Saturday 31 January 2015

punk. another treatment

moment to moment
you keep drifting
or sink

be a lilypad
think about the frogs to come
and how best to support them

or leave
fall from a tree
scratch the water's surface

sink to the pond floor
nestle with anaerobic 

week to week we
face the bleakness
around us 

(you can)
color it in

give it the middle finger 
if you really care

that's punk.
really caring

Thursday 29 January 2015

the day suffering died

Her eyes reflected Mercury
the sun 
   not far away

Through branches
they saw 
by the reflection

         suffering was

time for endless

Monday 26 January 2015

imaginary friend

History has no heart to give, and not a heart to take
it combs through the sand dunes like a snake.
Time strung out on a wash line, 
weighed down by wet blankets.
Five of ten generations fallen to knees, 
to catch the rolling heads of failed monarchies. 

And so goes the common revolutionary narrative.
The numbers anticipated it all.

Hers was not uncalculated risk.
She took tireless heed of the numbers
and counting, left no room for guesswork
 or doubting. 

Emotional coloring would be of great use
to intention. Logic got the nod. Reason
got a mention. 

The battlefield would be determined by alignment of stars.
She shared with her generals the finest Dominican cigars.
She was pathologically obsessed 
with synchronizations
 to relieve stress. 

A single number 
could send shock waves through the rest.

Kinship with her was allocated by dreams. 
Material ties was not her imperative.
They would break off on their own,
falling from the beams.

When her people protested it hurt her heart so deep.
The leaders of protest were often asleep.

She did not sanction violence, but in some cases it happened.
She allowed for proper burials 
per dictates of culture and tradition.
Any failure in that regard led to charges of sedition.

Some of the prophecies just blew her mind.
She shook her fist at time, but never cursed the divine.
She became tired and let down her guard.
Then awaited a sign. 

Pacing and racing
nights and days through the catacombs,
the last safe place from it all.

Suffering the dawn of her
eloquently stated
much anticipated
from any and all relative life support.

I received her newswire off my cortex wall,
hundreds of years later
and I liked it.

I imagined she was my best friend
in two thousand
and ten. 

Friday 23 January 2015

you could be your own nightmare part - ii


There's still time to cop a feel off this felt sense priority. Better knock your socks off and touch down upon the concrete. Circulate energy through your feet. Watch the pavement crack, to the earth's elation. 

Feel the heartbeat. Flourishing.

Her people she had to attend. The gods and goddess would show in their own time. The wine would flow, Dionysian ambrosia. The nectar was reserved for all minorities of culture.

Culture wars her rush, psychology her fix. 
Anything organic went right into the mix. 

The masses needed only a pair of decent reading glasses. The sun would run the blender, and blend it all together. A purer form of condensation than any melting pot could render. The wind would drive the word, across the thousand tongues. Anyone who tried to protest, got an iron lung.

Prayers for rain.

Empowerment via numbers was mathematically guaranteed. Those who had sunken into stupor, very quickly they were freed. Premonition kept her sane. She meditated on the past, and then to the becoming.... not knowing did not worry her. The rain would keep on drumming.

Trudging through to sunrise, beyond the cloudy days.
Uplifted all her people, kissed by new sun rays.
See the children? They are dancing on the shoulder!
The darkness, now behind them, had only brought them closer.

Wednesday 21 January 2015

you could be your own nightmare part - i

She found her knowing when tabbing through cerebellum's internal ledger. Frontal cortex set for auto-pager alerts. She envisioned a world she knew would never be. Those who disagree would be free to disagree. How fascinating the freedom was, to this world's masses. They witnessed it like men in night clubs witness ladies asses. Even in this world you could be your own nightmare. Learn about apathy, how not to care. Fill with negativity like a car up on gas. Suck up to the deacon, attend every mass. Learn to revere the most ass kissing fascists....

 She saw how her world could go way out to lunch.
She saw with eyes open her very best of intentions?  Could lead her off.
Beyond her wildest extension.
This caused her anxiety; she manifested tension.
The knowing she knew, was not playing.

She decided she must stand with her believers.
Or whatever you wanna call those who disagree with disagree-ers.

Tuesday 20 January 2015

past lives in love

at first

we searched

for common ground

in a sea of misunderstandings

i grabbed you by the hair

you grabbed mine

and fiercely



dug for roots

and excavated

past lives

in love

Monday 19 January 2015

MLK. 1929-1968

All i knew was what i saw and what people told me,
because it all happened before i was born. The horrifying
image of a man lying dead at the feet of his friends,
at a motel somewhere in Memphis. The many fingers
pointing firmly towards space.

All i knew was what i heard, which was unlike anything
 i ever heard before! Perhaps the greatest orator since
Winston Churchill. Deep compassion and confidence.
Rhythm and music. Love for  country. Demanding change.
Appealing to us and God. Certain in his vision for the
future. Certain of a personal and collective overcoming
of great and tangible darkness and suffering. Offering
hope for change. Prayers. Marches. Practicing the principles he
preached. Forgiveness. Starting a critical dialogue. Confronting
the enemy on enemy turf. Demanding we come together in
new and nonviolent ways.

A great tragedy, overshadowed now by unified cultural love
in memoriam for a great and selfless man. A decided day
to remember. To honor one who sacrificed himself for his
people and social justice, in the end. Shaking up and
waking up a culture embedded in fear and racism. Making the
unconscious, conscious. Bringing light into darkness.

Today in the USA, racism hides mostly behind closed
doors. Or so I thought. Recent events across the USA
have suggested otherwise. If Doctor King was here,
what would he say? What would he do? All i know is
he would show courage and ask others to stand behind
what they believe in. He would not be scared to speak
truth to power. We would listen and learn. Some of us
would get involved; try and speak truth to
power, ourselves. Despite immediate consequence.
Having the courage to stand behind our beliefs and speak

In honor of Doctor King, I tell myself today:

Do not accept or protect the ISMS. Speak TRUTH to POWER.
Support nonviolent movements toward social justice.
Get out there and get involved, whenever possible!
Practice loving kindness towards ALL sentient beings.
Express gratitude. Pray. Dream large! Meditate. Forgive.
Inspire hope toward a NEW PARADIGM WORLDVIEW!

I love to listen to Dr. King's charismatic speeches,
whenever possible. Thank God we have these recordings.

Change comes over culture like a slow, pacific wave,
washing us clean of our troubled and divided history,
and offering us a chance toward UNITY.

Saturday 17 January 2015

untitled color. not green

© KatYa Mills

i encounter someone
or something
and we change (je crois)

i will not go out today
i like who i am
why would i change?
not today

oh the devils
in my head!
blood spat
on hunter green

let me bleach them
with sunshine of my
life. menana

(no images just words convey my)
vivid you
of yesterday

no cream in my coffee
my coffee will be
corrupted by white
sugars and why
would i
do that?

black coffee
you see
helps me remember (ne oublier pas)
who i am

Friday 16 January 2015


i was the one
who told you
i wish you
were never born

i was the one
who suffered by

i was the one
who could not see
the light

i made a hollow
 and lived
in its conceit


Tuesday 13 January 2015

deja vu afterlife

© KatYa

A strange creature this life been
given to this strange creature
is me

i go to my work and don't ask me why i
walk the dubstep until i feel high

then go to my sleep after saying
i love you. after prayers and the fightin'
and arguin' are through

then my belly rumbles and calls
me away. then i go out to play
it's a dream

then i am hurt then
awaken. a

some emotional wave comes over and
leaves me on a sandbar
resigned. looking back trying to remember the

how strange to become so
independent. the freedom is almost

how strange the day come
to be no longer seen and no
longer heard

and then to be part of
a deja vu after life. after

strange nights follow
strange days and all i wanna wear is black
in the day white in the night and let my fears go die
of the fright

Monday 12 January 2015

k reading -- 'tumbleweeds'

Here is me reading the poem i wrote a while back

called Tumbleweeds

and you can find the words

by clicking on the word.

- K (aspiring to be a velveteen rabbit)

Sunday 11 January 2015

for once

for once
i was there!
in the middle
of my life

see before
i was brewed
i was pressed
after roasting

dirty rice
nothing nice
tousled hair
tousled life

i did not care
then. cause to care
would have flung me

to death
by feelings

along the tattered road
of life i trudged alone
banking on fast food
and handouts

being in the mud is
not the end my

the earth has
risen to ice cream creations
pounded out amorphous on the block

all the children's
glittering eyes
upon us now!

there may be

what was solid
frozen in fear?
finds its way sometimes
up to the air!

no need to fly
just sit on the tarmac
the blue carpet of sky
and cry

give up
like clouds
perceptibly slow

then begin to sparkle with
 all the other
shiny things
been disposed

mashed and rounded out
in the pavement

a city
turned to glistening

all of us!
of the sun

i just wanna
get by i once
 said and
now i am here
at the center
of my life

Friday 9 January 2015

mental. quattro (plus video)

He was showing me unconditional positive regard.
I was telling him all the ways and places I was scarred.
He was chewing on the fat of my tales.
I was eating all my fingernails.
He was redirecting me like a train conductor.
I saw red and charged like a bull.
He was charging me through the teeth.
Paid in full.

I was waxing poetic.
His thoughts told him I was pathetic.
I gussied up to him like a whore.
He had his back to the door.
I blasted him for offering me Prozac.
He looked at me like I was crazy.
Called me a fucking throwback.
Or was it the voices in my head?

I cut my wrists and put them in his face.
He let me bleed out. Unconditionally.
I paid to have his carpet cleaned.
To keep my credit clean.
He was showing me unconditional positive regard.

I asked for a cup of tea.
He fifty-one fiftied me.

I ran away before the sedation.
Into the flickering movie
of guided imagery.

He was golden showering me
with unconditional positive regard.
I had clearly drawn up my knees,
drawn up my guard.

He drew checks off my back account.
I drew pictures of infinity.
He rented Girl, Interrupted.
Then handled me with
more or less

I was embryonic again.
He wore a Buddha smile on his face.
I was unfashionably broke
and stressed.
Locked up in chemical

He poisoned me with

Wednesday 7 January 2015

how to fall in love

go for a walk
any day any time and let yourself
into a used

smell the stale and fresh pulp
of so many

smile at the book

discover the underlying
organization and find your place
in it

stand tall
loitering is encouraged

take one finger up
with your eyes
and across the broken
         of wellworn
dated issue.

then when you find
the loving one

tap the top of her binding
and pull her out on her

let her fall into
your hand

carry her weight in your
mind over her looks and hold her
lightly now

you are not the first
to know her

and you may not
the last

study her face, check out her

if she's suffered the hundred
creases, well... then you know they
fight wars in her name

 stop. close the eyes
and breathe

then take another look
 uncover her
discover her
open your heart to her

let her font be fashionable
easy on
the eyes

if you are still
 into her

begin to get to know her
one word at a
time to answer questions in
the mind

and you will know
by sound of sudden footfalls
behind and around

by disorientation
of time. by shifting of shadow
through light

by resurgence of voices
she drowned

upset by
someone dares
speak to you

you will know
by the adrenaline that surges
through you with the pulp freshly
hewn across the ages

by the way she has found
you and reached you now
you hold her unable to let anyone else
in the fuckin' place have

charmed straight
to page one cause it would be
a sin to read anymore

careless of the

you're in love

Sunday 4 January 2015

years ago lives in there


poetry © performance
by Katya Mills

Would i die
for you? - no -
but i die
a little
each day

with a wisp the
shared memory takes
me away

we got so heated
back then
could you believe?
cache of tiny daggers held
up a sleeve

caustic the words
blasted by breath
enamel of teeth
falls to its death

so acrid like two
bombadier beetles
corrosively threading
the eyes of the

you tossed my heart
out the window
i pressed my palms to

how could
the one
i love?

i hate you
back - see? -

the word play
turned to fight
constriction drew tight
dark compressed
the light

oh how we got evicted!
in the middle
of the night!

cheap threaded walmart sheets
cover my eyes as i hide
from the lies

praying for love and
hope to die

because i gave up
on us - too -
it was not only you i
was wrong i
failed to respond
to a grave misunderstanding with
the kinda - faith -
love inspires so
then what

if not love in my heart
for you was it me? was i loving
me in love with you
loving me?

that hurts
to be humbled
like that...

then up out of hiding
all apologies and no

ripped clothes and blood
- desecrated -
in the mud

you would never let me forget
then and now the regret
changes the color of my eye
to a deeper greenish-blue
the again waters

years ago lives in there
fears and trouble too
and the craziest thing

i still miss

Friday 2 January 2015

Book Review: 'Just Kids' by Patti Smith

Just KidsJust Kids by Patti Smith
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

'Just Kids' was narrated in such an upfront, candid way. Conversational tone remains consistent throughout. Simple storytelling. This is our beloved American rocker. Talking to us. That alone carries a certain high voltage energy! Have you seen her live? I have. So it helps to know someone whose music you love, is telling you about themselves and giving you an interior window to their life and heartbeat. She really lets us in!

I was impressed (and not wholly suprised) by Patti Smith's ability to tell her story in a captivating way. I knew already she carried around a journal and wrote her young life down. Many of those journal entries are included in this book, plus photos, and deepens our experience of a young pre-celeb Patti Smith. The cross-pollination of musicians to writers occasionally comes off well. Nick Cave even wrote a pretty good book of fiction. In this case, I feel it comes off spectacularly. I was born in the 70's, so Patti was a legend already by the time I was teenager. I really like her music, but I feel I relate better to the musicians closer to my age who remind me of modern versions of her, like P.J. Harvey. An autobiography was just what my heart needed to get closer to Patti Smith by her personal reflections and recollections.

Now add to the mix some more source energy! Here we have a fresh perspective of NYC at the height of rock-n-roll. And from the vantage point of one of its fresh new stars! A vibrant setting indeed. And the cast of characters could not be more fascinating. Her empathic nature. The way she connected with others. Her humility. I am drawn to her because she keeps her ego in check. I have always been drawn to her, and now I know why. The chick is humble. She is conscious. She walks through life mostly unafraid, and definitely affected.

This book is worth reading. Patti Smith has had a helluva life. She walks us through the heartbeat of a killer scene in America! When maybe the culture was a little less jaded. We get inside her All-Stars and at street level. Thanks.   - K @

View all my reviews


Dear Readers,

I just got another 5 star review for my novel, Girl Without Borders. I wanted to share with you all the 8 reviews - all 4-5 stars - on my debut novel. I feel this is a good indication, and sets the stage for the upcoming release of my novella, Daughter of Darkness, to succeed on Amazon and attract more attention with your help. I am determined to make a living at writing, as I simply continue to write. 4 life! Thanks!

Reviews :
5.0 out of 5 stars Good read, September 24, 2013
Sarah V. Arnold (Baltimore, MD) - See all my reviews
With an intriguing plot line, storytelling that channels bits of Hemingway and Faulkner, and descriptions reminiscent of F. Scott Fitzgerald, Mills creates a rich American subculture in which she places her characters--deeply fragile, but living forcefully, and at times, frantically. The read is entertaining and enveloping; my only negative is that is left me wondering in a few places (I won't give any spoilers)--is there a part 2 to follow? Definitely worth checking out!

5.0 out of 5 stars Read this today., October 1, 2013
Sonia M Ibarra (Joliet) - See all my reviews
When you start to read this book - put away your phone, turn off any distractions and cancel the dinner date, because you aren't going to want to stop reading.Growing up in Chicago, it was easy to read the descriptions and feel like at any point, I could have been sitting at the bar with any one of the characters. Striking up a conversation, being a part of the world the author created. You feel Will's frustrations; you can feel those experiences as if they were your own. You can almost remember walking down the street with Will or sitting at the bar ordering another whiskey as you make your way through the pages.I wanted to give Will a hug and a high-five and a smack on the back of the head. It was like he was someone I loved once, long ago.

4.0 out of 5 stars Katya Mills is an author to be reckoned with, November 17, 2013
YusufToropov - See all my reviews
A fresh, authentic, and confident new voice in American fiction. This is not a YA novel, a fact the cover design could do more to get across. Some minor quibbles: The book still needs a power edit for minor style errors, and perhaps a little cutting in places. And the female protagonist's first name is not one I would have chosen. But tiny problems like that, juxtaposed with the feast of inventive, sprawling, muscular, character-driven writing here, are no big deal. Tiny problems just remind you that you are getting in on the ground floor with a writer who is going to do important things. Which she is. A little excerpt to give you a sense of what I am talking about. Excerpt..."The summer was pretty damn hot, but not so hot folks had to lay out bags of ice to sleep on or put their shirts in the freezer, Cheech and Chong style. Wasn't so cold you had to piss on your hands to move your fingers. Everything was bearable if you thought on those who really had to suffer, like the aged and infirm, or people trapped under the debris after an earthquake. Or the people who loved them and searched in vain. Water was much harder in other parts of the world. Harder and harder to find. In America, you had only to sweat and drink and bitch about the failure of another transformer, and wait, and hope you wouldn't die an absolute death or a death out of love, hope any addictions were still in the insidious stages." It's marvelous stuff and you should read it RIGHT NOW -- a) because it's superb and b) so you can say you saw it all coming.

5.0 out of 5 stars Chicago....and nowhere else, October 16, 2013
Aaron C. Stroud (San Diego, CA USA) - See all my reviews
Sure this story could be one from any city. But it's about Chicago. And the lives of those who were born after Vietnam and before things managed to get even crazier. Will's story is hardly unique from the thousands who lived there at the same time, but it is wholly genuine. Told with stunning descriptions you feel like you lived it yourself. From Cass's insanity to Bella's wit, you can see why he felt torn between the two. This is about the "real" Chicago and some of the characters who graced her fickle but glorious streets in the late 90s and early 2000s. Enjoy. I cant wait to read it again.

4.0 out of 5 stars Dystopia on the Lake, November 19, 2013
Arthur W. Turfa (Batesburg, SC) - See all my reviews
A good read.about lost young people in Chicago around the year 2000. Vivid characters amid the backdrop of a large city. Good dialog, but the author is especially good at painting a picture of where the action happens.

5.0 out of 5 stars I recommend this book to all who make giant winnings battles ..., August 31, 2014
sunshine gallegos - See all my reviews
A modern day woman writer of rarity and relevance. Written the sand of a man, a view woman and the heart forHumanity.The writing is urban. At the same time peppered with the old masters words hanging over and in the minds of the characters. This is a story of how some of the biggest wars are won quietly, such as the case of the main character Will.
He willingly carousals himself in a waking ghost world of listless characters, being half ghost himself. He pleasures himself with the mundane and illicit. In the end although he clings to his half life he finally grows enough flesh to decide on a life, however unsung it may be.
I recommend this book to all who make giant winnings battles quietly and with dignity everyday.
Sunshine Gallegos

5.0 out of 5 stars modern love triangle, with enough unexpected twists to hold my ..., August 7, 2014
frank ramon - See all my reviews
A fascinating and well written, modern love triangle, with enough unexpected twists to hold my interest for the whole read. This the perfect novel for that trip in the car or a plane ride or a day at the beach. Just short enough to not take a lot of time and then at the end, it somehow leaves you wanting and enjoy....Frank Ramon

5.0 out of 5 stars Five Stars, December 31, 2014
Thomas Phillips - See all my reviews
loved it from beginning to end! excellent read..