The Weekend

The weekend

Freeway blowout
Center divider
Or hard shoulder?

Time lapse!
For the dramatic
Stop – roadside – halt—
Stillness – silence – police – sirens
Sober –sober –sober—
Still sober, you got that?

Knock out on the couch
For a hour or so—
Next scene—car won’t start
All over—all over!
Back to apartment
Filthy apartment
Holes in the walls.

Her place – studying
Exhaustion sets in
Sleep—sleep
Three hours nap
Back to the apt
CleanCleanClean
Sleep—sleep.

Sunday morning – Sabbath
A quick ride to work
Thanks, you are great!
Work – work – work
Build personal books
Leaving early – she’s here.

At parent’s house
Church – preach — pray
Dinner – nicely cooked
Back to the apt
Filthy apartment.

Pop new hole in bathroom
Rage at everything
Strewn anywhere
Sleep – sleep.

ⓒ Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

Driving home from her place

The highway panning out
The yellow flickering
Synchronic with the beats—
Speeding music for streets
So empty you would think
A rapture occurred
And god did not want you
Decided to leave you
Behind –home – silent—
Dead, like peace on earth
Back when you gave a damn
About wars – victory—
Or just unsettled
A quiet moment
Much like an admitting
Of defeat to sound
Back when you gave a damn
You don’t, no one does—
Driving home from her place.

4-5-07

ⓒ Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

Human Knowledge, the Soul, and Planes of Existence

Human knowledge is a funny thing: it would completely fail were it not for our educational institutions; schools, libraries, and such and so forth – which continue knowledge. As if to say: our knowledge is without flaw. But is it not possible to be the opposite? Perhaps our knowledge holds us back from spiritual enlightenment. Imagine Sir Isaac Newton was misled? That the apple fell downwards due to his mind’s wondering and searching physically pulled the apple down? What if gravity only exists because it is widely accepted as truth? And what if we stop believing in gravity, will we be able to fly or float? If true, I do not think we would drift off into a vast nothingness unless we so willed. And if so then our minds control events. Buddhists say that there is a shared consciousness – if so is this shared consciousness only the knowledge carried in oral traditions or books? And does this knowledge keep us harnessed to the ground? Does this learned fear of physical death keep us from living – hold us back fully utilizing our minds and/or bodies?
Another question is our existence: what is a person? Is a person a body, soul, or mind? It could be that we are not people as we believe our selves to be: a body inhabited by a consciousness. But what makes a body the ownership of the consciousness? Surely, if I wake tomorrow in a different body I would note the difference from yesterday’s body and feel displaced. So what is stopping the consciousness from wandering? It cannot be an issue of mass – or we would be capable of extracting it from the body, as we do organs. If not mass then what? It is almost troubling to attempt to pin-point from where your own thoughts derive. It must be that there is another layer of existence.
So, it appears the existence we are most perceptive to is the physical. Leading one to conclude that there is an over laying existence: a spiritual one which literally lays on top with our consciousness existing as souls. So, then do our souls simply shadow our physical body movements. Mo, we must be the puppets of our souls! And if this is the case, again - what stops us from being the puppet masters of a different body? There must be an authority of some sort keeping our conscious souls controlling one body. Or is it that our dreams are our consciousness leaving our bodies and having experiences in other bodies? If so, why are dreams not always as vivid as reality? Also, why do they seem to correlate to the past experiences of the original body? Is it that the soul finds a body to practice in? This seems unreasonable and foolish; causing a return to the idea of a greater authority making sure we remain with a certain physical body. Then dreams are just the imagination of the soul attempting to sort through all the sense information received from the physical body. Science, it would seem backs this up.
So, contemplating on such things throughout the day I note that if we were to not teach any of the past knowledge of man we could; perhaps, be free.

~Liam
5-1-07

5 Gs to 500

The temptation of doing dirt
Some easy crime
In some quick time
Seems almost sensible
When evening woes are setting
Like repetitive sunsets.
5 G’s, 1 brief case, a car
A man in a Cadillac
Saying it’s an easy gig
To the man Arizona.

But I turned the offer down
And the paycheck from work
Mocking me for it this Friday
Only five hundred dollars
Is barely enough for rent
5 G’s to 5 hundred
Hardest part is
It was her birthday yesterday
And I couldn’t afford
Anything for her.

ⓒ Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

Peace.

This is it?

This is it?

Early morning sunrise
Is unreal—
Looks like a hungry man
Smearing cold bacon fat
Around dirty dishes
While muttering something
Inaudible–
Best unheard because
His words shatter eardrums
And social orders
Like china out of a canon
Pointed to the floor—
And what if that is it?
Pig grease sunrise
Directed by a man
Who has potential
But never uses it—
The fat stays in the sky
The feet stay on the ground
The fat stays in the sky
The feet stay on the ground.


~Liam 4/19/07

Day Trip

Day Trip

So I drove – I just had to get out. I got on the open road headed north because I have been south too many times before; I know what lies down that path. North, however, is mysterious: the hills seem to grow upon you like giants sneaking up on villagers. If you exit the highway onto the back roads you will notice that they wind as if the car you are in is electricity through the synapses of a rather gifted mental patient. The trees stretch overhead in a foreboding manner – as if they are hands attempting to brush you away; as if they are saying – “No, go away – you are not welcome here.” And you believe it and turn around only to find the road you traveled upon has some how altered form. The road now turns another direction leading you horribly astray while those hands reaching for the sky are telling you to turn back. You cannot, it is too far now. I found this to be true – so I kept driving steady and unyielding - letting my frantic-manic-drop-down-all-of-a-sudden guide me through this unknown place. You see I had driven to where the air is clear, where you can look out of the bay and see the islands dotted off the California coast. Out here where the smog from the city, which is broken like glass, can not penetrate the steep incline. I went here because I was immensely troubled; in fact, I was hesitating upon a much larger issue: the issue of leaving and never returning. Never again setting foot in the dank apartment in which I willfully decided to place myself – never again seeing my so called friends and family from whom I feel so estranged to them that I am almost more comfortable with strangers in small town gas stations. Never again going to my job amidst tall buildings where mad men try to genetically alter mankind to be impervious to disease because, well – let’s just face it: the human race is dying out. But they still want to find a cure, dilute it so you will not be completely cured but just hooked, sell it from behind a counter where their agent in a white coat tells you: “this will make you better”, and keep you coming back for more. Never again saying I am sorry to parents who are set on proving me wrong at every turn and then supporting my endeavors as if the mixed signals they send me in my early 20s are meant to make up for the signals they sent me as a child. Thus, I drove to find my own path through trees with only the thought of her slowing me quick ascents and descents.
I began to run low on gas and searched out a gas station. I walked inside to find the clerk looking at me with one eye – the other was lidless and the fake eyeball was extruding from the eye socket in such a manner I felt that it was searching through my being. It felt almost as if I was looking into what could be as I looked at him from my one eye with the other also fake but with a dropping eyelid. I felt a great force greater than myself saying; “This very well could be you!” And I quickly paid, took my gas soaked in the blood of some soldier so distant from myself, and left. I drove back on the highway: straight back to the place I wanted to be the least. I returned for her and her alone. I drifted past the hills that snuck away like cheeky children and the misting coast like the tears evaporating on a summers day. I parked and walked to my apartment, reached my hand out for that same old fake bronze door knob that is fading from years of use, turned it, and allowed the weight of the door to open itself. Inside it was dark, almost damp as if I had walked into a cave. I closed the door and collapsed onto the uncomfortable, but free, suttee. I sat and pondered my day of almost escaping. Next time – I will take her along with me and then we shan’t return.

New Poem:::Home

Home

I would rather be anywhere
But here
For you see, the roof is too low
And the floor? It is just too high!
O sure, there is a car out back
Into which I could climb and leave
Find a place with low floors and high roofs
I would have to take her with me
Of course
And trespass where only the rain
Dares go
When the sun steals the glory
Shinning gold through ticker-tape clouds
The world, in awe, praises it
But we
We will run into the grey rain
That melts the make-up on the faces
Worn to hide the true persona
We are desperate to keep from others
And then we will become concave
The world?
It will spin as people die out
Vast cities will be cavities
In the earth’s crooked teeth
Many will wonder where we went
Some will suggest another planet
More will say it was aliens
But really we escaped
--That is where I want to be.

ⓒ Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.

~Peace.