The Poetry of James F. Miller II

one man’s circus sideshow madness brought to life beneath the light of society’s microscope

Marionettes we feel we have become, puppets controlled by a madman with a jester’s heart. We all dance, twirl and bow. We flicker & glimmer perfectly timed lights standardized like a proper running computerized program-so mechanically charged.

Somewhere in the strings jingle-jangle tugging, nudging nuisance, purpose becomes misplaced, so easily lost, thus, it becomes like the itch of addiction.

To again love in life, to live in love and to feel in return the sunshine and not drown swallowing the downpour of a tsunami rain. At least a puppet can dream.

Sunshine Daydream from Ghost in the Reflection

Welcome to the show!!



A Planet Productions Poetry & Press Production.

The Vision Behind the Madness That Became

We all have dreams we chase towards the setting sun. Some begin that journey early in the day or season, while others seem to never get the chance to approach the starting line before the rat race comes to its end. This is one leg of one dream of one insignificant man’s story. One corner of this vast universe that can be called their own accompanied by some scratch down notes from this jamboree of chaos in a play-by-play representation of what was seen from this abstract point-of-view. A story not intended to be for self-serving satisfaction, but rather for the reader’s entertainment and pleasure. Who could have known what would be destined to become?

This green grass was planted in words captured from the film, a b side feature film slide show of a tortured soul. It was planted without care or concern for the status quo or for any other overly sensitive two legged air breather propaganda bullshit. This is the uncensored, unadulterated chaos that creates through me like the memories we hold in the backs of our minds that remind us of that one circus sideshow freak act that haunted our childhoods. Do not fear the scarecrow, what is not real cannot hurt you…in the end.


Welcome to the show…

As sad as that is to admit, for those of you who stumbled here by accident, do not become mistaken, if given the opportunity has found and the ritualistic reading of my words finds its way into your ears, just because you may have opened your door to a madman doesn’t mean it isn’t just as easy to shut that door and to exit or to escape unnoticed from here. But why would anyone want to miss the free popcorn and twisted humor that may reside within? These ideas, as bizarre as they may at first seem, will become the sustenance of brain matter later down the road; these thoughts introduced will become the core of an idea born within each of you or so that is their intention. If at no point does it ever infiltrate, then this page will no longer exist and I as a writer or poet will have become obsolete. Given the lack of reading of poetry in our current technological times, that is always a strong possibility.

I may not find in your square being that I am a circle, but my content will find a way to creep into relevance, generally unnoticed. For this rejoice, because you will have played the largest and most important part of the process…your reading, criticism, and/or praise of this content will have brought this all to life even if only for a moment and only in your mind, but still a moment. Thus your role was equally as crucial as my own.

Though unseen and unknown, I care more than I will allow those around me to realize; more than my words shall ever capture despite my refraining from exposing my empathy for the other lost souls sentenced to this purgatory with me, I value everyone as my equal. Have a seat, get comfortable, the shit show is about to begin.


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