Ugly Teenage Girl Goes to A Club

Moth, the ugly sister
wall-flower
hidding in the dark
C b A l M e O n U d F i L n A g G i E n D
until fingers flip a light switch
serving up
a pure shot - 60 watts
of intoxicant
now drawn, driven, drunk
she is disco funk
mad shadows, a dance party
revolving, orbiting, would-be lovers
centered on her alone
matching her moves, a mating dance
she's in a trance
and for a few brief moments
before the crash and burn
it's her turn
to be the butterfly

The Lighthouse

The Lighthouse

The girl was a lighthouse
always beaming blaring light
through the night
and choking fog
she was a beacon to some
and a warning to others
and then, only when she could be seen

But for those who landed on her shore
and stayed through the night
eyes adjusting
to the light
they saw she was not just a lighthouse
like any other
tempting ships to land
on empty landscapes
but rather a village, filled with artisans and thinkers,
factories and cafe's
buskers and carnivals and streams and ponds
mountains and valleys
dips and peaks
modern furnishings and valuable antiques

Those who looked past
the blinding revolving eye
could see she was prompting others
not to pass by
and admire her island
like some exotic gallery
but
to really SEE her
and understand that she
is a village, a girl, a friend, a sister, a daughter,
ME

As One

As One

by Alicia Millar

Forget the depths,
and currents
forget the tides
and gravity's pull,
the fish getting full
on tadpole flesh
forget the time
and time-counters
the "have-tos" and "shoulds"
the wolf in the woods
needs no accountant
nor Pluto collecting dust
nor do pebbles that gather moss
then you would be free
and see
that you are not a helpless petal
pushed by the stream
but the stream that pushes
the petal and all things
as one

Lotus

Lotus
by Alicia Millar

Stem extends, leafs unfurls
gleaming bud, the lotus pearl
a parasol, for those who stroll
upended is the lotus' bowl
that traps the precious falling rain
the moisture through the petals strain
hours I have sated spent
admiring this one ornament

My Heart, the Actor

My Heart the Actor

by Alicia Millar

A break

silent, painful

beating, pumping, rythmn

continues, just as if

nothing happened

Breeze

Breeze

By Alicia Millar

Breeze

whispers wishes

taunting tickling teasing

for those who listen

quietly

Foreigner

Foreigner

by Alicia Millar

Foreigner

novel outsider

amusing threatning alarming

agent of change

Alien

Baby

Baby

by Alicia Millar

Baby
softly sleeping

needing feeding giving

bundle revealing perfect future
Yours

Heartbeats

Heartbeats

by Alicia Millar

Heartbeats

hard, fast

constant rhythmic percussion

depth-sounding instrument measuring

wealth

Fire

Fire

by Alicia Millar

Fire

breathing consuming

nurtures chilled bodies

destroyer in unattentive hands

Alive

Haiku 1

Hanla-San

by Alicia Millar

Stand on her shoulders

you cast a mighty shadow

you still feel tiny

Road Map

Road Map

by Alicia Millar

Road Map

parting, cleaving,

etching, sketching, stretching,

apart youthful tissue, telling

stories

Make-Up

Make-up

by Alicia Millar

Make-up

deceives strangers

naked faces reveal

private inner painful struggles

hiding

A. Millar

Moon

Moon

by Alicia Millar

Moon

surface grinning

hiding empty landscapes

remains dreamy lover's symbol

Trickster

Sunset

Sunset

I close my eyes

and take a stroll

back in time

against the push

of the Eastern sun

urging me the other way

revisiting old districts

and haunts

enjoying the sorrow

just because it's

familiar

while amusing old ghosts

a child approaches

and we talk about the future

marrying "I" with "will" and "have" and "do"

and laugh and anticipate

and bask in the certainties

of our forcasts

until I notice

the day is getting late

and the child has grown

she's decrepid

her mouth still moves

but her body has atrophied

from lack of use

reminding me the flesh is weak

her favorite excuse

she wants me to keep listening

(but I grow)

resteless and tired

of her company

as I have many times

in the past,

this time more quickly

than before

I realise the neighborhood

is not as glamorous

as I remember,

and I start ignoring

the invalid's protests

I turn from her wails

and face West

lay old hurts and failures

to rest

and I think:

It's going to be a beautiful sunset.

Winter

Winter
By Alicia Millar

The nurse is making her rounds again,
and at first you are glad to see her
Then you remember she is the unfriendly one;
the one who wears gleaming white to hide the dirt
Her smile, so beautiful, but so icy- dangerous even,
reminding you of
the light that flashes off razor blades
while clouds loom around her
You are often decieved by moments of lucidity
clear blue skies
convince you that the world
is welcoming you back
but it never lasts
The nurse sedates you with long, somber nights,
just when you feel hope
all you can do
is watch
as she lays down crisp, white linens
and wait quietly
for the friendly nurse to come

The Debutants

The Debutants
by Alicia Millar

the new green blushes
at warmth's
first kiss
attracting glances with
ornaments of pink, yellow, white
wrapped tight
by possessive fists
not ready to be shared

until one by one
the fists let go
and like shy maidens
self-conscious of their beauty
(bringing to mind playful eyes peering over fans)
they open
S a L g O o W n L y Y
and consumate
their relationship
with anticipation

Love Song for an Atheist

Love Song for an Atheist
By: Alicia Millar
*Dedicated to Matt

I can't explain the wind,
although i know it's there
I can't explain the coloured arches
suspended in the air

I can't explain the morphing
of the bugs in their cocoons
I can't explain the canine habit
of howling at the moon

I can't account for silver rings
adorning human necks
I can't account for lemmings
and their strange and fatal treks

I do not try nor do i care
to understand the world
knowing will not arrest the clam
from forming its one pearl

I guess I am an atheist
who relies a lot on faith
yet one thing wants for understanding
and haunts me like a wraith

I can't define my love for you
by shape or length or sign
yet driven is my heart to know
our song by lyric and line

that i might sing it start to end
and loop it for all time
and thusly share the love I know
arranged in pitch and rhyme

Yet not so simple is this quest
our love is far too grand
it drives my faithless heart to think
an artist had a hand

for what great forge could have made
a love like yours and mine?
What great composer could have written
Our Poem, line by line?

It could not have been an accident
that we came to love so much
just as David could not stand without
Michelangelo’s fine touch

Nor could the Cistine
draw an eye, to a loftier place
if an expert painter had not dared
to visualize it's grace

Must not the buoyant, joyful love
that connects two human beings
credit power far more subtle
than chemistry's machine?

Was Monet's hand an outcome of
mere neuronal twitch?
Can Alexander Bell have been
a puppet of the switch?

A world where water lilies
are just Egg Shell Number Four
mixed one thirds with ochre
is a scientific bore

A place where telegraphing
the world's first "I-Love-You"
being seen as mere phonetic progress
is a world in shades of blue

I can't explain the world of love
nor the world of art
but awe I'm in of their effects upon
my silly, practical heart

Grape Juice

Grape Juice

A WANT

It begins here
when my thirst is quenched
it carries me
like a leaf on a gentle wind
in the midst of a cyclone
I can't STOP
it's too long of a drop
up and over and to and fro
here i go
fast then slow
but always
~gentle~
and always
taking me away from
purpose and
plans and
pain and pain and pain...

I can see the ground
-mustn't land!
mustn't touch, hard, reliable Earth
must rebell, must defy
must fly
so I
tip, sip, drip, slip, on your sloppy, teenage kiss
stain my lips
sway my hips
again i soar

It begins here
with a dare, a flaunt, a taunt

A WANT

A. Millar

No Seatbelt

No Seatbelt

-Alicia M.

No Seatbelt

driving about

not really sure (where

I was) feeling wreckless

and just trying to

find something

- anything

that might bring change,

even just the chance for it

driving about

desperate to detatch

from conclusion

exhilarated

and half-mad

wanting to cross dangerous bridges

but still holding back

i couldn't find a crossing

- not one

and i despaired

but drove on with

no seatbelt

i would recognize

the danger

anyway

i thought the remnants

of judgenment

would be enough to protect me

THEN

you hit me

from an unexpected angle

and i passed through

an invisible windsheild

into a world where pain wasn't exquisite

but the exquisite was painful

the lessons weren't learned

and the penalties harsh

now i must climb slowly

a cut vine

towards the apex for

a chance of sunlight

reaching for you

searching for you...

rehabilitation is a slow process

harder still from my

rejection of it

the lessons were never learned

and will be in recovery forever

paying for my mistake everyday

for the rest of my life

with pleasure

Daydreams

Daydreams
By Alicia Millar

comming in and out
I am a tide
sometimes the shore is rocky
and sharp
and i retreat for awhile
but never forever
the moon always pulls me back
to the lands of shapes and lines

but i prefer the ocean
where things have less
m a s s
rules are flouted
i am borrowed from gravity
which fights for purchase
and I'm (almost) weightless

if not for the moon
i might live here
forever
and have
strange dreams of
being awake
in the land of shapes and lines

Butterfly

In my mind

an idea

no lines, or parameters

just liquid

running through my fingers

trap it quick!

now it is a butterfly

it tickles my palms

i smile

but i can't grasp it or

i'll crush it

i have to let it hover there a while

let it flirt

now i can see parts of it

it begins to crystalize

here is the wing tip

there are the eyes

i let it speak to me

with no expectation

expectation is a bureaucrat

forcing things into boxes

i don't make ideas

i discover them

and treat them

like precious things

- A Millar

Precipitation

There is no rain

but I can imagine it

it doesn't make me sad

In my mind I'm in a cafe

with plush chairs

waiting for the sky to open

up and cry

waiting for my nebulous thoughts

to come full term

When finally the water breaks

I precipitate words

onto a page

the rain comes

tatooing music onto the pavement

while I paint a world

with nothing but ink

and destroy the desert

The way out

All the boxes we're put in,

their

wallssoclose

boxes

within

boxes

lid

upon

lid

Concrete departments

Someone drew windows

on the sides

to show us the way out

but it distracts

The way out is not

forward

or

backward

or

left

or

right

or

up

or

down

It is within

There, we might escape our narrow confinements

and redefine our terms

Then, we can see that the walls are not concrete,

but corrugated PAPER

Fragile, and persishable

- A. Millar