Saturday, March 24, 2012

Three Brothers Rock

Timeless emotion on the faces of the three brothers rock. Faithful keepers of the painted
cloth and the book of myths.
Winter desert gales centuries old shaped their stoical faces into the mold and stone decay
they commandingly portray.
The winds ~
it was the winds that made them happen.

From several miles above ~
the others exist alone in the middle of absolutely nothing but control everything around
them. Eyes like a knife on the universe
they mumble the electrodes back and forth between minds.

The Sun And Moon
Keep Their Struggle In The Sky,
But When They Sex The Tempest ~
They Draw Me In. *

They wait for one to come and unravel the scrolls and feed their platinum eyes.
They wait for one to come and decipher the paint and tell the tale.
Centuries old  ~  the myths

and the paint.

Jan. 13, ‘98 – Mar. 6, ‘00
Victor Millan
*(the sun and moon keep their struggle in the sky, but when they sex the tempest ~ they draw me in)

Artwork by Eddy Millan
To see more of Eddy's art please visit

Thursday, March 22, 2012


An erection from mud to flesh.
Some call it God ~ I call it evolution.
We never agree.

I love the thinkers’ meltdown.

Victor Millan

Sunday, March 18, 2012

The Ultimate Youth

The ultimate youth ~ invincible and strong. To our causes we are constant and true.
Let our voices be heard by all ‘kind everywhere. In our lands we’ll make the social changes to keep the even flow.
Rise to the streets my friends. Expunge the greedy boars in power.
Feel the hunger in your souls; hear the call to take the world.

Shout your feelings of aggression.

The battleground’s been forever set.
The challenge we’ve met ~ firm and steely eyed; true face with our morals reflecting in our actions.
Never surrender ~ everything and the sphere’s ours to take back from the profane before they set it to burn.

Accept life not as it’s handed to you,
but how you’d have it be.

Sep. ‘92
Victor Millan

Saturday, March 17, 2012

Leaving the Party

I was quite drunk and standing outside the front door of Karen’s 1st floor apt.
at about 2:30 am.  Everyone else was inside playing a “drunk game” laughing loudly and throwing curses at their gods.
I was standing there swaying because of the sucking ~ talkin’ art talk with Ed who was also sucking. Madness of the drunkards I guess.
We were cracking up at some of the people mixin’ it up inside. Also laughing at the nosey neighbor spy that poorly spied. Mocking the hidden shooshers behind their 2nd story apartment windows.

I didn’t give a fuck.
I didn’t know them.
I didn’t wanna know them. Right now I was having a good time leaning up against the building trying to keep myself from melting down into the sidewalk.
Keeping my fingers and my eyes crossed for good luck so’s that I wouldn’t throw up on the spot. And we wondered when our chicks would be ready to leave.

After a short while my friend’s door swung open and w/a bit of the living room light and her music, two girls strolled outta the pad but not ours. They were leaving the party and going home.
One of ‘em pinched my ass when she walked by and said
“See ya later heartbreaker.”

Ya sure.  No problems.

And they drove off.
And I told Ed how she had mental problems she was trying to dig herself out of and he laughed but I didn’t and the 2nd story meddler wondered when will it all end? ~ Eventually we finished our drinks and went back inside for the photo finish.

About an hour later I was in my own bathroom sitting on the cold linoleum floor feeling sea sick, sweating profusely and taking a break n a breather from vomiting my dinner & guts out into the toilet.
I noticed some of it missed the mark and hit the floor ~
and then came the dry heaves in the killer ribs with my fingers locked in a hard clench holding the edge of the tub and the sink.

Death was off to the side tickling the funeral keys with my heart while I was toading and struggling for a miserly clean breath.

Oct. ‘98
Victor Millan

Saturday, March 3, 2012


I was thinking today about how when I meditate to find peace or protection or answers; or as an act of gratitude - how it is similar to religious prayer.
Although I don’t believe in the organized part of religions, I do think there are similarities in the way we connect with the Energy when we meditate or pray.

True religiosos transport into a trance, into this womb and they hover in there mystically flooded w/Energy, meditating as I do.
Taking in the purity ~ leaving the negative behind.
Finding infinite clarity.
Feeling the serene heartbeats.
Chanting or humming or speaking it, or seeing the mantra as I do. Listening to the measured breathing ~ channeling with It as I do.
Tapping into the temple of the thing that makes us mad.

To me these things are what we all do the same when we pray or meditate.

Allah, God, Brahma, Energy.

S’all the same.

Victor Millan