forgive me my blogg
as i forgive those who write against us
i mean
what are the chances
that i could coff up something brilliant here
every day?!
i mean
i bet even milkshakespeare
wasnt on the money everyday
i realise yesterdays blogg was merely treading water
what can you do with that?
so what can i give ya today?
its a medium day here
good weather for mediums
and re taling spirits
theyre all around
if we but had the apparatii
to apprehend them
i remember days like these
when i stayed with aunty may d.
aunty may was the most lovely lady
who looked after me when i was four
she had the bluest blackest hair i had ever seen
she had a bee hive hair do
and wild sunglasses
she had a lie down every afternoon
she loved the musicals like oklahoma
carousel
etc
she taught me the words to some of the songs
she explained the story of carousel to me
i was besotted
well you see there was this man
and his wife was having a baby
but when he thought it might be a girl
he was nervous coz he was quite poor
and he went out and robbed a bank...
why if he was having a girl did he rob the bank?
well i suppose he felt he would need more money
for clothes and things as she grew up....
anyway
he fell over on his own dagger accidently
and he died...
but years later
his daughter goes into a place
and the father is there as a ghost
and he talks to her, gives her advice..
i thought that was an amazing thing
when i was 4
so amazed by this concept
it seems to set me off on a course
where i expected,
nay,
demanded something extra ordinary
from music film whatever
if it didnae have that somehow otherworldly thing
then you could count me out
i liked religion at school
it was always me and some perplexed minister
debating some arcane biblical quibble
while the rest of the class mucked up
i mean
say what you like about the bible
but
theres plenty of otherworldly stuff in there
come on its a great read
have you read it?
in small chunks its not badde stuff
(even when you know the ending)
then as a kid
i always had the knack of finding books
in libraries that blue my mynde
lots of weird politically incorrect
DARK stuff
its all comin; out in my songs all the time
thanks aunty may d.
you looked after me just fine
and
you set me on my lifes predilection
one rainy afternoon in 1959
in mt st thomas nsw
i realised what i had to do
i had to try to describe
what could possibly be out there
and
in here
they dont make em like that lady anymore
i sure wish eve and aurora could spend an afternoon with her
ok my frends
thats a all
sk
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Monday, January 30, 2006
i wish that i had sailed the darkened seas...
where was i ?
i went to bed saturday nite
now its monday morn
oh sorry fiendss
didja miss me while i was away?
didja play my records all night long..?
well im back
and this time its personal
i been painting smoking listening
i been listening to some things
trying to work out howcome i still
love em
after so many years
moonlight mile by the rolling stones
jesus i love that song
i dunno what mick jagger means anymore
but when he wrote the words to this song
he was top of his game
and the music
evoking the wide spaces of america
im coming sister and im dreaming
im driving down your moonlight mile
the strings comin in
you can feel those green shadows swimming around ya
i wish id written that one
what else..
the cocteau twins
eno
single gun theory
loo read
tea wrecks
the usual stuff
i listen and i paint
and it all joins up
till im painting the music
and its going round and round
i finished shakespeare in bondi
its another mastahpiece
what can i say?
im tired of the louvre begging me for an xhibition
the da vischy code scared me off
gee this bloggy is refusing to coagulate today
i cant get onto the main vein here
its already 10 36
its already about 90 degrees farenheight
its already yesterday
the doodles back at skool tomorrow
the wheel turns
the silly season is over
sk gotta do all those things
he been procrastinating doing
beard needs a trim
"you look like father christmas, man"
my studio needs clearing up
pastel dust everywhere
dried up paint
pencil shavings
bits and bobs all over the plaice
random papers blowing around
toys and mags
i hate cleaning up
unless im listening to a good record
then i dont mind
im still waiting for the main thrust of this blog
to come to me
some poem
some rant
some rave
it aint happening
sometimes its like that
a gig that dont connect
a song that dont like to be sung
a picture you cant draw
a blog with no perceivable theme
ive already down my laps
and ive already done my lapse
beat my chi gong
meddi tated
i feel even steven
equilibrium
poised between the past and the future
between birth and death
the huge mystery still hardly even guessed at
51 years
hardly anything figgered out yet
wasting my time i guess
listening to my E go
cmon god
gimme a break
why is it so hard to even grasp ya for a nano sec
i dunno
i got no answers today
im just a civilian
im just a bohemian fool
with a bloggy
and not much to say today
trying to stretch it out
even tho it aint goin' nowhere
in partickular
a holding pattern
whatever you think
insert yer own clever observations in the comments section
go on
knock yerself out
hey
you wanna take over for me...?
be my ghostblogwriter?
can you mix yer metaphors?
an aphorism for every occaision?
are you over 18 with a currant drivers licence?
raisin hell?
is you disposable income over 100 k with
bonuses and key to vip pissoir?
do you ever watch olde rockers
and think
"gee i could do that"
do you have an aptitude for jangly guitars
and wistful mistful wurds
apply here
sending your full names
your previous lives
your most unspeakable wishes
and a good nude polaroid
and you may be
helping me
put my next blogge together
and accompanying me
on a ten day
all expenses paid
holiday
somewhere nice
sooner or later
AAARGH!
i love you
eeek im mentioning you
handy youre mentioned too
but careful with the vegan jokes buddy
eating animals aint no laffing matter!
who else
krissy the groupie...
whose groupie were ya?
what was he like?
better than me?
impossible!
capt hession, my olde mate!!
anonymous, you bastard!
anonymous, hi, how are ya?
diane ooooh you are so nice to me!
cecilia oh i love you...remember montreal? sk in a dress?
my little brudder russell
this was all your idea!
michael h, you are a gentleman!
m w m are you reading today?
dutch pee air what a trooper
and yer still handsome after all these years
the boys in england...you pasty pale pommies
the oirish contingent, toppo the morning to ya
the swedes hej hej hej ..jag alskar er
the french....big deal
the germans...get me a bmw ad baby
i dunno who else is there
if i forgot you
tuff luck
it means i love you even more
i just couldnt remember ya thats all
love love love
sk
i went to bed saturday nite
now its monday morn
oh sorry fiendss
didja miss me while i was away?
didja play my records all night long..?
well im back
and this time its personal
i been painting smoking listening
i been listening to some things
trying to work out howcome i still
love em
after so many years
moonlight mile by the rolling stones
jesus i love that song
i dunno what mick jagger means anymore
but when he wrote the words to this song
he was top of his game
and the music
evoking the wide spaces of america
im coming sister and im dreaming
im driving down your moonlight mile
the strings comin in
you can feel those green shadows swimming around ya
i wish id written that one
what else..
the cocteau twins
eno
single gun theory
loo read
tea wrecks
the usual stuff
i listen and i paint
and it all joins up
till im painting the music
and its going round and round
i finished shakespeare in bondi
its another mastahpiece
what can i say?
im tired of the louvre begging me for an xhibition
the da vischy code scared me off
gee this bloggy is refusing to coagulate today
i cant get onto the main vein here
its already 10 36
its already about 90 degrees farenheight
its already yesterday
the doodles back at skool tomorrow
the wheel turns
the silly season is over
sk gotta do all those things
he been procrastinating doing
beard needs a trim
"you look like father christmas, man"
my studio needs clearing up
pastel dust everywhere
dried up paint
pencil shavings
bits and bobs all over the plaice
random papers blowing around
toys and mags
i hate cleaning up
unless im listening to a good record
then i dont mind
im still waiting for the main thrust of this blog
to come to me
some poem
some rant
some rave
it aint happening
sometimes its like that
a gig that dont connect
a song that dont like to be sung
a picture you cant draw
a blog with no perceivable theme
ive already down my laps
and ive already done my lapse
beat my chi gong
meddi tated
i feel even steven
equilibrium
poised between the past and the future
between birth and death
the huge mystery still hardly even guessed at
51 years
hardly anything figgered out yet
wasting my time i guess
listening to my E go
cmon god
gimme a break
why is it so hard to even grasp ya for a nano sec
i dunno
i got no answers today
im just a civilian
im just a bohemian fool
with a bloggy
and not much to say today
trying to stretch it out
even tho it aint goin' nowhere
in partickular
a holding pattern
whatever you think
insert yer own clever observations in the comments section
go on
knock yerself out
hey
you wanna take over for me...?
be my ghostblogwriter?
can you mix yer metaphors?
an aphorism for every occaision?
are you over 18 with a currant drivers licence?
raisin hell?
is you disposable income over 100 k with
bonuses and key to vip pissoir?
do you ever watch olde rockers
and think
"gee i could do that"
do you have an aptitude for jangly guitars
and wistful mistful wurds
apply here
sending your full names
your previous lives
your most unspeakable wishes
and a good nude polaroid
and you may be
helping me
put my next blogge together
and accompanying me
on a ten day
all expenses paid
holiday
somewhere nice
sooner or later
AAARGH!
i love you
eeek im mentioning you
handy youre mentioned too
but careful with the vegan jokes buddy
eating animals aint no laffing matter!
who else
krissy the groupie...
whose groupie were ya?
what was he like?
better than me?
impossible!
capt hession, my olde mate!!
anonymous, you bastard!
anonymous, hi, how are ya?
diane ooooh you are so nice to me!
cecilia oh i love you...remember montreal? sk in a dress?
my little brudder russell
this was all your idea!
michael h, you are a gentleman!
m w m are you reading today?
dutch pee air what a trooper
and yer still handsome after all these years
the boys in england...you pasty pale pommies
the oirish contingent, toppo the morning to ya
the swedes hej hej hej ..jag alskar er
the french....big deal
the germans...get me a bmw ad baby
i dunno who else is there
if i forgot you
tuff luck
it means i love you even more
i just couldnt remember ya thats all
love love love
sk
Saturday, January 28, 2006
something from the receiver
ok
everything back to abnormal
whatever i was gonna say yesterday
has flown from my head
i notice thre are small black ants
running all over my terminal here
its so noisy in here
hard for my imagination to take off
never mind
all that
as an incredible co incidence yesterday
i bumped into mr frankie k. a great musician
and a friend from the emerald aisle
very nice guitarist
who your humble scribbler met under
embarrassing circumstances
20 years ago
(ok oldetimer, were gonna hear it
whether we want to
or not..
aint we?)
yep
you are
it was like this...
your screen warps
you are inna limo
outside its a snowy cold day
turning into night
its 1986
your somewear up new england way
tonite your band is playing an ice rink
and for some reason
some dude has laid it all on
limos, accom thats like these
individual named winter wunderland cottages
in some little forest
now sk and boize
zipping down ye olde highway
imaginin their bigge rock starz
on their way to an important gigge
ya get to the ice rinky dinky
its huge baby-o
wow the fantasy is perpetuated...
we must be huge here...
theres fuckin' security men everywhere
SECURITY MEN !!
wow im gonna need some protecting
from that wilde space rockin'
conneckykutt crowd
or wherever we are...
oh kay
nice catering
veggie food
guacemole dip....
BLUE corn chips, ok
im gettin impressed
this gigge could be ye olde rip snorter
oh we're gonna feel like a real group...
we start yonder soundcheck
we are just doing myrrrhhh when
some uvver bleedin' groop arrive
standin round staring
or glaring
at yer fave bands goode soundcheck
sk slings down his fender basse
carefully
minces off stage in a huffy
who the hell are these druids
raining on my little parade
here in this snowy forest ice rink
in the middle o nowear
tonite was gonna be our night...
nervous and long sufferin' tour manny:
well uh steve uh theres a bitta confusion...
confusion..CONFUSION! what confusion??!!
well there two groopz playin in icy rinc tonite...
who are this uvver groop...?
theyre called CACTUS WORLD NEWS
the name sends fear into my innards
aint they from ireland?
yep.
somethin to do with you too
yep.and their album is 36 on
the blah blah blah chart
with the bullet, baybee.
sk all hot and bovvered
but says t. manny
the contract aint cleer who goes on first..
what? us open for them? us
the best aussie space rock band ever?
the guys who made heyday?
the orrible urch from bondi beach
opening for some irish unknown quantities
who may even be ..gulp...POLITICAL?
never the rose without the prick
why does every eden have a fuckin' snake?
we hunker down into frozen silence
the 2 groups checkin' each others haircuts
checkin' each others guitars
checkin' each others position in
the college crossover indy tiny chart
we aint goin on before them
we mutter to each other
angry and sullen
we watch their soundcheck
theyre kinda loud and angry
i'll not bloody go on before loud and angry
irish groopz
how will this be resolved
were both been booked here
in this cold cavernous hall of ice
but it dont say who sposed to go on furst
we getting perplexed
what if it is sposed to be them...
(now heres a perfect example
of takin yer eye off the ball..
while we were sulking and complaining
and being all egotistical and proud
our managers were back home
rakin' in the dollars
and laughin')
so eventually we decide to just turn up late
that way they got no choice
and it worked before
once at a festival in norvern nsw
back in the erly daze
we didnae wanna go on before
the sonny boys
so we just turned up late
the sonny boys had to go on
ha ha
and now it was these guys turn
to learn
dont mess with the crunch
go back to my lil cabin
its even got its own name
we hang out
we hop in limos
we return to gig
the oirish fellas have been and played
we meet em backstage
they dont seem angry
or anyfing
they seem to be kinda smurking
ok whatever
sk retires to dressing room
ah this is more like it
ooowee theres my bottle of mescal
wow i drink it everynite
thinkin it contains mescaline
roll up a number
feeling like a little king here
celtic tiger vanquished for now
steve, i got some bad news for ya
i fix the t. manny with a laconic stoned gaze
not now olde been, im getting my charisma together
ok, man....it dont matter
ten minutes later
we swann onstage
to 8 people
in this enormous echoing empty
place
the security men outnumber the "audience"
ten to one
i see c.w.n. disappear out the back door
those lucky bastard escapin this frozen hell
it just goes to show...
something...
i guess
love on ya
meee
everything back to abnormal
whatever i was gonna say yesterday
has flown from my head
i notice thre are small black ants
running all over my terminal here
its so noisy in here
hard for my imagination to take off
never mind
all that
as an incredible co incidence yesterday
i bumped into mr frankie k. a great musician
and a friend from the emerald aisle
very nice guitarist
who your humble scribbler met under
embarrassing circumstances
20 years ago
(ok oldetimer, were gonna hear it
whether we want to
or not..
aint we?)
yep
you are
it was like this...
your screen warps
you are inna limo
outside its a snowy cold day
turning into night
its 1986
your somewear up new england way
tonite your band is playing an ice rink
and for some reason
some dude has laid it all on
limos, accom thats like these
individual named winter wunderland cottages
in some little forest
now sk and boize
zipping down ye olde highway
imaginin their bigge rock starz
on their way to an important gigge
ya get to the ice rinky dinky
its huge baby-o
wow the fantasy is perpetuated...
we must be huge here...
theres fuckin' security men everywhere
SECURITY MEN !!
wow im gonna need some protecting
from that wilde space rockin'
conneckykutt crowd
or wherever we are...
oh kay
nice catering
veggie food
guacemole dip....
BLUE corn chips, ok
im gettin impressed
this gigge could be ye olde rip snorter
oh we're gonna feel like a real group...
we start yonder soundcheck
we are just doing myrrrhhh when
some uvver bleedin' groop arrive
standin round staring
or glaring
at yer fave bands goode soundcheck
sk slings down his fender basse
carefully
minces off stage in a huffy
who the hell are these druids
raining on my little parade
here in this snowy forest ice rink
in the middle o nowear
tonite was gonna be our night...
nervous and long sufferin' tour manny:
well uh steve uh theres a bitta confusion...
confusion..CONFUSION! what confusion??!!
well there two groopz playin in icy rinc tonite...
who are this uvver groop...?
theyre called CACTUS WORLD NEWS
the name sends fear into my innards
aint they from ireland?
yep.
somethin to do with you too
yep.and their album is 36 on
the blah blah blah chart
with the bullet, baybee.
sk all hot and bovvered
but says t. manny
the contract aint cleer who goes on first..
what? us open for them? us
the best aussie space rock band ever?
the guys who made heyday?
the orrible urch from bondi beach
opening for some irish unknown quantities
who may even be ..gulp...POLITICAL?
never the rose without the prick
why does every eden have a fuckin' snake?
we hunker down into frozen silence
the 2 groups checkin' each others haircuts
checkin' each others guitars
checkin' each others position in
the college crossover indy tiny chart
we aint goin on before them
we mutter to each other
angry and sullen
we watch their soundcheck
theyre kinda loud and angry
i'll not bloody go on before loud and angry
irish groopz
how will this be resolved
were both been booked here
in this cold cavernous hall of ice
but it dont say who sposed to go on furst
we getting perplexed
what if it is sposed to be them...
(now heres a perfect example
of takin yer eye off the ball..
while we were sulking and complaining
and being all egotistical and proud
our managers were back home
rakin' in the dollars
and laughin')
so eventually we decide to just turn up late
that way they got no choice
and it worked before
once at a festival in norvern nsw
back in the erly daze
we didnae wanna go on before
the sonny boys
so we just turned up late
the sonny boys had to go on
ha ha
and now it was these guys turn
to learn
dont mess with the crunch
go back to my lil cabin
its even got its own name
we hang out
we hop in limos
we return to gig
the oirish fellas have been and played
we meet em backstage
they dont seem angry
or anyfing
they seem to be kinda smurking
ok whatever
sk retires to dressing room
ah this is more like it
ooowee theres my bottle of mescal
wow i drink it everynite
thinkin it contains mescaline
roll up a number
feeling like a little king here
celtic tiger vanquished for now
steve, i got some bad news for ya
i fix the t. manny with a laconic stoned gaze
not now olde been, im getting my charisma together
ok, man....it dont matter
ten minutes later
we swann onstage
to 8 people
in this enormous echoing empty
place
the security men outnumber the "audience"
ten to one
i see c.w.n. disappear out the back door
those lucky bastard escapin this frozen hell
it just goes to show...
something...
i guess
love on ya
meee
Friday, January 27, 2006
caution detour
dear little fiends
i hadda lotta argy bargy getting on my own site today
i gave up in disgust and hadda look at
my poor neglected overflowin hotmail
i spy an interview with a vegan mag which i have half completed
i throw all my sk-ish-ness into that
thinkin' yon blogg was a dead duck
now oh no
oh dear
here you are waiting patiently
expecting the next installment
and all i got for ya is this
SORRY
tomorrow tommorrow
everybody gonna know me better
and tommorrow
everybody gonna drink my wine
sk
i hadda lotta argy bargy getting on my own site today
i gave up in disgust and hadda look at
my poor neglected overflowin hotmail
i spy an interview with a vegan mag which i have half completed
i throw all my sk-ish-ness into that
thinkin' yon blogg was a dead duck
now oh no
oh dear
here you are waiting patiently
expecting the next installment
and all i got for ya is this
SORRY
tomorrow tommorrow
everybody gonna know me better
and tommorrow
everybody gonna drink my wine
sk
Thursday, January 26, 2006
my perfect house with no flaws and other storeys
my landlady had strange properties....
it was australia day
i was working on a picture of shakespeare in bondi
it was very very quiet
it was warm and overcast
special magic weather
it was dark in my house
i'd been stumbling along
in the hall
for hours and hours
somewhere up ahead
a door was open
and white light was streaming in
book shelves and toys went by
scooters guitars backpacks shoes
i stopped to rest by a forlorn suitcase
battered by a thousand trips
round and round the world
up n down the east coast
hey i left some of my inklings in here
a graveyard of half finished poems
and paintings that didnt work out
we need you too
they call out
as i fight n flail my way past
hoping desperately
to pick up some momentum
to achieve liftoff
a box of electric junk
cables levers buttons inputs
the debris from my mind
discarded worlds
used up love
you see
you think
that i could turn this off
like
ok i had enough now
but it doesnt stop
a verse of an old number
i whipped up in 1974
"god never looked so lovely
on such a moonlit day
all milky incandescence
all girlish gaunt and grey
the world below him trembled
and cried out in its awe
the rivers turned to silver
the silver turned to war"
all this old stuff hounding me
all the bits n pieces
i was trying so hard
just to move one inch towards that door
where that light shone so sweetly
calling me on through the molasses
of my memories
the syrup of my surplus
the cream of the rest
reminiscent backwater
dream cul de sac
a smoke dream
gone with the wind
after another thousand years
i reached the door
to the kitchen
and was surprised
by myself
hello how are you?
why ask me? you should know
the two of us shook out the drawers
and folded the plates
we rinsed off the goldfish
we polished the moon
we wrote a little song together
he came up with the music
and we did the words together
is this another red herring? i asked
for you maybe he said
but not for me
lets go and wake up the children
ssshhh i said
no dont
anyway theres no one home
all the rooms are empty? he said
i nodded miserably
man pull yerself together! i said to me
we decided to turn
and keep on trying for the door
he was no help
he had all my faults
but none of the strong points
what would they be? he asked smilingly
he dropped off somewhere back there
im better off without him
the hall was still dark
the light was still shining
i was still there/here
moving forward
inch over inch
degree on degree
song by song
see you real soon
sk
it was australia day
i was working on a picture of shakespeare in bondi
it was very very quiet
it was warm and overcast
special magic weather
it was dark in my house
i'd been stumbling along
in the hall
for hours and hours
somewhere up ahead
a door was open
and white light was streaming in
book shelves and toys went by
scooters guitars backpacks shoes
i stopped to rest by a forlorn suitcase
battered by a thousand trips
round and round the world
up n down the east coast
hey i left some of my inklings in here
a graveyard of half finished poems
and paintings that didnt work out
we need you too
they call out
as i fight n flail my way past
hoping desperately
to pick up some momentum
to achieve liftoff
a box of electric junk
cables levers buttons inputs
the debris from my mind
discarded worlds
used up love
you see
you think
that i could turn this off
like
ok i had enough now
but it doesnt stop
a verse of an old number
i whipped up in 1974
"god never looked so lovely
on such a moonlit day
all milky incandescence
all girlish gaunt and grey
the world below him trembled
and cried out in its awe
the rivers turned to silver
the silver turned to war"
all this old stuff hounding me
all the bits n pieces
i was trying so hard
just to move one inch towards that door
where that light shone so sweetly
calling me on through the molasses
of my memories
the syrup of my surplus
the cream of the rest
reminiscent backwater
dream cul de sac
a smoke dream
gone with the wind
after another thousand years
i reached the door
to the kitchen
and was surprised
by myself
hello how are you?
why ask me? you should know
the two of us shook out the drawers
and folded the plates
we rinsed off the goldfish
we polished the moon
we wrote a little song together
he came up with the music
and we did the words together
is this another red herring? i asked
for you maybe he said
but not for me
lets go and wake up the children
ssshhh i said
no dont
anyway theres no one home
all the rooms are empty? he said
i nodded miserably
man pull yerself together! i said to me
we decided to turn
and keep on trying for the door
he was no help
he had all my faults
but none of the strong points
what would they be? he asked smilingly
he dropped off somewhere back there
im better off without him
the hall was still dark
the light was still shining
i was still there/here
moving forward
inch over inch
degree on degree
song by song
see you real soon
sk
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
chooseday morn
god morgon
how are you?
here, its a warm drizzly day
the walls between the worlds
wear thin
and in places
the holes are obvious
memories and ghosts come unbidden
in the warm dark spaces
in still rooms
in the paintings hanging down
in the mirrors
today everyones on their own
the newspapers are blank page
after blank page
the tvs are muted
the screens flicker soothing pattern
alone in this rain world
my memories fill up
teeming
they overflow
i remember days like this
1959 infants school
the rain outside
the smell of banana-y lunchboxes
the bush outside rustling and dripping
the wide eyed wonder of the children
amazed
to be here again
magic realism
suggestion
deep in my cocoon
the years find me
winkle me out
but i wanted to stay there
a little longer
come say the ghosts
we are your audiences
you can tell us everything
ok
im driving thru a tunnel
im in a band
the tunnel seems to be going on forever
the band is having a sleepy argument
i drive on
becoming hypnotised
by the walls which rush pass uniformly
there is no other traffic
in here
the guy in the middle awakes
with a start
he tries to wrestle the wheel from me
he was having a dream that I'd fallen asleep
at the wheel
we get to the gig eventually
my instrument curves away from me
even as i try to play
i meet some people outside
nice show man
you wanna come back to our place
i climb in their house
they seem so vaguely familiar
do you know who we are steve?
they say
no, not really, i mean...
we are the people in yer songs
oh yeah the sunburnt landlord
the guy from an interlude
some rainforest girls
a roman
florian trout
elli, eve and aurora
the glow worm
2 or 3 marias maybe
you can imagine
and others step forward
friends i didnt have
the people i never married
children who very well could have been mine
steve what can we get you?
i wander thru the party
in this rainyday house
somewhere on the edge
or conjunction
or warp in the fabric of my life
ah
its all coming back to me
we sat around laughing and drinking
i look at my watch
that i never wear
cos i cant stand time
its time to go
the door is closing
the chance has passed
the cupboard is empty
ah, its all so unlikely
already a silver sun is pushing thru
melting ghosts
dissolving memory
re-stabilising reality
reestablishing ordinariness
comforting warm ordinariness
sometimes im so glad to see you
sometimes im so glad you stayed
i gotta go now
gotta wander thru the streets
gotta keep on looking for you
even though i know you are here
i told ya yesterday
if you wanna be with me
you gotta embrace paradox
dutch pierre can....
why cant you?
sk
how are you?
here, its a warm drizzly day
the walls between the worlds
wear thin
and in places
the holes are obvious
memories and ghosts come unbidden
in the warm dark spaces
in still rooms
in the paintings hanging down
in the mirrors
today everyones on their own
the newspapers are blank page
after blank page
the tvs are muted
the screens flicker soothing pattern
alone in this rain world
my memories fill up
teeming
they overflow
i remember days like this
1959 infants school
the rain outside
the smell of banana-y lunchboxes
the bush outside rustling and dripping
the wide eyed wonder of the children
amazed
to be here again
magic realism
suggestion
deep in my cocoon
the years find me
winkle me out
but i wanted to stay there
a little longer
come say the ghosts
we are your audiences
you can tell us everything
ok
im driving thru a tunnel
im in a band
the tunnel seems to be going on forever
the band is having a sleepy argument
i drive on
becoming hypnotised
by the walls which rush pass uniformly
there is no other traffic
in here
the guy in the middle awakes
with a start
he tries to wrestle the wheel from me
he was having a dream that I'd fallen asleep
at the wheel
we get to the gig eventually
my instrument curves away from me
even as i try to play
i meet some people outside
nice show man
you wanna come back to our place
i climb in their house
they seem so vaguely familiar
do you know who we are steve?
they say
no, not really, i mean...
we are the people in yer songs
oh yeah the sunburnt landlord
the guy from an interlude
some rainforest girls
a roman
florian trout
elli, eve and aurora
the glow worm
2 or 3 marias maybe
you can imagine
and others step forward
friends i didnt have
the people i never married
children who very well could have been mine
steve what can we get you?
i wander thru the party
in this rainyday house
somewhere on the edge
or conjunction
or warp in the fabric of my life
ah
its all coming back to me
we sat around laughing and drinking
i look at my watch
that i never wear
cos i cant stand time
its time to go
the door is closing
the chance has passed
the cupboard is empty
ah, its all so unlikely
already a silver sun is pushing thru
melting ghosts
dissolving memory
re-stabilising reality
reestablishing ordinariness
comforting warm ordinariness
sometimes im so glad to see you
sometimes im so glad you stayed
i gotta go now
gotta wander thru the streets
gotta keep on looking for you
even though i know you are here
i told ya yesterday
if you wanna be with me
you gotta embrace paradox
dutch pierre can....
why cant you?
sk
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
26 years stuck on my eyes, 26 years what asurprise
i was thinking about numbers
as i was pushing thru the sea pool
about how i been in this group
this band
for over half my life now
we left the main road so long ago
we are making our own way
but still perpetually lost
i am starting to appreciate the paradoox
we are making our own way
but we dont know where we're going
everything is paradox
vishnu says I am and I am not
(the westerner in ya says
oh yeah, thats bullshit
it does not compute
captain, thats quite illogical)
now
you gotta get yer head around it
and you gotta get yer head around
being in something
for this long
having remained true to original manifesto
and yet
having transformed
sometimes so painfully
sometimes so easily
and here we are
still going
that doesnt deserve any applause
just cause we stayed together
maybe it was the path of least resistance
the devils ya know etc
i never in my wildest dreams
OR
nightmares
did i think this would go
on
and
on
and
on
what would 26 year olde sk say
about it all?
who cares, he wouldnt have understood
we have adhered to our manifesto
to create the best music we could
with nice lyrics
and all the accoutrements
according to our heroes
and as anathema to those whose music
we loathed
determination not to fall in all those
money glamour power traps
determination to steer our own little fucking ship
determination to seek the stuff we wanted
and not listening to small minded short sighted musick bizz
types
who disappeared a year or two later
while we have endured, baybee
you wouldnt believe how they try to deflect me
from my course
from my destiny
those clowns and leeches in the bizz
you see its not just writing
cool jangly oblique electric symphonies
thats the easy part
its battling the inevitable idiots
populating that strange stupid thing called
the bizz
so any way
26 years of strummin'
pluckin'
travellin'
waitin'
soundcheckin'
findin" veg restaurants
packin' and repackin'
sayin' goodbyes
scorin'
laughin'
yellin'
singin'
one year
in 1988
we would get up at six in helsinki
after having gone to bed at 3 or 4
we'd fly to rome
do a tv show
(with lotsa italian style argy bargy)
do a loada interviews
do a show
gee its 4 in the morning
dont we get up in an hour
and fly to minneapolis
jesus i might as well stay up
mmm i dont feel too badde
after havin flown here via 3 other airports
customs
queues
taxis
luggage
etc
sk check into nice roomy sorta art deco
oohh sk not feeling so goode
whole world warping in a very NONpsychedelic way
everything falling down on me
world was imploding on me people
can you dig this?
everything that was out there came in on me
i had nothing keeping the outside out
i start weeping uncontrollably
a music bizz type called my manager
comes in my art deco warping bleeding room
why are you crying guy?
your album just moved up the charts a few spots....!
sk has 2 big shots o brandy fast as room service
can bring em up
now its a good thing that i dont really drink much
and have NEVER really been drunk in my life
cos the brandy slugs me
hammers me back into
this theatrette
we call "reality"
manager whisks tired and emotional singa
off to hospytal
this man is exhausted says cluey doc
he needs 3 weeks off right now
sure sure says manny
i'll see to it
next morning post my nervous breakthroughdown
im up at 7 touring sam fucking goodys warehouse
in st paulie
meeting and greeting bewildered staff
at this stoned reclusive aussie space rocker
who don' wanna be there a'meetin' em
and is just keeping that BIGGE nasty feelin' at bay
you see folks
once that levee in yer head breaks...
its gonna happen easier the second time round
i thank all my gods
that i never had that feeling again
even getting off ye olde gear
but i seen others gettin' it
and its somethin' to be avoided
thats for sure
anyway i did get my day off eventually
3 weeks later
on a train between washington and somewhere else
much farther north
maybe up there
where mike baroney from new haven
used to come and see us
i tell you touring can be a lotta fun
it can also be the most infuriating
slow stupid fucking runaround
waiting for people
sitting and travelling with the same bunch
turns you into something
you didnt wanna be
so you gotta resist yerself
as well as the imbeciles out there
hell bent on turning the band
into whatever was "bigge" at that point in time
imagine if yer humble hero had listened
i'd be a kiltwearin' breakdancin'newromantic
grungin'screamin' wreck
i always thought
why dontcha get yer own band, pal
then you can try these pathetic OBVIOUS ideas
out yerself
and leave me be
i only tell you all this
deer reeders
so you may imagine a little
of the determination
that was needed
to be here with you today
still proud of my band
we're oldies
but we're goodies
i reckon anyway
see ya round
sk
as i was pushing thru the sea pool
about how i been in this group
this band
for over half my life now
we left the main road so long ago
we are making our own way
but still perpetually lost
i am starting to appreciate the paradoox
we are making our own way
but we dont know where we're going
everything is paradox
vishnu says I am and I am not
(the westerner in ya says
oh yeah, thats bullshit
it does not compute
captain, thats quite illogical)
now
you gotta get yer head around it
and you gotta get yer head around
being in something
for this long
having remained true to original manifesto
and yet
having transformed
sometimes so painfully
sometimes so easily
and here we are
still going
that doesnt deserve any applause
just cause we stayed together
maybe it was the path of least resistance
the devils ya know etc
i never in my wildest dreams
OR
nightmares
did i think this would go
on
and
on
and
on
what would 26 year olde sk say
about it all?
who cares, he wouldnt have understood
we have adhered to our manifesto
to create the best music we could
with nice lyrics
and all the accoutrements
according to our heroes
and as anathema to those whose music
we loathed
determination not to fall in all those
money glamour power traps
determination to steer our own little fucking ship
determination to seek the stuff we wanted
and not listening to small minded short sighted musick bizz
types
who disappeared a year or two later
while we have endured, baybee
you wouldnt believe how they try to deflect me
from my course
from my destiny
those clowns and leeches in the bizz
you see its not just writing
cool jangly oblique electric symphonies
thats the easy part
its battling the inevitable idiots
populating that strange stupid thing called
the bizz
so any way
26 years of strummin'
pluckin'
travellin'
waitin'
soundcheckin'
findin" veg restaurants
packin' and repackin'
sayin' goodbyes
scorin'
laughin'
yellin'
singin'
one year
in 1988
we would get up at six in helsinki
after having gone to bed at 3 or 4
we'd fly to rome
do a tv show
(with lotsa italian style argy bargy)
do a loada interviews
do a show
gee its 4 in the morning
dont we get up in an hour
and fly to minneapolis
jesus i might as well stay up
mmm i dont feel too badde
after havin flown here via 3 other airports
customs
queues
taxis
luggage
etc
sk check into nice roomy sorta art deco
oohh sk not feeling so goode
whole world warping in a very NONpsychedelic way
everything falling down on me
world was imploding on me people
can you dig this?
everything that was out there came in on me
i had nothing keeping the outside out
i start weeping uncontrollably
a music bizz type called my manager
comes in my art deco warping bleeding room
why are you crying guy?
your album just moved up the charts a few spots....!
sk has 2 big shots o brandy fast as room service
can bring em up
now its a good thing that i dont really drink much
and have NEVER really been drunk in my life
cos the brandy slugs me
hammers me back into
this theatrette
we call "reality"
manager whisks tired and emotional singa
off to hospytal
this man is exhausted says cluey doc
he needs 3 weeks off right now
sure sure says manny
i'll see to it
next morning post my nervous breakthroughdown
im up at 7 touring sam fucking goodys warehouse
in st paulie
meeting and greeting bewildered staff
at this stoned reclusive aussie space rocker
who don' wanna be there a'meetin' em
and is just keeping that BIGGE nasty feelin' at bay
you see folks
once that levee in yer head breaks...
its gonna happen easier the second time round
i thank all my gods
that i never had that feeling again
even getting off ye olde gear
but i seen others gettin' it
and its somethin' to be avoided
thats for sure
anyway i did get my day off eventually
3 weeks later
on a train between washington and somewhere else
much farther north
maybe up there
where mike baroney from new haven
used to come and see us
i tell you touring can be a lotta fun
it can also be the most infuriating
slow stupid fucking runaround
waiting for people
sitting and travelling with the same bunch
turns you into something
you didnt wanna be
so you gotta resist yerself
as well as the imbeciles out there
hell bent on turning the band
into whatever was "bigge" at that point in time
imagine if yer humble hero had listened
i'd be a kiltwearin' breakdancin'newromantic
grungin'screamin' wreck
i always thought
why dontcha get yer own band, pal
then you can try these pathetic OBVIOUS ideas
out yerself
and leave me be
i only tell you all this
deer reeders
so you may imagine a little
of the determination
that was needed
to be here with you today
still proud of my band
we're oldies
but we're goodies
i reckon anyway
see ya round
sk
Monday, January 23, 2006
monday monday, cant trust that day
morning, fiendss
today not a goode day
for yer humble scribe
gotta take yon kidss for innoculations
like many many things in this world
and this age
youre doomed if ya do
youre doomed if ya dont
theres a mountain o literature
why ya should
why ya shouldnt...
didja know, frinstance
that some of the injections are suspended in mercury???
gee i really wanna shoot lil baby bouncer
up with f$^&$ing quicksilver, dont i
poor lil scarlet gurl gotta have THREE shots today
this morning evie says
dad i dreamed you guys forgot we gotta have injections today
dream on, lil sister
you gonna have to have it
i hope im doing the right thing
another weird thing
have i ever told you that aurora gets up
sleepwalks around
talking in some olde germanic language
anyway, i have this book of medieval german painters
and she regularly comes in my studio room
and reads that book for hours and hours
aurora, i say, how come you can read that book for so long
she looks up dreamily
i dunno dad......i just like it...
hmmmm, something going on there
i need mr s fandorin to hear her
tell me if he recognises any words...
another dilemma: education
do i really wanna turn my kidss over to the sausage machine?
could i really eddycate them meself....?
did ole sk learn anything useful at school
other than avoiding bullies and chatting up les chicas?
after i learnt to multiply and divide...?
what goode did all that tripe do me?
evie and aurora aint gonna be useful cogs
in the great machine...
i hope
how about we establish
the united states of bohemia
no maths
no suits
no police
no politishians
no gossip rags
no gutter press
no pressure
yeah
no worries
gonna have to wait for heaven, i guess
the system is in place now
gonna take a huge upheaval to dismantle it
who wants all this?
you think this is why god put you on this
sweet green world?
to sit inna office
with flourescent lights and air cond.?
with underground carpark and friday arvo down the pub?
so you could grovel yer way up the fuckin ladder
(sorry mum)
cmon
what about all the other animals...?
they survive without all that stuff, dont they?
why did it have to go this way?
dont ask me
im just an olde rockah
who doesnt wanna see his wee daughters get jabbed
and whos railin' against the injustice of it all
the unfeeling protestant work ethic trap we are all in
the industry
the pollushion
the modern hive
everyone working
typing away on electric boxes radiating their evil rays
up in skyscrapers
or down in pits
driving trucks
or filing reports
cmon
its all a red herring people
its keeping ya from discovering
why you have taken on yer suit of flesh
why you are here
what the hells going on out there
dont ask me
im just a singer in a rocknroll band
i love ya
i feel for ya
id make it better if i could
im as mad as hell
an' im not gonna take it...
sk
today not a goode day
for yer humble scribe
gotta take yon kidss for innoculations
like many many things in this world
and this age
youre doomed if ya do
youre doomed if ya dont
theres a mountain o literature
why ya should
why ya shouldnt...
didja know, frinstance
that some of the injections are suspended in mercury???
gee i really wanna shoot lil baby bouncer
up with f$^&$ing quicksilver, dont i
poor lil scarlet gurl gotta have THREE shots today
this morning evie says
dad i dreamed you guys forgot we gotta have injections today
dream on, lil sister
you gonna have to have it
i hope im doing the right thing
another weird thing
have i ever told you that aurora gets up
sleepwalks around
talking in some olde germanic language
anyway, i have this book of medieval german painters
and she regularly comes in my studio room
and reads that book for hours and hours
aurora, i say, how come you can read that book for so long
she looks up dreamily
i dunno dad......i just like it...
hmmmm, something going on there
i need mr s fandorin to hear her
tell me if he recognises any words...
another dilemma: education
do i really wanna turn my kidss over to the sausage machine?
could i really eddycate them meself....?
did ole sk learn anything useful at school
other than avoiding bullies and chatting up les chicas?
after i learnt to multiply and divide...?
what goode did all that tripe do me?
evie and aurora aint gonna be useful cogs
in the great machine...
i hope
how about we establish
the united states of bohemia
no maths
no suits
no police
no politishians
no gossip rags
no gutter press
no pressure
yeah
no worries
gonna have to wait for heaven, i guess
the system is in place now
gonna take a huge upheaval to dismantle it
who wants all this?
you think this is why god put you on this
sweet green world?
to sit inna office
with flourescent lights and air cond.?
with underground carpark and friday arvo down the pub?
so you could grovel yer way up the fuckin ladder
(sorry mum)
cmon
what about all the other animals...?
they survive without all that stuff, dont they?
why did it have to go this way?
dont ask me
im just an olde rockah
who doesnt wanna see his wee daughters get jabbed
and whos railin' against the injustice of it all
the unfeeling protestant work ethic trap we are all in
the industry
the pollushion
the modern hive
everyone working
typing away on electric boxes radiating their evil rays
up in skyscrapers
or down in pits
driving trucks
or filing reports
cmon
its all a red herring people
its keeping ya from discovering
why you have taken on yer suit of flesh
why you are here
what the hells going on out there
dont ask me
im just a singer in a rocknroll band
i love ya
i feel for ya
id make it better if i could
im as mad as hell
an' im not gonna take it...
sk
Sunday, January 22, 2006
rambling manne
sunday again
a lovely day for a ramble
a meander
thru my mind
with you there to keep me honest
make sure that i come clean
i was sposed to be at yoga
but its closed due to fire
the blogg monkey on my shoulder starts up
hey man lets score a little blogg...
ok here we are
me and my monkey
nothing to hide
im just gonna hit random
see what comes up
much attention in aust gutter gossip rags
paid to leaf carrot and peat doe-hurty
for drug offences
wallowing in their self righteous glee
printing carrots mug shot
listing all peats crimes and misdaemeanours
etc etc
build em up
knock em down
fry the small fish
while the leviathans get away
strange world my fiendss
the immanent nature immersing us
the skies, unfathomable
the seas, liquid green skies, themselves
birds and fish
flying through webs
nets
traps
down here on this earth
we encourage em
and we laugh at em
when theyre caught
focussed in on minutiae
the fine red print
rules and regulations
theyll drag yer dick thru the dirt
and tell ya yer name is Mud
jealousy and envy moved in next door
to everyone
i cant live my life
im too busy
wishing i was living yours
we are grown up children
we accept whole monstrous lies
we quibble over words
oh yeah sk,
we heard yer antimaterialistic rant before
i know you have, sweetheart
but im still perplexed
it dont go away with just one rant
the whales are still being a'killed
the bombs are still a'dropping
the worms are still a'lying
and the rest of us
we just want a quiet sunday
ok then
some peace and quiet
ah thats better
calm down
forget all that
my daughter miranda
wrote something in english
(not really her first langwidge, as ya may no)
and olde daddy steven
quite shocked and rocked
by goode yon daughters grasp
of sentence construction
use of unusual words
simplicity and flow
content
and by the singularity
which flowed thru the piece
a vein of thought
i also felt a certain kilbeyness
a way of seeing things
a way of putting things
now i know parents always trumpet their own kids
and i try to avoid that mostly
anyway
never underestimate yer children
they probably are much better
at some things
than you yerself are
i dunno how much i should discuss em here
i dunno if they or you will appreciate that too much
they are quite a nice bunch tho...
so much going on in crunchland
delays
(yep, you already guessed it)
discussions
projects
offers
fete openings
you know
secret bigge things coming up
maybe the crunch will climb everest
maybe we'll hunker down
in antartica for a year
in a biosphere
jamming in a white void
miles from the nearest audience
maybe i should write my auto biography
i mean, who else is....?
yeah
06 could be a huge one for the crunch
or maybe the year that nuthin' happened
its in the lap of yer gods
i just try and let go
i wanna do everything at once
but they tell me you cant
i wanted to release ultc the second after
david trump put the final mix to bed
and now its gonna take this long
guess we'll all just have to be april fools then
i listened to it the other day
in my kitchen
as i was washin' up
(yes, anonymous, even genii wash up
actually i have a dishwasher
but i dont know how to use it
PLUS
i hate the noise
PLUS
it seems after all that preparation
you might as well
just wash up)
anyway
i did listen to ultc
trying to hear it thru your ears
some goode stuffe indeed
by the way
i am reminded
that karmic hit gave all december buyers
a free cd
featuring a few sk thingos
but have not heard ONE word
from anyone anywhere about it
although my tracks are pretty good
my fave is track ten
which is by someone else
and its bloody gorgeous!!
try to get a copy if you don' have one yet
its FREE baby!!!!
this blog contains no swearwords today
in honour of my mother joycie
who will wade thru the politics drugs and rock
but NOT the #*&%*^$ing swearing
muvver
this blogs for you
but i may not be able to keep it up
for too long
now
im thinking of an experiment
an experiment on myself
you see
ive got a foot in two boats
that are starting to drift away
from each other
on one side is yoga swimming meditation fruit etc
on the other
is pot chocolate alkyhole party drugs sweets etc
im thinking of going straight
not "straight", paula
but straight
get off ALL the badde stuffe
the stuff thats binding me to maya
the heavy tripe thats weighin' my spirit down
you see
i have had half a revolution
but now i have to purge
some of the things
that i SEEM to love
ive gotta get clearer
i gotta take the guesswork out of this
see what i can really do
it means no drugs
no tea or coffee
no sweets
it means 30 laps 6 times a week
it means yoga for at least an hour
every day
it means meditating at least 90 minutes a day
it means total veganism
it means regular fasts
it means contemplation and reflection
ok
they are the ideals
i did maintain this regime once
twenty years ago
after six weeks i was communicating with animals
(i don' care if ya laugh)
i was ready willing and able
to do whatever you wanted
i tumbled outta bed every morning
laughing and saying whats next?
i was going up and up
i was slowly approaching god
and then
well
the crunch toured the u s a
enuff said
anyhow
i have been thinking of conducting this
experiment in realisation on myself
for our information
to see whatll happen
AND
i got all you
to keep me honest
as i said before
and everytime
im tempted
i will think of ye
and resist
but i aint started yet..
soon
baby
soon
i gotta sneak up on it
when its not looking
BANG!
sk is a saint!
i love you
i guess
me
a lovely day for a ramble
a meander
thru my mind
with you there to keep me honest
make sure that i come clean
i was sposed to be at yoga
but its closed due to fire
the blogg monkey on my shoulder starts up
hey man lets score a little blogg...
ok here we are
me and my monkey
nothing to hide
im just gonna hit random
see what comes up
much attention in aust gutter gossip rags
paid to leaf carrot and peat doe-hurty
for drug offences
wallowing in their self righteous glee
printing carrots mug shot
listing all peats crimes and misdaemeanours
etc etc
build em up
knock em down
fry the small fish
while the leviathans get away
strange world my fiendss
the immanent nature immersing us
the skies, unfathomable
the seas, liquid green skies, themselves
birds and fish
flying through webs
nets
traps
down here on this earth
we encourage em
and we laugh at em
when theyre caught
focussed in on minutiae
the fine red print
rules and regulations
theyll drag yer dick thru the dirt
and tell ya yer name is Mud
jealousy and envy moved in next door
to everyone
i cant live my life
im too busy
wishing i was living yours
we are grown up children
we accept whole monstrous lies
we quibble over words
oh yeah sk,
we heard yer antimaterialistic rant before
i know you have, sweetheart
but im still perplexed
it dont go away with just one rant
the whales are still being a'killed
the bombs are still a'dropping
the worms are still a'lying
and the rest of us
we just want a quiet sunday
ok then
some peace and quiet
ah thats better
calm down
forget all that
my daughter miranda
wrote something in english
(not really her first langwidge, as ya may no)
and olde daddy steven
quite shocked and rocked
by goode yon daughters grasp
of sentence construction
use of unusual words
simplicity and flow
content
and by the singularity
which flowed thru the piece
a vein of thought
i also felt a certain kilbeyness
a way of seeing things
a way of putting things
now i know parents always trumpet their own kids
and i try to avoid that mostly
anyway
never underestimate yer children
they probably are much better
at some things
than you yerself are
i dunno how much i should discuss em here
i dunno if they or you will appreciate that too much
they are quite a nice bunch tho...
so much going on in crunchland
delays
(yep, you already guessed it)
discussions
projects
offers
fete openings
you know
secret bigge things coming up
maybe the crunch will climb everest
maybe we'll hunker down
in antartica for a year
in a biosphere
jamming in a white void
miles from the nearest audience
maybe i should write my auto biography
i mean, who else is....?
yeah
06 could be a huge one for the crunch
or maybe the year that nuthin' happened
its in the lap of yer gods
i just try and let go
i wanna do everything at once
but they tell me you cant
i wanted to release ultc the second after
david trump put the final mix to bed
and now its gonna take this long
guess we'll all just have to be april fools then
i listened to it the other day
in my kitchen
as i was washin' up
(yes, anonymous, even genii wash up
actually i have a dishwasher
but i dont know how to use it
PLUS
i hate the noise
PLUS
it seems after all that preparation
you might as well
just wash up)
anyway
i did listen to ultc
trying to hear it thru your ears
some goode stuffe indeed
by the way
i am reminded
that karmic hit gave all december buyers
a free cd
featuring a few sk thingos
but have not heard ONE word
from anyone anywhere about it
although my tracks are pretty good
my fave is track ten
which is by someone else
and its bloody gorgeous!!
try to get a copy if you don' have one yet
its FREE baby!!!!
this blog contains no swearwords today
in honour of my mother joycie
who will wade thru the politics drugs and rock
but NOT the #*&%*^$ing swearing
muvver
this blogs for you
but i may not be able to keep it up
for too long
now
im thinking of an experiment
an experiment on myself
you see
ive got a foot in two boats
that are starting to drift away
from each other
on one side is yoga swimming meditation fruit etc
on the other
is pot chocolate alkyhole party drugs sweets etc
im thinking of going straight
not "straight", paula
but straight
get off ALL the badde stuffe
the stuff thats binding me to maya
the heavy tripe thats weighin' my spirit down
you see
i have had half a revolution
but now i have to purge
some of the things
that i SEEM to love
ive gotta get clearer
i gotta take the guesswork out of this
see what i can really do
it means no drugs
no tea or coffee
no sweets
it means 30 laps 6 times a week
it means yoga for at least an hour
every day
it means meditating at least 90 minutes a day
it means total veganism
it means regular fasts
it means contemplation and reflection
ok
they are the ideals
i did maintain this regime once
twenty years ago
after six weeks i was communicating with animals
(i don' care if ya laugh)
i was ready willing and able
to do whatever you wanted
i tumbled outta bed every morning
laughing and saying whats next?
i was going up and up
i was slowly approaching god
and then
well
the crunch toured the u s a
enuff said
anyhow
i have been thinking of conducting this
experiment in realisation on myself
for our information
to see whatll happen
AND
i got all you
to keep me honest
as i said before
and everytime
im tempted
i will think of ye
and resist
but i aint started yet..
soon
baby
soon
i gotta sneak up on it
when its not looking
BANG!
sk is a saint!
i love you
i guess
me
Saturday, January 21, 2006
Friday, January 20, 2006
leeches, beaches and bush arrangers
im back
back from the other side
back from my wanderings
me and michael h and russell p k
we take the ferry over to bundeena
its already pissing down rain
we go into cafe for last civilized meal for a while
(toasted tomato sambo w/ brown bread, mixed berry soy smooothie)
i ask the guy in the caff for the weather forecast
this produces much laughter in kitchen
mate, its gonna be loike this till friday...
the intrepid 3 get underway
before we're even in the national parky
we are already soaked
for the 1st time of many
rpk looks up at the gathering stormclouds
and says
i reckon its starting to clear up,
i can see some blue....
yes there it is
next to the black and grey and nimbus
we begin our walk
initially other 2 laugh
at yer intrepid walker, sk
cos i come equipped with ye olde brolly
but i's a little bit drier than others
never mind
safe and warm
in mah backpack
i have dry clothes
a pillow
some 'ome comforts
ah...!
back to nature baby
we stop for first of many special
bushwalker cigarettes
although i have not brought any food
or useful utensils
i score brownie points
for my big bag o pam and perrys finest
plus my insect repellent and
my box of wipies
that i stole from ye olde baby bouncer
as i left home
now a nice joint can go both ways in the bush
it can get yer mind off the hard slog
or it can make ya real real lazy
so you dont wanna keep going
sk very proud of his bush skills
(can roll a spliff in wind
AND
rain
w/ filter and everything)
now luckily
rpk has catered nicely for walkie
and never surprises me
the delicacies he whips out of his huge pack
for us to munch on
the terrain changin' all the time
one minute a lonely beach
strugglin' thru the sand
perfect white star shaped shells
blue bottles swelling up and popping
sea weed (kelp, i need somebody)
all the debris
driftwood, empty suntancreme bottles
then you climb up
the rain beating down
sks black cowboy hat
now a grey shapeless splodge on his head
we enter a grove of trees
shoulder height
they complete the job of drenching us
now totally soaked
trudging thru the mud and sand
sea eagles and kestrels hang in the air
vicious aust. ants that dont back down
the australian nature is wild, relentless
inexorable
this aint some nothern hemisphere
half tamed woodland
that sleeps thru winter
this is a young virile pulsating creation
full of stuff
strangling itself, breaking forth
bugs worms bees birds snakes lizards spiders
flowers weeds trees mountains
and its all going all the time
rpk says theres a kiosk over yonder hill
im imaginin' all the things im gonna buy
hot chocolates, cold chocolates
tepid chocolates
but guess what
the kiosk owner didnt open up
today
seeing how its a grey rainy wednesday
and theres no one about
we curse him and his offspring
but rpk whips out some nice rolls
(hes my roll model)
after more trekking we reach our camp
guess what everything in my back pack
IS WET
ok
ok
i will survive
others go to find firewood and fresh water
naughty sk espies a tube of condensed milk
mmmm aint seen one o those in ages
despite being a vegan
despite that this tube must be the milknsugar
for many cups o tea
sk despicably sucks most of it down
and has to guiltily bear blame
everytime cups of tea are made
and drunk
all very unmilky and sweet
we build a fire (not sposed to)
we set up our tent (not sposed to be doing that either)
we have mash potato and pasta for dinner
normally this woulda been a carbohydrate mush
but out here
was a feast fit for a king
we drink some jack daniels
bugs come rushing out of the burning logs
millipedes, bush cockroaches, ants
smoke blows in our eyes
we are wet but happy
we're hardcore arent we says rpk
the very hardest, we reassure him
sk wakes up cold, sore and sorry
we get up
its still kinda raining
we pack up move on
an early morning joint
gets us all weary and sleepy again
but we must move on
we take some wrong ways
up and down cliffs
rpks knee gives out under pressure of his heavy pack
he needs to lean on me going down the hills
i sing
he aint heavy hes my brother
and
lean on me brother, when you need a hand
we pass thru weird little villages of huts
no water no lecktricity no nuffink
one place called the love shack
has been abandoned
i look in thru the lianas and vines
broken windows, still got furniture inside
dishes still in the sink
i guess love can go wrong
we walk along a beach
rpk starting to struggle
mh and i share his pack
fuck its heavy
rpk says theres a kiosk on next beach
we waddle towards it for hours
but its closed
we take a track thats been closed
due to rockfall
we walk along under cliffs
that obviously are eroding and dropping
huge boulders down
theyre strewn all over the path
the tides coming in
caught between the wild grey sea
and the threatening rocks
hanging out improbably
over yer humble hero
surfers hurry on by
they stand on ledges and launch emselves into
the forbidding brine
the true bohemians
they carve thru the waves
weaving their arabesques
in the violent heaving sea
jesus
i admire these guys
the true frontiers
the real artists
doing stuff no one will ever see
anyway after
long corridors of sand and challenging ants
moors and mountains
fields and fountains
we enter the rainforests
the leechies are on us immediately
they are virtually indestructable
you cannae squash em
or break em
or hurt em
you can jump up and down on em
scrape em
bash them
they dont care
the only thing they really hate
is a sustained blast of cig lighter
but even as youre trying to burn em off
theyre trying to latch on to the hand
thats holding ye olde lighter
down yer socks they go
i see rpks got at least 6 going down each boot
we cant stop to sort em out
or more will climb on
eventually we get to a rock
hanging out over a valley miles beneath
the other 2 bouys have bleeding feets
the leeeches inject something
to keep your blood from coagulatin'
we fight the fuckin leechies all the way
(a bit like yon music industrie)
never mind says rpk
when we get to train station
there will be hot chocolate and Candy Barres
but
there aint
we cant even buy a ticket
cos we only have notes and no coins
later mh and i get busted for not having tix
can you prove you have no change?
says a crew cutted oaf in uniform
eventually we dont know if weve gotten a fine
or not
typical australia
we still picking off leeches on train
i fling one to floor of carriage
and am quite delighted
when it crawls up the leg of a "straight"
who gets on at town hall
straight up the "straights" suity pants it goes
hell get a shock when sometime tonight
he finds a big blood filled worm
sucking on his thigh
or maybe worse
ha ha
what could i do...?
eventually arrive home
hot radox bath
limp around knackered
my family gather around
to hear my tall tales and true
well
it was like this.....
see ya soon
sk
back from the other side
back from my wanderings
me and michael h and russell p k
we take the ferry over to bundeena
its already pissing down rain
we go into cafe for last civilized meal for a while
(toasted tomato sambo w/ brown bread, mixed berry soy smooothie)
i ask the guy in the caff for the weather forecast
this produces much laughter in kitchen
mate, its gonna be loike this till friday...
the intrepid 3 get underway
before we're even in the national parky
we are already soaked
for the 1st time of many
rpk looks up at the gathering stormclouds
and says
i reckon its starting to clear up,
i can see some blue....
yes there it is
next to the black and grey and nimbus
we begin our walk
initially other 2 laugh
at yer intrepid walker, sk
cos i come equipped with ye olde brolly
but i's a little bit drier than others
never mind
safe and warm
in mah backpack
i have dry clothes
a pillow
some 'ome comforts
ah...!
back to nature baby
we stop for first of many special
bushwalker cigarettes
although i have not brought any food
or useful utensils
i score brownie points
for my big bag o pam and perrys finest
plus my insect repellent and
my box of wipies
that i stole from ye olde baby bouncer
as i left home
now a nice joint can go both ways in the bush
it can get yer mind off the hard slog
or it can make ya real real lazy
so you dont wanna keep going
sk very proud of his bush skills
(can roll a spliff in wind
AND
rain
w/ filter and everything)
now luckily
rpk has catered nicely for walkie
and never surprises me
the delicacies he whips out of his huge pack
for us to munch on
the terrain changin' all the time
one minute a lonely beach
strugglin' thru the sand
perfect white star shaped shells
blue bottles swelling up and popping
sea weed (kelp, i need somebody)
all the debris
driftwood, empty suntancreme bottles
then you climb up
the rain beating down
sks black cowboy hat
now a grey shapeless splodge on his head
we enter a grove of trees
shoulder height
they complete the job of drenching us
now totally soaked
trudging thru the mud and sand
sea eagles and kestrels hang in the air
vicious aust. ants that dont back down
the australian nature is wild, relentless
inexorable
this aint some nothern hemisphere
half tamed woodland
that sleeps thru winter
this is a young virile pulsating creation
full of stuff
strangling itself, breaking forth
bugs worms bees birds snakes lizards spiders
flowers weeds trees mountains
and its all going all the time
rpk says theres a kiosk over yonder hill
im imaginin' all the things im gonna buy
hot chocolates, cold chocolates
tepid chocolates
but guess what
the kiosk owner didnt open up
today
seeing how its a grey rainy wednesday
and theres no one about
we curse him and his offspring
but rpk whips out some nice rolls
(hes my roll model)
after more trekking we reach our camp
guess what everything in my back pack
IS WET
ok
ok
i will survive
others go to find firewood and fresh water
naughty sk espies a tube of condensed milk
mmmm aint seen one o those in ages
despite being a vegan
despite that this tube must be the milknsugar
for many cups o tea
sk despicably sucks most of it down
and has to guiltily bear blame
everytime cups of tea are made
and drunk
all very unmilky and sweet
we build a fire (not sposed to)
we set up our tent (not sposed to be doing that either)
we have mash potato and pasta for dinner
normally this woulda been a carbohydrate mush
but out here
was a feast fit for a king
we drink some jack daniels
bugs come rushing out of the burning logs
millipedes, bush cockroaches, ants
smoke blows in our eyes
we are wet but happy
we're hardcore arent we says rpk
the very hardest, we reassure him
sk wakes up cold, sore and sorry
we get up
its still kinda raining
we pack up move on
an early morning joint
gets us all weary and sleepy again
but we must move on
we take some wrong ways
up and down cliffs
rpks knee gives out under pressure of his heavy pack
he needs to lean on me going down the hills
i sing
he aint heavy hes my brother
and
lean on me brother, when you need a hand
we pass thru weird little villages of huts
no water no lecktricity no nuffink
one place called the love shack
has been abandoned
i look in thru the lianas and vines
broken windows, still got furniture inside
dishes still in the sink
i guess love can go wrong
we walk along a beach
rpk starting to struggle
mh and i share his pack
fuck its heavy
rpk says theres a kiosk on next beach
we waddle towards it for hours
but its closed
we take a track thats been closed
due to rockfall
we walk along under cliffs
that obviously are eroding and dropping
huge boulders down
theyre strewn all over the path
the tides coming in
caught between the wild grey sea
and the threatening rocks
hanging out improbably
over yer humble hero
surfers hurry on by
they stand on ledges and launch emselves into
the forbidding brine
the true bohemians
they carve thru the waves
weaving their arabesques
in the violent heaving sea
jesus
i admire these guys
the true frontiers
the real artists
doing stuff no one will ever see
anyway after
long corridors of sand and challenging ants
moors and mountains
fields and fountains
we enter the rainforests
the leechies are on us immediately
they are virtually indestructable
you cannae squash em
or break em
or hurt em
you can jump up and down on em
scrape em
bash them
they dont care
the only thing they really hate
is a sustained blast of cig lighter
but even as youre trying to burn em off
theyre trying to latch on to the hand
thats holding ye olde lighter
down yer socks they go
i see rpks got at least 6 going down each boot
we cant stop to sort em out
or more will climb on
eventually we get to a rock
hanging out over a valley miles beneath
the other 2 bouys have bleeding feets
the leeeches inject something
to keep your blood from coagulatin'
we fight the fuckin leechies all the way
(a bit like yon music industrie)
never mind says rpk
when we get to train station
there will be hot chocolate and Candy Barres
but
there aint
we cant even buy a ticket
cos we only have notes and no coins
later mh and i get busted for not having tix
can you prove you have no change?
says a crew cutted oaf in uniform
eventually we dont know if weve gotten a fine
or not
typical australia
we still picking off leeches on train
i fling one to floor of carriage
and am quite delighted
when it crawls up the leg of a "straight"
who gets on at town hall
straight up the "straights" suity pants it goes
hell get a shock when sometime tonight
he finds a big blood filled worm
sucking on his thigh
or maybe worse
ha ha
what could i do...?
eventually arrive home
hot radox bath
limp around knackered
my family gather around
to hear my tall tales and true
well
it was like this.....
see ya soon
sk
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
if youre still with me
the black corridor of time
the delicious hit of space
death/sex/drug/fuck/dream
here we are
out here together
again
you know what i mean
were gonna seduce this whole universe
we gonna have our way with the stars
(the stars, baby)
you and i
all of you and all of i
the sweet merger of everything
atom for atom
bit by bit
tit for tat
we always knew this was all here
who kept us out
but ourselves?
im writing this to you now
because we have always been in love
in the anguish of our luscious separation
in the mornings of serene lonesomeness
during the unbelievable and outrageous struggle
just to be here now
at all
you were always on my mind
you were always on my mind
voices in side tell us what to say
ive spoken to you before
from the wings
from the shadows
i wrote you a letter
i couldnt post
i did a picture of you
i couldnt bear to start
i have gone through so much
so much more to go
weariness without you
but something charges us
intake of energetic refill complete
in dark nights prior to earth
we struck up a conversation
remind all yourselves
i was there
say it
yes you are my old companion
those were good times
million years of lives telescopes
2 compact seconds now
maybe irretrievable
you gotta try hard
you gotta try harder
you say
what do you want
who are you
why should i listen to you
i say
i dunno
maybe because we are
the only ones here
maybe because it
could make you smile
and for some strange reason
and despite all i know
when you smile
it makes me glad
that i waded through the swampy
forest/city/fortress/matter/spirit
baybee
im sorry to tell you now
look at the map
look at the clock
we only just began this yesterday morning
we have been resting
revive drive survive
now alive
and kicking at the pricks
from the thorny fucking paths
that lately i had been a'wanderin'
whatever that means to you
anyway
if youre still with me
its so sad that we meet this way
after all that we were along timeago
nevermind
ive started to get used to some of it
but i still wish that
i would get
invited
to the
reunion
i have to go now
i cant even think now
why it was so important
to tell you all this
im sinking back into character
my part reclaims me
i am back to normal
i still love you tho'
sk
the delicious hit of space
death/sex/drug/fuck/dream
here we are
out here together
again
you know what i mean
were gonna seduce this whole universe
we gonna have our way with the stars
(the stars, baby)
you and i
all of you and all of i
the sweet merger of everything
atom for atom
bit by bit
tit for tat
we always knew this was all here
who kept us out
but ourselves?
im writing this to you now
because we have always been in love
in the anguish of our luscious separation
in the mornings of serene lonesomeness
during the unbelievable and outrageous struggle
just to be here now
at all
you were always on my mind
you were always on my mind
voices in side tell us what to say
ive spoken to you before
from the wings
from the shadows
i wrote you a letter
i couldnt post
i did a picture of you
i couldnt bear to start
i have gone through so much
so much more to go
weariness without you
but something charges us
intake of energetic refill complete
in dark nights prior to earth
we struck up a conversation
remind all yourselves
i was there
say it
yes you are my old companion
those were good times
million years of lives telescopes
2 compact seconds now
maybe irretrievable
you gotta try hard
you gotta try harder
you say
what do you want
who are you
why should i listen to you
i say
i dunno
maybe because we are
the only ones here
maybe because it
could make you smile
and for some strange reason
and despite all i know
when you smile
it makes me glad
that i waded through the swampy
forest/city/fortress/matter/spirit
baybee
im sorry to tell you now
look at the map
look at the clock
we only just began this yesterday morning
we have been resting
revive drive survive
now alive
and kicking at the pricks
from the thorny fucking paths
that lately i had been a'wanderin'
whatever that means to you
anyway
if youre still with me
its so sad that we meet this way
after all that we were along timeago
nevermind
ive started to get used to some of it
but i still wish that
i would get
invited
to the
reunion
i have to go now
i cant even think now
why it was so important
to tell you all this
im sinking back into character
my part reclaims me
i am back to normal
i still love you tho'
sk
Monday, January 16, 2006
crisis of faith/manifesto
i need to define this whole thing
i need to talk to myself
i need to explain
i am confused
i have maybe been surprised by myself
if youre in this far
im gonna strip back a layer of skin
for ya
i told ya
i dont know what im doing here
(any "here" you like)
three months ago
i never even heard of blogging
i got no agenda
i got no bitter spleen
to vent particularly
why should i?
cos im a master chef who has one of the best vegan gourmet
restaurants in the world
you think that i fucking care that kfc sells
a billion bux more than the organic crunch?
hey
i have never or will never delete a comment
the "straights" and bohemians thing...
a novel must have a protagonist
AND
an antogonist
its not all black and white
nothing is absolute
everything is a mixture
i am large
i contain contradictions
(no anonymous of nowhere, that aint my own quote)
i know a guy whos a doctor
suit, nice house, all that
he would seem to be a "straight"
but he spends his life in malawi, vietnam, mongolia
looking into sanitary water conditions
i dunno
his heart is more bohemian
than a million clowns in kaftans smokin pot
this dude has defied my catergorization
another guy
this one long hair, musician, does yoga
but a mean n nassty little man
that ya'd like to strangle
where does he fit in?
i dunno either
of course i know its not us versus them
on some levels...
however
on some levels you could not deny
that there are certain over ambitious individuals
aspiring to western pseudo christian ideals
(cmon, as soon as the first kid dies
you can count jesus out!!)
who, trampling on spiritual values
(other than their own)
seem to find reasons
to invent nasssty weapons
start wars
exterminate nature
warp this planet
or maybe just
catalog
persecute
cage
waste
use up
burn out
manipulate
control
the rest of us
now on a sliding scale
where keef richards = max boho
and gw bush= max straight
youd find many in the fuckin middle who....
hang on a minute....
it was a bit of a joke for fuck sake
and yet
the more i think about it
it aint a joke either
someone wrote in and said
we cant all smoke dope and paint pictures....
why not?
would the world stop turning?
wouldnt the whales be happier if we did?
wouldnt the elephants and tigers and rhinos and bears and dodos
and tassie tigers and the children in afgannystan
and actually most o the planet actually
im sorry
the war has been cancelled
theyre all painting and smoking dope.
smoking dopes another issue for some
who said it was illegal?
why?
when?
dont tell me it was a"straight"
trying to disenfranchise some one
didja know i got busted for attempting to buy smack
no
thats not quite right
i already had it
i'd gotten away with it
i was giving some money to the dude whod helped
me out
he had nothing to do with it
and the cops thought we was doing a deal
HEROIN !
COMMUNISM !
TERRORISM !
they always gotta give ya a new bogeyman
someone theyre protectin ya from
always some war on something
(OCEANIA HAS WON A GREAT VICTORY
OVER SOUTH EAST ASIA)
something to keep ya scared
while they fuck wid cha
for their own purposes
i dunno what they wanna acheive either
i just wanna smoke paint and dope a picture!
and puh leese
the cool guys and gals
i already said it
this is me
this aint no poem on the inside of starfish
i dont spit out dreamy bullshit all the time baybee
obviously
you cant come on my bloggy
and come the raw prawn with me
about ye olde arte
i do this for free
an coupla hours a day
for nothin
dont question my commitment to art
this is my diary
if you want something arty
see if michael stipe has got a blog
maybe hes spoutin' prose all day and nite
yer free to say whatever you like
but remember
i gotta lotta xperience
i work on a lotta levels
i aint no black and white ranter
sometimes
on some levels
but never a complete barreling oaf
just shouting out
his polemic
yeah i was caught with smack
am i ashamed
fuck no
embarrassed for my family, maybe
what a waste of time the whole thing was
much ado about nothing
a storm in a tea cup
but it distracted ya
long enuff
that while you were thinking
of naughty olde sk in jail
for druggies
some little kids
got their heads napalmed
or some poor bastard was being tortured in prison
or
(fill in yer own horror story here)
thats right
thats what all the bad news does
how about some good news
fireman rescues cat from tree
husband loves his wife
bumper crops of marijuana
growing in the ruins of the pentagon
bombers traded in for swimming pools
and libraries
defence budget blown on painting and ballet
secret police resign to become old age carers
greenpeace and amnesty go outta biz
cos theres no more need
cmon
i never lied to ya
i tried hard on every record for ya
not to talk down to ya
selecting only the finest original lyrics
and songs for your pleasure
i never dumbed it down
or took the easy option
i aint no bitter failure
i sold over 2 million records baybee
i know i aint the biggest
see if bonos got a blog if yer want that..
i dined with princes and
i dined with kings
and i aint ever been too impressed
you cant come on my blogg
and be holier
cooler
or hipper
than me
you can (theoretically)
be equal
but never more
if i come on your blogg
its the same
this is my life
this is my blog
i give it to you
not for money
for power
for fame
i dont wanna impress ya
but its nice when it happens
that i do..
dont give me yer worldweary stuff
i was doing worldweary
when you were still in
your mummies womb
dont give me tripe about rehab
i was in rehab before you
had yer first bud light
dont give me flowers
its cruel to cut em down
i dunno
this has meandered all over the place
i started off there
but ended up here
please dont pray for me
(god: why are ya praying for him
hes never worked in his life
hes got 5 beautiful daughters
hes got a load of lovely fans
who he loves
hes got a record deal
hes got a band
hes quite a nifty basse geetarist...
what the hell dya want me to do for him
hes laughing all the way to the blogg
thats it you lot
i dont care who i alienate with my mild jests
do ya think andre breton fucking cared?
or do you think baudelaire was worried
in case some small soul branded "paris spleen"
as bitter?
hell no
neither do i
if ya with me
i love ya
if ya not
what the fuck are you still doing here, sunshine
thats it
im gonna go bushwalkin soon
no bloggs maybe for a while
suffer
sk
i need to talk to myself
i need to explain
i am confused
i have maybe been surprised by myself
if youre in this far
im gonna strip back a layer of skin
for ya
i told ya
i dont know what im doing here
(any "here" you like)
three months ago
i never even heard of blogging
i got no agenda
i got no bitter spleen
to vent particularly
why should i?
cos im a master chef who has one of the best vegan gourmet
restaurants in the world
you think that i fucking care that kfc sells
a billion bux more than the organic crunch?
hey
i have never or will never delete a comment
the "straights" and bohemians thing...
a novel must have a protagonist
AND
an antogonist
its not all black and white
nothing is absolute
everything is a mixture
i am large
i contain contradictions
(no anonymous of nowhere, that aint my own quote)
i know a guy whos a doctor
suit, nice house, all that
he would seem to be a "straight"
but he spends his life in malawi, vietnam, mongolia
looking into sanitary water conditions
i dunno
his heart is more bohemian
than a million clowns in kaftans smokin pot
this dude has defied my catergorization
another guy
this one long hair, musician, does yoga
but a mean n nassty little man
that ya'd like to strangle
where does he fit in?
i dunno either
of course i know its not us versus them
on some levels...
however
on some levels you could not deny
that there are certain over ambitious individuals
aspiring to western pseudo christian ideals
(cmon, as soon as the first kid dies
you can count jesus out!!)
who, trampling on spiritual values
(other than their own)
seem to find reasons
to invent nasssty weapons
start wars
exterminate nature
warp this planet
or maybe just
catalog
persecute
cage
waste
use up
burn out
manipulate
control
the rest of us
now on a sliding scale
where keef richards = max boho
and gw bush= max straight
youd find many in the fuckin middle who....
hang on a minute....
it was a bit of a joke for fuck sake
and yet
the more i think about it
it aint a joke either
someone wrote in and said
we cant all smoke dope and paint pictures....
why not?
would the world stop turning?
wouldnt the whales be happier if we did?
wouldnt the elephants and tigers and rhinos and bears and dodos
and tassie tigers and the children in afgannystan
and actually most o the planet actually
im sorry
the war has been cancelled
theyre all painting and smoking dope.
smoking dopes another issue for some
who said it was illegal?
why?
when?
dont tell me it was a"straight"
trying to disenfranchise some one
didja know i got busted for attempting to buy smack
no
thats not quite right
i already had it
i'd gotten away with it
i was giving some money to the dude whod helped
me out
he had nothing to do with it
and the cops thought we was doing a deal
HEROIN !
COMMUNISM !
TERRORISM !
they always gotta give ya a new bogeyman
someone theyre protectin ya from
always some war on something
(OCEANIA HAS WON A GREAT VICTORY
OVER SOUTH EAST ASIA)
something to keep ya scared
while they fuck wid cha
for their own purposes
i dunno what they wanna acheive either
i just wanna smoke paint and dope a picture!
and puh leese
the cool guys and gals
i already said it
this is me
this aint no poem on the inside of starfish
i dont spit out dreamy bullshit all the time baybee
obviously
you cant come on my bloggy
and come the raw prawn with me
about ye olde arte
i do this for free
an coupla hours a day
for nothin
dont question my commitment to art
this is my diary
if you want something arty
see if michael stipe has got a blog
maybe hes spoutin' prose all day and nite
yer free to say whatever you like
but remember
i gotta lotta xperience
i work on a lotta levels
i aint no black and white ranter
sometimes
on some levels
but never a complete barreling oaf
just shouting out
his polemic
yeah i was caught with smack
am i ashamed
fuck no
embarrassed for my family, maybe
what a waste of time the whole thing was
much ado about nothing
a storm in a tea cup
but it distracted ya
long enuff
that while you were thinking
of naughty olde sk in jail
for druggies
some little kids
got their heads napalmed
or some poor bastard was being tortured in prison
or
(fill in yer own horror story here)
thats right
thats what all the bad news does
how about some good news
fireman rescues cat from tree
husband loves his wife
bumper crops of marijuana
growing in the ruins of the pentagon
bombers traded in for swimming pools
and libraries
defence budget blown on painting and ballet
secret police resign to become old age carers
greenpeace and amnesty go outta biz
cos theres no more need
cmon
i never lied to ya
i tried hard on every record for ya
not to talk down to ya
selecting only the finest original lyrics
and songs for your pleasure
i never dumbed it down
or took the easy option
i aint no bitter failure
i sold over 2 million records baybee
i know i aint the biggest
see if bonos got a blog if yer want that..
i dined with princes and
i dined with kings
and i aint ever been too impressed
you cant come on my blogg
and be holier
cooler
or hipper
than me
you can (theoretically)
be equal
but never more
if i come on your blogg
its the same
this is my life
this is my blog
i give it to you
not for money
for power
for fame
i dont wanna impress ya
but its nice when it happens
that i do..
dont give me yer worldweary stuff
i was doing worldweary
when you were still in
your mummies womb
dont give me tripe about rehab
i was in rehab before you
had yer first bud light
dont give me flowers
its cruel to cut em down
i dunno
this has meandered all over the place
i started off there
but ended up here
please dont pray for me
(god: why are ya praying for him
hes never worked in his life
hes got 5 beautiful daughters
hes got a load of lovely fans
who he loves
hes got a record deal
hes got a band
hes quite a nifty basse geetarist...
what the hell dya want me to do for him
hes laughing all the way to the blogg
thats it you lot
i dont care who i alienate with my mild jests
do ya think andre breton fucking cared?
or do you think baudelaire was worried
in case some small soul branded "paris spleen"
as bitter?
hell no
neither do i
if ya with me
i love ya
if ya not
what the fuck are you still doing here, sunshine
thats it
im gonna go bushwalkin soon
no bloggs maybe for a while
suffer
sk
untitled
hello
i know you come here
to get away from it all
to relax
you dont wanna here about troubles
famines viruses
so im just gonna give a brief mention
to the 18 afghanis
who died yesterday
blown to bits
men
WOMEN
AND CHILDREN
AND CHILDREN
they may
or may
not have been hanging
with a guy
who may or not have been
a bona fide villain
im sure the children knew little about all that
they were probably living in some inconceivable
squalor
in some shack
how the fuck would i know
anyway
they were all blown away
to kingdom come, baybee
yeah
and probably more too
children that is
in some pathetic dirty hospital
with burns
blown off limbs
their childlike hopes and dreams
destroyed
im sorry to bring y'all down with this
i should just write a little poem for ya
we can all pretend this aint happ'ning
people
have ya ever heard of the hydra
for every head ya cut off
2 grow back
now i may be just a fuckin washed up olde rocker
who knows absolutely nuthin
bout foreign affairs, politics
terrorism
etc
but i know this
if someone blew my village away
if someone blew my daughters away
my soft delicate children
whose every hair and freckle i know
and hold precious
if some drone bomber
fell on my mother
and some smart bomb
blew my fuckin family
to smitha fuckin' reens
i
i would drop everything i was doing
i would dedicate whatever energies
whatever gumption
strength
wherewithal
whatever
to get even
revenge
how come i can see that
im sure you can see it
and then some grinning
lying WORM
will appear on tely
talking freedom
liberty
and quoting FUCKING JESUS CHRIST!
to justify these ATROCITIES
all for our sake
for peace
for democracy
im sorry
im ranting
and im crying
who will tell those peoples story?
who will compensate their families?
who have killed more INNOCENT CHILDREN
the fuckin; "terrorists"
or the goode guys?
the allies?
the white middleaged alpha males
who have already turned the 21st century
into another bloodbath
same as the last one
same as the one before that
how can we go on
watching our sport
rocking in the free world
having our little worries
feathering our fuckin' nests
im sorry
bush
blair
and the sorry little twat
called howard
me, i disconnect from you
what could i write here?
where are the words to summon up
the contempt
the rage
the cripplin' fuckin helplessness
that i feel
when you worms
cowardly lying
rotten bloodthirsty
fuckers who have never
fought or been shot at
whose families are always nice and safe
i tell ya fiendss
my dad was in the 2nd world war
and he saw killin'
and he saw bloodnguts
but no glory
and he never could bring himself to fuckin kill a fly after it
was all over
so when you see the inevitable consequences
when something nassty happens in "the free world"
remember
hate will only ever beget hate
love is the way
but i fuckin hate bush
and hitler
and stalin
and fuckin blair howard
cheney
kitchener
napoleon bonaparte
and whoever
and i would gladly
beat everyone of em over the head with mah fuckin fender basse
if i got the chance
if there is a hell
if there is a realm of hungry ghosts
if there is punishment
if karma exists
if there IS an equal reaction
man..
then their gooses are cooked
please lord shiva
please satan
please tash
please dark malevolent spirits
who swallow the souls of
childkillers and cowards
TAKE THESE MEN TO YOUR BLACK HEARTS
i petition you this
im sorry
i cannae stand it
fuck poetry
fuck music
fuck tv
fuck your little job and yer mortgage
how can we pretend this shit aint happning?
ok
im sorry
dont fuckin write me a comment saying stick
to what you know, olde bean
ok
normal service may be resumed tomorrow
i love you guys
thanx for listening
i had to get it off my chest
i am a human being
every mans death diminisheth me
steve
i know you come here
to get away from it all
to relax
you dont wanna here about troubles
famines viruses
so im just gonna give a brief mention
to the 18 afghanis
who died yesterday
blown to bits
men
WOMEN
AND CHILDREN
AND CHILDREN
they may
or may
not have been hanging
with a guy
who may or not have been
a bona fide villain
im sure the children knew little about all that
they were probably living in some inconceivable
squalor
in some shack
how the fuck would i know
anyway
they were all blown away
to kingdom come, baybee
yeah
and probably more too
children that is
in some pathetic dirty hospital
with burns
blown off limbs
their childlike hopes and dreams
destroyed
im sorry to bring y'all down with this
i should just write a little poem for ya
we can all pretend this aint happ'ning
people
have ya ever heard of the hydra
for every head ya cut off
2 grow back
now i may be just a fuckin washed up olde rocker
who knows absolutely nuthin
bout foreign affairs, politics
terrorism
etc
but i know this
if someone blew my village away
if someone blew my daughters away
my soft delicate children
whose every hair and freckle i know
and hold precious
if some drone bomber
fell on my mother
and some smart bomb
blew my fuckin family
to smitha fuckin' reens
i
i would drop everything i was doing
i would dedicate whatever energies
whatever gumption
strength
wherewithal
whatever
to get even
revenge
how come i can see that
im sure you can see it
and then some grinning
lying WORM
will appear on tely
talking freedom
liberty
and quoting FUCKING JESUS CHRIST!
to justify these ATROCITIES
all for our sake
for peace
for democracy
im sorry
im ranting
and im crying
who will tell those peoples story?
who will compensate their families?
who have killed more INNOCENT CHILDREN
the fuckin; "terrorists"
or the goode guys?
the allies?
the white middleaged alpha males
who have already turned the 21st century
into another bloodbath
same as the last one
same as the one before that
how can we go on
watching our sport
rocking in the free world
having our little worries
feathering our fuckin' nests
im sorry
bush
blair
and the sorry little twat
called howard
me, i disconnect from you
what could i write here?
where are the words to summon up
the contempt
the rage
the cripplin' fuckin helplessness
that i feel
when you worms
cowardly lying
rotten bloodthirsty
fuckers who have never
fought or been shot at
whose families are always nice and safe
i tell ya fiendss
my dad was in the 2nd world war
and he saw killin'
and he saw bloodnguts
but no glory
and he never could bring himself to fuckin kill a fly after it
was all over
so when you see the inevitable consequences
when something nassty happens in "the free world"
remember
hate will only ever beget hate
love is the way
but i fuckin hate bush
and hitler
and stalin
and fuckin blair howard
cheney
kitchener
napoleon bonaparte
and whoever
and i would gladly
beat everyone of em over the head with mah fuckin fender basse
if i got the chance
if there is a hell
if there is a realm of hungry ghosts
if there is punishment
if karma exists
if there IS an equal reaction
man..
then their gooses are cooked
please lord shiva
please satan
please tash
please dark malevolent spirits
who swallow the souls of
childkillers and cowards
TAKE THESE MEN TO YOUR BLACK HEARTS
i petition you this
im sorry
i cannae stand it
fuck poetry
fuck music
fuck tv
fuck your little job and yer mortgage
how can we pretend this shit aint happning?
ok
im sorry
dont fuckin write me a comment saying stick
to what you know, olde bean
ok
normal service may be resumed tomorrow
i love you guys
thanx for listening
i had to get it off my chest
i am a human being
every mans death diminisheth me
steve
Sunday, January 15, 2006
sundae mourning....ice cream for you
the day of rest
big ole jehovah
look down at goode yonder earthy
baybee
he knew this thing t'was goode
olde big J thinks to his fine self
im a fuckin genius
ive just created the whole world!
how could any one ever gimme a badde revue
you see folks
god was the original bohemian
creative handsome
with a big white beardy
hmmm that reminds me of someone....
no
i don' know anyone like that
any way
jehover feeling pretty knackered after that
creation
(that gets me thinkin'...
did he make it up as he went along
OR
had a lotta planning gone into
this little universe.....?
we'll probably never know....}
anyway
{bitto dye greshun for ya}
anyway
jay hover feeling very sleepy
you know how it is.....
and he, secure, in the knowledge
that hes done the PERFECT GIG EVER
closes his magnificent deep grey eyes
and rests
and remember
IT IS sunday morning
greet the dawning
etc
everythings quiet
the earth sleeps in space
heaven divine slumber
BUT
whats this!!!???
a devious proto "straight"
has already entered
the sleeping sunday suburbs
among the push-bikes and pottery sheds
the quiet fountains and gazebos
in the heart of eden
and even in
merimbula
a critic
an obsequesious worm
a presumptuous craven little devil
little lucyfur
nasty fellow
the father of all "straights"
{sk, yer demonizing em now, fer heavens sake}
no lil devil dont dig this great bohemian creation
he cant create himself
you all see that, dontcha
he was jus' plane fucking jealous
he starts to carp on
bout this and that
so and so
such and such
what a little ratbagge
stupid devil
to get even with gods forests
he dreams up factories
for every bee , a fly
for every sea, a pit
for every cloud, a fume
for every bohemian, a "straight"
im sorry
to have to tell you all this today
the sabbath
{no pea brain rockah, not THAT sabbaff}
the balance is even
every action an opposite and equal reaction
unified field
no one here is gonna yield
magnetic strip
got me further in its grip
so love those "straights"
my people
they ARE necessary
the balance must be maintained
for every "straight" that comes over
to our side
one of "us" slips back
into barbarism and shadow
if you have any of these symptoms
please see a bohemian specialist
before its too late
YES MY FRENDS
THIS IS DIONYSUS V APOLLO
whos side are you on?
1. desire to go down the pub and scoff sausages
drink bevvies
play darts an ' 'ave a laff w/ the boize
2. a desire for power over fellow men
especially pertaining to wars, prisons, mines
slaves, the fucking rat race, papparazzi,
whalers, hunters, empty suits, and rude
librarians
3.a desire to write ye olde sk
a nasty comment
4. theres no 4 iran outta ideers
so there you go
if you have any of that
do not panic
it may just be a slight case of materialism
drop 2 mushrooms and read me in the morning
however
if yer answering yes yes yes
i want my power
i want my
stuff
i want my gold chain
i want my beere belly
i want my botox and my
gosip rags
i wanna be a cog in the great machine
give me the lexus
give me the plexus
give me the whole box and dice
if
IF
youre saying that
just remember
just remember, you lapsed fiend
look at what happened
and is gonna happen
to yer grande progenitor
yeah you know who i mean
that stupid little devil
dont be elzy, bub
evil aint fun
we gotta get back to the gaarden
we gotta be nice to each other
have a luvly sundae
as always
at yer service
dj stevie k
big ole jehovah
look down at goode yonder earthy
baybee
he knew this thing t'was goode
olde big J thinks to his fine self
im a fuckin genius
ive just created the whole world!
how could any one ever gimme a badde revue
you see folks
god was the original bohemian
creative handsome
with a big white beardy
hmmm that reminds me of someone....
no
i don' know anyone like that
any way
jehover feeling pretty knackered after that
creation
(that gets me thinkin'...
did he make it up as he went along
OR
had a lotta planning gone into
this little universe.....?
we'll probably never know....}
anyway
{bitto dye greshun for ya}
anyway
jay hover feeling very sleepy
you know how it is.....
and he, secure, in the knowledge
that hes done the PERFECT GIG EVER
closes his magnificent deep grey eyes
and rests
and remember
IT IS sunday morning
greet the dawning
etc
everythings quiet
the earth sleeps in space
heaven divine slumber
BUT
whats this!!!???
a devious proto "straight"
has already entered
the sleeping sunday suburbs
among the push-bikes and pottery sheds
the quiet fountains and gazebos
in the heart of eden
and even in
merimbula
a critic
an obsequesious worm
a presumptuous craven little devil
little lucyfur
nasty fellow
the father of all "straights"
{sk, yer demonizing em now, fer heavens sake}
no lil devil dont dig this great bohemian creation
he cant create himself
you all see that, dontcha
he was jus' plane fucking jealous
he starts to carp on
bout this and that
so and so
such and such
what a little ratbagge
stupid devil
to get even with gods forests
he dreams up factories
for every bee , a fly
for every sea, a pit
for every cloud, a fume
for every bohemian, a "straight"
im sorry
to have to tell you all this today
the sabbath
{no pea brain rockah, not THAT sabbaff}
the balance is even
every action an opposite and equal reaction
unified field
no one here is gonna yield
magnetic strip
got me further in its grip
so love those "straights"
my people
they ARE necessary
the balance must be maintained
for every "straight" that comes over
to our side
one of "us" slips back
into barbarism and shadow
if you have any of these symptoms
please see a bohemian specialist
before its too late
YES MY FRENDS
THIS IS DIONYSUS V APOLLO
whos side are you on?
1. desire to go down the pub and scoff sausages
drink bevvies
play darts an ' 'ave a laff w/ the boize
2. a desire for power over fellow men
especially pertaining to wars, prisons, mines
slaves, the fucking rat race, papparazzi,
whalers, hunters, empty suits, and rude
librarians
3.a desire to write ye olde sk
a nasty comment
4. theres no 4 iran outta ideers
so there you go
if you have any of that
do not panic
it may just be a slight case of materialism
drop 2 mushrooms and read me in the morning
however
if yer answering yes yes yes
i want my power
i want my
stuff
i want my gold chain
i want my beere belly
i want my botox and my
gosip rags
i wanna be a cog in the great machine
give me the lexus
give me the plexus
give me the whole box and dice
if
IF
youre saying that
just remember
just remember, you lapsed fiend
look at what happened
and is gonna happen
to yer grande progenitor
yeah you know who i mean
that stupid little devil
dont be elzy, bub
evil aint fun
we gotta get back to the gaarden
we gotta be nice to each other
have a luvly sundae
as always
at yer service
dj stevie k
Saturday, January 14, 2006
adventures in the blog trade
hot day again
we bathe in a sea pool
we see a chameleon octopus
dark in crevice
beige against sand
absolute waterfront location
for 3oo bucks a year
you getcha own keys
come and swim
ANYTIME
hot summer nights
nudity
champagne
ecstasy
tragic drownings
dont blame me
theres that piper to pay
but until a giant octypus
drags ya down
while ya loaded
and drownin'
well........
now im off to buy some fixative
sure sk, nudge , nudge
no i mean the stuff that
ya have to spray on
to make the pastels stick
to the paper
otherwise it falls off
or smears up
so ya gotta fixx its ass
once
AND
frall
nevermind all that
what would i know
a few years back
i thought pastel
was blackcurrant
and covered in icing sugar
and came in a little tin
for a sore throatie
AND
a sweet toof
i usually have both
my sweet toof is legendary
stephen cummings said in an interview
the 1st time he met me
iwas reading the bhagavad gita
and knocking down a carton of custard
talking of that gent
didja know he wrota book
and i(slightly changed)
am in that book
actually im a kinda komposite
of about 3 people
note to my real regs
the chosen ones
the ones who have my ear
the ones with affinity
yeah you know who you are
capt emission and co
someone i loathe more than pea brain rockers
are ya ready.....
ROB THOMAS
enuff said
diatribe deleted by my conscience
cmon sk
lay some poetry on us, maaan
give some of tha straynge stuff
yeah but hang a minute
this bloggs for free
gratis
POETRY COSTS MONEY
it dont grow on fucking trees
this is a blog
its my diary
its my impressions
its whatever i think
now, mah sweet baybee
if ya want some poetry
maybe
just
maybe
i can rustle something up for ya
look
i aint got nothing prepared
ok
im just gonna make it up
as i go along
are you ready
the poem will begin soon
copyright control
dont download this poem my friend
or i'll have a big pack o lawyers
cancelling your passport and credit
cards
before you can say
go rimbaud
go rimbaud
ok
(NO this still aint the poem
please be patient)
so no nicking me prose poem
no quotin' it to yer special laydy
and saying yeah did ja like that
mmmmm no i knocked it off meself
dont try that
just enjoy ok?
just appreciate the hell out of it
give it some in yer life, brunhildy
take it to yer heart, disgruntled crunch fan of bogna regis
try this then baby chile of honeysville
ok
after a preamble like that
the pressure on yer humble grumbler
to deliver some goodes
maybe i should be a preamble specialist
easier than pomes
you can boss the audience around more
anyway
i should bloody well
knuckle down
write mah pro's pome
and split to yonder arty supply shoppe
(still a hot bus ride away)
get me fix
and get
home
where i belong
poem
i am already in another world
with you
we meet on the shore
the sun is so weak
the sky is so close
what did you bring with you
i ask
you smile
you point to the birds
oh
i say
anything else
you smile again
you open your tiny white hand
you are holding a little box
open it
you say
inside its empty
the box was my life
you say
the emptiness is love
something huge moves in the sea
when i look back
youre gone
just givin ya some space
to change from poetry
back to blog
anyway
i have to let it do what it wants
but
look
i promise therell be
a good blog real real soon
i love ya
sk
we bathe in a sea pool
we see a chameleon octopus
dark in crevice
beige against sand
absolute waterfront location
for 3oo bucks a year
you getcha own keys
come and swim
ANYTIME
hot summer nights
nudity
champagne
ecstasy
tragic drownings
dont blame me
theres that piper to pay
but until a giant octypus
drags ya down
while ya loaded
and drownin'
well........
now im off to buy some fixative
sure sk, nudge , nudge
no i mean the stuff that
ya have to spray on
to make the pastels stick
to the paper
otherwise it falls off
or smears up
so ya gotta fixx its ass
once
AND
frall
nevermind all that
what would i know
a few years back
i thought pastel
was blackcurrant
and covered in icing sugar
and came in a little tin
for a sore throatie
AND
a sweet toof
i usually have both
my sweet toof is legendary
stephen cummings said in an interview
the 1st time he met me
iwas reading the bhagavad gita
and knocking down a carton of custard
talking of that gent
didja know he wrota book
and i(slightly changed)
am in that book
actually im a kinda komposite
of about 3 people
note to my real regs
the chosen ones
the ones who have my ear
the ones with affinity
yeah you know who you are
capt emission and co
someone i loathe more than pea brain rockers
are ya ready.....
ROB THOMAS
enuff said
diatribe deleted by my conscience
cmon sk
lay some poetry on us, maaan
give some of tha straynge stuff
yeah but hang a minute
this bloggs for free
gratis
POETRY COSTS MONEY
it dont grow on fucking trees
this is a blog
its my diary
its my impressions
its whatever i think
now, mah sweet baybee
if ya want some poetry
maybe
just
maybe
i can rustle something up for ya
look
i aint got nothing prepared
ok
im just gonna make it up
as i go along
are you ready
the poem will begin soon
copyright control
dont download this poem my friend
or i'll have a big pack o lawyers
cancelling your passport and credit
cards
before you can say
go rimbaud
go rimbaud
ok
(NO this still aint the poem
please be patient)
so no nicking me prose poem
no quotin' it to yer special laydy
and saying yeah did ja like that
mmmmm no i knocked it off meself
dont try that
just enjoy ok?
just appreciate the hell out of it
give it some in yer life, brunhildy
take it to yer heart, disgruntled crunch fan of bogna regis
try this then baby chile of honeysville
ok
after a preamble like that
the pressure on yer humble grumbler
to deliver some goodes
maybe i should be a preamble specialist
easier than pomes
you can boss the audience around more
anyway
i should bloody well
knuckle down
write mah pro's pome
and split to yonder arty supply shoppe
(still a hot bus ride away)
get me fix
and get
home
where i belong
poem
i am already in another world
with you
we meet on the shore
the sun is so weak
the sky is so close
what did you bring with you
i ask
you smile
you point to the birds
oh
i say
anything else
you smile again
you open your tiny white hand
you are holding a little box
open it
you say
inside its empty
the box was my life
you say
the emptiness is love
something huge moves in the sea
when i look back
youre gone
just givin ya some space
to change from poetry
back to blog
anyway
i have to let it do what it wants
but
look
i promise therell be
a good blog real real soon
i love ya
sk
Friday, January 13, 2006
fried day on my mynde
in the window
convenience shop
a warm sultry evening
everyone dressed up to the nines
handbags, boas, hi heels, hairdo
yer eyehadow and glitter
is outtasite
no courtesan could begin to decipher
yer beam of light
very obnoxious toxious
rap playin loudly
wreakin' havoc with my tinnitus
plus not having had my dinner
been atta meeting
with others from the crunch
but not pk
hes in the tropics of course
trying to plan some stuff
uh oh
not my forte
im in charge of esoteric affairs
thats my dept.
in the hulking church skyscraper
in downtown bondi junction
where we convene
a whole floor of esoteric concepts
people scuttling about
doing esoteric jobs
let me tell ya
its chaos
most days i cant go in
to that soulscraping crunch corporation
the board
the share holders
the tea light holders
the holder naminute
responsibility
a gaggle of secretaries
followin' me about
oh mr kilbey, dont forget your pedicure at 3
sorry mr kilbey, but some dude from the vatican ,sir
he wouldnt take no
the punishing schedules
the important meetings
the glasses of red vino and cigars
the free first class flights
and accomodation in the casino
man
the bizness side of rock
can do yer head in
every boddy wants the poore olde crunch
at the moment
i spend my daze
sitting in a room
fielding offers
hedging my bets
taking it all on
myself
sorting the spielburgs
from the sondheims
can the crunch open our bridge?
can the crunch come back to bannockburn please?
can the crunch play at my aunties wedding?
can the crunch be in this blockbustah mooovie?
can the crunch come on here
and talk about this
and then go there
and talk about that
theyre beginning to twig
sk is one bona fide eccentric
olde fashioned renaissance style
common or garden GENIUS
the crunch are the true fuckin spirit
of rocknroll baybee
cmon
little woman
you know that its troo!
we will gladly pass this torch on
BUT WHO WILL BEAR IT?
many are called
few are chosen
rocknrolls no joke
dont you wanna get free?
ultc
gonna get ya where ya wanna go
i should know
ive been there
and its a goode plaice
me and 2 others from
gilt tripe
climbed up to a high plateau
last nite
look out over ocean
or back towards city
bridge and oppa house
etc
warm humid night
the coastline
one headland after another
reaching into pacifico
black and blue water
ships out at sea w/ pink lights
twinkle twinkle
people in their rooms
smoking dope
drinking beer
watching telly
talk about the inevitable past
olde school teachers
we had this fuckin cat
called doctor h.
from hungary or somewhere
in some other place and time
this guy musta been more than a school teacher
some kinda honcho or bigwig
and he dont like being at bully high
in the early seventees
teaching latin to long haired scum
like steven kilbey and his ilk
sometimes he raves on for whole lesson
about WW2
or modern youth
or politics
he hates to be thwarted
has a wicked accent
he asks my parents for permission to psycho analyze
me
he calls me lazy lousy boof
tells me hes gonna make me repeat
soon i work up a good impression of him
still makes my brother
(who had him too)
laugh 33 years later
i bet they dont have teachers
like him any more
he fuckin thought he had yer
humble hero sussed
he didnt think
i'd have a little audience
who all around the world
sat at their computahs
and read about him
and his adventures
at bully high
im gonna leave ya there
in school
with the doctor
its 1972
and yer learning yer catullus
yer having a vegemite bun
and a chocolate milk
for lunch
or ya could go drivin' round
in yer muvvers triumph herald
but for now
the docs on yer case
nah! kilbey you nasssty fellow
conjugate five verbs
that form irregular pluperfect
endings
um err well
never mind kilbey
you nasssty repeater
youll get a chance to do it all again....
next year
hey doc!
guess what?
i never repeated
but i only just passed....
latin
its a fuckin' dead language
see ya later fiendss
vera semper colere
convenience shop
a warm sultry evening
everyone dressed up to the nines
handbags, boas, hi heels, hairdo
yer eyehadow and glitter
is outtasite
no courtesan could begin to decipher
yer beam of light
very obnoxious toxious
rap playin loudly
wreakin' havoc with my tinnitus
plus not having had my dinner
been atta meeting
with others from the crunch
but not pk
hes in the tropics of course
trying to plan some stuff
uh oh
not my forte
im in charge of esoteric affairs
thats my dept.
in the hulking church skyscraper
in downtown bondi junction
where we convene
a whole floor of esoteric concepts
people scuttling about
doing esoteric jobs
let me tell ya
its chaos
most days i cant go in
to that soulscraping crunch corporation
the board
the share holders
the tea light holders
the holder naminute
responsibility
a gaggle of secretaries
followin' me about
oh mr kilbey, dont forget your pedicure at 3
sorry mr kilbey, but some dude from the vatican ,sir
he wouldnt take no
the punishing schedules
the important meetings
the glasses of red vino and cigars
the free first class flights
and accomodation in the casino
man
the bizness side of rock
can do yer head in
every boddy wants the poore olde crunch
at the moment
i spend my daze
sitting in a room
fielding offers
hedging my bets
taking it all on
myself
sorting the spielburgs
from the sondheims
can the crunch open our bridge?
can the crunch come back to bannockburn please?
can the crunch play at my aunties wedding?
can the crunch be in this blockbustah mooovie?
can the crunch come on here
and talk about this
and then go there
and talk about that
theyre beginning to twig
sk is one bona fide eccentric
olde fashioned renaissance style
common or garden GENIUS
the crunch are the true fuckin spirit
of rocknroll baybee
cmon
little woman
you know that its troo!
we will gladly pass this torch on
BUT WHO WILL BEAR IT?
many are called
few are chosen
rocknrolls no joke
dont you wanna get free?
ultc
gonna get ya where ya wanna go
i should know
ive been there
and its a goode plaice
me and 2 others from
gilt tripe
climbed up to a high plateau
last nite
look out over ocean
or back towards city
bridge and oppa house
etc
warm humid night
the coastline
one headland after another
reaching into pacifico
black and blue water
ships out at sea w/ pink lights
twinkle twinkle
people in their rooms
smoking dope
drinking beer
watching telly
talk about the inevitable past
olde school teachers
we had this fuckin cat
called doctor h.
from hungary or somewhere
in some other place and time
this guy musta been more than a school teacher
some kinda honcho or bigwig
and he dont like being at bully high
in the early seventees
teaching latin to long haired scum
like steven kilbey and his ilk
sometimes he raves on for whole lesson
about WW2
or modern youth
or politics
he hates to be thwarted
has a wicked accent
he asks my parents for permission to psycho analyze
me
he calls me lazy lousy boof
tells me hes gonna make me repeat
soon i work up a good impression of him
still makes my brother
(who had him too)
laugh 33 years later
i bet they dont have teachers
like him any more
he fuckin thought he had yer
humble hero sussed
he didnt think
i'd have a little audience
who all around the world
sat at their computahs
and read about him
and his adventures
at bully high
im gonna leave ya there
in school
with the doctor
its 1972
and yer learning yer catullus
yer having a vegemite bun
and a chocolate milk
for lunch
or ya could go drivin' round
in yer muvvers triumph herald
but for now
the docs on yer case
nah! kilbey you nasssty fellow
conjugate five verbs
that form irregular pluperfect
endings
um err well
never mind kilbey
you nasssty repeater
youll get a chance to do it all again....
next year
hey doc!
guess what?
i never repeated
but i only just passed....
latin
its a fuckin' dead language
see ya later fiendss
vera semper colere
Thursday, January 12, 2006
so full of emptiness
rainy thursday morning
everyone still asleep
last night the twillies
flew off home
sorry readers
sk feeling
dazed and confused
morning radio
gonzo hyperbolic
tasteless noisy
they highlight this
by playing danny my-nogue
(a vitriolic libellous rant has
been deleted by sks
long suffrin' solicitor)
morning has a way
of underlining all the things
that are going wrong
night camouflages our shortcomings
sleep comes and we rest
oblivious
unaware if we are kings
or slaves
the jonesin' addict
the soberin' alky
the unfaithful lover
the condemned man
all these
and more
fear the first rays of that olde sun
blasting into your morass
cooking your (mock) goose
frying your mind
paralyzing ya
once upon a time
i hated morning
the letters a.m.
could induce nausea
from fifty paces
11 oclock was my bottom line
if anyone called before that
i'd lie there thinking
rude bastards....sod off
now
i dont mind it too much
as long as i feel i have
my own place in the morning
all those "straights"
and trainee "straights"
whizzin' off to work in their
4 weal drive behemouths
slicked down
caffeine and nicoteen
adjusted
already on moby
setting up deals
takeovers, appointments
you get the picture
only deal i ever set up
at 7 in morning
was drug
dwarfed by the hustle bustle
scared of the rushing cars
chev brakes are snarling
as i stumble across the road
thought i saw you in a convenience store
writing bloggies cold and long
sitting in this window
looking at the pacifick o
grey and silver
guys with dreadlox cycle past
early morning cops amble
like bears
jap tourists alight from bus
council workers lean on shovels
surfers in wetsuits
carrying their boards on shoulders
handsome and zen
some trainee "straights" lurk at busstop
suities
gel jel
ties
attache cases
nicely polished shoes
go my son
get on that bus
climb that ladder
dominate your rivals
the captains of industry
old russian guys
already playing dominoes
or cards
in the little benches around the pavillion
alkies assemble in little pickernic huts
on the lawns opposite the sea
they assess their combined gross available capital
they convene a meeting to decide
what new purchases should be implemented
they choose a representative and a second
to ensure transactions success
joggers in pastels
sorry my runners
but you got a LONG way to run...
flags flap emptily
the birds arrive
starlings
sparrows
pigeons
seagulls
the omnipresent
mynah birds
conspiring
taking over
running the avian world
babes and proto babes
strut along
ipodded, suntanned
straightbacked
the rich euros
staying in the hotel above come out
500 bucks a night, brunhilda
and we get weather like this rubbish
hey hans
aint that stevie k from the crunch
in yonder window typing dilly gently
at his goode blogge?
yes bunhildy dear
and to think we came
all the way from frankfurt
and we hoped we'd see im
pottering round bondi
and bang!
1st morning...
ohh hans , kids
lets get a picture w/ him
nay my good wife
i hear he is a rude unapproachable
olde rockah
my cousin gert met him once
in stuttgart
and yonder sk
was pompous and sarcastick!
yes im sorry
i have been known to be rude
ive also been known to be nice too
but that knowledge has been withheld
suppressed by the "straights"
people like to think im a ratbagge
and it can seem like that
even to me...
its ok
suffer them slings and arrows
of outrageous fortune, olde bouy
in 2030 documents will be revealed
that will prove priest=aura
was the true grail
despised for its ability
to destroy illusion
the "straight" oligarchy cabals
fixed its bad review in 1992
rolling stone
thus dooming it
to
obscurity
for
ever.
i gotta hold on to 2030
i gotta be vindicated
i will be re awarded
post humourously
all the emmys
grammys
arias
oscars
etc
that i shoulda had
AS MY DIVINE RIGHT
keep on rocking in the three worlds
SK
everyone still asleep
last night the twillies
flew off home
sorry readers
sk feeling
dazed and confused
morning radio
gonzo hyperbolic
tasteless noisy
they highlight this
by playing danny my-nogue
(a vitriolic libellous rant has
been deleted by sks
long suffrin' solicitor)
morning has a way
of underlining all the things
that are going wrong
night camouflages our shortcomings
sleep comes and we rest
oblivious
unaware if we are kings
or slaves
the jonesin' addict
the soberin' alky
the unfaithful lover
the condemned man
all these
and more
fear the first rays of that olde sun
blasting into your morass
cooking your (mock) goose
frying your mind
paralyzing ya
once upon a time
i hated morning
the letters a.m.
could induce nausea
from fifty paces
11 oclock was my bottom line
if anyone called before that
i'd lie there thinking
rude bastards....sod off
now
i dont mind it too much
as long as i feel i have
my own place in the morning
all those "straights"
and trainee "straights"
whizzin' off to work in their
4 weal drive behemouths
slicked down
caffeine and nicoteen
adjusted
already on moby
setting up deals
takeovers, appointments
you get the picture
only deal i ever set up
at 7 in morning
was drug
dwarfed by the hustle bustle
scared of the rushing cars
chev brakes are snarling
as i stumble across the road
thought i saw you in a convenience store
writing bloggies cold and long
sitting in this window
looking at the pacifick o
grey and silver
guys with dreadlox cycle past
early morning cops amble
like bears
jap tourists alight from bus
council workers lean on shovels
surfers in wetsuits
carrying their boards on shoulders
handsome and zen
some trainee "straights" lurk at busstop
suities
gel jel
ties
attache cases
nicely polished shoes
go my son
get on that bus
climb that ladder
dominate your rivals
the captains of industry
old russian guys
already playing dominoes
or cards
in the little benches around the pavillion
alkies assemble in little pickernic huts
on the lawns opposite the sea
they assess their combined gross available capital
they convene a meeting to decide
what new purchases should be implemented
they choose a representative and a second
to ensure transactions success
joggers in pastels
sorry my runners
but you got a LONG way to run...
flags flap emptily
the birds arrive
starlings
sparrows
pigeons
seagulls
the omnipresent
mynah birds
conspiring
taking over
running the avian world
babes and proto babes
strut along
ipodded, suntanned
straightbacked
the rich euros
staying in the hotel above come out
500 bucks a night, brunhilda
and we get weather like this rubbish
hey hans
aint that stevie k from the crunch
in yonder window typing dilly gently
at his goode blogge?
yes bunhildy dear
and to think we came
all the way from frankfurt
and we hoped we'd see im
pottering round bondi
and bang!
1st morning...
ohh hans , kids
lets get a picture w/ him
nay my good wife
i hear he is a rude unapproachable
olde rockah
my cousin gert met him once
in stuttgart
and yonder sk
was pompous and sarcastick!
yes im sorry
i have been known to be rude
ive also been known to be nice too
but that knowledge has been withheld
suppressed by the "straights"
people like to think im a ratbagge
and it can seem like that
even to me...
its ok
suffer them slings and arrows
of outrageous fortune, olde bouy
in 2030 documents will be revealed
that will prove priest=aura
was the true grail
despised for its ability
to destroy illusion
the "straight" oligarchy cabals
fixed its bad review in 1992
rolling stone
thus dooming it
to
obscurity
for
ever.
i gotta hold on to 2030
i gotta be vindicated
i will be re awarded
post humourously
all the emmys
grammys
arias
oscars
etc
that i shoulda had
AS MY DIVINE RIGHT
keep on rocking in the three worlds
SK
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
hotter than hell/never again
i wake up
its six in the morning
already angry sun
focussing down thru
the open windows
its already about 30 degrees
(thats fucking hot in farenheit)
tiotoe outta house
down to pool
already arms and legs
going in and out
even from a distance
the human creatures
can be seen
as they splash in their pool
people say good mornin' to me
some i hardly know
some i gotten to know
well
a fraternity of swimmers
a brotherhood of brine
big waves come over the side
the humans all collide
the sea is cold
as it comes over
the side
as its gets closer to nine
the "straights" pull on their disguises
they apply the gel and aftershave and underarm
they shave
they check their abs and flabs
in the smirking mirror
sk jumps in
people going everywhere
a tanned oaf
swims up the down lane
crashes into yer humble breast strokin' hero
sk gives extra kicky up into oafs tummy wummy
oh sorry mate....you ok...?
uh oh big wavies
1st seen as ominous shadow
as i watch the beautiful patterns
the sand and tide
(AKA GOD)
have arranged on the pools bottom
for bohemian swimmahs to gaze upon
and marvel
suddenly the lines which demarcate the slow
the medium
the fast
and the
jesus mate
what are ya...a fish?
lanes
sk somewhat dishonestly is in fast lane
due to less numbers in here
suddenly all the disparate
indeed
desperate swimmers
leave their collective
up, slow
down , fast
lanes
and the pool
now like a giant washing machine
agitates
and mixes
the helpless humanss
tangling em in the floating lines
slamming into the wall
and each other
bugger this for a lark
says ye olde hero
and climbs out
despite shocked looks
from regulars
who know
sk
always does 'is 20
at least, baybee
but no
id rather do me chi gong
and split
take care of good yon bloggy
get in a banana and date soy smoothie
take the tribe to brekky somewhere
(but its a hottun out there folks)
(im braving considerable uv collateral damage
to bring you todays edish)
my mother says to me all weekend
you look burnt
you look brown
you look too tanned
you do look fit tho
but mum
i ALWAYS wear my hat
i never court that fat ole sun
im stevie hidden
and the shade menne
but the sun has become
OMNIPRESENT
we did it
we went and fucked up our own planet!
enuff of that
i hate it when yer rockers
or rollers
start pontificating
UNLESS
you know
that its some real genius
who has the good overview
a word to the wise guys
the real thing
of course
i cannot help but nominate myself
into this rarefied category
after having written loads of songs
who better
qualli fied
than ye olde mee
to sit in his cyber armchair
and put things right
so here goes...
well
for a start...
i'd like to rant on about....
nah!
i'll spare the gruesome details
just jokin folks
this blog is guaranteed
politicks free
we all agree
that they are unspeakable wretches
we leave it at that
been enjoying my MIMESIS stuff
getting near to finish
maybe jus' one more track to fix up
in a way musical equiv.
of this goode blogge
polinski and pals
provide lush
evocative
pulsing
living
electronic
organic
dreamlike
music
while i
associate
tap straight in
and let it out
jlk does b. vox
then poli and men
fuck w/ it bigtime
with all the latest
AND
oldest
tricks in the book
i tell you
its the best record ever made
anywhero
by anyone
and no one
ever will
make a record
as good as this
OR EVEN COME CLOSE!!!
and thats no exaggeration
the release of the crunches new disc
ultc
looms
like a maw
in march
or is it febby?
who knows
is there anyone out there
who didnt download
burn
appropriate
borrow
pirate
acquire
their own little version
its ok
but
the damn thing
well over a year old now
the "boys" should do something new
this excites me
we are getting better
contrary to the norm
against all odds
ha ha
who woulda thought that
rock band becomes
more subtle
more gestalt
more involved
more connected
it doesnt normally go like that
i reckon yer gonna like ultc
its chunky
its got muscle
muscle
brains
heart
and
soul
what does it matter
how it came into yer possesh
i aint no school teachah
chasin' down you little criminals
and pi-rats
we still out here
trying for ya
and we dont aim on
ever disappointing ya
(AGAIN)
now i wanna get onta
something new
make some new stuff
pull it outta the thin air
which is laden w/ gifts
if we could but grasp 'em
i gotta create something
the crunch are gonna turn a new korner
we gonna meander down the paths
of possibity
we gonna getta
spacerock opera
outta our system
we gotta make a racquet
hail hail rocknroll
is it love
that makes us rock???
THATS IT!
now go home
its six in the morning
already angry sun
focussing down thru
the open windows
its already about 30 degrees
(thats fucking hot in farenheit)
tiotoe outta house
down to pool
already arms and legs
going in and out
even from a distance
the human creatures
can be seen
as they splash in their pool
people say good mornin' to me
some i hardly know
some i gotten to know
well
a fraternity of swimmers
a brotherhood of brine
big waves come over the side
the humans all collide
the sea is cold
as it comes over
the side
as its gets closer to nine
the "straights" pull on their disguises
they apply the gel and aftershave and underarm
they shave
they check their abs and flabs
in the smirking mirror
sk jumps in
people going everywhere
a tanned oaf
swims up the down lane
crashes into yer humble breast strokin' hero
sk gives extra kicky up into oafs tummy wummy
oh sorry mate....you ok...?
uh oh big wavies
1st seen as ominous shadow
as i watch the beautiful patterns
the sand and tide
(AKA GOD)
have arranged on the pools bottom
for bohemian swimmahs to gaze upon
and marvel
suddenly the lines which demarcate the slow
the medium
the fast
and the
jesus mate
what are ya...a fish?
lanes
sk somewhat dishonestly is in fast lane
due to less numbers in here
suddenly all the disparate
indeed
desperate swimmers
leave their collective
up, slow
down , fast
lanes
and the pool
now like a giant washing machine
agitates
and mixes
the helpless humanss
tangling em in the floating lines
slamming into the wall
and each other
bugger this for a lark
says ye olde hero
and climbs out
despite shocked looks
from regulars
who know
sk
always does 'is 20
at least, baybee
but no
id rather do me chi gong
and split
take care of good yon bloggy
get in a banana and date soy smoothie
take the tribe to brekky somewhere
(but its a hottun out there folks)
(im braving considerable uv collateral damage
to bring you todays edish)
my mother says to me all weekend
you look burnt
you look brown
you look too tanned
you do look fit tho
but mum
i ALWAYS wear my hat
i never court that fat ole sun
im stevie hidden
and the shade menne
but the sun has become
OMNIPRESENT
we did it
we went and fucked up our own planet!
enuff of that
i hate it when yer rockers
or rollers
start pontificating
UNLESS
you know
that its some real genius
who has the good overview
a word to the wise guys
the real thing
of course
i cannot help but nominate myself
into this rarefied category
after having written loads of songs
who better
qualli fied
than ye olde mee
to sit in his cyber armchair
and put things right
so here goes...
well
for a start...
i'd like to rant on about....
nah!
i'll spare the gruesome details
just jokin folks
this blog is guaranteed
politicks free
we all agree
that they are unspeakable wretches
we leave it at that
been enjoying my MIMESIS stuff
getting near to finish
maybe jus' one more track to fix up
in a way musical equiv.
of this goode blogge
polinski and pals
provide lush
evocative
pulsing
living
electronic
organic
dreamlike
music
while i
associate
tap straight in
and let it out
jlk does b. vox
then poli and men
fuck w/ it bigtime
with all the latest
AND
oldest
tricks in the book
i tell you
its the best record ever made
anywhero
by anyone
and no one
ever will
make a record
as good as this
OR EVEN COME CLOSE!!!
and thats no exaggeration
the release of the crunches new disc
ultc
looms
like a maw
in march
or is it febby?
who knows
is there anyone out there
who didnt download
burn
appropriate
borrow
pirate
acquire
their own little version
its ok
but
the damn thing
well over a year old now
the "boys" should do something new
this excites me
we are getting better
contrary to the norm
against all odds
ha ha
who woulda thought that
rock band becomes
more subtle
more gestalt
more involved
more connected
it doesnt normally go like that
i reckon yer gonna like ultc
its chunky
its got muscle
muscle
brains
heart
and
soul
what does it matter
how it came into yer possesh
i aint no school teachah
chasin' down you little criminals
and pi-rats
we still out here
trying for ya
and we dont aim on
ever disappointing ya
(AGAIN)
now i wanna get onta
something new
make some new stuff
pull it outta the thin air
which is laden w/ gifts
if we could but grasp 'em
i gotta create something
the crunch are gonna turn a new korner
we gonna meander down the paths
of possibity
we gonna getta
spacerock opera
outta our system
we gotta make a racquet
hail hail rocknroll
is it love
that makes us rock???
THATS IT!
now go home
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
la blog de le ettiene kilb-eye
bonjour fiendss
i have no idea what im gonna write today
im in a diffrent caff for a start
its actually a convenience store
with a few computahs in ye olde window
a little bit o'l'initative
a quick cokey colah
a bit o la gelatine sweeties
a munch o monosodium gluteous korne chipps
which reappear
as chipps on yer shoulder
a packet of paradise beach lights 50s
(have your own sea
in yer lungs)
a gossip raggy or two
oh you mean fabulously welfy
aktas get happy and sad
and fat and finn
and marrid and schplittsky
and bourne and dye....
JUST LIKE US DRONESSS???????
wow
and the pictures to prooove it
any way
someone has left my preset button on rant
and had cause to hit it HARD
my attack is turned way up
no release
no decay
total sustain
ok
im jus' gonna adjust the ole sk
software here
im gonna tweak a few dials
hang on......
sound of seat being put in
footsteps
from a distance we hear.
look...hello...can i just reserve my computah for a few secs
yeah no. 2 in ye olde windowe
yeah i know i'll keep on paying...
ok
*********************************
*********************************
********************************
******************************
****************************
*************************
*******************
************
**********
*********
******
****
***
**
*
ok im back
i smoked a joint of maui wowie
i took some owsley lsd
i did extract of condensed chi gong-y
prana yawna
swam the bay
wrestled a giant "straight"
who had risen from its murky bed
and had tried to drag me down to its lair
to feed me to its
ravenous young
so here i am
the way you expect me
washed and ready to read
new leaf turn over
thats the way
im always here you know
voices in my head tell me
what to write
they compete
i already told you that
sk basically just a machine
that selects the voices
a mental chairmaan
ok mr rant, what have you got to say fer yerself...?
alright mr sentimentle how was bully high today...?
mr jealous, whos character will ya ass sass inate tooday
mr modest...ahh we dont hear much from you...do we...?
mr humble......where you been druid?
mr show off....no you done had yer say for today
mr arty, got any etchings?
mr druggy, please wake up
mr funny, are you in charge of this section???
ahhhhhhhhhhhh
long breaths
must relax
my brain is storming
ideas
inklings
mem o rees
conversations
theories
rants
raves
jokes
magick
soother nears
where was i?
all over the plaice
where were you?
we were here
why do i pretend to answer
for some 2nd party
when its just me?
we dont know either
swedish gurlss last day
in austrayliah
sk understandably a little misty
get over it olde beane
strange to have teenage daughters
tall
slim
shapely
cheeky
blase
intense
and all the rest of it
dont lay no boogie woogie
on the king of rocknroll
mah dortahs...
how can 2 identical people
be so different
like 2 different singers
doing the same lovely song
emphasising different bits
subtle
changes
harder and softer
on opposite things
so alike that i still confuse em,
much to their chagrin
and so at completely
opposite ends of the
whole deal
someone said to me
i dunno how 1 manne
can have 5 beautiful daughters..?!
i go
ha ha yeah...
but later
i think of all the things that
could/can/do
go wrong
and i feel blessed
and grateful
thus far
because my daughters are
not a badde lot
(as modern kidss go)
roxette on radio
i do not mourn their demise sir
shallow
tedious
empty
waste of three minutes
of yer preshuss time
listen to yer heart indeed
if they hadda done that
that woulda nae have written
this fucking tripe
oh mr rant
your back....!
hot steamy day in sydney
sun breaks thru black cloudies
wham bang
you got some serious hugh middity, bubba
never mind
canberra was hot and dry
emphasising the fact that
basically
yer in
the middle
of nowhere
my olde house
which in my day
sat on top
of a hot dry hill
is now a mansion
replete w/
willows a weeping
tropical lanscapin'
cape kodpiece
stucco stuccorl ovah it
transformed, my patrons
the phantom yooffull sk
flitting its corridors
violin basse strapped on
at all times
pudding bowl prince valiant
flannel shirty levi faded
washed out pimple creamed
marc bowlin' on the wall
my dad says
only clever thing about that bastard
is that he can spell tyrannosaurus
maybe the new owners
can still faintly hear
25 or 6 to 4
going round and round
well believe it or knot
but thus far
la blogge has taken up nearly an hour
in that time
a load a awful music
on ye olde radioh
loads o nasty munchies
and tocksick sodahs
wracked up
what a spot for an olde bohemian jeanius
upfront in the window
of ye olde fucken conveenients store
everyone together now
ANATHEMA!!!
i'll get over it fiends
im sensitive
but im tough too
i will survive
and
i did it my whey
hey hey
sk
i have no idea what im gonna write today
im in a diffrent caff for a start
its actually a convenience store
with a few computahs in ye olde window
a little bit o'l'initative
a quick cokey colah
a bit o la gelatine sweeties
a munch o monosodium gluteous korne chipps
which reappear
as chipps on yer shoulder
a packet of paradise beach lights 50s
(have your own sea
in yer lungs)
a gossip raggy or two
oh you mean fabulously welfy
aktas get happy and sad
and fat and finn
and marrid and schplittsky
and bourne and dye....
JUST LIKE US DRONESSS???????
wow
and the pictures to prooove it
any way
someone has left my preset button on rant
and had cause to hit it HARD
my attack is turned way up
no release
no decay
total sustain
ok
im jus' gonna adjust the ole sk
software here
im gonna tweak a few dials
hang on......
sound of seat being put in
footsteps
from a distance we hear.
look...hello...can i just reserve my computah for a few secs
yeah no. 2 in ye olde windowe
yeah i know i'll keep on paying...
ok
*********************************
*********************************
********************************
******************************
****************************
*************************
*******************
************
**********
*********
******
****
***
**
*
ok im back
i smoked a joint of maui wowie
i took some owsley lsd
i did extract of condensed chi gong-y
prana yawna
swam the bay
wrestled a giant "straight"
who had risen from its murky bed
and had tried to drag me down to its lair
to feed me to its
ravenous young
so here i am
the way you expect me
washed and ready to read
new leaf turn over
thats the way
im always here you know
voices in my head tell me
what to write
they compete
i already told you that
sk basically just a machine
that selects the voices
a mental chairmaan
ok mr rant, what have you got to say fer yerself...?
alright mr sentimentle how was bully high today...?
mr jealous, whos character will ya ass sass inate tooday
mr modest...ahh we dont hear much from you...do we...?
mr humble......where you been druid?
mr show off....no you done had yer say for today
mr arty, got any etchings?
mr druggy, please wake up
mr funny, are you in charge of this section???
ahhhhhhhhhhhh
long breaths
must relax
my brain is storming
ideas
inklings
mem o rees
conversations
theories
rants
raves
jokes
magick
soother nears
where was i?
all over the plaice
where were you?
we were here
why do i pretend to answer
for some 2nd party
when its just me?
we dont know either
swedish gurlss last day
in austrayliah
sk understandably a little misty
get over it olde beane
strange to have teenage daughters
tall
slim
shapely
cheeky
blase
intense
and all the rest of it
dont lay no boogie woogie
on the king of rocknroll
mah dortahs...
how can 2 identical people
be so different
like 2 different singers
doing the same lovely song
emphasising different bits
subtle
changes
harder and softer
on opposite things
so alike that i still confuse em,
much to their chagrin
and so at completely
opposite ends of the
whole deal
someone said to me
i dunno how 1 manne
can have 5 beautiful daughters..?!
i go
ha ha yeah...
but later
i think of all the things that
could/can/do
go wrong
and i feel blessed
and grateful
thus far
because my daughters are
not a badde lot
(as modern kidss go)
roxette on radio
i do not mourn their demise sir
shallow
tedious
empty
waste of three minutes
of yer preshuss time
listen to yer heart indeed
if they hadda done that
that woulda nae have written
this fucking tripe
oh mr rant
your back....!
hot steamy day in sydney
sun breaks thru black cloudies
wham bang
you got some serious hugh middity, bubba
never mind
canberra was hot and dry
emphasising the fact that
basically
yer in
the middle
of nowhere
my olde house
which in my day
sat on top
of a hot dry hill
is now a mansion
replete w/
willows a weeping
tropical lanscapin'
cape kodpiece
stucco stuccorl ovah it
transformed, my patrons
the phantom yooffull sk
flitting its corridors
violin basse strapped on
at all times
pudding bowl prince valiant
flannel shirty levi faded
washed out pimple creamed
marc bowlin' on the wall
my dad says
only clever thing about that bastard
is that he can spell tyrannosaurus
maybe the new owners
can still faintly hear
25 or 6 to 4
going round and round
well believe it or knot
but thus far
la blogge has taken up nearly an hour
in that time
a load a awful music
on ye olde radioh
loads o nasty munchies
and tocksick sodahs
wracked up
what a spot for an olde bohemian jeanius
upfront in the window
of ye olde fucken conveenients store
everyone together now
ANATHEMA!!!
i'll get over it fiends
im sensitive
but im tough too
i will survive
and
i did it my whey
hey hey
sk
Monday, January 09, 2006
oh monday morning....
in the cafe
bondi way
another one
a darker cooler cafe
radio playing
the new radicals
jesus
i really like this song
very todd rundgren
but what a chord progresh
great instrumentation
good lyrics
it coulda been mine
it coulda been mine
he beat me to that one
have all the good songs been written?
nah
you can always find another un out there
the wonderful songs that have been written
are but a puddle
compared to the great ocean of unwritten ones
however
there is an ocean of terrible songs
and an ocean of em yet to come
i guarantee it
i did an interview on songwriting
on some poncey abc show
and one question i was asked
that i never been asked before
so simple
AND
i had no real answer for
"what is a song?"
so
i been a songwriter
for 30 years
but never pondered this definition
hmmmm
i decided to me
the question was academic
the real question is
how do songs do what they do to ya, baybee?
skimming thru hotelwombat today
i note with admiration
and a little wonder
ms t.v.s way of rating a record
by breaking it down
into
its
constituent
pa
r
t
s
rating them individually
and then adding the whole mass
of numbers
up
until
you get a score
i think this IS a valid way
to give a score
if thats what you wanna do
but
as the quote at the bottom
said
you get the quantity
but not
the quality
i am always SO disappointed
when interviews turn into
questions about
sales
record companies
tactics in global dominance
or lack thereof
people
people
we know it
thats why we are here
music
magic
the terms are interchange-able
music:
the most powerful of the arts.
you dont ever hear
of paintings taming savage beasts, baybee
music
god
to say that we love it
is like saying
buddha was an ok guy
one day in 1967
i turn up at bully high school
something has gone and changed people
little pubescent sk can feele it
his spider sense going crazy
coming from that room
sgt fucking pepper
now as far as im concerned
things blown wide open
the beatle boys have finally
put the fucking nail in the coffin
of the 1950s
goodbye dance routines
goodbye cute
goodbye blacknwhite 2 dimensional
oily hair polyesta shirts
bermuda fuckin shorts
bobby darin
mccarthyist stodgy meaty
uptight unimaginative
repressed unspiritualised
un surrealistic
un fantastic
un intaresting
19 fucking 50s
and it was music
that did it
in the hands of the "people"
the bohemian "people"
remember
i was around in the fifties
i remember
a little like now actually
without the computahs
and mobile camerahs
but somehow
similar aesthetic
i feel like we fought the war
we won
and then like weeds
sprouting thru the pavement
the "straights" reappeared
appropriating our revolution
etc
etc
its a shame
we coulda all been wearing kaftans
we coulda had flours in our hare
we coulda had pop music
that tried to out do itself
in poignance
in meaning
in subtlety
in beauty
in scope
in its power
to do that thing
that this whole
autobloggraphy started out
with
today
ten minutes ago
which already
seems like the middle ages
to me
that is why
i greet the news
that the pea brain rockahs
or the schmaltz bouy singers
or bloozy shouter
has solde 10 million records
with the same feeling
as "4 billion served"
sadness for how it coulda been
(certainly some jealousy
and we'd be fools to
ever discount that
and envy
which are no trifles)
but
for a
wee moment
and other wee
moments
it seems good sense would prevail
a good film!
a good record!
a good tv show !
a good restaurant
serving good food!
we have all history to compare ourselves to
the known and the unknown
why accept rubbish?
read the fucking iliad
instead of star-hound magazine
read the bhagavad gita
instead of american psycho
look at a bee doing its thing
rather than desperate ocs n scrubbs
bite the fucking hand thats feeding ya!
i do
and i love that taste
expect things to be GOODE!
be angry if they AINT!
anyway
this is becoming a rant
you should hear whats on the radio in here
youd be ranting too!!
hey all you kilbometres
i love ya
sk
bondi way
another one
a darker cooler cafe
radio playing
the new radicals
jesus
i really like this song
very todd rundgren
but what a chord progresh
great instrumentation
good lyrics
it coulda been mine
it coulda been mine
he beat me to that one
have all the good songs been written?
nah
you can always find another un out there
the wonderful songs that have been written
are but a puddle
compared to the great ocean of unwritten ones
however
there is an ocean of terrible songs
and an ocean of em yet to come
i guarantee it
i did an interview on songwriting
on some poncey abc show
and one question i was asked
that i never been asked before
so simple
AND
i had no real answer for
"what is a song?"
so
i been a songwriter
for 30 years
but never pondered this definition
hmmmm
i decided to me
the question was academic
the real question is
how do songs do what they do to ya, baybee?
skimming thru hotelwombat today
i note with admiration
and a little wonder
ms t.v.s way of rating a record
by breaking it down
into
its
constituent
pa
r
t
s
rating them individually
and then adding the whole mass
of numbers
up
until
you get a score
i think this IS a valid way
to give a score
if thats what you wanna do
but
as the quote at the bottom
said
you get the quantity
but not
the quality
i am always SO disappointed
when interviews turn into
questions about
sales
record companies
tactics in global dominance
or lack thereof
people
people
we know it
thats why we are here
music
magic
the terms are interchange-able
music:
the most powerful of the arts.
you dont ever hear
of paintings taming savage beasts, baybee
music
god
to say that we love it
is like saying
buddha was an ok guy
one day in 1967
i turn up at bully high school
something has gone and changed people
little pubescent sk can feele it
his spider sense going crazy
coming from that room
sgt fucking pepper
now as far as im concerned
things blown wide open
the beatle boys have finally
put the fucking nail in the coffin
of the 1950s
goodbye dance routines
goodbye cute
goodbye blacknwhite 2 dimensional
oily hair polyesta shirts
bermuda fuckin shorts
bobby darin
mccarthyist stodgy meaty
uptight unimaginative
repressed unspiritualised
un surrealistic
un fantastic
un intaresting
19 fucking 50s
and it was music
that did it
in the hands of the "people"
the bohemian "people"
remember
i was around in the fifties
i remember
a little like now actually
without the computahs
and mobile camerahs
but somehow
similar aesthetic
i feel like we fought the war
we won
and then like weeds
sprouting thru the pavement
the "straights" reappeared
appropriating our revolution
etc
etc
its a shame
we coulda all been wearing kaftans
we coulda had flours in our hare
we coulda had pop music
that tried to out do itself
in poignance
in meaning
in subtlety
in beauty
in scope
in its power
to do that thing
that this whole
autobloggraphy started out
with
today
ten minutes ago
which already
seems like the middle ages
to me
that is why
i greet the news
that the pea brain rockahs
or the schmaltz bouy singers
or bloozy shouter
has solde 10 million records
with the same feeling
as "4 billion served"
sadness for how it coulda been
(certainly some jealousy
and we'd be fools to
ever discount that
and envy
which are no trifles)
but
for a
wee moment
and other wee
moments
it seems good sense would prevail
a good film!
a good record!
a good tv show !
a good restaurant
serving good food!
we have all history to compare ourselves to
the known and the unknown
why accept rubbish?
read the fucking iliad
instead of star-hound magazine
read the bhagavad gita
instead of american psycho
look at a bee doing its thing
rather than desperate ocs n scrubbs
bite the fucking hand thats feeding ya!
i do
and i love that taste
expect things to be GOODE!
be angry if they AINT!
anyway
this is becoming a rant
you should hear whats on the radio in here
youd be ranting too!!
hey all you kilbometres
i love ya
sk
Saturday, January 07, 2006
in a dark wood, wondering
saturday morning
wake up early
my mothers study
where i am sleeping
everyone still asleep
i meditate
no contact
everyone still asleep
wander thru village
back down to lake
baby magpie screaming at its mother
on the lawn
she ignores it
goes on sucking big fat worms outta the ground
eventually the baby gets the picture
finds its own worm
message in my head
this is a metaphor for you, sk
i discover path around lake
sing a song to vishnu
but he's not answering
i walk across little bridge
flies struggling in web
im hoping to meet someone
a magician...
a hermit
someone extraordinary
if only someone would walk down this path...
perhaps my father is waiting up ahead
in the tangle and swamp
in the marshy wetlands
he's waiting for me
some sage advice
smelling of old spice
and benson and hedges
w/ his rhyming slang
and cockney thang
the sun breaks thru the clouds
burns all traces of ghosts away
occaisional jogger
or dog walker
i look very approachable
but no one stops to talk
no witch invites me in
to her mud and sticks hut
to learn the healing lore
to hear her twisted tales
to speak
to her familiar
keep on walking
pleasant feeling of loneliness
wish i had someone
to share this solitude
all my daughters asleep somewhere
all my friends
out there
leading their lives
i am here
in the woods
alone
the last time i spoke w/ my dad
30 years ago
thats a long time between conversations
my olde manne
i feel like youre so near
i feel like youre waiting for me
i feel like we ARE
gonna meet again
i remember when you held my hand
when they stitched up my eye
you were dressed in a suit
and i thought you looked so smart
driving us thru a bushfire in 1961
i felt so safe cos you were there
lying on the back seat watching
those fucking flaming trees
fall down
i realise now
you didnt have a clue either
you were probably scared too
but you made us feel safe
i remember my first bass
we went to queanbeyan
i was nearly 16
the guy said
no ones playing the bass these days
its all rhythm guitar now...
i knew i had to remember that line
still makes me laugh
you rigged me up an amplifier
you made from an olde school p.a. system
then you had to listen
while i played 25 or 6 to 4
over
and over
and over
you let my bands practice
in the garage satday arvos
despite serious complaints
from surly neighbours
"you should come and stand in my toilet
and hear this racket"
said mrs mc carthy
no thanks
said my dad
and the whole band fuckin' had a good laugh
i remember me first gig
i was so nervous
i kept me head down
i made a million mistakes
all the time a voice in my head saying
this is it
this is it
yer playing music
you great idiot
its finally happened
bullies from school
came to watch me play
i remained unpunched
hey this music thing is really workin out for me here
then i got kicked out of my band
they wanted to go more "caberet"
fuck em
they really were clowns
but jesus
getting kicked out of anything hurts
suddenly nothing to do at night
hang around the house
listening to t rex
over
and over
and over
my mother worries
that my bolan worship
could mean that her son
is batting for the other side
ha !
i was his fucking apprentice
i was absorbing all his tricks
i was turning his words over in my mouth
pretending they were mine
i was quotin' him to gurlss
some were impressed
some said
"what are ya, kilbey?"
i was half in one world
canberra 1970, public servants, pubs, footy
and half in another
fauns, babes, rock, love, music
id trawl thru record shops for hours
even when i had no money
looking at the l.p. covers
trying to catch the eye of someone
sitting on an empty bus
back from kingston
where i'd just found
"a beard of stars"
now i was 2 thirds in bolans world
most the kids at school
didnt like it
hell they didnt like me either
i realised its good to be a minority
i zipped up my world
and i walked away
formed more bands
wrote songs like
mascara o hara
jet fin rock
zsa zsas place
igloo blues
"i got the igloo blues
cos they aint no room
for my harpoon"
we were glam
we were glitter
we were awful
i wore a blouse backwards
and enuff make up
to make a panda laugh
we hung around music shops
i was already trying to be iconoclastic
i made a 27 year olde guy actually cry
when i told 'im he was already washed up
i was a pest
i was a big mouthed long haired skinny assed
glam rocker and i wanted some action
one day met p k
when we was double booked at church/rehearsal room
he had longer hair than me
he was 5 inches taller than me
one year younger than me
he could actually really play
the guitar
AND
the drums
we formed uneasy alliance that day
which still holds even now
i still admire his wonderful playing
he still cant believe that i still dont
really have a clue
i ve known that guy over thirty fucking years people
HE HASNT CHANGED!
canberra
hot summers
cold winters
artificial city
in middle of nowhere
lovely now
but brutal then
between 13 and 17
i probably got fuckin punched
almost every day at school
character buildin' baby
"mum, i don' wanna go to school, today..."
why not, son
"um err oooh, well, i feele kinda sick..."
youre going anyway, steven
(but mum, theyre gonna fucking punch my brains in
down there today
i cant take it
im a lover
not a fighter)
sorry son
YOURE GOING!!
i wonder what all my old bullies are doing today?
i wonder if they ever heard my records...?
hey alright unguarded moment...
i dislocated his shoulder....
hey alright...!
they kept me going thru the badde times
"i cant stop reheasing
cos i got to show
those bullies....!"
all gone
all in the past
the things that shaped me
now im an international blogging starr
it all seems silly
sitting here
on the pile o cash
ive made from blogging
here in malibu
and aspen
and monte carlo
and belgravia
and first olde rocker in space
as i orbit fuckin pluto
and as i enter the annals
of legend
where was i?
what was i saying?
thanks for your comments
you bring a tear to this olde rockers
cynical grey eye
cecilia
i cant understand spanish
i wish i could
but i cant understand a thing
youre so lovely
i get the gist
thanks to all my regulars
i feel we got something going here
all of you
youre so spesh to me
really...
no
REALLY
you are
im gettin' all sentimentle
sorry
thats all
i love you
sk
wake up early
my mothers study
where i am sleeping
everyone still asleep
i meditate
no contact
everyone still asleep
wander thru village
back down to lake
baby magpie screaming at its mother
on the lawn
she ignores it
goes on sucking big fat worms outta the ground
eventually the baby gets the picture
finds its own worm
message in my head
this is a metaphor for you, sk
i discover path around lake
sing a song to vishnu
but he's not answering
i walk across little bridge
flies struggling in web
im hoping to meet someone
a magician...
a hermit
someone extraordinary
if only someone would walk down this path...
perhaps my father is waiting up ahead
in the tangle and swamp
in the marshy wetlands
he's waiting for me
some sage advice
smelling of old spice
and benson and hedges
w/ his rhyming slang
and cockney thang
the sun breaks thru the clouds
burns all traces of ghosts away
occaisional jogger
or dog walker
i look very approachable
but no one stops to talk
no witch invites me in
to her mud and sticks hut
to learn the healing lore
to hear her twisted tales
to speak
to her familiar
keep on walking
pleasant feeling of loneliness
wish i had someone
to share this solitude
all my daughters asleep somewhere
all my friends
out there
leading their lives
i am here
in the woods
alone
the last time i spoke w/ my dad
30 years ago
thats a long time between conversations
my olde manne
i feel like youre so near
i feel like youre waiting for me
i feel like we ARE
gonna meet again
i remember when you held my hand
when they stitched up my eye
you were dressed in a suit
and i thought you looked so smart
driving us thru a bushfire in 1961
i felt so safe cos you were there
lying on the back seat watching
those fucking flaming trees
fall down
i realise now
you didnt have a clue either
you were probably scared too
but you made us feel safe
i remember my first bass
we went to queanbeyan
i was nearly 16
the guy said
no ones playing the bass these days
its all rhythm guitar now...
i knew i had to remember that line
still makes me laugh
you rigged me up an amplifier
you made from an olde school p.a. system
then you had to listen
while i played 25 or 6 to 4
over
and over
and over
you let my bands practice
in the garage satday arvos
despite serious complaints
from surly neighbours
"you should come and stand in my toilet
and hear this racket"
said mrs mc carthy
no thanks
said my dad
and the whole band fuckin' had a good laugh
i remember me first gig
i was so nervous
i kept me head down
i made a million mistakes
all the time a voice in my head saying
this is it
this is it
yer playing music
you great idiot
its finally happened
bullies from school
came to watch me play
i remained unpunched
hey this music thing is really workin out for me here
then i got kicked out of my band
they wanted to go more "caberet"
fuck em
they really were clowns
but jesus
getting kicked out of anything hurts
suddenly nothing to do at night
hang around the house
listening to t rex
over
and over
and over
my mother worries
that my bolan worship
could mean that her son
is batting for the other side
ha !
i was his fucking apprentice
i was absorbing all his tricks
i was turning his words over in my mouth
pretending they were mine
i was quotin' him to gurlss
some were impressed
some said
"what are ya, kilbey?"
i was half in one world
canberra 1970, public servants, pubs, footy
and half in another
fauns, babes, rock, love, music
id trawl thru record shops for hours
even when i had no money
looking at the l.p. covers
trying to catch the eye of someone
sitting on an empty bus
back from kingston
where i'd just found
"a beard of stars"
now i was 2 thirds in bolans world
most the kids at school
didnt like it
hell they didnt like me either
i realised its good to be a minority
i zipped up my world
and i walked away
formed more bands
wrote songs like
mascara o hara
jet fin rock
zsa zsas place
igloo blues
"i got the igloo blues
cos they aint no room
for my harpoon"
we were glam
we were glitter
we were awful
i wore a blouse backwards
and enuff make up
to make a panda laugh
we hung around music shops
i was already trying to be iconoclastic
i made a 27 year olde guy actually cry
when i told 'im he was already washed up
i was a pest
i was a big mouthed long haired skinny assed
glam rocker and i wanted some action
one day met p k
when we was double booked at church/rehearsal room
he had longer hair than me
he was 5 inches taller than me
one year younger than me
he could actually really play
the guitar
AND
the drums
we formed uneasy alliance that day
which still holds even now
i still admire his wonderful playing
he still cant believe that i still dont
really have a clue
i ve known that guy over thirty fucking years people
HE HASNT CHANGED!
canberra
hot summers
cold winters
artificial city
in middle of nowhere
lovely now
but brutal then
between 13 and 17
i probably got fuckin punched
almost every day at school
character buildin' baby
"mum, i don' wanna go to school, today..."
why not, son
"um err oooh, well, i feele kinda sick..."
youre going anyway, steven
(but mum, theyre gonna fucking punch my brains in
down there today
i cant take it
im a lover
not a fighter)
sorry son
YOURE GOING!!
i wonder what all my old bullies are doing today?
i wonder if they ever heard my records...?
hey alright unguarded moment...
i dislocated his shoulder....
hey alright...!
they kept me going thru the badde times
"i cant stop reheasing
cos i got to show
those bullies....!"
all gone
all in the past
the things that shaped me
now im an international blogging starr
it all seems silly
sitting here
on the pile o cash
ive made from blogging
here in malibu
and aspen
and monte carlo
and belgravia
and first olde rocker in space
as i orbit fuckin pluto
and as i enter the annals
of legend
where was i?
what was i saying?
thanks for your comments
you bring a tear to this olde rockers
cynical grey eye
cecilia
i cant understand spanish
i wish i could
but i cant understand a thing
youre so lovely
i get the gist
thanks to all my regulars
i feel we got something going here
all of you
youre so spesh to me
really...
no
REALLY
you are
im gettin' all sentimentle
sorry
thats all
i love you
sk
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