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Kellie Miller Poem
sleeps too much
is beastly to loved ones
and smiles at strangers
doesn't pay bills
on time but drinks
too much whiskey and beer
and sings bad songs on weekday
nights when responsibility
demands sleep and serenity
chaos rules and is welcomed
trusts liars and questions truth
is used and loved and lost
has a fondness for men who play
slow like a guitar at a weekend show
and walk out with her love
tucked in a back pocket
like a number from a girl
they'll never call
takes too many pills
not prescribed and too few that are
mixed like cheap liquor in a trashcan
and guzzled to erase reality
is messy and dirty and doesn't wash
dishes or clothes or hair nearly often enough
craves shoes too expensive
and hundred dollar jeans and two dollar shots
is disorganized and has messy handwriting sometimes
will only drink water from a blue cup
and then only with a straw (green)
acts like a child most of the time
and sometimes more
can heal with a touch but generally
doesn't go beyond what's necessary
sleeps too little and not well
has vivid dreams of illogical things
that affect waking life a little too much
can un-age the aged
but goes fetal at the sight of responsibility
alienates those who care the most
and chooses those who don't dig too deep
or care beyond what shot to drink with whom
worries too much about what other people
choose to think and believe and feel
uses makeup to cover scars and darkness
has held a dying woman's hand
and drank herself into oblivion in an almost
stranger's bed
has promised to love and cherish till death do you part
or three years whichever comes first
is a warm glow for a few
and a dark room for many more
this is she
this is her
this is me
Copyright © Kellie Miller | Year Posted 2008
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Kellie Miller Poem
at this point on your journey
we would like to politely request
that you make the decision to stop
for those who are offended
by the use of the word stop
as it negatively affects
their positive self image
we ask that you please
momentarily suspend forward motion
if you find that this wording
causes any sort of tension
due to religious beliefs or creed
we ask instead if you would mind
taking a brief hiatus at the designated point
if you feel that none of these options are viable
please feel free to continue on your current path
but be aware that others may chose a similar option
Copyright © Kellie Miller | Year Posted 2006
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Kellie Miller Poem
too many thoughts making
too little sense in
too many corners
a rush of chemicals
makes life jangle against nerves
and muscle and bone
feelings crowd logic
and deja vu makes old habits
die hard
twenty three becomes seventeen
and so on so forth
synapses demand a new fix
insist upon something stronger
than prescribed to normalize
the feeling that its all been done
before the little green pills
fell past teeth and throat and
wound around cutting the grey
into little slivers of beautiful nothing
no words to soothe no motions
nothing to do about nothing
feeling nothing thinking nothing
and everything is wrong
with this
a life lived in dreams
jerked awake and kept up
by synthesized sanity
Copyright © Kellie Miller | Year Posted 2008
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Kellie Miller Poem
he's lying right beside me
his breath is on my skin
his feet are tangled up with mine
he is where i begin
he's laced his fingers through my hair
his hands filled up with gold
he's brushed his lips across my cheek
his hand in mine i hold
he's inches from me sleeping
i'm awake in dark of night
a war is raging in my head
i've already lost the fight
he's lying right beside me
his body close as skin
his arms encircled round my waist
his touch warms me within
he's wound himself around me now
he's sighs and holds me near
he melds with me our bodies one
he's the only thing thats clear
i hold the moment to my chest
to slow time a little more
but in my head it is september
and he's taken my heart to war
Copyright © Kellie Miller | Year Posted 2008
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Kellie Miller Poem
from a friend in new orleans i hear
how filthy, dirty, diseased--
where life-giving water wages liquid war
on the lives it long supported--
life beneath blue roofs under grey skies
in black water--
the very air has revolted,
turned from salty sea breeze to
the breath of a briny dump-heap--
a city built on water, by water
bled wet until its brittle bones gave way--
leaving only the grim report sent up
the mississippi
to the tune of a tired old zydeco song
last remnant of the past city--
from a french quarter gift shop
Copyright © Kellie Miller | Year Posted 2006
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Kellie Miller Poem
find a place
to
waste
time
pour a lighter head
for heavy hearts
leave the world listening
to songs with the bite
of good beer
bad smoke
and better company
a marriage of six
strings and a pack
paul got the prophets' words
alright
except
they're written
not on tenement halls
but scratched
with keys
too sodden to use
on smoke-black walls
Copyright © Kellie Miller | Year Posted 2006
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