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Jacob Miller

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Poetry : A Dialogue?

If you like poetry or writing please post something. My idea is to have a conversation but not a convential one I guess.If anyone has thoughts on anyone elses work then share it as you see it. The goal is that real substantial dialogue can come out of the absract. Sometimes the best ideas and insights are the ones you were not expecting. Don't be shy, everyone is nervous about sharing and breaking that down is the first part. Speaking of nervous here is one of mine.
"Untitled"
Moonflower.
Still?
on the moon-
and on the moon -by the moon
you fade away into stirring sentiments
and little boys mouths
who open to you like some unknown thing
and little boy tongues pant for you
god?
And little boys mouths
little sticky tongues taste and see that the lord is good
and open into the perfect night
into a strangers embrace
and carefully
fade into the perfect cloud
covering the perfect moon

Share:

Closing Statement from Jacob Miller

Just wanted to thank everyone for sharing your work and also a part of yourself. It is a brave and selfless thing to do and I was honored to be a part of it!
Love,love,love-that is the soul of genius
-Mozart
Thanks for being brilliant!!

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    Sep 30 2011: Science and Magic.

    Science raised his stainless steel blade
    And stabbed the Mistress Magic to her death
    And gloating, white and sterile, dipped a glove,
    Tore out her guts, forever stilled her breath.

    Self righteously slayed he the God and tool of gods
    To merely put himself in that same place.

    Science raised his standard, bright it shone
    And superstition to the shadows fled
    And countless Gods and Devils burned away
    Left Rational and Logic in their stead.

    No more mystery to me the stars and silver moon
    And language that is daily more machine-like.

    Oh, for when before the world was grey
    And over minds, men's hearts and souls held sway.
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      Oct 2 2011: WOW! Thank you.

      I do not know why but you triggered a memory of this poem Rudyard Kipling sung by Jim Croce. It is so alike in some way- it speared the perspective of its day too.

      http://youtu.be/YmTdGxb5NzA
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      Oct 7 2011: Scott, I really love this poem, it reminds me of one of my favorites from Leonard Cohen. Enjoy!
      http://youtu.be/3enVT53yDLM
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      Oct 7 2011: Scott, this is great. It opens so strong and carries through.
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      Oct 7 2011: I'm glad you guys liked Leonards poem. He is a hero of mine as for as songwriting and poetry. If you get a chance check out the book "Beautiful Losers". It is one of the most stunning and thought provoking books I have ever read.
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    Sep 30 2011: How about poetry in 5 minutes . . . let me think . . . or let me not think but feel.
    Feel the key board, the pen of who I am.
    Feel the ticking clock, hurrying my words.
    Feel the family portrait hanging there, square
    Feel the cool morning
    Time has run out
    I have felt

    Please excuse my indulgence and thank you for the opportunity.
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      Sep 30 2011: Lynn- I felt like you were just sitting there absorbing everything that moment had to offer. Nothing more or less. Brilliant! That was awesome to read. Thanks for sharing- And indulge away!
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      Oct 6 2011: High Lynn,

      The camera hides
      Your face.
      I'm from Inglewood, like you
      Almost.
      I like your poem.
      My favourite bit: "Hanging there, square".
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        Oct 6 2011: Here’s to picturing you
        My fellow “nglewoodtarian”
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    Sep 30 2011: Hi Jacob, here is a piece I wrote on Wednesday evening, for someone I haven't even met

    "I never realized how much
    I miss you, until
    I missed you,
    I guess I have missed you,
    Long before I realized I missed you,
    Long before we even met"
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    Sep 30 2011: Ah, so glad to share another passion of mine ... but Jacob ... just 7 days! OK it's your call.

    Each ...
    26.07.2011

    Each sunrise is a fairy tale -
    a misty path, a hidden trail.

    Each sunset is a tragic rhyme
    about colourful romantic times.

    Each summer storm: a single's story
    in all its lonesome, gloomy glory.

    Each rain is just a new beginning
    with common words and different meaning.

    Each rainbow is the perfect end
    to the saddened eyes behind those hands.

    All I’m wishing for …
    17.07.2011

    Do you often think of me?
    Do I creep up in your mind?
    Wondering what could have been?
    But all of this is yet behind ...

    The past is done.
    The present - vague.
    The future's none.
    Then what is left?

    Do ask NO questions!
    Don't hesitate!
    Just seize the moment
    and make your bet.

    Gambling in the game of life
    is not what you'd expect of me
    but all I'm wishing for tonight
    is just another mystery ... like you.

    (to a dear beloved ... )
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      Sep 30 2011: We can keep it going longer:). I was just throwing it out there and to see if anyone wanted to share. I really like both these poems and I noticed how you changed the style of verse in each one. Those were really vivid to me in a different way and awesome imagery too. Please post more if you want!
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        Oct 1 2011: I'm glad you liked my contribution. Today coming back from the cinema I thought of another one:

        Out there ...
        02.10.2011

        In a world where nothing else unites
        two burning hearts share toothy smiles.
        In a world where everything is grim
        the chance of meeting soul mates is slim.

        Yet here we are
        with our plastic drinks aside.
        Quite not so far
        whilst our passions coincide.

        Two total strangers
        soaring through the night.
        Two guardian angels
        make our destinies collide.
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      Oct 6 2011: Each is simply awesome, in that it is something I wish I had written.
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        Oct 6 2011: Thanks for your comment. Such feedback always inspires and motivates me to continue writing. :) I have to say I don't usually do that in English but I guess it's my love for the language that makes me do it.
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    Oct 21 2011: Many people find poetry inaccessible and elitist, I know. While I concede that poetry does present a unique obstacle in comprehension—the line is, of course, one of the main reasons for resistance and apprehension toward the art form. As a novice poet/ writer, I have come to understand that one of the central goals of any good work of literature is to develop a keen insight which may be communicated in spite of the limitations of language, and to develop a way to manipulate those limitations in ways that they actually facilitate higher levels of meaning and understanding. I realize that no one will ever know what it is that I truly mean, but that is the nature of the art—to struggle with language to find some new combination of words which may help others to come a little closer to understanding what might be being said. I find this dialogue absolutely refreshing. The only way to adequately describe metaphor is to use metaphor. It defies the accepted literal functions of language and demands that you feel while you think. And we all know feeling and thinking are not mutually exclusive. I cannot explain this any differently, but I love this, and thank you.


    Subjectivity
    for JR


    A decoy of your likeness
    waltzes among others. Behind
    the disguise, you revel in
    isolation, grinning
    at façades. You know touch is
    only skin, feeling is abstraction,
    and your mind is only
    the asking. Maybe
    the ego hides somewhere
    between the mask and soul,
    maybe the Id stomps out
    the rhythms of a heart
    as if the body could be
    a weapon, and the masquerade is
    temptation. Reality is not
    objective, and the dancers never
    know the songs. There is something
    more all of them wanted.
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      Oct 21 2011: Tracie- I really loved your comment and your poem! I find- like you - that sometimes the language that brings people together is a mysterious one. Your words spoke to me in a unique way as I am sure they have many others. So in many ways I view poetry as another means of community. Or a way to find unity in diversity. Yes, there are some who find it abit snobby. And they are right. Alot of it is. But there are those (everyone here being among them) that do not communicate in that way nor is that the "spririt" of our words. A childlike spirit and a good dose of humility is the foundations of all great art. Thanks for sharing. :)
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        Oct 21 2011: You are very kind. I am humbled everyday by the language that I strive to master but never will. I think there is a new era of poetry on the verge of exploding, one where the lofty "academic poet" is shelved for the human struggle with expression. Poetry is a humbling experience. Whenever I am asked to describe myself, my response is always, "I'm just a poet." I wish to meet other poets who are too, humbled by the calling, because let's face it, only the lofty academic really wants to be a "poet" or understand poetry, but the poet is conflicted by the calling, because everything he or she feels is poetry, and that is as much of a struggle as it is a gift....Poetry is the terrible angel.

        Remember Rilke's warning..."beauty is on the first touch of terror, and it awes us so much because it coolly disdains to destroy us," or something like that.
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      Oct 25 2011: Tracie- I meant to share this with you a few days ago but I got sick and forgot about it. I think you may appreciate it. This is a poem about poems by Leonard Cohen. Enjoy.:) http://youtu.be/r2XkfBWSmcs
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    Oct 18 2011: Another Haiku

    I often forget
    That by my mere existence
    I create loves depth

    I post today because I am putting on my Slammaster hat tonight. Tonight I host a poetry slam, and a good time shall be had by all.
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    Oct 7 2011: From August in 2008

    "Current"

    Vibrations
    String Theory

    Demons
    Plucking
    My String
    Theories

    My body is alive, juiced
    All set a-buzz, currently
    Current is flowing
    My body is electric

    Like an electric guitar
    With a demon plucking it’s strings
    Or my strings
    I feel like a Fender Telecaster
    Wound tight in the body
    Because that’s where I pick it up
    Mostly, wear my heart should be

    I have a hole where my heart was
    Strung tight with six strings
    In perfect tune
    Vibrating
    Because they have been plucked
    By a demon
    Who plays the blues

    Deep moaning blues
    With lots of low tones
    Vibrations with lower amplitude
    Shaking my soul harder
    Thumping in that hole

    Wailing blues
    Hammered out
    High end of the scale
    Screaming at me in high-frequency
    Setting my whole body a-buzz
    With a current that currently
    Truly disturbs me

    A slow-crying delta blues
    Sadly weeping
    And then gasping for air
    This is the one
    That brings tears to my eyes

    Vibrations
    String Theory
    Demons
    Plucking
    My String Theories
    My body is electric
    An electric guitar
    With a demon
    Who plays the blues
    Plucking my strings

    And at the same time
    There is a little tiny part of me
    Who is that very same demon
    Who plays the blues
    On that Fender Tele
    Strung tight
    Six strings
    String theory
    Tuned perfectly

    The pain
    The perfect pain
    The blues
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    Oct 14 2011: "The Crucifiction"
    In the dawn of the day or the womb of the night
    -great is the hunger wich feeds on the light.
    Atone!
    Amen!
    Or so cried our Lord .
    Paul with his stones and Christ with his sword.

    Here is another that rhymes. I really suck at these but its fun to try to connect different words.
    "Untitled" The man alone sits on his throne wondering what to say.
    He sits and stares and swoones and glares at the coming of each day
    .The man alone sits on his throne wondering where he has been
    He laughs a bit and promptly spits on all who made him sin
    .The man alone sits on his throne the night is drawing near
    He tells the time with a glass of wine and laughs at all his fear .
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      Oct 18 2011: I like the rhyming one a lot. It has a great flow.
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    Oct 13 2011: Thank you for this, I have enjoyed sharing my work and reading all of yours. And now, a haiku

    One-eyed alien
    landed in my swimming pool
    poor depth perception
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      Oct 13 2011: I made it longer so we can keep going ! I am really enjoying reading your poems here!
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    Oct 11 2011: "Musings on Life"

    When I draw my last breath
    And my lungs subsequently collapse
    As my brain stops directing
    The electricity that keeps me here
    I will become an ethereal being
    And my electricity will continue to be
    But elsewhere

    Could this be my soul?

    I believe that I will return to die again
    And this cycle will continue
    Until I have gotten it right,
    Learned what I need to know

    But I will not return as a blank slate
    I in fact will be living in the
    Presence of the past

    I will learn to call that instinct
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    Oct 11 2011: Short and Sweet

    "A Lesson for My Children"

    I want to impart to you
    What others see you do
    Will be applied to there own values
    To create a perceived identity

    I need to instill in you
    The importance of being true
    And manifesting your personal view
    Within your own reality
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    Oct 8 2011: When I heard that Luigi Vampa,a TED conversationalist had died in an accident this week, this poem sprang to my mind because our entire relationship was conducted on line and I do wish I could still email him- even if just to receive the automated reply that Rives shares in this poem.

    http://www.ted.com/talks/rives_controls_the_internet.html
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    Oct 7 2011: "For Katie"
    We laughed together just like we did when we were kids.
    Trampling through wet grass on our way to build a castle in the leaves.
    We stopped by the candy mans house.
    Pretending we didnt know what we wanted.
    We carelessly ran through traffic laughing at the cars passing.
    In my mind I was older.
    In my mind I am many things .
    So are you.
    I wish we could be young together again.
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      Oct 7 2011: Remembering youth is lost to me now, I am envious.
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        Oct 7 2011: I wish I could remember it better but I was in too much of a hurry to grow up. I wish I worte poems as a child because back then I knew what I wanted to say. :)
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    Oct 6 2011: You see, I am a poet and spoken word artist. I am also a Slammaster, or MC of a poetry Slam. I have a performance book I titled Brammaged Goods which contains over a hundred poems that I deem worthy of performance, I am sure there are less than that deemed worthy by the audience.

    My Cousin Tim

    I would love to be selfish
    But I really do not dare
    Though I could not give a shit
    There are those who care

    My two boys and my girl
    My wife and my folks
    Would certainly miss
    My laughter and jokes

    And my mothers family
    Would have to go through it again
    You see, my cousin Tim
    By his own hand his life was taken

    I remember the sorrow
    I remember the shame
    But most of all I remember
    Relating to his pain

    I remember the anger
    And even jealousy too
    My cousin Tim
    Did something I can not do
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    Oct 6 2011: I could do this all day. If you like what I write, check out my site. There is a link on my profile.

    Reading Into What is Not Said
    A Cinq-Cinquain

    Tell Me
    Communicate
    Don’t shut me out again
    I am feeling oh so helpless
    Lonely

    It’s me
    I know it’s me
    That is why you won’t talk
    You are afraid you will hurt me
    You won’t

    You won’t
    Unless you go
    Do not leave me alone
    I love you deeply, you know I
    Need you

    Tell me
    I can take it
    I can’t take your silence
    Your secrecy is killing me
    I ache

    Say it
    You don’t love me
    You never have loved me
    My heart is broken, my soul too
    Just go
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    Oct 6 2011: From March of 2004

    Corporate Spin

    I wish the big corporations would just stop frontin’
    Trying to make you think that they think that you are important

    UPS, now know as brown
    Gonna help the little guy
    By comin’ to his house
    For delivery & PICK-UP!
    The television ad shows you a beautiful woman
    So he gets his dick-up…

    Too

    Yo, wake up, Brown doesn’t give a shit about you
    They are just preying on the dreams in your pipe
    Making you think:
    “I can be my own boss,
    leave this nine to five shit to the others
    let it be there loss”.
    But Brown is just feeding your feeble head,
    If they want your money best keep your fable fed.

    I wish the big corporations would just stop frontin’
    Trying to make you think that they think that you are important

    All those cell phone companies beggin’ for your dime
    Offering more pointless services to get their profit-share to climb
    Internet browsing, still photography and now video too
    Just some of the services they are marketing to you
    Each new advancement increases their profits
    Leaving you with less to spend on your meals
    And only lint in your pockets

    Some how they lost sight
    It’s just a more convenient phone
    To keep you in touch with your loved ones
    Not connected to the net so you would know what the score is

    I wish the big corporations would just stop frontin’
    Trying to make you think that they think that you are important

    You see, the big corporations spend an obscene amount of money
    Getting the Madison Ave. types fill you with their sweet-tasting honey
    Knowing damn full well you will obey their suggestions
    Because it’s been tested in focus groups
    So they can trust their spin

    I wish the big corporations would just stop frontin’
    Trying to make you think that they think that you are important

    Because to them, you’re not…
    But your money sure the hell is
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      Oct 7 2011: Awesome! I stretched out the conversation. So we can keep these coming! Thanks for sharing!
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    Oct 13 2011: I love it! I wrote one a few months ago-kind of like a haiku but I'm not really sure.
    I see
    a fire burning
    and a sign that reads
    the whores are no longer in Babylon.

    Untitled"
    And who shall be called hunter?
    On wich wild son will that burden fall?
    Who will be caught laughing?
    On what wild day?
    In what wild country?
    And who shall be called hunter?
    My name shall be prey!
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    Oct 8 2011: That breaks my heart to hear Debra. But at the same time I am sure wherever Luigi is- he is at peace and his spirit is free. A place not even the most beautiful poem would know how to describe.Journey well friend. You will be missed.
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    Oct 7 2011: Here is another. I am really enjoying reading these. Thanks everyone for sharing! "untitled"
    Come back to me.
    Call me hunter.
    Toss me a quarter and howl at the moon.
    We lie beside one another in some holy temples
    Your dirty veil covers my tiny breasts .
    We say amen
    .We say all the things that have never been spoken.
    I have a golden tongue
    and a wicked heart.
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    Sep 30 2011: Zanele- I love how your words flow together effortlessly and the rhythm, humility and honesty in this is just beautiful. Thanks for sharing! And feel free to post some more.
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      Oct 3 2011: Thanks for the compliment Jacob. I absolutely love poetry, in whatever form.