pockets,
Seeking aloft allusions in solutions left lied ring-let-
Daemonic cutting deciphered experimentally-
Winding winded two halves distract obvious facts completely,
Attics into Usher's velvet windows asunder lightening's thunder,
Horror's glory retreats toward sisters end read story
Lightening revealing THE frighting fury hour-
Days of three seal homes sickened manner strayed lost honor,
Violins play chimes of melody clocks delay frayed fractured decay-
Answered doors store stealth terror of sores
Whispers in absent scenery closures presents history-
Sickle red sorrow drowned disease roams hallways demented path of jester become,
Pallor color companions eclipses my natures being to be-
Capacity particulars a ghastly gloom
Thus is our dissolution for reservations inside our Mansion of Doom-?
Copyright © Mark Miller | Year Posted 2018
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Mark Miller Poem
By Mark Miller 03/26/2018
We hold our personal abyss
Of nothingness sent caress
Tying the formless substance
Dancing naked existence
Where meetings forwell
Struggle the forest void reach
Skeletons scratch from blood
Fighting wayward darkness
Hiding behind forests breeze
Waiting for clearing screams
Of hopes pretense scene
Children displace loss cause
Never reaching home’s soul
Of worlds locked doors
Behold ghost spy keyholes
Echos howl man’s maiden wolf
Grooming feelings for bedomma
Paving cornfields lonely paths
Of practice poison malevolence
To deny the strain passion purpose
Copyright © Mark Miller | Year Posted 2018
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Mark Miller Poem
By Mark Miller 11/08/2017
Play of conflict snare trauma
Beat's drum-head hold drama
Soulful histrionic perfection
Behind rear view devotion
Of hostel trap left hours and
Stricken rabble memoirs band
Vowing to love each other true
Punching in at chaotic shape hue
Disrobe a hate fueled romance
In a strange loop ignorance
Discovering our nothing invention
Meeting in chimneys label ashen
Starring below I send telegram
To agency Ground Control
Wonder why so many had to cry
I guess they never got to say goodbye
Copyright © Mark Miller | Year Posted 2018
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Mark Miller Poem
By Mark Miller
02/27/2017
Misuse in efforts of conscience abused in use reliance on substance for short lived comforts.
Machine of status in a creatures stature drowns below layers deep beneath characters silent misprision.
Broken down stricken down kept down in love with dance enhanced in a chemical romance.
Debasement inside lying still escape became a symptom a hollow metaphor pained with commission.
Reaching above sensory distortion grasp a surface decayed by rolling streams of decadence remains of choice in past circumstance.
Luke warm sadness fills a hollow hole below in dark depths lies my long lost animal of tissue and flesh.
Behind barriers of nature and stage lies my feeble friend of first born sentience in wait for guidance.
No fear for being there he heals basal emotions in disturbance hidden from awareness and consciousness.
Renewal of unstable condition rising above atmosphere in impulse of mixed function in prose perceptions and feelings.
Looking down a fond farewell to caged friend I'll never remember or know until illusions of reality come haunting again.
By Mark Miller
Copyright © Mark Miller | Year Posted 2018
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Mark Miller Poem
Dedicated for my true friend, Pokey the puppy
I have a friend tempered in anxiousness of speed indeed-
He runs, jumps, and adjusts to my manner uncannily-
A good friend is he who waits, in time and fate, for me in kind patience-
His intent, at times, as I see and unbeknownst to him, is non other than to be fed-
I watch him and he I through our anthropomorphic conscientious percipience-
I ask myself, as always I always do, if he has slight of sentience in self-
My friends form of expression queerly questions my countenance in sensibility-
Which may or may not have some truth, for his truth is held in stealth-
I have over the years attempted to lessen him in art of literature-
Although at times he seems to acknowledge this by peeing on our praised favorites-
By all means I consider him more an emotional compartan compared to my kind-
He never regrets or resents me for unfairly failing notice to my dear friend-
Maybe he ponders events by incertitude, though expressions neither deny or confirm-
Though his actions always denotes incentive aspects of verbs, he chooses not to read
I infer a conclusion that we only differ in level of magnitude of consciousness-
For I know that he knows that I know he has some level of meta-cognition
By Mark Miller, An inner examination into our art of artificial selection.
Copyright © Mark Miller | Year Posted 2018
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