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Nagging Doubt

the other day
i was doing yoga
i was stretching and breathing
breathing into it
i noticed it
not for the first time
but i focussed all my wayward attention on it
the ball of anxiety almost permanent
in the pit of my stomach
a ball of nonspecific worries
that 1st started to coalesce
around the time i hit kindergarten
growing and growing
exercising control over me
always dangling the next catastrophe over my head
or in event of none
it dregs up old painful memories
to sustain itself
it rarely relaxes its grip
drugs make it shrink away
but they exacerbate it too
when they run out
and it gets even more power
a shadow a threat a menace
implying that everythings black
what is its purpose?
what is its nature?
how to defeat it
become aware of it
there it is
maybe in your throat
maybe in your chest
in your guts
in your head
all of the above
become aware of it
whenever you feel happy or
that you accomplished something
it whispers yes but......
it whispers
yes but
i know you
and i know youre bad
and i know your secrets
and all kinds of unfortunate things
are coming your way
and you did this and that
you said such and such
you ran out on x
you ran out of y
you ran over z
it tells you
most people hate you
you are a fraud
your achievements are a joke
it can always find a chink in your achilles heels armour
it feeds off jealousy and envy and guilt and shame
and then it sits there
it is part evil spirit
it is part blocked chakras
it is part acid and bile
it is part thought
it is part physical
it is part nerves
its an all purpose trans-dimensional mofo
an intangible thing ruining everything as much as it can
i seem to be sharing this body with the one ive got
its been fucking with me
putting me off
sledging me
catcalling and heckling
frightening me
dismaying me
putting a bad spin on events
demanding a recount that finds that i lose
anyway
the other day
i finally isolated it
there it was
malingering in my stomach
tense and moody and full of fire
fire that burns off my carefully cultivated energy reserves
it longs to flare up
it longs to tighten
or explode
it longs to dominate and destroy
so there i am
face to face with this guerilla adversary
attacking me from within
a spy and a traitor
i think 1st of all
im still here
so none of your predictions came true
2ndly i think that whether you make me worry
or not
any bad things will not be averted
they will still come anyway
so then why worry
3rd i think im going to release you
and im not going to listen to you anymore
and then
i breathed it all out
it took a few breaths
to get rid of it all
quite a few
it was after all unwilling to leave
finally i enjoyed a few days of respite
calmed down a little
and handled all the curved balls getting chucked at me
gee life was nice without that handicap
without that handbrake
however it has since crept back bit by bit
and silently almost back at full strength
residing again within this body
seems you gotta cast it out
a few times
before it will leave you alone
maybe its an ongoing process
like cleaning yer teeth or something
anyway
i feel like i made progress on this
itll be like freeing up space in a computer
or getting rid of a big fat tick
or getting rid of worms and crabs and lice and scabies
or seeing the last of a cold or a flu
or the end of a bully at school
ha
i can feel the bastard now
ok
im gonna go outside and do some work on him
i aint standing for it anymore
i will not share my innards with Nagging Doubt

ex hotel/veg fest

played the excelsior sat night
just a few persons under sold out...
let me tell you people that made me feel good
after a slightly shake take off
trouble with my capo actually
i did pretty good
only a cuppla mistakes
lotta words to remember and i did
i fizzled out in my attempt at a medley a la melby n d bridie
i didnt have d bridie playing the keys for a start
it left a big hole
i sang quite well
i played ok and the guild 12 sounded wunderbar
in jorden brebachs talented hands
the crowd were lovely
not a bad venue
look it wasnt transcendental like say...
(aucklands the only recent one that comes to mind)
but it was more accomplished than my usual shambles
i am not a natural singer songwriter type
you all know that i think
but im improving
and if 53 years can improve
well theres hope for everyone
(you would presume)
my trouble is
i want to be good at everything
this is how i rate myself
lyricist : 9 out of 10
im one of the best
im one of the best there ever was
im one of the most consistent
there is very very little dross in my catalogue

bass player : im a 7, i'll always be a 7
i do slowly push the envelope
but i'll never be as good with bass
as i am with words

singer : im a 7 here too
although when i started off i was about a 2
but in the last few years
along with everything else
my singing has started to improve
this is of course due to swimming
yoga, qi gong, meditation
and getting off ye olde gear
however unlike the bass
i feel that i maybe able to
improve a little more still

guitarist : 5 and thats being generous
however in a studio situation
i can appear brilliant
but thats studio wizardry for you

painter : 5 ish i guess
i could be more if i work real hard at it
a long way behind my musical abilities
but i'm ambitious and i want to get there

poet : a 7 and a half
who do you judge me against?
arthur rimbaud or some olde turkey who just got a grant?
once again
i can and will improve

blogger :the best blogges are 9s
the worst hover round 6
of course its hard to tell
compared to who?

entertainer : a 6
but i will try harder

composer : im a 7 and a half to maybe 8
probably hit my natural peak here
just not gifted enough to write something totally brilliant
i am however consistent
rarely resorting to cliched devices
i do try
and i will keep on trying

human being : a 5
sadly
half the people you meet
will be nicer than me

swimmer : 3
i swim a lot
but im slow and im awkward

yoga : 5
clawing towards a 6
but yoga isnt about how good you are
its about your level of dedication faith and perseverance

businessman a 1

father : 7
i get angry and yell and stamp about
but i listen and im there
and i love them and they know it

anyhow
went home
had some lovely legal herbal products
(more on this soon)
my wife was impressed with the gig
and was keen to express her admiration
got to sleep at 4
got up at 7
(having lost an hour to daylife savings)
flew to melby
a hot dry dusty field outside a community centre
same as last year
a gig from hell
actually hells probably got a better p.a
i did my free form vegan rant
having already been primed inside the hall
by all the horrific images (as you could well imagine)
of animals being degraded tortured abused cut up
shot butchered neutered castrated mutilated etc
so i preached to the converted
got in trouble afterwards for swearing around children
(a frequent complaint chez kilbey)
i played without much relish
hung about
caught a delayed flight back to sydney
encountering a thunderstorm and nervous lady passenger
whos anxiety was thoroughly contagious
i gripped on to my chair (a lotta good that would do)
my arm pits and feet bathed in a cold clinging sweat
as the plane shivered n shook n shuddered
diving and dropping
bouncing and rising up again
swearing never again never again....
but the gig wasnt about me
it was about the animals
same as this sundays gig in sydney at petersham
for enthusiastic ttb fans
i'll be down at tamarama beach on sunday morning 9 30
doing 2 songs with an ad hoc band
then saturday night
a private party where i have been engaged to play
memory motel by the stones
(and i'll probably do more than that if they like it...)
thursday im doing an hour n a half on songwriting
at newcastle townhall as part of music expo
i'll be on around 1 pm
and maybe playing at annandale next week too
as a guest (more on that as it comes to hand)
working tonight with jlk at kh headquarters
results will be heard soon
church doing divinyls tour perth ad. melb syd gold coast
i dunno
that should be sufficient
tomorrow
how the recording process of heyday
helped bring down the berlin wall
and meditation tips that will have you looking
good in your bikini this summer
plus all the inside gossip, laughs, screams
and assorted bullshit
go ahead
make a comment
i dare you!

playing at the excelsior hotel tonight

playing at the excelsior hotel tonight surry hills
please join me
playing all your favourite flavours
adding all your favourite numbers
all your favourite notes
full review 2morrow
see you there
?

chiaroscuro

poor steven
never where he wants to be
never gets what he expects
always disappointed
wrong plaice, wrong thyme
miss understood
miss managed
miss interpretated
over estimating
a wavering tyrant
a rebellious subject
expensive tastes
cheap seats
sinning saint
sanctimonious sinner
bitter lemon
sour grapes
sweet nothing
pretty ugly
pretty olde
millions of chances
blue everyone
cranky instead of thankful
rude instead of shrewd
mangey panther changing his spots
violently pacifist
undoing it all as he goes along
accidentally stumbling on one good song
same old new romantic
mish mash mush
flat singer
4th form poet
florid nonsense devoid of fun
choosy but no choice
edgy but edgeless
nervous but no nerve
chasing fame fortune youth praise
running from infamy poverty death blame
hes figured out a few modus operandi
he says hes changed
he changes what he says
no one can give him what he wants
a good hiding
place
he demands the sky
then he reigns on yore parade
he promises the moon
he delivers moontears
martyr neo poet beach bummed
sew called writer
a cadbury scoffing cad
a common or garden rake
a ne'er do well for e'er
a prick and its opposite
big head
small brain
king size ego
economy size talent
flanked by yes men who always say no
swayed by ill winds
nobody blows good
he read the bible but hes still sinning
he read the gita and hes still unenlightened
he read book of the dead and hes still living
he read the paper and hes still stupid
he looked in the mirror hes still there
his eyes are no colour at all
in america and canada his eyes are no color
if anything they are nondescript grey with a blueish stain
one eye narrower than the other
nice nose shame its red and pointy
(old public service nickname : needlenose)
teeth are the colour of counterfeit money
beard makes santa look like ziggy stardust
lips thinner than that white duke himself
ingrate but not in great
as successfull as solar power car at a texaco convention
as popular as a butcher at a vegan festival
as welcome as a faith healer at a drug store
useful as a eunuch at an orgy
the charisma of a lampost
one thing in common with beethoven : his hearing
like an albino in a blackout
like bull in an egg cup
all cloud no silver lining
hesitating in time wastes sleeping dogs broth
not man enough for meat
not woman enough for man
too childish for his betters
too old hat to the kids and lambs
strange to strangers
familiar to bad habits
undeserving
unappealing
unacceptable
cocaine and unable
hoarse and horse
a dopey dope
mushroom or fungus
a name to be misspellled
a voice like curtains rustling
a voice like treacle on creaky flawboreds
a voice like a used star salesman
a voice like a singing tree
a voice like a crooning piece of basalt
a sense of humour like genghis khan
a sense of mercy like caligula
about as rocknroll as a basket weaving lesson
about as entertaining as nothing
schlocky miasma
a vortex of tripe
a whirlpool of wubbish
tone deaf
love blind
small wander
anti miracle
farther christmas
long in tooth
short in temper
consolation prize
most unimproved boy
straggler lagging behind
also run
wished up
hope full
dope full
soft soap
hard shoulder
cold shoulder
cold reception
read it and weep

alliance

switched off
switched on
little red light comes on
an incredible process begins
analysing the outsides properties
it duplicates them in reverse
an opposite in fact
negative mirror images
instantly cancelled
phased out
a sound starts up
long ago recorded sounds of music
percussive hammering
voices chanting
an unbearable throb begins
the music coalesces into intent
the intent to penetrate the mind
music that lives in your mind
music that reminds you of who you are
music brutalizing the ears
music ravishing the mind
the music moves into a higher key
a sudden unexpected release
as the lower sounds fall away
we soar over fields of sound
vibrating fields of recorded sounds
tape hiss battles with digital sheen
distortion flowers and runs thru the score
the wavering tendrils of decaying notes
their ghostly presence hovers in the reverberation
and lingers after the savage edits
murmuring singers duplicated in mirror prisms
fragmenting exploding bytes of random sounds
white noise moving into pink
snippets from interstellar buzz
commmercials from 2034
natural sounds like water dripping
and beasts bellowing
lightning striking
tinkling skies with star like bells
words come and go
meanlingless syllables in sumerian tongues
meta language
machine dialogue for human superconsciousness
programming the deep self
frequencies lengthen and shorten
soft wave envelopes the background
a device generates lovely lines of verse
voices of the dead come to life
and they gather in stereo pairs
until subsumed in the rising crescendos
long after declining earshot
their afterfizzle still jerks in the depths still
as it goes down to the erasing heads
calibrated hits in midrange
back beat drops muffled in delirious fanfare
allegretto

lethal interim

by the shores of the pacific
in the leafy eastern suburbs
lived the singer nevets yeblik
with his thousand dollar falcon
walking on the rainy boardwalk
hiding in the misty evenings
drinking buzz and blowing ganga
damiana and yohimbe
with his wispy hair and freckles
fingers gliding o'er his fender
bearded and five times a father
pulling music from the ether
doing all his naive paintings
doing yoga in the twilight
breathing out in pranayama
and aligning all his chakras
diving for a deeper meaning
listening to his own minds chatter
ignorance and empty grandeur
voices whisper in his memory
songs he sang that come to haunt him
words he wrote that then meant nothing
nights he spent with white insomnia
writhing on the hooks of poppies
music deafened in its hearts head
marbled veins of hidden meanings
things he never meant to be there
others all may take their meaning
only some will be enamored
in the world so dull and weary
no one cares for subtle magic
only blasting screaming yelling
only dancing death and metal
all the noise and all the turmoil
fading in the daybreaks silence
then he rises from his slumber
leaves his fine wife to her dreaming
leaves his daughters softly breathing
as the lay entwined together
sitting down at his computer
typing through the misty morning
as the bondi rain comes softly
falling on the sand and bindis
falling on the tramps and tourists
on the roofs of the pavilion
running off the swaying palm trees
lightly touching on the windshield
blurring all the scarlet brakelights
reflected off the mornings phantoms

killer what?

painkillers
yeah i know you little lambs are aching for your painkiller
oh rest ass-ured my children
it slowly is wending its way across the universe next door to you
its so good for you
a musical aphrodisiac from king rude daddy longblogs
painkiller * painkiller * painkiller *
soothe your aching nerves
stimulayte your mmm mmm
oh painkiller you sweet thing
consolation of the loveless
oh so much new new wild sense-ation
love reaction
that pumping bass guitar
killer you play dumb bass
round and fat and expensive
thrumming and coming
painkiller warning do not operate secret machinery
do not take with alcohol or a month with a seafood in it
not for breast feeding muses
not for the elderly infants
painkiller is a herbal natural synthesis
of finest available orgasmic ingredients
including pounding drums
grinding guitars
urging voices
painkiller is completely gluten free
painkiller available in one size fits or too badde for you
painkiller stays at astral travel lodges
painkiller recommends other steve kilbey products
painkiller say goodbye to headache and mens true cramps
say goodbye to unsightly thighs and botched brazilians
say hello to the gnu yew
say hello to a bright future hand in hand with painkiller
painkiller rock hard live long
painkiller hippy astronaut waitless
orchestras!
choirs!
radiotronicks!
effects peddles!
mike r'foans!
string theories!
machine and sticky heads!
organs!
drums ticks!
here are a free sample of lyrics
a
you
it
i
no
here are some of the chords used
a bad gag
b flat or b sharp
gee sus diminished
here are some of the praises criticks have heeped on painkiller
its ok
what...?
sorry he didnt listen to it
is it finished yet?
painkiller
panefiller
coming sooner than you thought
later than you hoped
earlier than expected
expected any year now
PAINKILLER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

typing with one lobe behind my back

easy day
old sk goes swimmin'
smokes dope
plays guitar
thinks about nothin' much
don' wanna lay nothin' too hard on ya
now
and then
again and again
cant seem to please every one
why fucking try?
cos thats the kinda man i am
i try to please everybody
usually pleasing none
yeah thats ok
least i dont work for the man
least i just hang around day in day out
a gig here
a meeting there
a session tonite in fact
singing sing singing
not work at all
god i am grateful i dont work
writin' popsongs aint work
it might be hard to write good ones
but it aint work
nor is writing po-etry
or painting with pastels
doing yoga
watching the baby
doing chi gong
picking up kids from school
listening to pod
eating crisps
drinking blood orange juice
miranda came over last night
she is stunningly gorgeous
a cross between patti smith and uma thurman
with freckles and swedish accent
we are on each others wavelength
edgy girl tho she is sometimes
elli behaving very aristocratically
and swanning about
aurora has a lovely shaped head and stunning jawline
eve is energetic and works at another level
scarlet kilbey is a porky naughty little gooseball
my wifes very pretty
my brothers are nice
my mothers birthday tomorrow 23rd oct
happy birthday mum
there will be a card arriving before christmas
with a million dollar cheque
my sisterinlaws are lovely
my nieces n nephew are nice
ok
i should be happy
the prime minister is a sad squeaky little creep
is he crying, dad? aurora asks when she sees him
the opposition leader
a smug school boy debater type
leader of the fucking LABOR party
lookin' to buy a 5 million dollar HOLIDAY house
ah...aint you on the wrong team mister?
howard is a belligerent weasel
rudd is a twittering hamster
neither give a fuck about the "people"
neither is what i'd really call a man
both are effeminate in various ways
howard with his squeaky high pitched voice
rudd with his lips
his lipstick looks stupid says evie
and both are thoroughly despicable charisma-free twerps
surely we have better than this
please bring on turnbull n garrett
they gotta be better than these insipid limp chimps
sorry i cant vote for either of these hams
lucky i aint registered
bye

the antarcticans

earth is just warming up
and up
and up
first the equator
the tropics
qld
darwin boiled over
down to sydney
then south south
away from the heat
away from the fucking searing blasting boiling sun
no respite
gippsland in victoria fries
melbourne a cinder
over the sea
but no respite
we weep for hobart blackened treeless dry and burnt
now we australians
we who are left
and the south americans
among them several magic realists
some new zealanders
we are antarcticans
3rd generation
domedwellers
ice men
but ice melting even here
glaciers flowing
the great shelves crashing in green warmer water
the mountains are re exposed
birds nesting
goats let loose
in summer
the young people walk in the mountains
many go missing
what strange menace lurks there
we who thought this place previously uninhabited
let me tell you how wrong we were
they were there
under the ice
we have seen their cities
at first only ruins we thought
weve seen their lights under ice
and now the ice is melting
their cities deep in the thawing ice
as the mercury moves up the glass
like a snake slithering up a tree
oh yes there are antarctic snakes now
and wolves too
set loose from a menagerie
other beasts unidentifiable
boss that was a dragon said a thai man
could they have unleashed these
those in the under-ice city
nevermind
the long summer comes
warmer and warmer
coming in from all sides of the sky
warmer and warmer
bunyips have appeared in the lake
they have taken several divers
jim who has koori blood identified them
life appears where it has no where else to go
but even the monsters
even the ones underground in the ice
all of them
all of us
all of it
must
will
burn

########## &

3 commenters walk into the magic realists bar
the magic realist is behind the bar pulling phantasma gorikle drinks
the magic realist dripping words
in his minds nest hes hatching plots
they emerge barely inklings
growing on what he feeds them
bits of conversation
snatches of songs
paintings
dialogue from shakespeare
borges and neruda
cartoons and reveries
oh lovely little fat ideas they become
before leaving the mindnest to become storys
fully fledged storys flying about
the first commenter is a sychophantic yesman
oh esteban he says to the magic realist
oh i dig your stuff
(of course all this is in spanish, in fact
last night i met cecilia cee on a mistral plane
and she has kindly pre-translated the spanish
into this approximate inglish)
yeah ? says the magic realist
then drink this
the first drinks the drink
mmmm tastes like ...
suddenly
he sees
the absurdity of the magic realists work
useless informationless waste of fucking time he mutters
poetry! he spits
why did i read your books?
i learnt nothing
i gained nothing
and all his envy scorn and bile erupt like lava
he drains the drink and stamps off
next comes the second commenter
hes a mix of wag and idiot and philistine and "straight"
(los " straightos")
hey he says rudely to the magic realist
gimme a fuckin' drink
and by the way
your books are schlock and rubbish
ok senor says the magic realist
please drink this lovely beverage
the second commenter sips his brew
mmmm tastes like...
suddenly he sees the wonder
suddenly he sees the sheer wonder
the brilliant elusive genius
the diffused plots
the archaic and arcane words
that such a writer who writes for love
not for fear or favour
a writer who deep beneath that artificial veneer
is swimming through life with an open mind
catching everything
for his stories
and hes dazzled by this hitherto unseen light
he stumbles out in a daze
the third commenter neither loves
nor loathes the magic realist
he reads and thinks
he understands some
he empathizes with some
he sympathizes with some
he agrees with some
he disagrees with some
he makes pithy interesting comments
and he pisses off without wearing out his welcome
here says the magic realist
take this
he hands him a gram of angelfruit
no thanks says the third commenter
im still surfing the net
the magic realist nods
a customer is waving to him
the customer has three hands
he talks in pink words which come out of his mouth like ballooons
hes drinking liquid hydrogen with fairy bomb chasers
hes six feet two feet half an inch by inch
hes green with blue pointilistic pixels
the magic realist sighs
all in a days work he says
all in a days work

########## 4

the day after erskine died
daddy ganymedes and roland vocoder
were loitering with intent to loiter
the missiles aimed at the west were gently humming
the endless day of man was ending
the evening would bring bats and gliding rodents
the vegetation was poised to breakthrough
the moon seemed impossibly large
the magic realist was writing a book
in his book
he resurrects erskine from the dead
and has him upon some weird adventures
spooky stuff best half forgotten
some fucked up olde wizard
a recreational necromancer
some beachside shaman with gold top mojo
some washed up bottled up energetic calamity
erskine in buenos aires and montevideo and sao paulo
oh erskine snort that pure 5 buck a gram coke
oh erskine sort out the orphans surrounding you everywhere
oh erskine visit ipanema and see the lovely girls
oh erskine fall in love with an incan princess
oh erskine lost in the andes 5 miles high
oh erskine meet the magic realist in his garden apartment
hes writing it all down
hes getting it all down
attended by five young graces
his lemurian crystal in a pocket over his heart
his melodic voice he speaks perfect english
conesuela cooking in the kitchen
cooking up a storm
the magic realist such a host of hosts
offers you tapas erskine
offers you wine
offers you time
offers you a line
and another line on the next page
when people read about you in spanish
when people see your handsome face in print
do i really have to die erskine asks
and daddy ganymedes laughed out loud
englishman he said
are you fuckinga kidding me?
and roland vocoder said ahh........
and the magic realist who was writing this story
looked up at his characters in wonder
for truly they were there in magic reality
and the wind blew
and the apartment was filled with the scent of jasmine
and all tiny things jingled in their places
the frogmask licked its lips
oh horror the frog has sharp white little teeth
erskine reaches up to touch it
and the amphibious monstrosity bites
you fool says the magic realist
conesuela come here he calls
conesuela the most beautiful woman on earth
blonde haired darkskinned browneyed
a palomino of a woman
her breasts are shaped like abundance
her mouth is generous
her waist is curved like an expensive guitar
her teeth are ivory oblongs gleaming
her eyes are the history of love
her hands are like graceful herons
her ears are tiny and faerylike
her forehead is slightly frowning
her eyes are slightly narrowed
her neck is graceful long swanlike
her shoulders are straight
her thighs are voluptuous
her calves are milkfed
her ankles are slender and tenderly arrayed
her feet are brown and broad
her toenails are bloodred
her stomach is flat like a great plain
her ribs encage her beating heart
her mind is quiet
her mind is deep
it remembers for thousand years
it remembers in and out of lifes lives
its constant
continual
content
her voice is soft husky
her words are well chosen
her winged words fly into any hearts now
her mornings in the ocean
her mornings in the oceans bed
her tea she sips in mint condition
she bathes in a lagoon with the fish
she gently handles the curious snakes
she touches them so gently so humanly
she touches the snakes with their patterns
she lets them smell her skin
she submits to their trespasses
she rolls over in black satin water
down by the holiday houses quiet in this season
she holds her breath
and spits out the surrounding sea
she is there right now
go there
go to her
go erskine
go magic realist
go the cats
go the rats
go the mountains
go the sun and moon
go to her
go to her
now

########## 3

a magic realist must have a fertile imagination, si?
a south american magic realist where things are more unreal
really unreal
magically real
the musical rain sings the ancestral songs
water slides down the window invisible yet seen
the rain on the glass silver like argentina
oh the garden in the deluge
heads of flowers droopy and plop plop plop
splishy splash in the pond
salamanders writhing in joy under the domelike bubbles
thunder cracks the sky like a faltering bridge
reality opens itself
the smell of tin
the sensation of numbness
the feeling of calm resolve
the meaning of it all
the transformation of mundanity to insanity
bang!
just like that
roman elegiac strains fill the air
a whiff of ozone
a flash of sulphorous lightning
the pain of remembering all the stupid things
lovelorn sunny days in stillness
meaningless adventures in the flesh
the realist confronts the magician
the shadow meets the light
the fire meets the ice
the spirit must wrestle with the beast
magic realist both spirit and beast
magic of reconciliation
let the spirit ride the savage beast
the great beast
the dumb beast
the magic realist is connected to everything in sight
he feels the fledgling struggle within the shell
sudden movement within the chrysalis
widows terrible tears softly fall on pillows
he hears all
he watches the lines deepen on beloved faces
he sees the triumphant dawn blaze over white cliffs
he imagines the atmosphereans in their lofty eyries
he tingles as the hyperborean winds begin
the magic realist observes the blooming stones primitive moves
planets out in deep space have their pull on him
the magnets align
the poles are moving
the action has barely begun
the spirit names the beast
mercury
the beast names the spirit
adonai
the universe watches on in case
the magic realist fuses fact and fiction
he lives his love in his life
his lofty principles often slide into inchoate anger
he hurls himself about crushing velvet evening
dressed in midnight blue
he walks down by the sea in summer
where (a) little magic is needed
in the black n white night and marine light
the taverns and the bars
women called scarlet dance in crimson dresses
and the music is romantic and sad, hombre
and the castanets clacketty clack clack clack
and the guitars only play minor tiny songs
admidst the smoke and beer
amidst the sweat and the noise
out into the open air again
burst into moonlight by the train station
come down the stairs to the rolling tracks
all the debris calls out
broken champagne bottles whine
burnt bits of newspaper and an old syringe
whispering used tickets flap uselessly
a bottle top squashed looks like a gold coin
sombre sounds of huge wheels turn round
travel away as the night bends and refracts
the tracks like castanets clack and clack
monkeys in trees in the rain scream past
in treetop canopies they never leave
as train blindly hurtles itself
in a compartment
some beautiful stranger
she mysteriously is in love with the magic realist
she removes her clothing in the mirror only
she lays down with him but shes on another train
she kisses him without any touch or intent
she caresses him handlessly
she loves him without her body or mind
her spirit mounts his beast
the tracks go clack clack ricketty rack
the carriage shudders as it rushes on steel
the lightning goes flashhhhhh
the thunder goes booommm
the story stops here

########## 2

the magic realist is on to you
his garden is livid vegetable hell
his bricks have tiny mouths that scream
his drive follows 2 paths
on empty days like this hes listening in
his fabulous tanks of hidden fish
his guestroom with the 3 way mirror
his alley barber trimming the pleasant weeds
his dominion over worms
his magisterial calculations made on the fly
on forgotten afternoons like this hes watching
his eyes seeing seeing seeing
his eyes like old coals
his fingers which transform
his chair at the laid table
his signature tune
and a blown out candle

##########

hot dry wind blows through the magic realists house
streamers stream out
the blinds rattle and clack
plants bob and weave
oh how he longs for some dark still room
never never to wake up
in this blasted light
to this blasted truth
what soft music shall accompany him there
wherever the journey make take him
frogmask snaps on the wall
snapping at the turbulent air
the glass trembles within old windows
sudden overpowering uselessness
monsters from the haze appear like white lights
pointless struggle all those years
theyll eat him yet

doodles = 8

the doodles have turned 8
a lucky man i am
my wealth in children
aurora jk and eve sk
my oh my you make your daddy proud
oh theyre so....well built people say
well made
robust
very kind kids too
unlike me
i was not a kind kid
but the doodles
aw shucks
that most tedious thing
a father gushing over his kids
god i love them
god thank you
russell was a kind kid
john too
oh he was ultra-nice
but me...?
i was like a little loki
in the bosom of our extended family
i broke up an engagement once
my cousin brian
engaged to a lady with a large nose
cmon i was 5 or 6
gee though
when i said
cor lady, you aint 'alf gotta big nose
well
all hell broke loose
the lady was nasally overample as they might say today
soon after the engagement was off
she felt all his rellies thought she had a big nose
just cos this one little evil illmannered sod
had blurted out the inevitable truth
as plain as the nose on.....
well i know you can smell a cliche a mile away
anyway i guess she packed her trunk (geddit) and nicked off
oh i have to work so hard to even be civil
let alone nice
i think johnny winston o'boogie had the same problem
see him in those beatles movies
he liked to shake up the status quo a little
he was cranky and bitter and ranting and rambling too
course he practically invented rock music though
and i didnt
i just carried on in his foot steppes
and even lesser luminaries follow in my wake
so gee itd be nice to be nice
what is it in me that is just waiting to get out of its cage
baby you know its what gives me my fucking edge
thats what the others lack
a good edge
dylan gotta edge
lennon
bowie...ooh watch out
i bet he was a doozy in his day
specially after a line or 2
neils got the edge
unlike those other 3 in csny
pattis got the edge
mick n keith loads of edge
elton john no edge whatsoever
justin timberlake utterly edgeless
kate bush edge
tori crazy but edge
u2 they have the edge but not an edge (imhfo)
rem so unbelievably edgeless
deadwood hooo loads and loads of nasty edge
although thats a tv show of course
wow as im writing this
i realise how important this edge thing is
andre breton
rimbaud
dylan t
dali
klimt
van gogh
they all got edge
can you define edge?
i'll give ya its negatives
namby pamby mundane schmaltzy insincere tedious
syrupy conservative "straight"
edge is living it
edge is refusing to listen
edge is first hand field experience
eg dont preach about derangement of the senses
unless you have deranged your own
ha ha
youd be surprised how many rabble rousing journalists
are incendiary in print only
in real life they turn out to be portly and cowardly
i suppose then edge is, to me, belief
belief in the value of some intangible feeling
and that feeling and its transmission
give you some kinda energy
more energy than money or food or even drugs
because moneydrugsfood can fuck your edge and energy
eg marc bolan who i idolised
in a couple of years he was so awful
and so edgeless
he didnt even know himself!
if you want a sobering experience
listen to
a beard of stars
made in 69/70
listen to that attention to detail
listen how bolans gone out of his way
to create a crazy detailed mixture
of medieval fantasy and rocknroll
each word beautifully enunciated
each word carefully chosen in its place
a wonderful english poet
ah his strange and lovely voice
the way a faun would sing and play a les paul
exquisite wah wah
a wah wah speaking liquid volumes of love
familiar instruments but put together to produce this
something from another world
another time
what? my friends from school would say
is he singing in old english or something?
yes bolans a bit shakespeare
a puck or an ariel maybe
anyhow when he did this he had edge
not macho edge now mister
no no
marc was the edge of a fantastic dandy
a wide eyed ladykiller
a bopping elf
a mere 3 years later
bolan
done over by money food drugs
had lost it
the edge was blunted flat chat
listen to anything after slider if you can
a couple of singles ok
then
(sound of something melting into a turgid puddle)
funny how things erode people
like the weather erodes mountains
you stand there in time
things rush past you
come into contact with you
rub over you
hit you
soak into you
take chunks out of you
scratch you up
and dent you
fame ooh thats a coarse element in human erosion
look what it did to el vis
he was a nice guy
but fame had done his head in
and food
and drugs
marilyn too
and britney
and belushi
and poor fuckin' jimbo
who had more edge than ive had toasted tomato sandwiches
iggy pop a cat with edge
steve tyler too in a showbiz way
sigur ros
king crimson
hawkwind
i guess all my faves had or got some kinda edge
people i dont really like with edge too
rappers and metals
not the edge i like tho
too much aggression is like too much docility
both are tedious
an artist must provide light and dark within his own work
the comparison must be able to be made within
i dont want 100 % of just one quality
unless its strangeness
unless its euphoria
unless its delight and joy and bliss
ok i'll take them in lieu of variety
otherwise
some turkey bawling in my face bores me
i get tired of all that shouting
all that purposeless intensity
gimme some opposites!
amen

sequence 13 10

the finely tuned mechanisms revolve into the night
the spokes and flywheels
the teeth and cogs
the clockworked facets jump every second
the tappets ping slightly
the needles move indicating pressures
gauges light up on panels
levers move
gears mesh
power harnessed
the fuel burns deep in the motor
an enclosed furnace inside each six hearts
curved surface reduced for friction
heat sensing eyes
arrowhead sourced with motionless ride
resilient frame fortified with gold studs
elusive tangential manoeuvre
protective second skin
galaxy approved armour pierce
pre sanctions silk filters
individual wing spun aerilong type
propulsion device sk ttb 13
optional oscillation pedal
the left behind scream of acceleration
minimum time wobble
maximum distance crunch
ether connexions available
caution contains small sparks
do not drowse whilst operating
do not use in firestorm or tornado
not suitable for insane persons
please dispose of thoughtfully
do not dry clean
enter 15 digit future pin
if you answered yes to any question go to next week
made from chocolate titanium human-alkaloids prohibited colors 13, 69, 53
mannikin-bits, powdered coca leaves, poppy juice extract, cannibal-oid saliva
codeine lumps, starboard buckets, adamantine skellington, tolteca memory strips
damiana drops, lukey muffler, head machines from pure recycled metalflesh
sharktooth guidance, aroma light, stingray connectors
indica bomb technology provided by the penta gone @ warboys.com
executive producer karl marx
executive producers r.plantagenet and samson and goliath
produced by the ttb on location nth bondi astralia
executive producer jack a lantin
executive producer gal a vantin
spatial co ordination mem
directed by nevets yeblik for the muse corp pty ltd inc
no contestants may win
the ttbs decision is final
no correspondence will be entered into
one comment per person PLEASE !!!
yes this definitely means you
please leave this facility as you found it
security by thug bros
this has been a ree presentation
XXLCCMM

time being turns 750

with almost 700,000 read
altho slipping slowly but surely down blogger chart
hovering in nineties as we speak (sigh)
seven hundred and fiftieth post
now with rsi and worse eyesight
back pain
from typing away
rabbiting on with my carryon here
all this tender venom
injecting it into the ethernet
blogge a burden for my own back
spend so much time herein
endure the extremes of adulation and loathing
monster blogge swallowing me alive
i have become a walking fiction
in my old haunts
a stranger to myself
introduced by a friend at a party
playing solitaire
listening to my solo album alone
so low as it can go
slowly it goes
unravelling like a bolero
i write this and that
reader beware
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all this and more
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meanwhile hurly burly has been bought
it will be set in modern day california
leonardo will play the young brad pitt
as a killes himself
apollo go go go
nimbin is changed to the haight district
king astral are now called sausage and played by linkin parc
terry will be played by dom n nic
terri by the olsen twins friend miss dizzy
ritchie nicole kids man will play hookey
joe guitar will play softly
hoi polloi will appear as the crowd
you see
only this blogge has it all
all what ? you ask
it all , my friends
it all
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the original
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rolling stone called it
"best blog on earth"
david letterman said
"the time being is a phenomenon"
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i just turned 750

abrupt

cooler than yesterday
never again
and i thought
and i thought
and i thought
things would change
we come back or out
a hundred years goneby
yeah you know what i'm saying
things pile up
one on top of another
the other on top of the other
accumulation of layers
nothing will ever be simple
nothing is simple
how can it be
seeing the interconnection
no separation if you want it
i read the americans went back and meddled in the past
already
its at least possible
nothings simple
everythings possible
the implications are enormous
are you excited
dont tell me you couldnt think of anything to do
i see a big billboard near my mothers place
puppetry of the penis ...tonight
at the local club
some wild and innovative cat
was sitting round playing with himself
oh he aint happy with that
hes doing tricks with his john thomas
he can turn it inside outside like a mushroom
imitate bulldogs and tomcats
and stretch it out and shrinkle it all up
hell his balls are part of the act too
what i'm saying is
initiative
innovation
a bold daring original idea
these potp guys are pulling full houses
all over the mondo baybee
a guy had the ingenious idea
without needing to spend any money
or get any equipment
nor lessons
nor any real talent thats ever been recognized before i guess
but pure originality
my whatnot will be a comedy act
i will expose my whatnot
pull it about
stick it between my legs
all that stuff
you saw kids at school do i suppose sometimes
and now hes bestriding stages in paris rome munich
and newcastle
why is he a millionaire
and all you other guys with cocks broke?
cos he thought of it
i imagine he was entertaining his missus one night
saying
look kylie, its a frilly collared gibbon
and she laughed and laughed saying
you should be onstage, dick
a little light goes on
the future beckons
money lubricates your ascendancy
one blindingly original idea
just that
and youre on yer merry way

burly fin

when its over
when its all over
walk to houses
in darknesses
your skin is shivery
shuddering slightly
as neurons and nerves still fizz and pop
trees black shapes in warm night
girl in dreamy mood
you try to talk
what was it you said
did it make any sense
suddenly back in the world of sense
no longer sensual or sensuous or
empire of the senses
just sense
a name
a number
a number of names
names of numbers
the mundane world was waiting
but i reentered it from another angle
i had been a seer
and i had seen
i had penetrated some of earths mystery
but what was it now you thought about it
so much uncontainable with words
much of a muchness you might say
all too much indeed
hard to tell what happened as it happens
im having a shower terri says as she wanders away
you walk into town and buy some fanta
unbelievably you meet 2 guys you know from canberra
staying in a big house a few miles away in the night
room for me ? you say
yeah they say
and you climb in the back of their panel van
stretch out on the mattress in the back
they never even wake you up when they arrive
you go on sleeping until morning
climb out
its the next day
as per usual
the festival begins
bands come on
some amazingly good
some amazingly fucking bad
its loud and hot
your sunburnt and your ears hurt
you buy your first ever veggie burger
ah its delicious
down at the creek the people are bathing naked
steven you got an eyefull
your friends from canberra getting eyefull as well
people tripping and naked women
music jamming the frequencies
yeah offer the cops some flowers
smoking cigarettes with strangers
tully or some one
or tamam shud
or khavas jute
which was it
oh they were real real good
the music was picking up from mushrooms echoes
the music at this volume with all these people
the music with guitars spiralling upwards like a galaxy
the music pounding out the beat
all the players blond longhaired jesus like that
the bass guitar so fat and juicy exploding in your abdomen
like a lovely kick in the minds guts
the bass guitar pumping and rolling
the bass guitar travelling so low just above the ground
the bass guitar like a rubber punch in the head
the bass guitar like a brutal bastard
the bass guitar pummels you into next week
the bass guitar oh yeah
wow doesnt that make up your mind
toby twirl in the boiling crowd
wow hes wasted i guess
king astral come on
theyre ok
theyre pretty good
theyre alright
terrys good though
terry looks like apollo up there
his white precision
his bare feet
the wind lifts hair like a halo around him
he stares out skywards
like hes communicating with zeus
i like the music
but not the singer
hes a bit of a shouter
macho moves too
of course
it turns out
he is terris boyfriend
everything is strange
you see them together
how do you feel
sick
why dwell on it
you could have made a mountain out of it
you hopped in back of mates panel van with 2 other guys
you drove away
back down the coast
smoke cigarettes
drink flavoured milk
eat chips and toasted tomato sandwich
dropped off at terris house
where blue car waits patiently
a gentle melancholy has set in
the elation has ebbed away
the rain is falling like it was only a few nights ago here
same rain
same night
no terry
or terri
just you
the mazda starts up with a cough and a jerk
radio playing if not for you
a sweet stab in your heart
it reminds you of them
and that eternity ago
when you were on the road to nimbin
only a matter of days
the pebbles crunch underfoot
the lawn is lush
a man comes out of the gate
looks at me as i drive off
the father i suppose
he certainly looked like it
there absence is an ache to me
i miss them
im so lonely and lonesome and alone
i drive south towards sydney
some people there maybe i could stayanight
sydney with his lights and noise
i want to drown my loneliness amongst its crowds
i'll go to bondi and eat chips and body surf
i'll think of terry and terri constantly
i'll feel like i'm grieving and leaving and temporary
i'll watch telly and have a cup of tea
i'll have a proper shower
and a lie down
i'll walk down hall street at night
see my reflections in the windows
hear music in my head
feel better
soon

ate

about 45 minutes ago
you swallowed 3 psilocybin mushrooms
or actually maybe toadstools
gold tops the locals called them
much better than the blue meanies
youve been assured
youre sitting there by the side of a creek
under a lovely old sacred oak tree
to say conditions are idyllic is meaningless
the blew sky
tangled trees creak and
the creek rushing in its course
rushes rubbing together
blue cranes arrive
circling lazily in the heavens
everything fitting together so magically perfect
so perfectly magical
for the first time you see the hand of god
behind everything
and that hand had directed you towards this moment
and that hand that had placed you here in the game
and the mind and heart that had conceived all this
were irrepressible
the motion of the leaves
the dappled light like lovelight
it was a dance
it was choreography
how had you never seen it before
an alkaloid had entered a receptor
or blocked a protein
or whatever however it did what it did
you were having a transcendental revelation
you were finally transcending the mundane reality
that you hated hated hated
and youd searched for this in cs lewis and marc bolan
and lobsang rampa and mervyn peake
underwater and at parties
in cinemas and libraries
you were always looking for this
this was waking up on the 1st day of the holidays
and realising youre in a very special and wondrous fucking place
god was in everything
you could see that now
how simple it was
a glimpse of the great plan of life which normally dwarfs us
you saw god aint no stern old jehovah with his rules
and regulations
god is movement creativity humour and deep compassion
the mushrooms were filling you with energy light heat
you grinned and grinned
how pleased you were with yourself and everything else
oh it all fell into place, didnt it
the penny dropped
the trees sizzled in the rooftop nests baby birdlings slept
the wind swept across the emerald fields the magnetic fields
astral planes opened up and sky intensified
god began his rambling tale speaking in pure music
the reeds whispered steven this is all for you
bubbling creek speak with its liquid mind into you
step into me tastes a word inside a heart i owned once
the water feels so much better than it said in my hand
i see him i see you
you see me out here writing this 30 odd years on
you see moments taken from past future some continuum
its no surprise
its no surprise
its no surprise lips touch your skin
angel footed girl
the lips kiss deep
the vault above you
her hands
weaving dissolving patterns you will later write
forming our uncertain terms
like terry riding a wave
like bolans wah wah on lofty skies
i look close up at the nature, boy !
you i her him the moon comes out
terris clothes are white on the green grass
and yellow flowers
wingless seraphim dove into creek
deep dive she dove deeper into my river of blood
she says something you supposed meantime
everything fractures
a kaleidoscopic nimbin new south whales bang
whoosh you jumped into the welcoming water
as you went down
a silver surface solemnly closed fluidly overhead
bubbles race up oh so much silver
and the dark water mineral taste in your mind
is saying drink up dreamer
dream another dream sleeper shes a keeper
a naiad is in this stream
you see terri as the daughter of the willowy reedy river
she dip and diving in and out
she seems to hang in the burning air
and then fall leaving trails of colour and silver
gods song plays underwater the fish all shimmy
the bluesky man its crashing on me but you dont care
its delicious
and gods song is so serious you laugh out loud
underwater underair underfire underether
under the blue and clouded skydomed heavenly screen
understanding understood
happiness absentminded bliss dreamy euphoria
every single thing so packed with meaning
with clues
some mistake has occurred
you were always supposed to feel like this
this is the magic you remember
from the old days
the eleusinian days and nights
when you had previously unlocked nature
and heres terri naked and out of her tree
just like those ancient greeks in the corner of your memory
terri starts to talk
her words are winged like athenas
but you forgot what she has said
yet just as you have finished marvelling
shes speaks in baby-lonian and sweet nineveh
she speaks like a priestess of the cult of set
she talks of wonderful things you used to think so usual
imagine steve she says
if only
oh if only everyone....
could feel
could feel like...this
once
if only they could have seen this sky
and touched the morning the way we did
and feel like the trees understand each other
and i feel like they are in love
and oh thered be no more wars
but oh why if only they knew
its all right here
why do they work
imagine that an office.....
like dad working in his office
and all the time
and all the while
there....is....this!
and it was no surprise
when terri
when terri
it was no surprise
within that day
the day i saw the hand of god
and much more of terri
you thought
a woman surely is gods greatest work
but the telepathic kingfishers disagreed
a humanocentric way of seeing things
you see to me
my wife with her blue wings and blackbeak
with her claws full of fish
ah thats gods greatest work
and all the other living things clamoured to be heard
in my mind where i was hearing them
and all said
my beloved is gods greatest work
and it was right
and it was equal
and it was just
that this was as it is
and always was
and will be again
naked as the day
the day naked like a nude
lovely day of love
day made of love
flowerbed
sunshine in
clouds shaped like little beasts in the sky
tree canopy filters light speed
the girl transforms and transforms
i hold on to each one
hopelessly trying to define
her phantom spirit
and day
that was made for us

hb7 (la vrai vie)

deep dream
im flying
some lovely sky
some lovely time
i soar over the marshes and the towns
all i know is an all-pervading happiness
i understand this is ...the real life, at last
connected yet free i drift over the land and sea
and i wondered what it was i wanted to remember
and i couldnt think of it at all
and i grasped at some truth to bring back with me
but everything was the truth
i could not break it into smaller bits
a noise from the outside world
was softly shattering my flight
terri girl
shes opened the car door
shes talking to you
i cant believe you arent really hungry
i am you say
im real hungry
how was your night in the car? she says
oh god im aching all fucking over you say
cmon she says taking your hand in the early dawning
we're gonna have breakfast with toby twirl and his family
we walk along through a grove of trees
and paddocks with placid cows
although only vegetarian for 2 years
i have never regretted my decision
when i look into these animals big brown eyes
who could hurt a creature like this
we climb up a hill in the cloudy morning misty rain
already below us
trucks have arrived with amplifiers and lights and pa systems
a thousand kombis full of crazy ravers
tents being set up
outdoor sanitation (i had never seen these before)
people setting up stalls selling veg food
we come to little wooden home made house
with stained glass windows and wind chimes tinkling
some classic hippy opens the door
of about 45 or 50
i dont know
suntanned white bearded dressed in white
a sorta english accent or something
his face brightens when he sees terri
sweet young thing that you are, terebinthia he says
toby twirl she says as he embraces her
i hate to intrude on this moment
i fade back into the doorway
steve this is toby my godfather says terri
toby twirl used to be a musician back in the day
now hes retired and lives in this fantastical little house
with his wife and family
come in come in he says
he shakes my hand and smiles
oh i like this guy immediately
ive heard of him too
i have 2 of his records at home
and i saw him on gtk once
toby taught my brother to play bass and surf whispers terri
as we're ushered into the kitchen
a slim blonde woman is cooking up some pears
she turns round and smiles
hi terri
renee this is steve says terri
hi steve she says
shes american says toby
in case you were wondering....
tobys brood of kids appear
all daughters of several different sizes
i get introduced
stella
eva
naomi
maria
and little blue
tobys kitchen window looks out over the countryside
gods own countryside
green green grass and mountains wreathed in low clouds
little twisted trees and funny little houses
hills and dales
so far from canberra and its backyards
and its townplanning and artificial lake
from its philistine yobbos
who wouldnt know a genius from a fool
they wouldnt know that a genius could be a fool either
because i was a fool who wanted to be a genius
or was it vice versa
the truth is that on this particular day
i was neither fool nor genius
just a skinny guy with long long hair and a sunburnt nose
dressed in a grandpa t shirt
i bought in surfers paradise 2 years ago
and the inevitable levis
i sat there quite dazzled by the bohemianess of it all
congratulating myself that i was here
but nervous i was gonna do something very un-hippylike
im reading t lobsang rampa i say to toby
and how are you getting along with that young man ?he said
i almost astral travelled the other night i say
everyone including the kids laughs at this
little blue the baby laughs along with the others
renee serves the pears
oh delicious i say
theres all these sultanas in there with the pears
theyre all swollen up sweet n warm
bursting inside your mouth
like the tiny grapes they once were
terri and i have 2 bowls
after breakfast toby and i wash up n dry
while renee and terri go off to another room
i hear them giggling and screaming
instinctively i know its about me and im embarrassed
toby is a cool guy for an old bloke
we talk about the music biz as he rinses the plates
in his little hippy kitchen in the early seventies
when such things were still possible
and i stood there drying up the dishes
and he told me where to put them
that terri is a lovely girl he says presently
yeah she is i sigh
toby rolls his after breakfast joint
i'd never been stoned in the day before
and i just sat there with my head spinning around and around
tobys dope made him talkative
and he began a long stoned ramble
which was impossible to unravel
the truth
the fabrications
the exaggerations
the pure fucking bullshit
what did it matter?
what did i care?
my mind was blown open over and out
toby twirl had an amazing wildean vocabulary
which he brandished at his enemies like a mace
and with which he flattered his friends in honeyed tones
his sentences were liberally strewn with names of stars
names of drugs
names of 2 bit journalists
names of ex wives and girlfriends
(seemed to be a few)
names of the cats hed played with
names of the fuckin' publishers agents and managers
who screwed him (as he put it)
toby had met george harrison
hed taken acid with brian jones
hed hitch hiked with bolan in france
hed sold this many records in 1965
(a million years ago to me)
he met this chick at a festival
and made a film
and got arrested
and he did jiu jitsu now
and he had a degree
he was big in america in some places only
only the east and west coast he said ruefully
he didnt drink much he said
nor do i i said
the smell of beer frightened me
my mum and dad didnt hardly ever drink
i didnt like it and i associated beer with violence and philistines
i avoided drunks and drunk places
good thinking ...toby said behind his beard
ive seen a lotta good cats fuck up on the sauce....
steve do you like to trip ? he asked
i felt the hand of fear clutch my guts tight
a cold frightened feeling shivered right up my spine
and my chakras went dark
i had never tripped
i didnt really want to
being stoned on pot was more than i could already handle
the stained glass writhed in the new sunlight that was pouring in
the motes of dust danced purposefully in the rays
everything in here was buzzing moving vibrating
i felt on the verge of some huge discovery
the secret of creation
pot was enough
i couldnt bear any more poignancy than this
i didnt want to trip
this was enough
yes i said
i love it i lied
toby poked around in his pantry a bit
he came back with something wrapped in brown paper
whats that? i say
toby shakes his head and smiles
gold tops!
inside the paper was 4 or 5 mushrooms
looking singularly unappetizing
oh toby i cant
oh no toby theyre yours
i couldnt
mate, ive got plenty growing out there he said
pointing to the undulating greeness outside his windows
he wrapped them again and put them in my hand
how could i say no to this man?
i accepted the mushrooms
thank you i said
thank you very much
take them with her toby said
who? i stupidly said
terri of course he said
terri

hurly burly 6

the pebbled courtyard
with its native bushes
one rainy afternoon
cmon says terry
lets leave now !
king astral is playing at the aquarius festival in nimbin
these were real people
these were actual events
if anything is a lie
it is me
it is you
the teller of the tale at my desk
the hidden reader where ever you maybe
the words which represent ourselves
the way we re-present our past
the way we were the way we were
close my eyes and i'm living it
delicate truth so fragile
broken into fragments by one ill chosen word
take us back then if you can, story teller
fabricated autobiographical imaginary recollected works
why should you care if its true?
its truer than almost anything else you ever knew
its so true its completed the cycle back to pure fiction
as all extreme beautiful truth must approach and merge in fiction
like the gita
and the story of gilgamesh
like aslan the great lion
and jesus who raised men from the dead
the fiction was so pure so perfect
or the truth so improbable
that it no longer matters what actually happened
the effect is created
it is enough
i know you can feel that soft downy rain falling
in the courtyard of the dream holiday house
terris reading the paper
im skimming through a surfing magazine
quite frankly i dont have whatever it takes to surf
i always see my legs hanging off that board under water
i always see the sharp fleshtearing reefs
the dull blow of the rock against you in the waves
the pull of the water as it takes you down into itself
a swirling green maw
the fish smell your blood
as you go under
youre gonna come in the ute with us steve he said
i chucked my knapsack in the back and climbed in
i was sitting between them
i could smell terrys salty faintly tobacco odour
and terris perfume
we were driving to nimbin for the aquarius festival
the afternoon before today
we'd watched king astral on a show called gtk
there was a thing on this years festival
and theyd played king astrals filmclip
which was them in a botanic garden all sped up
and running about
terry in his white clothes and dark tan and white hair
looking like someone shot in negative
he wielded his bass the way he surfed the waves
the detached confidence of a master
i was already jealous to share the twins with the world
i was already envious of all the people who knew them better
the other lads in his band
their schoolfriends n cousins
their parents and lovers
i was jealous of the way they knew each other
now i sat here between them driving along
through the cloudy humid afternoon
as if i always was on my way to rock festivals
with angelic eldritch twins
driving through the lush subtropics of northern nsw
we stop into a cafe where i have poached eggs on toast n chips
terry n terri have fish n chips
i have a vanilla milkshake
terri has a caramel
terry has a can of coke and a cigarette
i ask them about themselves
terrys real name is john
but as babies the parents couldnt always tell em apart
so he called himself terry too
and it was easier that way he said
a soft laugh and terri nods
is that really true i ask her
is any of this.....true ? she says
gesturing the cafe and the service station
and the tourists and the cans of oil
the mountains and the clouds and the gentle rain
her green eyes caught the light
and it dawned on me
how easily
anyone who had seen that
would fall in love with her
as she sat there in 1973
with her milkshake and her athena like sandals
which wrapped round her calves like tiny snakes
white t shirt
white levis
white teeth
green eyes
tawny skin
green eyes
and on the radio
a light aircraft crashes
and the cricket scores
olivia newton john singing if not for you
we drive into the mistlike rain
i talk and talk about all kinds of things
i'm gonna be a rocker till the day i die i say
terry says yes steve i believe you will
i ask terri if she can astral travel
of course she answers
cant everyone?
terry drives on and on
through towns and forests
we come to nimbin
oh well now my tiny mind was blowing
hippies everywhere smoking weed
longhaired freaks descended down upon this town
flowerchildren and fools
potheads pixies and prampushing beatniks
oh wow let the sunshine in man
wait maybe i got the dates wrong
is this the morning of the earth?
the age of aquarius , waterbabies
the moon was in the seventh fucking house
whatever that meant it was good news
if you like me
thought that rock freelove and dope
were better than anything else
that theyd offered you in your 19 years here
and you felt that you were at the centre
of a new strange universe
and none of the old stuff mattered anymuch
when we got to the wooden house where we were staying
i decided to sleep across the front bench seat of the ute
the place was packed with hippies and musicians
dopesmoke filled the air
and booze too
plenty of beer
i walked away from it
and climbed into the ute
i slept fetal curled up
i was damp and tired and confused and lonely
i fell asleep listening to the tap tap tap of the summer rain
it was like a soothing mantra
talking me down and around and
into my dreams

hurly burly 5

ah hurly burly 5
yes yes
well where were we?
i/you
having fled childhood
its 1973
its 2007
its true
its based on fact
its a compleat lie
the east coast of australia
green beautiful warm
and the australian night
black black nights
nights with the 2 terries
nights spent listening to music
listening to the twins
always answering together
so synchronized
whos eldest?
him!
her!
they both laugh
one night we have takeaway sandwiches for dinner
terry goes out in his ute
comes back with 30 bucks worth of marijuana
as soon as you smell that smell
you know youve smoked it before somewhere
you get knocked for six
terry goes outside or a while
his sister lays languidly on some cushions
we listen to theolonius monk
it must be their parents record im thinking somewhere
i sit next to her
just babbling on about anything
she smiles and occaisionally laughs
she tries to teach me how to roll a joint
but my tongue is too dry to moisten the paper
how did these 2 come to possess everything i wanted?
fame wealth glory physical beauty prowess intelligence breeding
so effortlessly at 19
thoughtlessly excellent in almost everything
sometimes i tried to hate them but i couldnt
they were kind
they were generous with themselves
inviting you into all they had
terry helped me with bass
this guy a few months older than me
he lifted up my fingers
and put them back down in the right place
slide up to that note hed say
hed show you again and laugh and help you feel it
i was envious of him
i admit it
i gawked at his looks his talent
his good natured nonchalant acceptance
of his own perfection
if it had been me
it had driven me out of my mind
one day i sat there in his room
i was trying to play the bass
but i had nothing
no rhythm no technique no nothing
just desire
raw obsessive desire
i plunked away joylessly on terrys bass
my short little fingers looking so small against the frets
they travelled round the neck like 2 drunks in a 3 legged race
terrys long fingers ran over the guitar rapid and uncommitted
he could play lovely bass solos
making it sound like sitar or a lead guitar
he had a really great distant look in his eyes too
that distant look i always equate with geniushood
terry looked like that in his room
cross legged on his bed
plucking his fender bass
making small comments
see if can get this harmonic...
he smoked and played
as time grew long
and the tide followed the moons moods
the vietnam war began to end
people were being born and dying all over the place
the world never ran out of ratbags and heroes
the villains were captured punished rehabilitated or executed
new ones were waiting in the wings
here in this house
where i slept on the couch
everything was seeming a long way away
everynight now
we would smoke from terrys 30 dollar deal
and listen to jazz records
erroll garners concert by the sea
coltrane and all that
the house had a real fireplace
and a vaulted roof with huge skylights
it was some sixties architectural triumph
an award winning holiday home
set in tropical garden setting
absolute beach front
everything about them was exactly right
im surprised you like me i'd confess when i was stoned
so are we they said and laughed
youre just so good at everything i'd moan
gentle laughter from the twins
youre only 19 said terry
so are you! i said
you said to them
it was like you wanted to make them aware of something
something that you wanted to threaten them with...
no not threaten
you wanted to warn them
warn them to never grow up and leave this house
warn them to remain in the hurly burly
and how could you never show them
that what was a dreamtime for you
for them was just another day in a holiday
with a bloke they met from canberra
whos chipping in for chips and bread and cornflakes
and sleeping on their couch
in the morning i awake
i still feel stoned and dreaming
i get up and float about this house
look out over the brilliant glittering pacific ocean
stand on the deck out in the back yard
lie in the hammock sipping on a fanta
its real orange juice in fanta i tell them
more of their soft laughter
they turn their heads slowly in this particular way
i try to mimic it still
i wonder how it looks on me
a thousand idiosyncracies i observed them to have
and each one i tried to duplicate
the cadence of their sentences
their lazy beach twang and slang
the way they held themselves
their deliberate movements
their tousled hair
terrys longer than his sisters
and gone a bit woolly from the surf
they both pulled it behind their ears
they seemed not of that century
that twentieth century they were in
in the back garden terrys surfboards
a big one and a little one
the sand shows between the patches of grass
red flowers growing on a trellis vine
a clothesline
with the twins mostly white clothes
hanging in the seabreeze fading whiter still
beyond that the beach
already picnickers and bathers
already flags and lifesavers
already surfers and sunburners
the beach that we never had in canberra
the beach i missed so much without even knowing i did
the glamourous suntanned laissez-faire hippy surfy beach
the people walk around in next to nothing even at the bank
theres motel pools and travelling fairs and blow-ins from melbourne
theres greasy fast food and one chinese and one italian restaurant
theres a couple of bottle shops open well into the long dusk
even when nothings really happening
even on still rainy weeknights and early sunday mornings
even on hot saturday evenings at the pub
there is always possibility
possibility someone new will arrive
possibility of storms
possibilty of violence
possibilty of sex
possibility to get lost here
you could see the ones who stayed on
who tried to live the dream everyday
the palmtree tidal pool hurricanes pina colada dream
they had long ago grown immune to the towns charms
they came n went to their dismal offices
oblivious now to the sea and the air and the holiday being waged
real estate men who came up from the big smoke
a retired doctor
weekenders who no one knows
the raymonds who have always lived here
what is it to me all these details
cant i stop amassing all these details
do i have to know the name and motivation
for everyone in the crowding extras
but every story suggests another hundred stories
here in this time where stories were created
i put on the radio softly in the kitchen
king astrals hit single
a kinda surfy psychedelica
even on this transistor radio the bass guitar pumps n bops
imagine you think
hearing your song on the radio
then youd be happy
then you could have a rest
everything would fall into place forever
invites to parties
special tables in cafes
excuses alibis n justifications
it seemed like the zenith of mans achievement
a song on the radio you played on
all those people listening to you and the lads
how does it feel i questioned him
good he said and shrugged
it doesnt look like you think its that good i say
what the fuck do you want me to do man? he laughs
terri laughs
you idolize him dont you ,steve?
thats all right terry says
somebody has to terri says
they laugh again
envy withers in their laughter
when will i ever learn i wondered
when

hurly burly 4

sorry
i cant talk right now
im busy making a mistake
im turning off at the lights up ahead
its a warm stormy day here
in the humdrum hurly burly
in my little blue mazda
with the radio playing poignant lovesongs
i pull into yet another seaside town
each with its own gimmicks n black spots
with its secrets and myths
i got the window down
and a pleasant cool change
comes slipping in beside me
yeah i cruise down the main street
like i know what i'm doing
like i been cruising down mainstreet forever
w/ low hung dark clouds and tossing trees
a queue outside the fishnchip place
a police station and a funeral parlour
the sea is grey blue with white caps
i slip into an amusement parlour
i like pinball
sometimes i get lucky in pool
a guy walks up to me
hey mate wanna game of pool
yeah i say
he smiles n sets em up
hes dressed in a t shirt
board shorts
shaggy brown hair
with blond bits
surfers hair i guess
hes much better than me
i feel like he'd be better than me at almost anything
he hits almost every shot
i put my money in and we keep playing
but i never have a chance
terry he says introducing himself
hes feline no hes actually quite leonine
his cheekbones are so far apart
his green eyes see far and deep
he moves around the table with impossible grace
he growls when he occaisionally misses
i put a song on the jukebox
terry looks up and grins
oh i like this one....
so do i i say
terry sings along with the words as he shoots
his voice is mellifluous
his voice is warm and sweet
in terrys mouth the words taste better than on the juke box
terry knows all the words
he leans back and lights a marlboro green
he smokes like its life or death to him
like he needs the smoke
the way he sucks it in so long and cool
yeah i like marlboro greens you say
he offers you the last one in the packet
no go on take it he says
and his smile is genuine
beguiling without guile
and youre playing pool with this great kid
and hes sharing his smokes with you
and hes singing along to the music you picked
do you live here i ask him
no he laughs white square teeth in tanned face
we're from sydney...
we....? i ask
a girl materialises at his side
come in from the gathering storm outside
in the mainstreet
of some little seaside town that dots the coast
little seaside town with old church and cemetary
little seaside town with pretty beach and inlet
the girl is a female version of terry
im terri she says
what ? i say
did he tell you his name was terry?
did she tell you her name was terri?
they both laughed conspiratorially then
but was that it?
am i naive
or suspicious?
a bit of both
whos this ? she asks her brother
he must be her twin brother
he introduces me
what part of sydney are you from ? i say
we're from the northern beaches they say together
do you have a car asks terri
as we stand in that amusement arcade
yes i do i say
terry nods
do you wanna go?
yes i do
i yearn to go
though not to arrive
i need to travel through these canefields and forests
i need to shed my skinny skin skin
i need the endless choc mint wedges and vanilla shakes
i need the petrol stations and the fluid miles
the rushing bushes on the side of the road
hanging my arm out the window
watching the towns go by in the mirror as theyre gone
curving with the humps n slumps of the streets
as you pull into marine pde in the early evening
as you switch the engine off
the radio stops dead
the silence except for the surf
occaisionally thunder rumbles
the odd pink fork of lightning
the lawn is green and well kept
the lawn is expensive lawn with a surprising springiness
i walk barefoot across the lawn
terri on one side
terry on the other
the house backed right onto a beach
around the house were buddhas
huge heads in the garden
buddha with his helmut of curls
buddhas painted gold with red eyes
big and small and ornate and simple
they unlock the door
i step through into a lovely place
with wooden polished boards
beams of light
spacious art
carpet of warm silence
luxuriant plants and orchids on black bookshelves
white furniture
come in they say
as i'm already in
i'm already in i say
yes you are they say and smile
both with the same smile
a smile that lights up every corner of your heart
like an ancient mediterranean smile
like theyre etruscans or something
her sandals wind around her heels like athena
ive never been in a house like this before
stained glass windows and a breakfast bar
its our holiday house they say
where are your parents i say
not here they laugh
not here
terri makes tomato soup for dinner
we sit around watching the night come on
i eat 5 slices of bread and they laugh
im still hungry i say
we can see that they say and laugh
their musical laugh with mirth and sincerity
their happy laugh with compassion and joy
are you twins ? i ask eventually as it starts to rain
as the droplets crash into the black glass
as the trees buckle and bend in the windows
and the clothes on the line danced around
the boston ferns and elephant ears
caught the water and flung it back at the sky
terri puts some music on
something instrumental
do you like miles ?they say
miles davis i ask
they nod
oh yeah i say hes ah...really great i think i say
terri nods and terry smiles
terry makes some nescafe instant coffee
they both laugh when i ask for 3 and a half sugars
where are you from says terri
canberra i say
oh oh they both say and laugh
have you been there much ? i say
yes its awful they both answer
i imagine their street where they live
in some swanky beach suburb next to a golf course
they went to some cool school
where terri had all the cool boys
while terry had all the cool girls
terri is studying at uni
studying arts
terry got into uni
but hes deferring cos hes a pro surfer
what about you ? they say
no i didnt get in i say
i didnt get into any unis at all
what do you do? terri asks
i play the bass guitar i exaggerate a little
really ?she asks her eyes wide and excited
yeah i say
im pretty good
terry excitedly ushers us into another room
theres a fender bass in its case and an amp
play for us man he says
do you play? i ask
terry plays in king astral she says
not the king astral
the teenage band from sydneys northern beaches?
i ask increduously
yes they both say
the one thats been number one for one month ? i ask unbelievingly
yes they both say
terry picks up the bass
and plays that complicated riff
he plays it with liquid digital agility youve never contemplated
the lovely bass riff from their hit single
the one you could clumsily fudge
but terry renders it with flourishes slides n slurs
a lightning bolt strikes nearby
and the house is suddenly immersed in darkness
you stand there
listening to them breathe
and the rain

hurly burly 3

awake in silence
the caravan is perfectly still
i run ahead of preposterous frightening dreams
i leap out of them back into this makeshift reality
which is realistic and contains 72% actual realness
the dreams are epic torturous meaningless
they seemed meaningful but now
in the delicate day
in the quietness of a haven
a home away from home....
you walked down to the general store
surrounded by cactii and vivid pinkred flowers
bees toil and hover with a drowsy hum
the store has ice creams bait newspapers
loads of different hooks
a blackboard reads
freshly cut sandwiches
toasted sandwiches available
pies, pasties, scones
milkshakes, thick shakes, tea, coffee
bait boat hire etc
you rang the little bell on the counter
you read through a newspaper guiltily
you perused a slightly rude magazine
you looked at the dead flies on the windows ill
eventually after eons of waiting
left alone with your heartbeat
and the echo of the little ringing bell
which still tinkled in the corners
and wriggled in the spiders webs
a woman of about thirty you supposed appeared
hello she says
oh shes very unexpected
she looks like a combination
of your mother and your sisters
and your best friend kim
and that woman in that film you watched
when you had a fever
you could never remember anything
other than she was so beautiful
yes yes
theres beauty
theres pretty girls everywhere
especially up here
handsome boys too for that matter
blond bronzed muscled surfers like adonis
but their beauty holds no meaning for me
they simply occur like the perfect trees you see
pale flesh like bark
well proportioned limbs
head full of bursting leaves
nests full of stars
or starlings
their prettiness is their ordinariness
in a forest of perfect trees
where my caravan was
still and perfectly warm
in the shade of an oak
yes can i help you said the woman
you felt in your pockets for money
you pull out your bankbook but no money
oh i left my money in the van you said
thats all right she smiled
i'll be here.....
the day started to uncurl itself
you seemed to be living in your own future
you seemed to be swimming through the warm present
there was no past
yes something had gone past
but what it was
well now you couldnt say
back there lay childhoods haze
a gauze over everything
like a mosquito net
or a film of sea spray
but the day your father died
the illusion rapidly faded
of course that would be a future passed over
over and over again probabilities suggested
suddenly everything seemed like
it was meant to mean something
away from the nagging parents
the squabbling children
those half hearted friends
those guys you used to jam with
could any of them have anticipated such freedom
who among us could have granted you such release
those days came and went so fast
when it was time to relish them
they were already gone
yes gone gone gone
so irretrievably gone
thats why the caravan felt so nice
you were already doctoring it for the memory
slightly overblowing the colours of the parrots outside
slightly over estimating the cosy properties in
trimming round the edges and a little blurring
later that day
you walked through a grove of sacred pines
past the lagoons and lakes
coming at last to the golden-green sea
where families lay and umbrellas sprouted
men were fishing
people were swimming
old folks n babies just paddling
the sun was yellow
the sky was royal blue
and for most people
it was enough

hurly burly part 2

in the hinterland
outlying areas
small towns you never heard of
evans beach
emerald heads
dalton
mermaid river
valhalla park
sleep in the car beside the sea
at night the rolling surf drums on the shore
you listen to your radio and smoke
you fade into the songs yourself whole
you live each song in your blue car
the songs of that era
in the night beside the black and silver sea
no moon to illuminate your heart
faint stars only
and youll never get to sleep like this
all the love songs strip you back and sensitize you
you start to pickup on small details
realms you assumed uninhabited
the way the distant stars were in communication
the memories of people who used to live hereabouts
another song comes on the station drowning in static
someone has set one of mozart
or beethovens most beautiful pieces to rocknroll
and some girl is singing these words in my car
thru a tiny tinny radio speaker in a mazda
in the inky darkness it is a revelation
listen she sings
is it that i have always loved you
or was it a dream i had
in another life
answer me darling
oh tell me...
and the song is swallowed in white noise
and advertisements
shortwaves trying to focus in
blips on a faraway radar
the night is absolute
the sea once blue and inviting
contains unspeakably monstrous things
the shadows in the sand threatening
the wind whines in the barbed wire
how old are you i ask myself
how old am i you ask yourself
you see
it doesnt matter which way you ask it
you and i interchange able
projection and transference complete
you start the car
pull back onto the highway
your headlights shine through your own dust
the station totally tunes out
and the silence is taut with meaning
you pull into angel rocks at 3 am
drive into the caravan park then
a guy gets up and turns on a light
can i rent a caravan you ask
its been a long night you might as well add
the guy is wearing a dressing gown
yeah ok he says
he tosses you some keys
its the blue one down there with the light still on
jus' for tonight ? he asks
you shrug
dunno notshore
ok see me in the morning he says
ok you say
drive down to blue one with light on
undo the door
its warm and stuffy but not unpleasant
crisp sheets
some arrowroot biscuits in cellophane
a low rounded roof
small cupboards
moths buzz around
the odd mosquito too
slap!
fucking things!
slap!
you pull off your clothes
and lie down in the caravans bed
its too short for you
but youre so so tired
its safe in here
safe to dream your dream
safe to slumber
neutralized
passive
still