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