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Jonas Micah is a 26 year old writer who spends entirely too much time working in Broadband Technical Support. But hey, that's what you do when the scribbles don't pay the bills, right? He is a highschool drop-out, an Army wash-out, and a fool who strives to be less foolish with each passing day.

View the rest of the poems from Jonas Micah in the June 2004 edition:


Friends of doubtful birth
by Jonas Micah

The silence...
  a place no thought may touch.
My home, beyond my madness,
  a void expanse of such.

My solitude, my madness,
  my friends of doubtful birth.
Those bastard sons of ill-renown,
  shall guide me on this earth.

And only in my silence,
  my quietude of thought,
  will such a place be manifest,
  as would satisfy my drought.

A solitary silver coin,
  of shine and shimmered mark,
  will dance upon my shadow,
  will dance within my dark.

And all the howling, raging wraiths,
  shall spin and summon forth,
  a golden thread of action dead,
  and judge my motley course.

I did not see the things I thought,
  would roam about this place.
I found instead an elder bled,
  and stains upon my face.


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