1229-3007

Seems these days that I write more than one poem a day and I dont title anything anymore so everything is just gunna turn into dates - whatever. I divide each poem by a little line and a copyright thing. Thanks for reading.

---

122907am(3)
I want to pull
HAND CANONS
Out of my sweatshirt
And paint the word “LOVE”
With bullets and bullet holes
Wait… ive got it all wrong you say?
O dear,
I better take these clips
Out of my hand canons
I better erase what I know
About the word “LOVE”

::START OVER::
I want to give
HAND CANONS
To preschoolers
Chewing gum mid-play
And then have them
All
DROP IT
So that peace
Could be possible
someday
and love
could find a way.

Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

---

123007(am)
Dim the conversations
Echoing inside your head
Make them like these rooms
Only half lit by naked bulbs
Make them something
Seen and not heard
Take those words
Dropping off mind lips
And hang them up
Effervescent and lovely
Recycled from the day’s
Worth of words we hear.
The song plays background
Filler:
Do you still remember
When we were little
We would play in the park
And you asked what happens
When we die
I SAID we forget everything.
It reminds me of
A childhood in London
The circling streets
The swarms of crowds
The day trips to the park
Where I would run
And run and climb trees
Where even the dingy city
Seemed to be ablaze
With summer light
And the car rides home
Streets moving like a slideshow of
Black and white photography
Depicting city
Painting loneliness
Screaming desperation
Crying inherited sorrow.

This is where we go

**Song lyrics from Ólafur Arnald’s “Himinnin er ad hrynja”

Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

slow

122907(am)
Slow drive home to a symphonic reworking
Some call it music, I call it love.
This misty drive otherwise silent so
Incalculably pleasurable
That I dont care
I dive alone.

Past the 76's, Shells, Cheverons
Past the 711's, Vons, Ralphs
Past all the places we buy
Things we don't really need
There is a small place
They call "home"
I hope I find it soon.
Home is much more then just necessity.

Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

---

122907(am2)
Destruction is all the rage these days!
It's all i see anymore
From TV where troops
Are dropping bombs
To us watching the TV in
A country that doesnt
Much care for the war and
Spreads venereal diseases
Labeling it as "holiday cheer".

Truth is: we're all dropping bombs
Brutally murdering civilians.
Just that most of us are homelanders
And our only weapons are our bodies
Irresistible.
Fatal.

Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

Cheers.

ambiguous you

I want a smile to sprawl across your face
The way the nudist lays on a summer beach
We’re talking exposition.

I want a taste of your soul thru your eyes
The way the connoisseur sips a fine wine
We’re talking intimate.

I want a silence to exist within us
The way the smoker pauses for puffs
We’re talking understanding.

Only problem is
You
Do not exist
Yet.

© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

happy holidays?

122507(am)
I came to a realization
Late last night with the help
Of an old friend from high school.
Our conversation weaving
The same way Mulholland Dr
Whips sharp corners through this town
It turns out; and this is a bit funny really,
That I have never actually been in love
For the simple reason
Ive never been lost in someone’s eyes.
See,
Ive got a big problem with eye contact:
I don’t make it.
If I do – it’s for a nanosecond
And then I feel nauseous.
(I may have a problem with connections)
[I may always be disconnected].

© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

---

122507(am2)
Ive blown out my voice box.
I shot up into those high decibels
Ricocheting like a thousand
Brightly coloured bouncy balls
Dancing down a street into traffic
Chased by children wildly grasping
And ultimately reaching the road
And stopping – all of a sudden
Everything just stops:
Balls mid-flight, children mid-step
Within inches of their lives, cars
Skidding, smoking wheels,
The thousand screaming mothers
Mid-blood-curdle-scream, one thousand
Fathers dropping tools, running
Out of their thousand garages – everything
Abruptly halted - my thousand vocal cords
All reach capacity and snap.

A moment later the world resumed
With out sound.

© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

---

122507(am3[about 5 min later])
Sometimes late at night
I lay in bed with my eyes open
Unable to sleep, staring blankly
Into the dark shadowscape of my room
Thinking maybe something will come out
Or Ill go in
And find the footsteps I left
Back track to the drawing board
Where I drew the picture poorly—
Erase it and start over
Adding texture here
Shadow there.
Then walk forward from that point A
Not towards point B
Point B is me in Bed eyes open
Breathing darkness.
No, if I back track
Im going to Point C
C is for Creation
After that it’s on to Point D
D is for Destiny
After that Ill stay at Point E
E is for Euphoria.
But
I haven’t found the path
Leading backward-steps
Through a tunnel unlit.
So I stay laying in bed
Eyes open until
Someone slides
The dimmers in the sky
Up. another backwards engineered daY

© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

---

122607(am)
Id like you to meet Mary.
She’s the type of girl
All young boys fall for—
Stay juniors for.
She’s made of dead-end streets
And burnt out grand plans
That lead to her dismal door.
Inside her house
There’s pictures of train wrecks
Capturing every grotesque detail.
As you recline slowly on her couch
Somewhat intermingled with her now
Staring at all the train wrecks
You ask yourself: “How did I
Become mixed up with this.”
She then delicately silences you
Sliding her hand over your mouth.
Marys bad news – you think shes fun
Until she redirects the traffic of your life
Down one of her dead-end streets
Eats up your mind, wastes your time.
Im sorry
Mary
Your just not worth my time.

© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

Not really.

No Junk Bonds

[3 separate poems all written today]

As I sit naked for a moment
After being violently woken
By sunlight breaking and entering
Into my red eye.
Every muscle agony cries large flames.
I’m sitting here naked mid-way through tomorrow
And I think, I wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.

© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

---

This – is – internalized.
This battle uphill
Rages in my psyche
Its why sometimes
You can find me
Cussing out shadows
Breaking air with my hands bare
Convulsing slightly in my bed at 3:33am
(that’s when my evil comes out).
Its why sometimes
When you all want to talk
Derailed trains and speeding cars
My mouth seems stuck shut.

It’s why I walk alone
Its why companions
Are harder to come by
Than the honest in Los Angeles
(they’ve gotta be here somewhere)
It’s why I don’t invest
In junk bonds like
Plastic People INC.

© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

---

On these faux-gold walkways
“Please and Thank You” ’s
Will get yer teeth knocked
The fuck
Out.

© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

[cheers]

I am

I am
Old haggard
Slouched and spent
Unfolding his life
Folded in half.
I am
Wayward soldier
Returned to home
Discharged for
Deciding not to side.
I am
The imbalanced
Balance for the
Eternal balancing act.
I am
Unable to continue
Just carrying on
I need to carry
A little less.
I am
20 years
In the making
The masterpiece
Unfinished
I am

© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

Simple pleasures

Simple pleasures
(The way this landfill
Looks in setting light
Driving the speed limit
Because you have the time
Roaming the hills at sunrise
Because you never slept
Watching those couples handhold
Feeling only freedom yourself
The sun flickering through
Swaying tree branches backlit blue
Walking into an empty house
Because everyone else is busy
Sleeping away the lonely hours
Then waking up happy solitude
The way the bass vibrates
Throughout your bones
Carrying a secret
That is actually secret
A fresh haircut
That’s rejuvenating
Feeling warm eyes
Massaging you
Being in that right place
At that right time)
Makes life worth living.

© 2007 Liam Elliott. All Rights Reserved

for the War Children

Oh look, wasn’t Suzy a pretty young lady?
Shame about the stray bullet that popped her head.
And look at little James, wasn’t he handsome?
Shame about the napalm that melted his face.
Hey, there’s his friend: little Rafael – wasn’t he so big for his age?
Shame his village was disintegrated by an atomic blast.
Check out Jennie – wasn’t she so smart even for a child?
Shame a group of soldiers raped her and left her dead.
And look at all the parents weeping at the funerals
Blaming everyone but themselves.

Those who are directly affected by war
Are our [war] children who inherit
Our violence and hate.

© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

EX

These two pieces are related - originally part of one whole but then separated (seems fitting haha)

When I told my mother
Ive never met anyone
Who could keep up with me
She told me:
Stop running.

When I called her by her first name;
The way I always do - always will,
And told her with plain words:
Im not running—
Just walking
While everyone else lays down
She laughed.

And its raining – almost x-mas;
Emphasis on EX because
We dumped the Jesus Christ out
And replaced him with light trees and
Presents that last about as long as love
And that’s never very long these days.
Honestly, this season brews atomic bombs in my gut
Then sets of mutant chain reactions in my head.
Why?
Because everyone gets so nostalgic
About whoever they’ve loved since last year—
And it makes me sick cos
-They all dropped and broke
Like fine china hurtled to stone floors.
Hey!
Realize this:
Our hearts are that stone tiling
That china?
Yeh, its true love;
Crippled and codependent
And it’s so one-dimensional.
But it’s the prettiest thing
You’ve ever let slip by.

© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

---

When I got home today
I found a new message from an ex-lover.
You know the one: the girl you loved
Fervently briefly then
Threw on the floor and walked out
Into the blizzard.
And I won’t lie to you all
That yeh, I looked back
And yep. I kept walking.
Now its 2 days before what would’ve been
A one-year anniversary if I hadn’t
Aborted the mission halfway
(And I don’t regret leaving)
It was inevitable
Like burning the bridge
Back to a broken home.
So I,
Home now with this message
A lurking shadow in my dark,
Sit here mother’s words ringing:
Stop running
Stop running.
But Mum, it’s the only way
This world keeps turning.
So, I do what I do the very best
Run
Its why I live this lonely life.
Don’t feel flattered, honey—
There’s enough people
That I have cut from my life to fill
A big smiling peace loving country.
This just works best for both of us.

© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

synth sunshine

Do you remember
Holding sunshine
Blissful days were
Everything feels plasticized
Like lips pressed against yours
Like hips pressed against yours
Like you’re need to feel
And to Novocain the rest?

Well, I remember swallowing bullets
And the slow release inside my belly
An explosion of joy. I remember how
My sunshine has always been synthesized,
Processed, packaged, and sold with a smile
From a mouth missing more teeth
Then the dreams I wake up from.

© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

sobur(st)

Transcend the borderlines:
This skin and bone - the cage.

Move past what your finger
Tips feel and reach out
Without moving muscles
Without moving molecules.

Transcend the frequency:
This physicality – the lie.

© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

2nte

While bussing home
I think about how
Living today makes us cold—
It’s easier to not care
If people are just programs
And their death is just
A runtime error.

The man next to me
Is leaning back and forth
Compulsively/drunkly/incontrollably
This program has a glitch.

As we near my stop
And consequentially his too
I rise and glance down
At the seat in front of me
Someone has sharpied “METH” on it
Maybe that’s his malfunction—

Or perhaps society praises
Fucking up
The same way Christians praise
Jesus Christ.

© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

PS: This is not a bash on religion - just a statement of polar opposites so lets not do the hate mail thing.

vroooom

I have a car
That runs on nothing
But my dreams!!
. . .
Whats that?
It broke down?
Nevermind then.

© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

sshhhhh

I would give you
All my dog-eared pages
If I thought you’d read.
I would say
So much more
If I thought you listened.

© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

ghost

I have no reason to carry on
Goodbyes and hellos
Are now equilaterally related
Joints, alcohol, and everything else
Breeds the most transient friends
It never lasts when you’re sober
Hello, it was nice knowing you.

© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.