A Hang Over Poem

Drinking at a friends house
(Ari’s is like a haven)
(For stupid drunk nights.)
Girls will arrive soon
(I said girls not women purposefully)
But I am drunk
Too drunk to understand
The possibilities
(I’m always too drunk)
(Or too sober)
(And alone.)
I hear sex
From a bedroom
(Very loud moaning sex)
Down to two girls now
One for Ari. One for me?
(They are not pretty.)
Dark blurry vision
My car driver’s seat.
Sunlight.
I sit up slowly:
No shoes, no keys
(Vomit here and there.)
Ari appears in the driveway
Cautiously looking at me
(We stare at each other for a moment)
(Like strangers thrust together)
(Isn’t that what all friends are at first?)

“Let me get your things
Don’t come inside
My parents are freakin out.”
He says almost whispering.
“You were so fucked up dude,
O my god. You were stumbling
And puking out here.”

“I don’t remember.”
I say somberly.

He goes inside
Comes back with my shoes
My phone, my keys
Were in my car door.
As I take my things
I think: how does he do this
So god damned well?
(And leave.)

Honestly, all this
Is quite simply because
I’ve been searching
For someone to help me
Rewrite my life’s story
But I only find bottles
And lonely mornings
Hung over days
Where I sleep in baths
And after that
Vomit repeatedly
Only to go out
And do it all again
(Until there is nothing)
(Left.)
© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

Life

It is not that the grass is greener here
It is just that it is a different shade
Because life is not lived
Inside a 50s black and white
Television show
Not at all!
It is lived in colour:
Infinite shades from
Infinite hues.
Although at times
I wish it wasn’t
This way.

© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

Heres a secret: I feel very alone all the time. . .but sshh

Primer Uniform

Primer Uniform
In these waning hours of days
Winding down like old toys
I am a soldier with a green beret,
Plastic rifle held at forty-five,
And paint chipping off my uniform.
The other toys are in similar shape:
Plastacine villages melting in the acid rain;
The town clock has slumped sadly over,
Our military is stuck in the mud
On our front lawn pointing canons at leaves
And twigs blowing evasively in the wind,
The zoo is shut down due to a rare
Strain of STDs that spread
Throughout their population
Shortly after a holiday celebration.
But days continue to wane down
Until nothing is left
But the ash from your cigarettes
And the realization
That the once brilliant vibrant uniform
You donned day and night
Has chipped and faded
Revealing drab primer.

© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

Also, check out what A Blinking Robot did with this. With my permission of course.

Sandman

Mr. Sandman,
Bring me a treat
Bring me a couple pints
Maybe some pills to eat
(Because I don’t sleep)
I’m sure you’ve seen
My eyelids being held up
By those little devils
And their pitchforks
Conniving smiles amass;
They think they’ve won
They haven’t
Not yet, not yet.
Not ever.

© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

Addiction(SHIT)

Utter shite.
Im a fleeting shadow
Upon a desecrated street
Im a reflection
In a shattered mirror
Im the end
Of a never-ending story
So light up your embers
Burn slowly as I tell a tale:
Destruction and destiny
Mixed; blow out a cannon
Mouth dropping a-bombs
As if tomorrow did not exist.
No worries;
Debts are cleared at sunrise
With broken limbs, swollen eyes.
Tomorrow you’ll make it
Tomorrow you’ll be alive.
Night after night
Empty bed: no one there
Reach out
Nothing.

© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

Tangibility

Tangibility
Uncertainty.
Eyes fidgeting
Beneath my coma,
Glossy print gaze
Soaking in soft focus
The thousand words
I could never fuckin say
Never spit out
From my toxic waste,
Sewer pipe mouth.
That while death
Fails to intimidate
This heart thrashing
Inside my echo chamber,
Cavern chest
That there is worse
Than elongated death
Oh yes. A far greater
Torment dances
Inside my bruised exhausted,
China doll bones: to be—
Inverted via doubt
Then retrofitted without
That which was dubious;
The great ambiguous:
Love.
The illusory reality of which
Is papier-mâché bricks
Adhering to my chest.
It seems so real at times
That I loose my breath;
Only to inhale deeply
The soot of a tangible universe.

© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

Divination?

Unwind
I’ve seen the end.
It comes while I rise;
Mid-air, between breaths-
I will go silently
Into the night
Like love departing
Down an alleyway.
Perhaps many will notice
Perhaps still, many shan’t.
Traffic lights may pause
Sirens may roar
A state of emergency
May be called (or not).
Whatever happens
Upon that fair day
In that fair moment
Is strategically planned:
The scene is set,
The only thing left
Is to press play
And watch the movie
Quickly unwind.
Then let it pass to memory.
It will be like nothing happened.

© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

Just a thought

Dreams become Purpose.

Last night I had a blissful dream where the sun shone everyday and the temperature was perfect. Last night I had a blissful dream of a place that offered everything I need, and miss. Throughout the dream as I traversed the alien content I found I spoke the language. I felt healthy and whole. Last night my soul wandered away from my body to a place where it could run free: escape the everyday and fly in the wind. My soul has always wanted to be in such a place as this, but I have never been able to physically get there.

It is now my life’s endeavor to find the place where my soul will be free; even though I will go through struggles and risk my well being to do so. I will find it. I have to.

Poem Meh.

My stuff is shit right now I think.
Who agrees?


Sidewalk

I kick around empty streets
You know, the kind that are as welcoming
As a lover with open arms and large eyes.
But I’ve never been one to take up lovers
And last all the way: forever.
I’ve always found the end.
The same way empty streets
Always lead me to the same place:
The gradual stroll up the steps
Leading out to eternity’s
Ephemeral bliss:
My body feels iced
My mind drugged
In a landscape of
Everlasting short-lived
Bursts of sunrises
On concrete walkways
Lined with play-doh buildings
With iron bars over windows
That look into padded rooms
And the mats that line
Symmetrical doorsteps reading:
“Welcome Home.”
I know that behind each door
Are scared people whose guns
Line up the walls: just in case!
And I’m hoping if I stand out here
Just long enough that maybe
Some dangerous, dear soul
Will blow my brains out
And paint beauty with it
On this suburban sidewalk.
© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved

Winter is my favorite season.

Au Revoir, Passé

It’s time for chapped lips
And drawn-out sips
Of hot beverages;
Traversing cities in a storm.
It’s time for the ice to form
It’s time for all this
To never be the same,
Ever again.

It’s time we put away
The summer games we play:
The dances of checkers and chess
Upon a sun drenched desk.
It’s time for growing up
It’s time for all this
To never be the same,
Ever again.

I have a plan
For this winter
See you next
Summer.

Au revoir, passé.


© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

9-10-07

Today I did something out of the ordinary. I disbanded responsibility and disappeared into Westwood. Partially due to a doctors appointment for new glasses; the rest was all fun.
Here are the poems that came from the day.
Enjoy, criticism welcome.

Assisted Living

“Sunrise Assisted Living”
Is stuck on the side
Of a green minibus
Via magnets-
I watch it roll past.
I wouldn’t mind some assistance
Living.
I’ve been so dead since
I transfused my blood
With alcohol.
I’ve been gearing up
For some kind of alcohol
Related demise
Since I was the age of five.

Let’s be honest for a minute:
We are not kings, nor princes,
Not even their jester.
No, we are the ants
In the hill, in the dirt
That the rich spray raid on
Everyday.




Bustop

Bus-stop-lady
Applies make-up
But miss, you’ll never
Be 20 again, like me
No matter how much
You wear.

Bus-stop-man
Reeks of old spice.
But sir, you’ll never
Be 20 again, like me
No matter how much
You wear.

Bus-stop-me
Fashionably dressed.
But I’ll never be
Over the hill, like them
No matter how much
I wear.



Dress Rehearsal

In a waiting room in a doctors office
I sat across from an elderly couple
The type that lived through
The last world war
And possibly helped in the war effort.
A doctor is explaining to the man
That he must take him away
And the old man follows
Leaving his wife in her light green dress.
She’s noticed now and in trying to follow
Looses her elderly elegance
As she tries to stand from the chair
I look away. She goes down the hall.
She is too slow. The hall is empty.
She returns without her husband
Muttering to herself.

In some odd sense
I felt this was rehearsal
For this gentleman’s demise.




Coffee Shop Space Ship

I’m sitting in a coffee shop
As I watch traffic rush away from
My corner window
Feels like the edge of a world
That’s passing away from me
As if I dropped it out of disgust
But I see now so much beauty:
From the scattered vagrants
To the business people who
Scatter around them;
From the young woman
Pursued by a cloud of smoke
To the man smoking a cigarette
On the other side of the street;
From couples in stride
To singles standing still;
To me: taking off in my
Coffee shop space ship:
Solitary confinement
In the darkness of outer space.




Malibu Dream

I had a Malibu Dream
In Westwood Village
Thinking about the warm sun
On my skin, slowly crisping.
And a soft beach scene
Based somewhere in Southern France.
And I’m thinking how
I’m not supposed to be here
With these people and
They’re friends
Estranged from myself I think:
I deserve to be somewhere
Beautiful.
©Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

~Liam. <3

Yeh, I know. . .Mooooore poetry

Not that I really think anyone read this but eh its habitual now.
O, and if your stealing this I will find out and I will do the most ungodly things to you.
Enjoy :]


A Cigarette and a Compliment

You know you are at your lowest
When you go from store to store
Neighborhood to neighborhood
In search of the right pack of cigarettes
And finally settle for a freebee
From a stranger who watched you
Enter the store anxiously
And leave cussing under your breath:

“Do you need a cigarette?”
She asks kindly
I was taken off guard;
“O, uhm, yes. Please!”
She shuffled six packs
Of cheap alcohol to dig
In a rather large purse
And produced the damn things.
“Here.” And pause - as I take it.
“You smell good—
Whatever that is.”
Again, I am taken of guard;
“O, thanks.” I laugh nervously
As she looks at me gently,
But also like a piece of meat
Somehow at the same time.
“Do you have a lighter?”
I ask somewhat embarrassed.
“O yeh. Here.” Again from the purse
And again, I: “Ah, Thanks.”
She almost lit it for me
But I delicately took it,
Rudely took it, away.
I lit up and returned it.
“O god, thank you.”
I could sense something;
Feel it crawling up my spine.
I slowly drifted away
Across the empty parking lot
Feeling like I used my looks(ha!),
My charm(haha!),
And a year or so of acting classes
To get what I needed to forget
That damn dial-tone ringing
Provocatively in my head.
If only she were younger
And thinner. Or if only
I was less picky
I would have asked her
Where her night begins
And followed her to the ends.

But I’m not gunna put out
For a cigarette and a compliment.

I finish the cigarette at my car
Leaning on it like some junkie;
Like some scumbag shithead.
I could feel everything move
Fluidly again. I flicked it down,
Stomped it out, swam into
The driver seat of my car,
Started it, waited, waited, waited,
Waited, checked, waited, no calls,
Or texts. No nothing. I turn on
The radio, send out texts, call
A person or two. No returns.
She probably had pretty friends
Right now I’d put out
For a cigarette and a compliment.

© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

Snickers anyone?

Dinner
I’m hungry
But I hate eating alone
I’ve got text on a screen
Representing a companion
But I don’t ask
Because I am horrid
At dinner table conversation
Somewhere in my childhood
I befouled my parent’s sacred table
Repeatedly and without shame
And now I am socially crippled.


Dinner 2
I think I’m hungry
I’m having an internalized
Debate on whether to take the fall
And go out for dinner
But then, I ask myself, who with?
Tables are awkwardly built
For two these days.

© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

Kind of sprouted at random

Old

Even as I tell
An old friend
About how great
You and I were
Together—
The good times are replaced
By memories of how
I fucked you
Metaphorically
Speaking
The colour fades
From an arm chair
As I do from
My own life
Effervescently
Playing itself
In a fashion
Of a record that
Slowly sounds incredibly
Old.

© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

New Poem

See You (Scrambled Eggs)

I dropped her
Like a cigarette
Into an ash tray
Spent, but still
Alive. Somewhat.

I grabbed at air
Like bottles
Filled with freedom.

Now,
I’m riding
A snail to victory:
To a finish line.
See you.
See you there.

There.
I load
Pills in my mouth
Like bullets in a clip
Bam!
Scrambled eggs
All over the place.

© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.


Sauce

Its funny how I tell my friends
I don’t miss you
Yet
I do and I don’t.
I miss not having
Nightmares:
Scrambled eggs
Running from
That hole in my mind.
But you? No.
More, myself
Before me
And the blender
Crossed paths
And I got sauced
Constantly.

© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

Surprise

Surprise
The clouds are rolling up my stairs
A semi-formulated thunderstorm
Swirls at the door to my room
I am sitting on the other side
I could feel it coming, not surprised.
The door explodes in a mixture of
Blue electricity and fire.
I am thrown back against the wall
I could feel it coming, not surprised.
The tail end of the storm is at the stairs
As the head begins moving its way to my ceiling
More and more it grows with great fever.
There is nothing now, just this storm
Consuming my room from ceiling to floor.
I could feel it coming, not surprised.
Crawling slowly from my reclined position
I locate the eye of the storm and stand.
The storm swirls about me, I reach out my hands
I hung my head—
Time stopped instantly.
Then from opposite sides of the storm
Two arms of light appeared
Moving towards my arms
I could feel their heat:
The pure electricity.
I completed the circuit
The mass energy gathering inside
My body exploded in a mixture of
Blue electricity and charred body parts.
But, my consciousness carries on inside
A euthanasia needle, a bullet
Streaming from a gun to someone’s head,
A noose dangling in a small hotel room,
A plastic bag being pulled down over a face,
A razor blade across someone’s wrists,
A bottle of alcohol beside pills on a nightstand;
I didn’t see it coming, I was so surprised.

© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.