#writingcommunity Archives – Poetry of James F. Miller II

The End of a Recycled Cycle

As we move into the Aquarian Age, is anyone else noticing the state of the world and comparing it to the “historical records” that we have access to? Nothing will be as it was, and nothing is as it was nor will it ever be. This fascinates the shit out of me. As we move…

Presale for the forthcoming chapbook underway on Amazon

I’m happy to announce that my third book, Bottom Feeder, is now available as a presale on Amazon. Bottom Feeder is a chapbook and deals with relapse and the social collapse and madness that accompanies the fall. It is the third book of the now titled series Destined, but… Bottom Feeder officially releases on Friday,…

In this old, voiceless house

Sometimes in the ripples of space, in the early twilight of dawn, we look out and up in longing for hopeless hope without the merciless pleadings that usually accompany. Some days we can ration the bowl to be half full, yet others it’s definitely half empty, and as unformidable as it may sound, they are…

Sinkholes, black holes, hookers, sinners and fishin’ lures that form the changing tides

I grasp the walls soaking wet, grip slipping further down and I furiously fight to catch my breath amongst the frantic panic. The hourglass continues to empty quickly, meanwhile, the piling half grows so slowly. Ain’t it funny how that shit like that works? In those moments lost laying upon the bottom, we learn…

Absent in spirit, present in form

I’ve been getting back some of the tracks for the poetry I read and recorded for the audiobook. I have a couple I thought I’d share with you all, see what you thought about them. This one has been posted on social media earlier this week, I think I probably screwed it up when I…

In a star struck society, she stuffed socks with shattered glass and danced like she was afire with gasoline dripping from the bird she signed out holding…

Curious but i must wonder, did that not metaphorically f%$king burn? This is a sample of what my days have become. Hands calloused, skin bruised, I’ve eliminated almost every goal I’ve had for the year in the past 7 weeks serving time an inmate in the dark corner of the world called my home. As…

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