I’m Miles and this is the humble beginnings of my ranting, ravings, and poetry!  Some of what you’ll read is loosely based on actual events.


Unstrung hymn

His heart aching with grief
Unstrung memories, hardly brief
The time he spent with him
Friendship written as a hymn
The loss still very real
Prayers spoken when he kneels
Time revealed temperance
It was true
Singing love songs about the blues

Forlorn faith

Intoxicated on gin and gun powder he wondered through wild jungles.
This would not do,
This would not do.
His gnarled garden now overgrown with neglect, surrounded by nostalgia. Thoughts laden askew, blurred and demure. So heavy with a drunken dew. This was not new, this was not new.  Sulphur shells creeping, seeping through and through. Inebriation leaving him black and blue.  His choices poor and grave his dues.

Necessary Noctures

Nocturnes of death shroud my mind.
In quietness lurking till Dawn arrives.
Sadness permeates my soul.
Dissonance flowing from the undertow.

Longing for better days
They’ll soon be found.
Time passes, healing
Slow it comes round
Hope breaks the day,
Radiating light.
Discords spell broken,
I won the fight.

The Stars

There are no stars
that remember thee
that soar the skies
So sullenly

The stars they cry
With guilted glee
And hurry home
In harmony

The stars bereave
And mock the night
With hurried horror
And monstrous fright

The stars, they dance
All too and fro
Singing songs
And still don’t know

Around the world and back again, that’s the insta-travellers way!

I love Instagram.  Not only as a way of interacting with friends and following my favorite celebrities, but also because of how many places you can visit around the globe.  By doing a quick search for Dublin, Ireland you instantly pull content associated with the city.  Local businesses such as barber shops, restaurants, and bars.  Very helpful when you’re either daydreaming about getting away or actually planning a vacation.

​October the 24th, 2010

An auspicious date for as Western history records in the blood of dead solider, nineteen hundred and forty-one years earlier, the general Antonius Primus: tactictian, pederaste, and commander of the Danube armies, loyal to Vespasian, defeats the forces of Emperor Vitellius. Vespasian, a lover of wine but no drunkard, tasted the elixirs of the cup of Ceasar for but a season.  A season for all things and even kings and their vices.

And in 1929, the stock market crashes… seasons of men falling from windows, screaming, exploding upon the concrete below.  A woman’s shoes spattered with blood, unnoticed, her attention is fixated in horror upon the partially-disintegrated person before her: on his finger was a wedding ring, ejected into the street and glimmering in the sunlight.

The Present: Low Risk Jail Facility
Hunter attended a going away party and arrived rather late, sometime after midnight. He proceeded to have a few bourbon & coke as well as a few beers.  Few here should be understood to convey more than three, but less than six.  He paced himself so as not to get too intoxicated. Translation: He was drunk and pacing oneself was about as useful as Scientology.
Having had enough, Hunter stopped drinking, but waited to leave because rain had moved into the area.  The alligator tear-sized drops pounded the pavement in the darkness, a snaking river ebbing together, finding it’s motion, and waiting.  The clock said 4:30am in neon blue letters.  The rain had let up one of the other guests said making their way in from outside and he left, making his way back towards home. His fingers numb on the steering wheel, he smiled.
Unfortunately Hunter never made it.  He hydroplaned, losing control of the vehicle, skidding into the ditch and rolling the vehicle.  He drifted in and out of consciousness, blood in his eyes.
When he came to; the pain… The pain and the horror of the cold, wet, bloody mystery. Fading into the darkness.

Paramedics arrived pulling him out of the wreckage and rushing him to the closest emergency room.  The vehicle was a mangled coffin.  He had glass embedded along his hair line, superficial lacerations, which were carefully removed by a nurse who told Hunter he was lucky to be alive. They took blood samples to run a toxicology report. Twice the legal limit and tranquilizers were present.  The end of it or so he thought until his karma caught up and the State decided to confine him for just over a month with a 6 month license suspension.  What is to be taken away from this sordid tale and cautionary narrative? Drink. Be merry. But allow yourself and the other seven billion people on this planet to wake up in the morning.  Don’t drive intoxicated.