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Requiem for Near-Consciousness
by Max BouilletI tied myself to a Helium balloon
and dreamed of falling skyward
in an attempt to tether myself to God.
But after God reviewed creation,
He declares Himself an atheist and vanishes.
My soul slips
exposing my double helix.
(It reeks of childbirth and
resonates with the shudders of ecstasy.)
Its strands stretch back
through infinity and I realize
it is an umbilical cord
attaching me to a tangible God.
Reality oozes from my pores
and drips into my coffee
as I am snapped back from my dream.
Sticky notes flutter around my head
and remind me that lately,
my lint trap is full of flags
and fallen angels.
I try to unfold crumpled wings and fabric,
but the damage is too great.
So, I wrap them in my
voters registration card
and lay them to rest in my toilet.
Once again, I succumb to slumber
and tumble end over end
landing on my DNA.
I look forward and back
and realize we are truly we
and not a group of I.
We are merely cross-sections
of this creature called humanity
as it spirals through the millennia.
A sequence of varied inevitabilities
whose infinite conclusions
are the future dead.
Morning offers no solace
to gutted pillows, shattered preconceptions,
and pictures of Elvis shedding
convoluted excuses for failed diets
and bad coffee.
The hum of the television informs
that the government is issuing
motion sickness tablets
for falling heroes
as they clutch teddy-bears, M-16s,
and pictures of people theyll
never see again.
Too late the blue sky
chokes on the feathers from pillow fights
of dying children in foreign lands.
After taking my anti-depressants with Vodka,
I once again visit my double helix
in the geography of my dreams.
I see our DNA
as ever-branching cracks in breaking glass;
quasi-cognizant motion which has become
the beauty inherent in destruction
and the logic within a complex chaotic system
where we are at once
the dead, the living, and the waiting to be born.
We stretch through space and time
with what can only be called
passionate apathy.
I wake in the eve
and read the witty saying on my coffee mug,
Some people read the bible
and see only words.
Some people read a soup label
and derive the meaning of life.
I eat the soup.
Later, I go to my poetry circle
and try to explain my visions
to friends who indulge my sickness.
For we are the only gods left,
playing Twister on Saturday nights
and writing poetry
on each others butts. 11/21/2003 Author's Note: This was an obsessive thought. In my mind, I saw pictorial concepts that I had great difficulty articulating. The odd numbered stanzas are the pictorial concepts expressed in words, while the even numbered stanzas were my attempts at understanding and dealing with these concepts while being bombarded with personal experiences and the drone of everyday life.
Posted on 11/21/2003
Copyright © 2024 Max Bouillet
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Agnes Eva on 11/21/03 at 09:00 PM this was an absolutely fascinating mind trip, not just for a view of a single mind, but that transcendent vision of humanity about The Truth of which some of us are lucky enough to fully shockingly dream on. great thoughts, you did a good job capturing an otherwise elusive mental process |
| Posted by Michele Schottelkorb on 11/22/03 at 03:47 AM this poem has a very detached, disillusioned feeling to it... and i love it... you hit upon the reality of our lives and what our existence is here... modern life gives us this wonderful gift of being able to write about anti-depressants chased by vodka and creation all in the same breath... thank you for just a little more clarity, dear dear man... you are brilliant... blessings... |
| Posted by Charles E Minshall on 11/22/03 at 05:58 AM Far out there but funtastic Max....Charlie |
| Posted by Karl Waldbauer on 11/22/03 at 06:20 AM Max, I'm not sure what chemicals this poem released in my brain, but I'm seeing this humorous, surreal, cinema verite montage blasting through my head. Thanks! |
| Posted by Marjorie Anne Reagan on 11/22/03 at 06:21 AM I find this real. God being an atheist how else can he cope with the sufferings of the world? |
| Posted by Anne Engelen on 11/22/03 at 12:26 PM Gosh Max, the mind trips you take. They are pretty powerful and the way you are able to project them on your readers is just amazing. I don't want to go on about everything that spoke to me in this piece, because it took me on a mind trip of my own. You have a brilliant mind for sure! |
| Posted by Mainon A Schwartz on 11/22/03 at 02:26 PM What a visit to your DNA, not to mention a glimpse of those inspired neurons and dendrites... |
| Posted by Graeme Fielden on 11/22/03 at 06:38 PM very creative Max...but I've warned you about those mushrooms... ;) |
| Posted by Scott Cadence on 11/23/03 at 12:25 AM Dynamic and intuitive. Pulling back the curtains of the human psyche and defining the inner workings of human interaction is an everyday event with you. It seems so easy to see your soul in anything you write, and as a reader I am grateful to read it. Great work Max! |
| Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 11/23/03 at 03:07 AM Is this a picture of postmodernism? Too much Vodka causing vacuous dreams? (I prefer the steadiness of God, His faithfulness, His sure purpose in spite of the vanities and vexations of man. Otherwise I too would be as insane!) This poem is either a picture of early dementia or brilliant beyond my comprehension. LOL! ;) |
| Posted by Leslie Ann Eisenberg on 11/23/03 at 04:09 PM my lint trap is full of flags
and fallen angels........I eat the soup.......max, i am so taken with this piece. ...it is beyond brilliant. the world needs to read this......you are a genius with words, flow, choosing first and last lines with major impact. your mind an open sieve for all of us to pass through, and retain the crumbs of genius that remain, remain, remain. |
| Posted by Laura Doom on 11/23/03 at 05:08 PM Metaphysical musings scribbled on other people's butts - what a satisfying image :>] and poetry both as impotence and inspiration. If only all obsessions were this expansive...
Always a pleasure to read your mind Max |
| Posted by Glenn Currier on 11/24/03 at 04:11 AM You twist me in and out of singular experiences of youman (vodka and all) and then you take me around the eternal circle unbound by youman or human - the All. I revere your irreverence and bow to the bow of your Creativity. |
| Posted by Beth K Hannah on 11/24/03 at 08:17 PM abstract as the end of the world, but great all the same! |
| Posted by Rachelle Howe on 11/25/03 at 03:49 PM O.o shiney thing. O.O i'm sitting here, and suddenly am feeling dumber, not for the intake of your words, but the fact that i thought *I* looked at the world abstractly. perhaps i'm more normal than i think. however, it GRABS, it swallows, it stings. and its true. to you, to me, and perhaps when god believes in himself, well, the world will no longer be a giant anesthetic. |
| Posted by Ginette T Belle on 11/25/03 at 05:05 PM extremely, well written...flow of thought is amazing...don't agree with your ideas but you always express yourself so well... |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 11/25/03 at 05:50 PM Quite the thought provoking outpouring Max. Superbly titled, powerful close off. |
| Posted by Alex Smyth on 11/26/03 at 04:31 AM Woah!! What a trip! What a flashback!(what year were you in when you wrote this?) I am speechless at the freeflow of images, the expressions, impressions....love the irreverance (or is that hopelessness)of the last stanza, lets not take ourselves toooooo seriously;o) |
| Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 12/09/03 at 01:26 PM this speaks and is heard, lest we have lent out our ears. |
| Posted by Katerina T Nix on 03/09/04 at 04:28 AM Wow! great imagery, great form, great flow, great....words, great everything. :) Kat |
| Posted by Lindsay Sanders on 03/13/04 at 05:40 PM that was one of the most interesting, vivid, and mind-blowing trips a poem has ever taken me on. this is incredible max! |
| Posted by Bethany Lee on 12/21/06 at 02:49 AM "my lint trap is full of flags
and fallen angels"...
You make me laugh, and think seriously all in one piece and I love that about your style... |
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