Tom Miller Official Blog

easy to cry

12/26/2011

not for me
or for whom i've loved and lost

but for all of us
and what we do to each other and ourselves

bringing sorrow and regret
before the end

the universe blinks
we peek with childlike wonder

at the blue earth, ocean and sky
before the curtain is drawn

and memories remember themselves
as if they ever happened

as if they ever cried

not for me
or for whom i've loved and lost

but for us all

a state of affairs

11/26/2011

painting at Maude's coffee shop in gainesville, florida, the known center of the universe. it is a picture of a freak with boobs (for eyes) and a second set of hands painting a painting. in the painting's painting, the painting is screaming, "please stop", and that is the nature of my life. drinking an old milwaukee purchased on a tab that to me seems never-ending...until matt finally takes a look at it and says, "you know, Tom, it's maybe time to settle this up." i always pay, but never timely. but i always pay. never timely. that is the nature of my life.

i almost have everything i have ever wanted. that is the nature of my life. someone said, "i could use a blow job right now," and really, who couldn't? i want everyone to have a blow job.

my heart is broken for no good reason. i almost have everything i have ever wanted. i have friends, lovers, stalkers, a roof over my head...i play the victim even when there are victims worse than me, people missing hands who set themselves on fire for something they believe in, to have such conviction, i don't have that. fuck that. i'm not setting myself on fire unless it's an accident and then i'll be screaming, "no! no!" i'll go out like a chicken. a fucking yellow chicken. fucking fucking, go out fucking like a yellow chicken.

dystopia. does that mean anything? let me check the big book...spellchecker doesn't believe in it. turns out it's true: oppressive control systems. yeah, that sounds right. i am being conspired against. by me. i'm keeping me down in the art...just below sea level. the air is just above the water line. i remember a guy who told me, "i'm gonna' dunk you under four times and only pull you up once." i said that.

and man, i can not tell you how beautiful he is. what a mystery. i love a good mystery. seems to me that if you solved all the mysteries, we would be living in a buffet line at a chinese restaurant run by indonesian purple jews. even i don't know what that means. is everybody just trying to get a blow job?

when you are that beautiful, something is bound to go wrong. all the beautiful people i see on television or in magazines, when i see them in person, they look like shiny rubber monkeys. they sprayed them down with mace on black friday, and nobody ever made it to the two-dollar waffle-maker. pity.

the big suck

10/12/2011

the cause of every motion
is a force of some kind
including the one
besting gravity
at her own game
allowing the expanding cosmos
to speed up instead of
slow down

maybe the big bang
is really the big suck
instead of an explosion from a singularity
some inverse function of darkness reached out
to one point from all points
at the perimeter of infinity
and sucked singularity outward
into the universe we know today

a cosmic dustbin
in the vacuum of space

Lonely

9/29/2011

One day, a man on an island looked up at the stars and noticed one of them was laughing at him. "What's your problem?" the man asked. The star replied, "You're talking to me yesterday."

A Memory in a Box

8/20/2011

a coffee cup
a bowl with some dried up old rice
paint, red and green
a big graffiti canvas that says,
"yard sale - free abortions"
receipts and bills all crunched into balls
lysol, jergens natural glow tan lotion
get color on your skin--no sunlight required
dvds: unrated caligula, south park, every
movie by werner herzog, lots of pictures
from the 80s
back in the 40s they called movies 'pictures'
now movies are thieves
sleeping cat on the dirty futon
a carpet made of stains, dirt, and puke
picture on the wall of a friend
who is still alive but pretty much dead
boxes and bags of memories
lonely, hungry and scared
peeling walls full of edible lead potato chips
an air-conditioner running 24-hours
a day that cools nothing but its own coils
curtains from the dollar store
unnatural colors hinting of halloween
christmas lights, holes in the walls,
the roaches don't even come in here
three locks on the door with a
man-sized opening I kicked out of it when I
accidentally locked the keys inside
and me, shirtless in my designer lobster shorts
purchased on credit for which I have
no money nor inclination to pay

i'd jerk off,
but what would be the point?

The Tom Miller Show

8/9/2011

i introduce
the next act

broadway dave and his magical hand-dancing
and saunter off to the toilet

there on the lid of the toilet
is this white thing

i'm thinking it's a crack rock
and i pick it up with my fingers

like it's some delicate china
and nibble on the end to see

if it numbs me or what
and i realize it's a piece of grout

that fell out of the wall
in this laboratory of science

and some of my tooth
chips off as i flush...didn't even pee

and rush to the stage to introduce
the banjo player from some other town

who played it raw and real
his teeth were chipped too.

cutting rubber bands from my claws

8/7/2011

in the news
it was reported
that Buddhists
purchased 600 pounds
of live lobsters
and released them
back into the sea

said one of the Buddhists,
"even if they are recaptured
they will have lived a longer life.
they suffer as we suffer."

and i thought
how beautiful, wonderful
that these lucky creatures
would have more time
to procreate

and make many more
delicious delicious lobsters.

when you're half-way in, you're heading out

8/7/2011

i have always thought
the way to go was all in

the half-way people
just get in the way
half-way, by the way

and you have to kick those fuckers
out of your way, all the way

when you run out of gas
push a little further

when you get too drunk to drink,
just have one more

besides, gas is more expensive
that fun ever was

an empty tank means something
a half-way tank will never understand

half-way never mattered
one way or the other

and fun is more expensive
than one more beer ever was

horror film

8/7/2011

they were camping
no! you stupid girl
don't go off on your own
crap, she's dead

jenny is going to look for her
i'll go with you
no brad, you stay here and keep an eye out
i have a knife, don't worry

brad waits. no, you stupid dude!
oh shit. he's stabbed
and beheaded

jenny goes into the darkness
no jenny, he's right there in the rafters
she finds the first girl mutilated

the monster pops out
she screams we scream
ahhhh, shit!

she drops the knife.
he's right behind you
oh shit, she tripped

she's up again, the monster
is gaining on her

she just makes it
to the car

killer's beating on it
with his fists

her hand shakes
she can't get the key in

oh, thank god, she's got it in
shit! car won't start.
can you believe it?

oh my god!
killer jammed his claw through the roof

she's screaming we're screaming
killer's screaming

car starts! thank the Christ,
the car starts!

she guns it
killer goes flying off the back
or so we thought

oh shit!
he's there in the back seat.
how'd he do that?

ahhhh!

long story short
she survives
and the killer is completely dead

oh shit!
killer is alive again

he grabs her and screams
we scream she screams

she dies.

same thing happens in
Camp Monster from Hell II, III, IV, V, VI,
and the reboot franchise, Camp Monster 3D I, II, III, IV,

after V, it started to feel gimmicky...

just writin stuff don't make it no poem

8/5/2011

when you're writin a poem
you can't just write stuff
you gotta' do some metaphor
you gotta' say stuff is like other stuff

like you gotta' say
this poem is like a turd
or this poem turds...
you know, somethin poetic

otherwise, you're just writin stuff
and writin stuff ain't no poem
it's just you bein a dick

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