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A poem I wrote in February 1999. Photos by myself.

Freedom

High

Riding

Catch the wave

Green room opening

Maximum pleasure

Close out happens

Once again

Wipeout

Life (Shit)

Chorus

Sun burns on my back

Waves splash in my face

Sand is in my pants

I don't give a shit

On

Kick-start

Throttle wide

Hit the highway

Maximum pleasure

Corner too fast

Hit the dirt

Smashed up

Life (Shit)

Chorus

Riding down the highway

Cool wind in my hair

Tears whipped from my eyes

I don’t give a shit

A poem I wrote in 1998 to two good friends who lost a baby just a few days after birth.

Mere words are never enough

We wish we were there to hold you and share in your loss

In this bittersweet time as Jesus takes your precious daughter to a better place

 

We hold you up in our prayers

Our love for you is not as strong as His

Let His arms enfold you and strengthen you in ways we never could

 

The life of your daughter was short

But she touched our lives in a very special way

May she sing with the angels in heaven tonight in praise to God

© Timothy Miller 1998

Rabid is a song I wrote in 1998. The notes at the bottom were for a band that took this song and performed it a number of times at events. They are now defunct.

1) Right thru these four walls

Out into the city

Maxicabs are flashing by

Limousines just glide

2) You can feel the music pumping

You can feel the city vibe

Energy in action

Solicitude you can’t find

The girls are out there walking…….

There’s something out there stalking……

3) It feeds off all the flavours

The smells, the tastes, the sights

No concrete self-awareness

Its animal; its alive

4) It hides, conceals awaits

For its unsuspecting foes

They scream out loud

It sucks – they stop!

It feeds, moves on, it preys

(Verse 1 repeat)

Right thru these four walls

Out into the city

Maxicabs are flashing by

Limousines just glide

5) Is it all that pretty

Is it all that nice

Or is it out there waiting

Like your other side

6) Which world do you live in

To which you go to hide

Or are you a silent stalker

Just feeding off the vibe

© Timothy Miller 1998

Musical short notes to Rabid

Start with a long slow guitar driving sound – basically a strum that goes on and on – repeated a few times – slowly building in volume – Bass to be keeping a very low volume

8 beats before verse 1 starts the drums will start with a double tap- off beat and then first beat

After 1^st verse increase bass volume

At end of 1^st verse drums crash in – starting from high tom and crashing down and then keep on drumming – rhythm drives into a big walled sound

Stop the rhythm guitar and bass for a couple of secs to say ‘the girls are out there walking” then one big strum then stop again for “there’s something out there stalking” – this sentence to be said with a huge delay (sounds like being inside a big empty warehouse) and an echo to get a “stalking…. talkin… alkin….” Echo

Now the rhythm and bass come back and the temp speeds up

Now come up one key and into a more frenzied attack on the rhythm guitar as the next 2 verses (3 & 4) are sung one after the other.

Go to a quick bridge into the lead guitar starting a long winding riff getting higher and higher ending in a big feed back loop to fade back to just the basic starting sound – drums finish up with some big rolls then go to brushes – or else real light

Repeat verse 1

Verses 5 & 6 sung one after the other

last two lines of verse 6 to be at an almost hush as the sound fades out – but as singer finishes “feeding off the vibe” the drums crash back in and all the guitars go back into an all out finish off

This is a poem i wrote in 1997 when my daughter Miranda was 1 year old.

She is now 16 and a half a beautiful young lady.

One day my little daughter - you will read this - I love you Miranda

My little daughter - how precious you are to me

I wish you never had to grow up

You are such a precocious child

The looks you give me are so mischevious

You imitate me in so many ways

You shake your head and cluck your tongue

You want to be like your Dad

He wants to show you how its done

But your dad sometimes hasn’t a clue

He has no idea what to do

He does what hurts when he wants to protect

Those he loves from the pain inside

I want to say what needs to be said

Instead I find myself writing this poem

I only hope you never know

The pain that can hurt so badly

© Timothy Miller 1997