walk to pool listening to peter hammill
the silent corner and the empty stage
dark words and music
"like the inmates of asylums
all the citizens are contagiously insane"
a solemn organ sweeps in, funereal
guitars warp and howl
accoustic guitar creeps in brittle arpeggios
strange soft moaning sounds
things moving backwards
things picking up momentum
something like dr whos tardis takes off
into horrible biblical ages
the music is full of torment and strife
sirens call and fade
the guitars become discordant
playing doomy harmonies
hammills voice
intelligent articulate mocking
suddenly piercing
suddenly becoming soft and beautiful
"atlantis is strange the explosion of an age
no one really knows what to do and the city is a cage"
the waves wash over us
the music takes us down to the sea bed
hammill brings back jericho
"maybe the people are waiting for trumpets"
he sadly suggests
why cant rock music be married to this ancient history?
to me there is no contradiction
everything is there for me to plunder
everything
magic
science
alchemy
drugs
sex
yoga
history
language
breath
exercise
literature
art
music
religion
philosophy
hammill destroys christianity on the lie
the organ summoning the mysteries of the latin church
the swinging censer with its sandalwood smoke
the reverb suggests the empty cold churches
where hammill was tormented as a boy
"benediction...fiction or fear?"
then on red shift
hammill bewails the universes move into the red
"once constellations were holy,
now darkness pervades all the older ones"
"hope is a word with no space for meaning"
oh sounds like something i might have written
johnny rotten even loved peter hammill
on red shift some sibilant snake like rattle
wriggles from speaker to speaker
hammill sounds like hes heartbroken
as the galaxies float into the redzone
mmmmm
gotta email from my fed ex agent
investigating my "case"
she says bondi junction fed ex need to "revert to respond"
hmmm...
yeah i bet they do....
tonite im doing something very interesting
something quite cosmic
maybe dangerous
maybe changing me forever
maybe not
will keep you informed
love
etc
me
ps vanguard hotel newtown 27 mar
toff in town melby 6 apr
be there!!!
Friday, February 29, 2008
Thursday, February 28, 2008
whens? day
wake up
write a blog
kids get ready for school
i have some shredded wheat for breakfast
weather wilde and woolley
everyone must get a big kiss goodbye from the woofle
set off
doodles usually enjoy a quiz on way to school
or they enjoy it
when i shut my eyes
n gotta guess which ones hand im holding
(the twillies liked this one too...
and were much harder to tell apart)
sometimes they like 20 questions as well
anyway i say hey doodles
what does the word eerie mean
something to do with your skin? says one
ah its a ....er...i dunno a kind of cat ? says the other
no it means spooky i say
oh...they both say disinterestedly
ummm i say
what does basalt mean?
i dont know and i dont care ! says eve
uh dad, i don' wanna be a walkin' dictionary ...says aurora
ok you little gooseballs im gonna listen to my ipod i say
good! says eve
aurora shakes my hand like its a done deal
and the doodles converse amongst themselves
about something interesting...
strangely enough
they both wanna hold my hands
so im walking along listening to ipod
with a 8 year old girl in school uni-form on each hand
nattering away across me...
drop em off at school
get a kiss
over the road
down towards the beach
across the lawns past the palms and pavillion
the usual tramps and groups of sweaty wives working out
all dressed in their leotards
stepping up in down on a kerb
or boxing with the instructor
on the boardwalk im listening to
horror of horrors...stevie nix
jesus
stop dragging my balls around
i used to sing back in the day
ha ha ha
there was a girl in a band in canberra
who thought she was stevie nix
and when her band did rhiannon
the chick'd run around with the little cloak
just like stevie did
only it was ok in the mega dome in la
but it was hilarious in the harmony-german club in canberra
have you ever seen a women taken by the wind?
thats why i always say
blow me down!
anyway im listening to stevie n don henley
by time i get to pooley
reflecting on love songs
i mean the girls in all the old sixties songs..
i mean the "she" who was just seventeen
in 1963s i saw her standing there by beatle-boys
shes gotta be 63 or 64 now right?
is her look way beyond compare still?
(maybe, if shes a vegan)
did he ever dance with another?
maybe...
i get to pool
into sauna
theres always some characters in there
today an anxious looking skinny chick
and her boyfriend
who looks like he came straight from amazon jungle
they whisper to each other but cant hear language
gee its hot in here tho
its like a bloody....sauna
the sauna looks out over the pacific
and north bondi headland (i dont live there!)
which is real pretty
grey overcast sudden glimpses of sun flashes of blue
surfers traverse the deep
people in pool go up n down
body builders in gym
women do yoga
people sit on balc drinkin' cappo bloody -cheenos
people get massaged
a school turns up
and its funny how all the little boys
stand in the changeroom gawking and giggling
at the grown-up mens wedding tackle
occaisionally a teacher rushes in saying
hurry up jared get changed
or
liam, i told you not to do that
or
jack, miss boom-boom is looking for you
i jump in pool
i swim up n down
breast stroke one way
freestyle the other
it alternates between boring and mesmerising
i jump out have another sauna
do qi gong on the deck
walk home buy some bananas n dates for my smoothie
we decide to go up the junga
the junga is bondi junction
which sits about a mile or 2 away from the beach inland
and up a big hill
the easterns subs are very hilly..
it has the largest mall in the southern hemmy-sphere
gee
and also has fed-ex kinkos office
wherein yon slacker fucked up my tube
we park in underground bunker which gives me horrors
i take woofle to fed ex
natalie goes to do grocery shopping,
at fed ex office woofle sits patiently on counter
for about 2 mins
before she gets down and runs around
dismantling the little displays of stationery n stuff
meanwhile i explain my story to guy there
he tries to understand and care
i tell him i have 6 paintings in a white tube
he goes and finds a picasso print
is this it ? he asks hopefully
then he rings a number
aha
a heavily accented lady comes on
aha
natalie had told me a heavily accented lady
was looking for a mr "kibley"
from fed ex...investigating my case...
gave her my email address etc
hello steven i m looking after your case
yes...i say ..but i didnt get your email i say
i sent it she says
this lady is quite good at english
i say quite good
because im sure english is a hard lang
for people from wherever shes from
(i say where are you anyway?
she says im offshore.......!?)
but she is not the person
i want handling my case
i tell her all the details
how i had the tube
how the slacker said hed put it in the fed ex tube
he said but there werent any right now
yeah yeah sure sure hed do it later he said
i had a premonition as i started the car outside
that he'd already forgotten
everything....
going into great detail
and an impassioned plea for their return
halfway thru my speech
i get the distinct sinking feeling
that shes non comprehendo mosta what im saying
why cant people who do these jobs speak english adequately?
surely thats not asking too much...
half the customs officers in the us cant speak english properly
well i could hardly communicate with em any way
and im english so i guess that means something, right?
look i dont care if the cab drivers or the shopowners
or the restaurant guys or the whatever cant speak inglese
but if you dealing with folks on the phone
re important details like immigration or sending documents etc
c'mon...!
anyway
although she called me steven
she had sent my email to sevekilbey@gmail.com
not stevekilbey@gmail.com
she couldnt see anything wrong with that
i realised my paintings were doomed
look just put all in email she says
i wanna speak to your superior (i think to myself, but dont say)
then i imagine
i could get
someone even worse
ah harro seve i am supelior...what is plobrum?
so
i say ok
but
still havent re"seve"d email
so.....
blah!
took woofle round junga with me
shes getting increasingly stroppy
culminating in a display of yoga right in front of escalator
thats right as people were getting off a crowded escalator
the woofle was going between dog position n upwards facing dog
while her confused and bothered old daddy tried to get her to move on
one guy stops and has a real good laugh
shes actually really good he says
and i start laughing too
seeing the funny side at last
the woofle
to cap off her performance
takes the bottom of her t shirt in her mouth
and pulls it tight
while having a maniacal expression in her eyes....bravo!
then its mostly tears
as i drag her to an art shop for a can of fix
finally down all those other escalators
to find mummy on the lowest level
its more and more crying
till finally
as we got off the last escalator
i put my foot on her foot
i pull her hand upwards...giving her a stretch
and i stumble over
with my woofle my cans of fix and radiator coolant and stopleak
what a sight
woofles really crying now
when nk appears from grocery shop
she flies to mummy glad to escape the brutal imbecility of daddy-o
and is spilling the beans on how i hurt her and where it hurts
we come home
i have a sleep
wake up feeling real groggy
a can of berry v wakes me up
nk goes to school get doodles
woofle wakes up
angry to find shes woken up
with dear sweet soft mummy gone
and angry busy stupid old daddy left
nk n doodles come home
only thing to silence angry woofle is to put on a dvd
she is insistinging on the wiggles
which i absolutely abhor despise and revile
but hey
its still better than woofles guilt trip and recriminations
that im not her mother...
then at 6 30
the twillies swan in for dinner
the twillies have evening jobs now
and it gives them a slightly new swagger
i have to watch what i say in front of twillies
cos one olde fogey type remark will have em up n at me
they insist on swearing and talking about gory films theyve seen
going into lurid detail about murders n blood n guts
the doodles eyes are like plates
im trying to get the twillies to tone it down
ahem...girls please ..this is the dinner table..
but it goes from worse to worse
recounting all kinds of things in colourful language
reminding me of myself at 16
trying to shock and somehow proclaim my indy-pendents
but at same time seeking approval
its complicated
anyway
i didnt blow it tonite with my
"im not having that in this house" malarkey
they come in my room
elli prints out a load of stuff she doesnt take with her
minna gets out my art supply stuff
wants a "good" bit of paper
and then never finishes it
they both swan off into the night
beautiful self centred teenage girls
you gotta take what you can get and let em flow
cos you cant impose yer own aesthetic or ideals upon them
doodles go to bed amidst teethcleaning and protests
i read to them from northern lights
which is one zillion times better than hairy potter
and nk n i watch an episode of the american office
in which michael n jan levinson go public with romance
its squirmingly embarrassing n very very funny
but when its all over
the woofle is still stubbornly awake
she aint going gently into that goodnight
so we 3
me nk n woofle go to bed earlyish
woofle is still gently carrying on as i fall asleep
and shes up first thing this morning when i wake up
good on you woofle
24 hour surveillance service
we're watching you daddy
eventually everyone is up n about
ah
another day
write a blog
kids get ready for school
i have some shredded wheat for breakfast
weather wilde and woolley
everyone must get a big kiss goodbye from the woofle
set off
doodles usually enjoy a quiz on way to school
or they enjoy it
when i shut my eyes
n gotta guess which ones hand im holding
(the twillies liked this one too...
and were much harder to tell apart)
sometimes they like 20 questions as well
anyway i say hey doodles
what does the word eerie mean
something to do with your skin? says one
ah its a ....er...i dunno a kind of cat ? says the other
no it means spooky i say
oh...they both say disinterestedly
ummm i say
what does basalt mean?
i dont know and i dont care ! says eve
uh dad, i don' wanna be a walkin' dictionary ...says aurora
ok you little gooseballs im gonna listen to my ipod i say
good! says eve
aurora shakes my hand like its a done deal
and the doodles converse amongst themselves
about something interesting...
strangely enough
they both wanna hold my hands
so im walking along listening to ipod
with a 8 year old girl in school uni-form on each hand
nattering away across me...
drop em off at school
get a kiss
over the road
down towards the beach
across the lawns past the palms and pavillion
the usual tramps and groups of sweaty wives working out
all dressed in their leotards
stepping up in down on a kerb
or boxing with the instructor
on the boardwalk im listening to
horror of horrors...stevie nix
jesus
stop dragging my balls around
i used to sing back in the day
ha ha ha
there was a girl in a band in canberra
who thought she was stevie nix
and when her band did rhiannon
the chick'd run around with the little cloak
just like stevie did
only it was ok in the mega dome in la
but it was hilarious in the harmony-german club in canberra
have you ever seen a women taken by the wind?
thats why i always say
blow me down!
anyway im listening to stevie n don henley
by time i get to pooley
reflecting on love songs
i mean the girls in all the old sixties songs..
i mean the "she" who was just seventeen
in 1963s i saw her standing there by beatle-boys
shes gotta be 63 or 64 now right?
is her look way beyond compare still?
(maybe, if shes a vegan)
did he ever dance with another?
maybe...
i get to pool
into sauna
theres always some characters in there
today an anxious looking skinny chick
and her boyfriend
who looks like he came straight from amazon jungle
they whisper to each other but cant hear language
gee its hot in here tho
its like a bloody....sauna
the sauna looks out over the pacific
and north bondi headland (i dont live there!)
which is real pretty
grey overcast sudden glimpses of sun flashes of blue
surfers traverse the deep
people in pool go up n down
body builders in gym
women do yoga
people sit on balc drinkin' cappo bloody -cheenos
people get massaged
a school turns up
and its funny how all the little boys
stand in the changeroom gawking and giggling
at the grown-up mens wedding tackle
occaisionally a teacher rushes in saying
hurry up jared get changed
or
liam, i told you not to do that
or
jack, miss boom-boom is looking for you
i jump in pool
i swim up n down
breast stroke one way
freestyle the other
it alternates between boring and mesmerising
i jump out have another sauna
do qi gong on the deck
walk home buy some bananas n dates for my smoothie
we decide to go up the junga
the junga is bondi junction
which sits about a mile or 2 away from the beach inland
and up a big hill
the easterns subs are very hilly..
it has the largest mall in the southern hemmy-sphere
gee
and also has fed-ex kinkos office
wherein yon slacker fucked up my tube
we park in underground bunker which gives me horrors
i take woofle to fed ex
natalie goes to do grocery shopping,
at fed ex office woofle sits patiently on counter
for about 2 mins
before she gets down and runs around
dismantling the little displays of stationery n stuff
meanwhile i explain my story to guy there
he tries to understand and care
i tell him i have 6 paintings in a white tube
he goes and finds a picasso print
is this it ? he asks hopefully
then he rings a number
aha
a heavily accented lady comes on
aha
natalie had told me a heavily accented lady
was looking for a mr "kibley"
from fed ex...investigating my case...
gave her my email address etc
hello steven i m looking after your case
yes...i say ..but i didnt get your email i say
i sent it she says
this lady is quite good at english
i say quite good
because im sure english is a hard lang
for people from wherever shes from
(i say where are you anyway?
she says im offshore.......!?)
but she is not the person
i want handling my case
i tell her all the details
how i had the tube
how the slacker said hed put it in the fed ex tube
he said but there werent any right now
yeah yeah sure sure hed do it later he said
i had a premonition as i started the car outside
that he'd already forgotten
everything....
going into great detail
and an impassioned plea for their return
halfway thru my speech
i get the distinct sinking feeling
that shes non comprehendo mosta what im saying
why cant people who do these jobs speak english adequately?
surely thats not asking too much...
half the customs officers in the us cant speak english properly
well i could hardly communicate with em any way
and im english so i guess that means something, right?
look i dont care if the cab drivers or the shopowners
or the restaurant guys or the whatever cant speak inglese
but if you dealing with folks on the phone
re important details like immigration or sending documents etc
c'mon...!
anyway
although she called me steven
she had sent my email to sevekilbey@gmail.com
not stevekilbey@gmail.com
she couldnt see anything wrong with that
i realised my paintings were doomed
look just put all in email she says
i wanna speak to your superior (i think to myself, but dont say)
then i imagine
i could get
someone even worse
ah harro seve i am supelior...what is plobrum?
so
i say ok
but
still havent re"seve"d email
so.....
blah!
took woofle round junga with me
shes getting increasingly stroppy
culminating in a display of yoga right in front of escalator
thats right as people were getting off a crowded escalator
the woofle was going between dog position n upwards facing dog
while her confused and bothered old daddy tried to get her to move on
one guy stops and has a real good laugh
shes actually really good he says
and i start laughing too
seeing the funny side at last
the woofle
to cap off her performance
takes the bottom of her t shirt in her mouth
and pulls it tight
while having a maniacal expression in her eyes....bravo!
then its mostly tears
as i drag her to an art shop for a can of fix
finally down all those other escalators
to find mummy on the lowest level
its more and more crying
till finally
as we got off the last escalator
i put my foot on her foot
i pull her hand upwards...giving her a stretch
and i stumble over
with my woofle my cans of fix and radiator coolant and stopleak
what a sight
woofles really crying now
when nk appears from grocery shop
she flies to mummy glad to escape the brutal imbecility of daddy-o
and is spilling the beans on how i hurt her and where it hurts
we come home
i have a sleep
wake up feeling real groggy
a can of berry v wakes me up
nk goes to school get doodles
woofle wakes up
angry to find shes woken up
with dear sweet soft mummy gone
and angry busy stupid old daddy left
nk n doodles come home
only thing to silence angry woofle is to put on a dvd
she is insistinging on the wiggles
which i absolutely abhor despise and revile
but hey
its still better than woofles guilt trip and recriminations
that im not her mother...
then at 6 30
the twillies swan in for dinner
the twillies have evening jobs now
and it gives them a slightly new swagger
i have to watch what i say in front of twillies
cos one olde fogey type remark will have em up n at me
they insist on swearing and talking about gory films theyve seen
going into lurid detail about murders n blood n guts
the doodles eyes are like plates
im trying to get the twillies to tone it down
ahem...girls please ..this is the dinner table..
but it goes from worse to worse
recounting all kinds of things in colourful language
reminding me of myself at 16
trying to shock and somehow proclaim my indy-pendents
but at same time seeking approval
its complicated
anyway
i didnt blow it tonite with my
"im not having that in this house" malarkey
they come in my room
elli prints out a load of stuff she doesnt take with her
minna gets out my art supply stuff
wants a "good" bit of paper
and then never finishes it
they both swan off into the night
beautiful self centred teenage girls
you gotta take what you can get and let em flow
cos you cant impose yer own aesthetic or ideals upon them
doodles go to bed amidst teethcleaning and protests
i read to them from northern lights
which is one zillion times better than hairy potter
and nk n i watch an episode of the american office
in which michael n jan levinson go public with romance
its squirmingly embarrassing n very very funny
but when its all over
the woofle is still stubbornly awake
she aint going gently into that goodnight
so we 3
me nk n woofle go to bed earlyish
woofle is still gently carrying on as i fall asleep
and shes up first thing this morning when i wake up
good on you woofle
24 hour surveillance service
we're watching you daddy
eventually everyone is up n about
ah
another day
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
re evaluation
its a thundery morning in north bondi
my 4 girls sleep on
elli n minna sleep on round the corner too
am i lucky?
sure
i am
i am a very lucky man
my daughters
my wife
my friends who are all of you
im always so touched by your concern
im sitting here wearing a krsna/vishnu long sleeve t shirt
given to me by ms x
who has also given me some of the most amazing art supplies ever
stuff i never heard of, never woulda bought
all picked out with originality and flair
always exactly what i needed
even if i didnt know it
plus
she sends my kids wonderful art supplies too
which ALL children love
she sent me these new pastels called pan pastels
applied with different applicators
its enough to get me going on a new painting spree
i wasnt real happy with my last lot of paintings
not the ones that went missing...they were good
just the ones before that
its like songwriting periods
sometimes you churning em out
sometimes youve been inspired
well now
im inspired
and im inspired about music
and im inspired about words
and im inspired about the rich knowledge
that flows to me in my fifties
the fruit of years of struggling and yearning
let me tell you being fifty three is not all bad
dont fear middle age you younger fiendss out there
i have no desire to be 23 no no no no
only for the time it would give me
but each man gets only one life as that man
and as painful as it must be
we will have to relinquish our masks....
i am learning about paint and pastels at a rapid rate
oh all those wasted years...
music too
my voice....
learning how to use it
what it is capable of...
yesterday after all the money baloney
i drive out to tims
when i get there
we worked not on new church album
as i thought we would
but we finished up work on the shriek soundtrack
the churches soundtrack for the book "shriek"
a weird fantasy by jeff vandermeer
people
tim and i had such a blast
we locked in our intentions
we secured a modus operandi
and we nailed it
using passages from the book
i sang screamed whispered pleaded ranted and raved
over the top of the churches roiling boiling music
guitars flutter and float and shake and shudder
we added some strings and leslied piano
tim jumps in shadowing my voice perfectly
almost everything we do is right!
that happens with painting too
everything you do is right
like some hand guides you
like some intelligence feeds you the clues
sometimes you can do no wrong
i play some accoustic guitar
it changes the angle of the tracks
my basslines are sexy and snaky
i go in the laundry and bang tims washing machine
with mallets
and all the drum bits hanging up in there
and tim does what sounds like a looping sample
of some old egyptian guy praying or something
and i go in with some chanting and grunting
very maori says tim smiling
we just add and add
tim does his studio trickery on the computer
work on into the night
i had a goodtime
and we finished it
the long lonely drive from tims to home
in the rain
listen to kate bushes aerial and rocknroll animal
although not an extreme fan of twin lead guitar harmony solos
the guitar playing on this is gloriously celestial
intertwining and climbing
steve hunter and dick wagner these guys were called
and the arrangements on here are almost classical in detail
in 1974 this album knocked my socks off
it makes the drive back to bondi more bearable
over anzac bridge
down the tunnel
up in rushcutters bay
up the hill in belvue heights (however ya spell it)
down the other side into vaucluse
then bondi
the rain abates
not a bad days work
things arent so bad
just financial...
its still a worry tho'
not for my sake
i can live on literally nothing
and i have
but fambleys need money
and ya gotta get that soy bacon on the table
ok
nose to grindstone!
my 4 girls sleep on
elli n minna sleep on round the corner too
am i lucky?
sure
i am
i am a very lucky man
my daughters
my wife
my friends who are all of you
im always so touched by your concern
im sitting here wearing a krsna/vishnu long sleeve t shirt
given to me by ms x
who has also given me some of the most amazing art supplies ever
stuff i never heard of, never woulda bought
all picked out with originality and flair
always exactly what i needed
even if i didnt know it
plus
she sends my kids wonderful art supplies too
which ALL children love
she sent me these new pastels called pan pastels
applied with different applicators
its enough to get me going on a new painting spree
i wasnt real happy with my last lot of paintings
not the ones that went missing...they were good
just the ones before that
its like songwriting periods
sometimes you churning em out
sometimes youve been inspired
well now
im inspired
and im inspired about music
and im inspired about words
and im inspired about the rich knowledge
that flows to me in my fifties
the fruit of years of struggling and yearning
let me tell you being fifty three is not all bad
dont fear middle age you younger fiendss out there
i have no desire to be 23 no no no no
only for the time it would give me
but each man gets only one life as that man
and as painful as it must be
we will have to relinquish our masks....
i am learning about paint and pastels at a rapid rate
oh all those wasted years...
music too
my voice....
learning how to use it
what it is capable of...
yesterday after all the money baloney
i drive out to tims
when i get there
we worked not on new church album
as i thought we would
but we finished up work on the shriek soundtrack
the churches soundtrack for the book "shriek"
a weird fantasy by jeff vandermeer
people
tim and i had such a blast
we locked in our intentions
we secured a modus operandi
and we nailed it
using passages from the book
i sang screamed whispered pleaded ranted and raved
over the top of the churches roiling boiling music
guitars flutter and float and shake and shudder
we added some strings and leslied piano
tim jumps in shadowing my voice perfectly
almost everything we do is right!
that happens with painting too
everything you do is right
like some hand guides you
like some intelligence feeds you the clues
sometimes you can do no wrong
i play some accoustic guitar
it changes the angle of the tracks
my basslines are sexy and snaky
i go in the laundry and bang tims washing machine
with mallets
and all the drum bits hanging up in there
and tim does what sounds like a looping sample
of some old egyptian guy praying or something
and i go in with some chanting and grunting
very maori says tim smiling
we just add and add
tim does his studio trickery on the computer
work on into the night
i had a goodtime
and we finished it
the long lonely drive from tims to home
in the rain
listen to kate bushes aerial and rocknroll animal
although not an extreme fan of twin lead guitar harmony solos
the guitar playing on this is gloriously celestial
intertwining and climbing
steve hunter and dick wagner these guys were called
and the arrangements on here are almost classical in detail
in 1974 this album knocked my socks off
it makes the drive back to bondi more bearable
over anzac bridge
down the tunnel
up in rushcutters bay
up the hill in belvue heights (however ya spell it)
down the other side into vaucluse
then bondi
the rain abates
not a bad days work
things arent so bad
just financial...
its still a worry tho'
not for my sake
i can live on literally nothing
and i have
but fambleys need money
and ya gotta get that soy bacon on the table
ok
nose to grindstone!
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
self pitty
some mofo is now stealing money outta my bank accnt
in fact he got my last fifty bucks
thats right
i said to wife
at least we have fifty seven bucks in accnt
but
2 hours later
no she says
no
we have 7 bucks
ah clever criminals
now gotta wait 21 days to get my fifty back
hopefully by then will not need it so much
somedays ya get up...
fuckin' conflict
everybody everywhere wants a piece of ya
fair enough
if you caused it yerself
but im wading through everyone elses problems
i wish i was a monk tending a garden
a vow of silence
i am like a parent waiting for my paintings
so i cant face the fact they are truly gone
today i will try to confront the slacker who blew it with the tube
up at fed ex
whats the best outcome i can hope for...?
an apology?
hah!
who cares
everyone offloads the guilt elsewhere
thats how its done
ah you dont need this today
lets try again tomorrow
in fact he got my last fifty bucks
thats right
i said to wife
at least we have fifty seven bucks in accnt
but
2 hours later
no she says
no
we have 7 bucks
ah clever criminals
now gotta wait 21 days to get my fifty back
hopefully by then will not need it so much
somedays ya get up...
fuckin' conflict
everybody everywhere wants a piece of ya
fair enough
if you caused it yerself
but im wading through everyone elses problems
i wish i was a monk tending a garden
a vow of silence
i am like a parent waiting for my paintings
so i cant face the fact they are truly gone
today i will try to confront the slacker who blew it with the tube
up at fed ex
whats the best outcome i can hope for...?
an apology?
hah!
who cares
everyone offloads the guilt elsewhere
thats how its done
ah you dont need this today
lets try again tomorrow
Monday, February 25, 2008
super living expo melby 2008
i see some you think the spider killed me
but you know
im tougher than spiders
tougher than heroin
tougher than plane crashes
tougher than....
ow! i just stubbed my toe
well
nk n girls drove me to airport
tibor our car is having overheating problems
(the falcon is named tibor(pronounced teebore))
and an unfortunate set of (hopefully temporary)circumstances
has rendered us broke beyond belief
anyway
everytime i say goodbye to my family
i get worried case i nevva see em agen
i really do love em to bits
and today
the woofle seems so big n bouncy
evie doodle seems so robust and energetic
aurora doodle seems so laidback n humourous
and natalie mcwife seems so......
well this sposed to be a family blogg...
and sydney itself seemed so warm and soft and home
the airport bit was ok
i heard a guy in line saying
"oh i love airports"
i swing round n say
"how many times've you flown?
he says
"oh this is the first time"
gee
i tell thee very straight
there are many many many gay men around
everywhere
its gay mardy grah
in sydney
and bondi beach is covered in fabulous beautiful bodies
all men...
a lot of these guys have perfect worked out muscles
the heteros on the beach are all saggy flabby skinny weedy oafy
but these gay guys (most of em)
theyre an amazing glimpse at how the human male body
has the propensity to be sublimely gorgeous
like a stallion or a cheetah
how strange!
when i was a kid
it seemed that the muscley guys were the uber-butch hetero-types
and the skinny effeminate types got sand kicked in their faces
and their girls stolen
but on todays beach
the butch guys are mostly in bad shape
i think the reason for this
is complicated
n
beyond the scope of this blog.
being a sydneysider for a long time
with the largest gay pop on earth
i neither love em or loathe em
theyre part of the scenery just like us breeders
we coexist mostly in harmony
so with that in mind
the punning side of me
always wants to yell out:
remember visitors
bathe between the fags...
but i guess that would get more than sand kicked in my face
so i just sit n stare at their abs n lats
(cmon bring on yer closet gay diatribes anon)
anyway the plane to melb and back was very gay
and so what?!!
it was a smooth flight both ways so im happy
met at airport by nice geezer gary
not yer stereotypical vegan
but a real aussie locksmith bloke
tells me sad story how his wife had ms then died breast cancer
(he called cancer jimmy the dancer)
she was 42
i felt very teary
feel impotent with rage that this happened to this man
why lord why?
then we discuss ways of tumbling safes and picking locks
get to gig
they told me northcote town hall
well it was
but i was playing outside...
note to everyone who ever wants me to play
NO MORE OUTSIDE GIGS EVER AGAIN!
it was that worst melby weather
burning sun n cold wind
i made sure i could rant as long as i wanted
i asked the organisers
go for it they said
i did my first couple of songs
the guitars gone outta tune outside here
the sound is weird
only halfway through gig does guy find reverb button
n it comes on real suddenly
i get him to demonstrate all his reverbs to crowd
anyway i rant n rave bout vegism
from all angles
the spirit enters me
and i rant n rave loquaciously
im fucking good
i aint no dry proselytizer dishing the facts
n i aint no militant nutcase either
im a fucken renaissance manne
whose speciality is the eng lang
and im holding forth on a subject
i have been pondering for almost 40 years
eventually i dont wanna play very much
its feels stupid to go from impassioned plea for mercy
into
oh and heres a little pop song too
so eventually i seem to be just talking n talking
the main organiser of this whole she bang
an american lady called patty
was standing right in front of me
and shes smiling and giving me encouragement
a blonde lady even older than me
comes up n asks me to announce a meditation session
i ask her old she is
sixty
are you a vegan? i ask
yep
you know the crowd cheered
she really looked good for her age
slim n natural blonde hair
i mean you could see she was sixty if you looked close
but if you knew her when she was 18
you still would have recognised her
she still looked like herself
thats veganism folks
the only real solution to ageing gracefully
anyway i continue my rant
suddenly another tap on shoulder
a short squat woman is telling me
"you got ten minutes left
youre preaching to the converted
play some songs instead"
i just fuckin see red
(rightly or wrongly)
i do a horrible shortened stupid milky way
n i fuck off from their non stage
the organiser hastens after me
and assures me im the best speaker she has EVER seen
after 6 years of these gigs
ok
but that other womans got me in a cold rage
all shot through with self doubt
i mean maybe i was raving....?!
person after person comes in to reassure me
but that short wide bint has ruined my day
ah the fickleness of ego
and the achilles heel it has given me
i chat to a girl pastelling the pavement n get some tips
i meet my youngest fan outside the woofle
who was karla(carla?)
then i had vegan waffles n an iced stimulator
(phwaargh!)
actually it was vanilla cashew milk
thanks to con n kathy (cathy?) n luka (luca?)
nice to see md n donna
n princey n her friend whose name i always forget
even after all these years
fly home and im knackered
karin comes over
twillies have been misbehavin' theirselves
oh my oh my
go to bed n sleep like a log
today is today
funny bout that
"
but you know
im tougher than spiders
tougher than heroin
tougher than plane crashes
tougher than....
ow! i just stubbed my toe
well
nk n girls drove me to airport
tibor our car is having overheating problems
(the falcon is named tibor(pronounced teebore))
and an unfortunate set of (hopefully temporary)circumstances
has rendered us broke beyond belief
anyway
everytime i say goodbye to my family
i get worried case i nevva see em agen
i really do love em to bits
and today
the woofle seems so big n bouncy
evie doodle seems so robust and energetic
aurora doodle seems so laidback n humourous
and natalie mcwife seems so......
well this sposed to be a family blogg...
and sydney itself seemed so warm and soft and home
the airport bit was ok
i heard a guy in line saying
"oh i love airports"
i swing round n say
"how many times've you flown?
he says
"oh this is the first time"
gee
i tell thee very straight
there are many many many gay men around
everywhere
its gay mardy grah
in sydney
and bondi beach is covered in fabulous beautiful bodies
all men...
a lot of these guys have perfect worked out muscles
the heteros on the beach are all saggy flabby skinny weedy oafy
but these gay guys (most of em)
theyre an amazing glimpse at how the human male body
has the propensity to be sublimely gorgeous
like a stallion or a cheetah
how strange!
when i was a kid
it seemed that the muscley guys were the uber-butch hetero-types
and the skinny effeminate types got sand kicked in their faces
and their girls stolen
but on todays beach
the butch guys are mostly in bad shape
i think the reason for this
is complicated
n
beyond the scope of this blog.
being a sydneysider for a long time
with the largest gay pop on earth
i neither love em or loathe em
theyre part of the scenery just like us breeders
we coexist mostly in harmony
so with that in mind
the punning side of me
always wants to yell out:
remember visitors
bathe between the fags...
but i guess that would get more than sand kicked in my face
so i just sit n stare at their abs n lats
(cmon bring on yer closet gay diatribes anon)
anyway the plane to melb and back was very gay
and so what?!!
it was a smooth flight both ways so im happy
met at airport by nice geezer gary
not yer stereotypical vegan
but a real aussie locksmith bloke
tells me sad story how his wife had ms then died breast cancer
(he called cancer jimmy the dancer)
she was 42
i felt very teary
feel impotent with rage that this happened to this man
why lord why?
then we discuss ways of tumbling safes and picking locks
get to gig
they told me northcote town hall
well it was
but i was playing outside...
note to everyone who ever wants me to play
NO MORE OUTSIDE GIGS EVER AGAIN!
it was that worst melby weather
burning sun n cold wind
i made sure i could rant as long as i wanted
i asked the organisers
go for it they said
i did my first couple of songs
the guitars gone outta tune outside here
the sound is weird
only halfway through gig does guy find reverb button
n it comes on real suddenly
i get him to demonstrate all his reverbs to crowd
anyway i rant n rave bout vegism
from all angles
the spirit enters me
and i rant n rave loquaciously
im fucking good
i aint no dry proselytizer dishing the facts
n i aint no militant nutcase either
im a fucken renaissance manne
whose speciality is the eng lang
and im holding forth on a subject
i have been pondering for almost 40 years
eventually i dont wanna play very much
its feels stupid to go from impassioned plea for mercy
into
oh and heres a little pop song too
so eventually i seem to be just talking n talking
the main organiser of this whole she bang
an american lady called patty
was standing right in front of me
and shes smiling and giving me encouragement
a blonde lady even older than me
comes up n asks me to announce a meditation session
i ask her old she is
sixty
are you a vegan? i ask
yep
you know the crowd cheered
she really looked good for her age
slim n natural blonde hair
i mean you could see she was sixty if you looked close
but if you knew her when she was 18
you still would have recognised her
she still looked like herself
thats veganism folks
the only real solution to ageing gracefully
anyway i continue my rant
suddenly another tap on shoulder
a short squat woman is telling me
"you got ten minutes left
youre preaching to the converted
play some songs instead"
i just fuckin see red
(rightly or wrongly)
i do a horrible shortened stupid milky way
n i fuck off from their non stage
the organiser hastens after me
and assures me im the best speaker she has EVER seen
after 6 years of these gigs
ok
but that other womans got me in a cold rage
all shot through with self doubt
i mean maybe i was raving....?!
person after person comes in to reassure me
but that short wide bint has ruined my day
ah the fickleness of ego
and the achilles heel it has given me
i chat to a girl pastelling the pavement n get some tips
i meet my youngest fan outside the woofle
who was karla(carla?)
then i had vegan waffles n an iced stimulator
(phwaargh!)
actually it was vanilla cashew milk
thanks to con n kathy (cathy?) n luka (luca?)
nice to see md n donna
n princey n her friend whose name i always forget
even after all these years
fly home and im knackered
karin comes over
twillies have been misbehavin' theirselves
oh my oh my
go to bed n sleep like a log
today is today
funny bout that
"
Saturday, February 23, 2008
lifelike
every morning is perfect
how could it not be?
maybe not perfect for you.....
but still perfect
i'm sitting here at my ibook g4
eating shredded wheat with rice milk n raw sugar
i wake up early after a wild day
including talking nk into having a swim in sea
cmon im saying youll feel so refreshed
cmon i say i'll watch scarlet
nk goes in
shes frolicking around in waves
suddenly
oh steven i've been stung
sure enough
a bluebottle jellyfish has wrapped round her arm
stinging and burning
shes very brave but in excrutiating pain
we get home after a nasty windy walk
even the air is making it hurt moans my poor baby
only after hours does the pain disappear
nk recommends hot water as most viable remedy
but once yer stung....yer fuckin' stuck, mon
anyway then i start noticing spider references
a guy from sweden writes to me
in a band called the arachnophobias
then we see and talk about spiders all day
at nielsens park in the changing rooms
finally last night
after a lotta love n intoxication
i sit out in the darkness on my balcony
sitting on my backstep naked
its 2 oo am...its a balmy nite
no one can see me
anyhow im sitting out there
im watching the moon cast delicate rainbow aureoles
on fleece like clouds who were inching their way across
a black night sky
i must admit i was pretty vacant
then...
(theres always a fuckin' catch!)
then a red station wagon comes slowly up my street
and this dude just stops in the middle of the road
jumps out and is running around with a torch
looking at stuff
he starts walking down my path...
and oh no i cant fuckin' believe this..
hes walking up my steps
im frantically waving my arms at this idiot
"what you want mate?" i ask
is this number 11 he says
"its seven mate" i say
not 11 ?he asks like an imbecile
(in case the number to my house changed but i aint realised)
"its seven" i say very definitely
i mean you shoulda been able to tell by the tone of my voice
a man uses that tone that means no more discussion, right?
the guy backs off n runs around with his fucking torch
after a few minutes hes back
jesus!
im wasted im tripping im out of it
im sitting on my step in the darkness
trying to get some peace
and im naked...
wheres 11 then? the idiot asks
" down that way , i guess" i say
my tone now is downright aggressive
i dont wanna see this man one more time
i realise dimly hes lookin' for a noisy party
that fizzled out ages ago
the guy must be so out of it
he doesnt have a clue
he gets in his car and pisses off
i sit contemplating my lost paintings
i sit contemplating art and music and the moon
im reaching some very satisfying conclusions when..
the fucking car comes back
the idiot jumps out and is walking down my path
up the steps to my first floor balcony
this is supposed to be 11 he says
i stand up and grab a towel hanging on the railing
i coulda chosen a number of towels
but i chose this one
i wrapped it round my waist
oh fuck whats that ?im thinking
as a burning gravelly strange pain starts up on my hip
just above my bum
this is supposed to be 11 he says again
i stand up with my towel
and i move into the light
a hot and dishevelled bricklayer i am
disturbed in his own fucking house at north bondi
at 2 15 by this prick
"dude " i say " this is SEVEN!!'
my voice is telling him
that our next contact is gonna be me decking him
the australian male in me is aroused and im fucking angry
i guess he finally got the message
cos he got in his car and pissed off for good
gee my hip is sore though
i go in and show it to nk
she says oh darlin'
theres 2 puncture marks like an inch apart...
we then both realise
i been bitten by a bloody spider
who was in the towel
ouch oh
now im sitting here waiting for symptoms
of fever headache deleria
muse: sounds like a normal kilbey day
my paintings are lost for good it seems
i did yoga n i feel better
i see old nepali woman next door in sari
lighting incense to ganesha n buddha
the girls are on the balcony
all over me as im trying to do my poses
i let go
fuck the paintings
fuck the jellyfish
fuck the spider
fuck the idiot
whats next?
bring on the sharks!
how could it not be?
maybe not perfect for you.....
but still perfect
i'm sitting here at my ibook g4
eating shredded wheat with rice milk n raw sugar
i wake up early after a wild day
including talking nk into having a swim in sea
cmon im saying youll feel so refreshed
cmon i say i'll watch scarlet
nk goes in
shes frolicking around in waves
suddenly
oh steven i've been stung
sure enough
a bluebottle jellyfish has wrapped round her arm
stinging and burning
shes very brave but in excrutiating pain
we get home after a nasty windy walk
even the air is making it hurt moans my poor baby
only after hours does the pain disappear
nk recommends hot water as most viable remedy
but once yer stung....yer fuckin' stuck, mon
anyway then i start noticing spider references
a guy from sweden writes to me
in a band called the arachnophobias
then we see and talk about spiders all day
at nielsens park in the changing rooms
finally last night
after a lotta love n intoxication
i sit out in the darkness on my balcony
sitting on my backstep naked
its 2 oo am...its a balmy nite
no one can see me
anyhow im sitting out there
im watching the moon cast delicate rainbow aureoles
on fleece like clouds who were inching their way across
a black night sky
i must admit i was pretty vacant
then...
(theres always a fuckin' catch!)
then a red station wagon comes slowly up my street
and this dude just stops in the middle of the road
jumps out and is running around with a torch
looking at stuff
he starts walking down my path...
and oh no i cant fuckin' believe this..
hes walking up my steps
im frantically waving my arms at this idiot
"what you want mate?" i ask
is this number 11 he says
"its seven mate" i say
not 11 ?he asks like an imbecile
(in case the number to my house changed but i aint realised)
"its seven" i say very definitely
i mean you shoulda been able to tell by the tone of my voice
a man uses that tone that means no more discussion, right?
the guy backs off n runs around with his fucking torch
after a few minutes hes back
jesus!
im wasted im tripping im out of it
im sitting on my step in the darkness
trying to get some peace
and im naked...
wheres 11 then? the idiot asks
" down that way , i guess" i say
my tone now is downright aggressive
i dont wanna see this man one more time
i realise dimly hes lookin' for a noisy party
that fizzled out ages ago
the guy must be so out of it
he doesnt have a clue
he gets in his car and pisses off
i sit contemplating my lost paintings
i sit contemplating art and music and the moon
im reaching some very satisfying conclusions when..
the fucking car comes back
the idiot jumps out and is walking down my path
up the steps to my first floor balcony
this is supposed to be 11 he says
i stand up and grab a towel hanging on the railing
i coulda chosen a number of towels
but i chose this one
i wrapped it round my waist
oh fuck whats that ?im thinking
as a burning gravelly strange pain starts up on my hip
just above my bum
this is supposed to be 11 he says again
i stand up with my towel
and i move into the light
a hot and dishevelled bricklayer i am
disturbed in his own fucking house at north bondi
at 2 15 by this prick
"dude " i say " this is SEVEN!!'
my voice is telling him
that our next contact is gonna be me decking him
the australian male in me is aroused and im fucking angry
i guess he finally got the message
cos he got in his car and pissed off for good
gee my hip is sore though
i go in and show it to nk
she says oh darlin'
theres 2 puncture marks like an inch apart...
we then both realise
i been bitten by a bloody spider
who was in the towel
ouch oh
now im sitting here waiting for symptoms
of fever headache deleria
muse: sounds like a normal kilbey day
my paintings are lost for good it seems
i did yoga n i feel better
i see old nepali woman next door in sari
lighting incense to ganesha n buddha
the girls are on the balcony
all over me as im trying to do my poses
i let go
fuck the paintings
fuck the jellyfish
fuck the spider
fuck the idiot
whats next?
bring on the sharks!
Friday, February 22, 2008
moonful
steve fuckin' kilbey man
yeah i remember that guy
i loved all that stuff man
what did he do again man ?
oh yeah i remember now
i met him a few times ya know
during the eighties
he was working at the markets
selling t shirts
he was getting a band together oh yeah
nice guy nice guy
not really
actually he was ok i guess
hard to fuckin' get to know
if you know what i mean
sometimes he was kinda quiet and angry
othertimes he was ranting and laughing
he had a t shirt of richard hell with sequins on the eyeballs
he had skin tight crimson cords and brown boots
he just moved up from canberra or something
i'd see him queuing up for a stall
he was still young then i guess
we all were ,man
boy there was simon reptile
and the kung fu guy who sold candles
and the norml guy with his legalise dope stall
and white faced punk girls
and hippies and junkies and alkies
rod stewart breezed through the markets one week
with belinda green on 'is arm...remember her
australias miss world
kilbey followed stewart round the market
at a discreet distance of course
he was trying to figure out how rod got his hair like that
"i mean, i know" kilbey said but he just wanted to
"see it up close...see how it all worked"
kilbey seemed to be disappearing regularly
he'd take off with other guys
walk back up oxford street to some clothing shop
was it gary wolfes?
theyd go out back of shop
and smoke dope in a leafy courtyard
the owner of the shop n his wife would come out
happy to supply the premises
for a smoke of richard westahofs good "caterpillar" pot
anyway then
when i saw him telly a year later
hed lost a lot of weight or something
he was wearing makeup
he seemed paler too
not like the freckly faced bloke at the 'kets
my girlfriend at the time said "he must be on the gear"
but it wasnt that
he was just sweating a lot
playing every night of the week
sometimes two shows a night
suddenly he was all over the place
best songwriter in australia he said
what a bloody big head!
they were playing bloody great beer barns in the suburbs by then
we saw em one night
you couldnt hear a bloody word kilbey was singing
my girlfriend thought that was a good thing
the guitars were really loud
and uh i dunno
sometimes i couldnt figure out what was making all that sound
i got backstage
but they were all sitting around stoned or something
we didnt like the vibe so we split
i saw kilbey in the carpark having an argument or something
i dunno maybe they were just mucking around
kilbey had this eye make up on
"i bet hes gay now" said my girlfriend
no no he sure aint gay i said
but he sure fuckin' looked a mess
we sat in the carpark watching him for a while
he seemed really cranky with somebody
eventually a ford ltd rolled up
and kilbey and the drummer got in and pissed off
we went home and i put on the blurred crusade
"i dont like em its depressing "my girlfriend said
and went to bed
i sat there in the darkness listening to his record
how strange to think that i knew him
kind of
sorta
yeah
he was a great guy
no
not really
he was ok
i guess....
yeah i remember that guy
i loved all that stuff man
what did he do again man ?
oh yeah i remember now
i met him a few times ya know
during the eighties
he was working at the markets
selling t shirts
he was getting a band together oh yeah
nice guy nice guy
not really
actually he was ok i guess
hard to fuckin' get to know
if you know what i mean
sometimes he was kinda quiet and angry
othertimes he was ranting and laughing
he had a t shirt of richard hell with sequins on the eyeballs
he had skin tight crimson cords and brown boots
he just moved up from canberra or something
i'd see him queuing up for a stall
he was still young then i guess
we all were ,man
boy there was simon reptile
and the kung fu guy who sold candles
and the norml guy with his legalise dope stall
and white faced punk girls
and hippies and junkies and alkies
rod stewart breezed through the markets one week
with belinda green on 'is arm...remember her
australias miss world
kilbey followed stewart round the market
at a discreet distance of course
he was trying to figure out how rod got his hair like that
"i mean, i know" kilbey said but he just wanted to
"see it up close...see how it all worked"
kilbey seemed to be disappearing regularly
he'd take off with other guys
walk back up oxford street to some clothing shop
was it gary wolfes?
theyd go out back of shop
and smoke dope in a leafy courtyard
the owner of the shop n his wife would come out
happy to supply the premises
for a smoke of richard westahofs good "caterpillar" pot
anyway then
when i saw him telly a year later
hed lost a lot of weight or something
he was wearing makeup
he seemed paler too
not like the freckly faced bloke at the 'kets
my girlfriend at the time said "he must be on the gear"
but it wasnt that
he was just sweating a lot
playing every night of the week
sometimes two shows a night
suddenly he was all over the place
best songwriter in australia he said
what a bloody big head!
they were playing bloody great beer barns in the suburbs by then
we saw em one night
you couldnt hear a bloody word kilbey was singing
my girlfriend thought that was a good thing
the guitars were really loud
and uh i dunno
sometimes i couldnt figure out what was making all that sound
i got backstage
but they were all sitting around stoned or something
we didnt like the vibe so we split
i saw kilbey in the carpark having an argument or something
i dunno maybe they were just mucking around
kilbey had this eye make up on
"i bet hes gay now" said my girlfriend
no no he sure aint gay i said
but he sure fuckin' looked a mess
we sat in the carpark watching him for a while
he seemed really cranky with somebody
eventually a ford ltd rolled up
and kilbey and the drummer got in and pissed off
we went home and i put on the blurred crusade
"i dont like em its depressing "my girlfriend said
and went to bed
i sat there in the darkness listening to his record
how strange to think that i knew him
kind of
sorta
yeah
he was a great guy
no
not really
he was ok
i guess....
Thursday, February 21, 2008
demo version
kilbey sits in 1982
dangles his fingers in the water in a pool
the ripples move away in silver circles
he watches these little swimming beetles
diver beetles he calls them
seem to be able to survive the chlorine
they flit about like tiny turtles
he admires their speed and grace
how i love swimming pools kilbey thinks
but he notices hes changed
i love swimming pools
and i love backstage when our class does a play
and sometimes i hide under tables and look at ladies feet
some girls and women ive noticed have lovely shaped feet
at 7 years old i am a connoiseur of female feet
a fetish hanging over from my past decadent lives
perhaps
anyway
i seem to be in love with many girls at my school
i see them and im filled with strange feelings
i see the other boys dont seem to feel this way
they play with toy trucks in the dirt
but i follow that girl around
the one two years older than me
the one with the shapely feet
the one i saw at rehearsals playing an angel
in the nativity scene
oh to me she is a real angel
angel oh how i love that word
oh how i want a real angel to love me
to see the real me beneath this boysuit size 7
a lovely angel with wings like a swan
blonde like my angel at school
with nice feet even if theyre a little dusty
and beyond the tin fence which bounds our paddock
there is a wild world of sin crime and alcohol
johnny lennon n sir paul are prob'ly in hamburg
right about now
taking uppers and feeling up some chick called gertrude
johnny kennedy got not much longer
already people muttering in florida
in las vegas
in texas
camelot in smithereens
but here in dapto
im in love with too many young girls
some remind me of animals
sandra steele looks like an eagle
julie webb like a little mouse
some remind me of the daughters i will have 40 years on
by some common consensus
the girls have been ranked top 3 prettiness
wendy fuller # 1
shirley urban # 2
jill hurst, robyn brown equal # 3
the boys rank by fighting
brian jarratt # 1
garry simpson # 2
gary edwards # 3
garry simpson likes wendy fuller
but can a 2 have a 1 ?
i love shirley urban
but i dont rank at all
all the other boys fancy wendy fuller
but i like her handmaiden shirley urban
wendy walks through the playground
with her retinue of female followers
a real elegant dapto lady of 7 years in 1961
we learn some dance
in which eventually every boy n girl must dance together
at last i dance with shirley urban
and hold her warm soft damp hands
love up close is intoxicating
i wonder if she likes me....why would she?
her front teeth are missing...she looks so lovely
hair in plaits blonde like milk vanilla-y looking
the world seems so big
my father says stuff that makes people laugh
sometimes i dont understand why its so funny
he always tells me a little bedtime story
sometimes he works shirley urban into the story
i think its funny that dad knows her name
sometimes i see or hear things
that send me to a funny delicious place
it could be the sound of a mans voice explaining something
or a warm evening in a garden
or some ladys perfume
or a piece of music
two colours together
a story
a girls name
a girls face
anticipation of a holiday
oh anything
it starts to come on
that dreamy feeling
memories dreams feelings
ive only been alive 7 years
but it seems my life has gone on forever
i have impressions of other times places and events
the world is full of significance
everything means something to me
gradually this feeling will fade somewhat
my adulthood filters will narrow the band
on which i receive info about the world
i feel as if i am wrapped in a powerful ongoing mystery
i struggle in all kinds of ways
thrash about in chemicals
starving eating sleeping not sleeping
read him
read her
evolve
surely but slowly
i am no longer who i was
dangles his fingers in the water in a pool
the ripples move away in silver circles
he watches these little swimming beetles
diver beetles he calls them
seem to be able to survive the chlorine
they flit about like tiny turtles
he admires their speed and grace
how i love swimming pools kilbey thinks
but he notices hes changed
i love swimming pools
and i love backstage when our class does a play
and sometimes i hide under tables and look at ladies feet
some girls and women ive noticed have lovely shaped feet
at 7 years old i am a connoiseur of female feet
a fetish hanging over from my past decadent lives
perhaps
anyway
i seem to be in love with many girls at my school
i see them and im filled with strange feelings
i see the other boys dont seem to feel this way
they play with toy trucks in the dirt
but i follow that girl around
the one two years older than me
the one with the shapely feet
the one i saw at rehearsals playing an angel
in the nativity scene
oh to me she is a real angel
angel oh how i love that word
oh how i want a real angel to love me
to see the real me beneath this boysuit size 7
a lovely angel with wings like a swan
blonde like my angel at school
with nice feet even if theyre a little dusty
and beyond the tin fence which bounds our paddock
there is a wild world of sin crime and alcohol
johnny lennon n sir paul are prob'ly in hamburg
right about now
taking uppers and feeling up some chick called gertrude
johnny kennedy got not much longer
already people muttering in florida
in las vegas
in texas
camelot in smithereens
but here in dapto
im in love with too many young girls
some remind me of animals
sandra steele looks like an eagle
julie webb like a little mouse
some remind me of the daughters i will have 40 years on
by some common consensus
the girls have been ranked top 3 prettiness
wendy fuller # 1
shirley urban # 2
jill hurst, robyn brown equal # 3
the boys rank by fighting
brian jarratt # 1
garry simpson # 2
gary edwards # 3
garry simpson likes wendy fuller
but can a 2 have a 1 ?
i love shirley urban
but i dont rank at all
all the other boys fancy wendy fuller
but i like her handmaiden shirley urban
wendy walks through the playground
with her retinue of female followers
a real elegant dapto lady of 7 years in 1961
we learn some dance
in which eventually every boy n girl must dance together
at last i dance with shirley urban
and hold her warm soft damp hands
love up close is intoxicating
i wonder if she likes me....why would she?
her front teeth are missing...she looks so lovely
hair in plaits blonde like milk vanilla-y looking
the world seems so big
my father says stuff that makes people laugh
sometimes i dont understand why its so funny
he always tells me a little bedtime story
sometimes he works shirley urban into the story
i think its funny that dad knows her name
sometimes i see or hear things
that send me to a funny delicious place
it could be the sound of a mans voice explaining something
or a warm evening in a garden
or some ladys perfume
or a piece of music
two colours together
a story
a girls name
a girls face
anticipation of a holiday
oh anything
it starts to come on
that dreamy feeling
memories dreams feelings
ive only been alive 7 years
but it seems my life has gone on forever
i have impressions of other times places and events
the world is full of significance
everything means something to me
gradually this feeling will fade somewhat
my adulthood filters will narrow the band
on which i receive info about the world
i feel as if i am wrapped in a powerful ongoing mystery
i struggle in all kinds of ways
thrash about in chemicals
starving eating sleeping not sleeping
read him
read her
evolve
surely but slowly
i am no longer who i was
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
admixture
kilbey move deeper into time
the race nearly run
goodness n mercy still ahead
bad olde days behind
one of lifes stillpoints
a haven of calm
then
on the way to the airport in the eighties
pick up ploogy from balmain
flying off somewhere
ploogy lights up in the taxi
hey can i have some of that !? says driver
we drive off with driver somewhere
we sit at an industrial estate near airport
smoking pot with cab driver
we get out and wander through debris
when its time to piss off ploogys gone missing
neither me or driver know the time
and i cant remember what flight we're on
or even where we're going
i fumble around in my suitcase
which explodes in paisley shirts and cassettes
dont worry i switched the meter off says the cabbie helpfully
finally we arrive airport
somehow ploogys there...
by the time we hit our seats we're fried
i pull out my worksheet
its like every town on the east coast of australia
we land somewhere
someone hires us a car
the other 2 drive off somewhere
me n ploogy get a cab
we try to check in to the wrong hotel
eventually i get into my room
ploogy comes bursting through a connecting door
his ghetto blaster is blasting dub reggae
and he stands on my balcony smoking more dope
we regard the city and the sea beyond
it seems these days will go on forever
people scurry around in the streets below
we have escaped that world
we are indolent intoxicated and spoilt
a plate of toasted cheese n tomato gets delivered
and a couple of banana smoothies
theres a knock at the door
ploogys friends arrive to take him out
his friends always piss me off
n these are no different
but they produce some thai buddha sticks
this was a ten dollar commodity
that consisted of some heads of marijuana
kinda tied or stuck to these little stakes of wood
after a while they produce some little square bits of cardboard
on each tiny square is printed a blue dragon
ploogy rips one in two
cmon i'll go ya halves
as he pops his into his gob
and washes it down with the rest of his smoothie
he and his friends laugh and depart
they leave a trail of cigarettes and empty coke cans
in my room
go in the bathroom
have a piss
check myself in mirror
pale thin
long dark hair needs a wash
black stubble on my chin
i'm standing there
when the whole mirror starts to ripple
and i remember that ive taken some lsd
i stumble out
down the corridor
the other 2 are checking in
hi they say coldly
as i pass them by
out in the courtyard is a swimming pool
i walk over squat down and dangle my fingers in the water
how long do i stay there
watching the sunlight moving in the water
reaching but never quite grasping
some huge elusive truth
its eleven oclock in the morning
who am i?
the race nearly run
goodness n mercy still ahead
bad olde days behind
one of lifes stillpoints
a haven of calm
then
on the way to the airport in the eighties
pick up ploogy from balmain
flying off somewhere
ploogy lights up in the taxi
hey can i have some of that !? says driver
we drive off with driver somewhere
we sit at an industrial estate near airport
smoking pot with cab driver
we get out and wander through debris
when its time to piss off ploogys gone missing
neither me or driver know the time
and i cant remember what flight we're on
or even where we're going
i fumble around in my suitcase
which explodes in paisley shirts and cassettes
dont worry i switched the meter off says the cabbie helpfully
finally we arrive airport
somehow ploogys there...
by the time we hit our seats we're fried
i pull out my worksheet
its like every town on the east coast of australia
we land somewhere
someone hires us a car
the other 2 drive off somewhere
me n ploogy get a cab
we try to check in to the wrong hotel
eventually i get into my room
ploogy comes bursting through a connecting door
his ghetto blaster is blasting dub reggae
and he stands on my balcony smoking more dope
we regard the city and the sea beyond
it seems these days will go on forever
people scurry around in the streets below
we have escaped that world
we are indolent intoxicated and spoilt
a plate of toasted cheese n tomato gets delivered
and a couple of banana smoothies
theres a knock at the door
ploogys friends arrive to take him out
his friends always piss me off
n these are no different
but they produce some thai buddha sticks
this was a ten dollar commodity
that consisted of some heads of marijuana
kinda tied or stuck to these little stakes of wood
after a while they produce some little square bits of cardboard
on each tiny square is printed a blue dragon
ploogy rips one in two
cmon i'll go ya halves
as he pops his into his gob
and washes it down with the rest of his smoothie
he and his friends laugh and depart
they leave a trail of cigarettes and empty coke cans
in my room
go in the bathroom
have a piss
check myself in mirror
pale thin
long dark hair needs a wash
black stubble on my chin
i'm standing there
when the whole mirror starts to ripple
and i remember that ive taken some lsd
i stumble out
down the corridor
the other 2 are checking in
hi they say coldly
as i pass them by
out in the courtyard is a swimming pool
i walk over squat down and dangle my fingers in the water
how long do i stay there
watching the sunlight moving in the water
reaching but never quite grasping
some huge elusive truth
its eleven oclock in the morning
who am i?
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
reverie
re uptake
greenwater swirl down
pastel drags across paper
manifested love
love infested man
photo shoot today
kids chatter chatter
bus changes gear in the distance
hash totalled
singersong
drive bridge accelerate
listen to islands of the dead
let me take you to firefestival
smoke and ash
laughter in the air
sweet laughter
hereafter
everafter
in the islands of the dead
thoughts flick on n off
the paintings...still out there
elli n minna in high school
eve n aurora in primary
scarlet kilbey sleeps and dreams
shes in greece at a gathering of the worshippers of apollo
go woofle go
shes a mythchild
her eyes are aegean blue
in her dreams she dances with fauns
she sings utterly forlorn but beautiful words
in some unknown lingo
she drinks red wine and laughs out loud
she marks out the seasons
she colours the flowers
she presses the grape
she conceives a heroic son
who drinks moonblood and
fights outside the walls of troy
scarlet queen in silver chariot
calling to her son from the fray
her ringlets and curls flying in the wind
natalie sleeps and dreams shes 4 years old
on holiday with her grandparents
shes safe and warm in the back of the car
as she hears them nattering away up front
they stop at a motel
and she has a swim in the pool
she makes friends with a dog
she watches tv in their little room
outside its sultry
in the dream
in north bondi
a woman from the paper rings up
and we do and interview
steve...?
yes
whats it like to die?
it will be a sweet release, child
steve...?
yes
will everything be ok?
ah, how could it not....
we are all actors
when this play is done....
but steve i dont want my play to end...
no none us do so we must learn to let go
let go let go let go
think it do it
let go of that lump in your throat
let go of those tears in your eyes
let go of the life you had led
steve....?
yes
im alone and frightened
ah yes childe
the human condition
so alone
alone we go into the unknown
without maps or gimmicks or self defence
trusting it will all work out
the woman hangs up
from my window i see the opera house
as it sinks in the harbour
the towers all opening and closing
the hydrofoils mount the land and hump the earth
the shops retail spirits
all the "straights" in the big end of town
are busy schmoozing backbiting and jostling
i had a hundred bucks once...gee what colour was it
mum and dad have stopped in cooma cos russ got carsick
i told you boys not to eat all those bloody chocolate biscuits
snarls my mother
dads worried about the carpet in the back of the car
watching in the rearview
he winces everytime russell heaves
the miserable kid is clutching his guts and retching
it occurs to me how much braver russell is than me
he never complained of feeling sick
he just sat up and cast up his accounts
me...i woulda complained all the way from jindabyne
till i finally did it
and then i woulda been all fragile the rest of the day
russell finishes vomiting and carries on as if nothing happened
up the front mum n dad argue over the carpet
and who gave out the biscuits in the first place
meanwhile in 1990
a horrible brassy old strumpet writing for an english rag
who fancies marty but hates me
writes a very nasty article that sinks the ss church in blighty
grunge comes along
followed by boy bands
followed by emo
and lollapalooza
and mr white knocked at my door
ohh mr white
you were such a good friend then you hurted me good
and in north bondi they build a duplex in the fifties
and on sultry days a mad woman living there
peers into the future
she sees a brown n freckled medium man
in his late middle age maybe
its hard to say
and hes typing at a little white oblong thing
with a screen
and he listens to strange music
from a white shoebox looking thing
and his room has a picture of a silk screened buddha
gold he shines beneath the bodhi tree
the leaves and mountains gold tinged
his silver halo radiates around his holy head
the end to suffering
wanting is suffering
desire is suffering
or leads to suffering
be content whispers buddha
everythings ok
is everything ok now? dad asks as he drives
yes everythings ok we say
the radio plays apache by the shadows
or is it shadow by the apaches
everything in flux
everything constantly changing
learn to love it
love to learn it
soft rain gently falling outside
soothes the hot surfers
the hot surface
the path is clear
neptune arises
scarlet whirls like a dervish
a machine powers down
the day drones on
and on
greenwater swirl down
pastel drags across paper
manifested love
love infested man
photo shoot today
kids chatter chatter
bus changes gear in the distance
hash totalled
singersong
drive bridge accelerate
listen to islands of the dead
let me take you to firefestival
smoke and ash
laughter in the air
sweet laughter
hereafter
everafter
in the islands of the dead
thoughts flick on n off
the paintings...still out there
elli n minna in high school
eve n aurora in primary
scarlet kilbey sleeps and dreams
shes in greece at a gathering of the worshippers of apollo
go woofle go
shes a mythchild
her eyes are aegean blue
in her dreams she dances with fauns
she sings utterly forlorn but beautiful words
in some unknown lingo
she drinks red wine and laughs out loud
she marks out the seasons
she colours the flowers
she presses the grape
she conceives a heroic son
who drinks moonblood and
fights outside the walls of troy
scarlet queen in silver chariot
calling to her son from the fray
her ringlets and curls flying in the wind
natalie sleeps and dreams shes 4 years old
on holiday with her grandparents
shes safe and warm in the back of the car
as she hears them nattering away up front
they stop at a motel
and she has a swim in the pool
she makes friends with a dog
she watches tv in their little room
outside its sultry
in the dream
in north bondi
a woman from the paper rings up
and we do and interview
steve...?
yes
whats it like to die?
it will be a sweet release, child
steve...?
yes
will everything be ok?
ah, how could it not....
we are all actors
when this play is done....
but steve i dont want my play to end...
no none us do so we must learn to let go
let go let go let go
think it do it
let go of that lump in your throat
let go of those tears in your eyes
let go of the life you had led
steve....?
yes
im alone and frightened
ah yes childe
the human condition
so alone
alone we go into the unknown
without maps or gimmicks or self defence
trusting it will all work out
the woman hangs up
from my window i see the opera house
as it sinks in the harbour
the towers all opening and closing
the hydrofoils mount the land and hump the earth
the shops retail spirits
all the "straights" in the big end of town
are busy schmoozing backbiting and jostling
i had a hundred bucks once...gee what colour was it
mum and dad have stopped in cooma cos russ got carsick
i told you boys not to eat all those bloody chocolate biscuits
snarls my mother
dads worried about the carpet in the back of the car
watching in the rearview
he winces everytime russell heaves
the miserable kid is clutching his guts and retching
it occurs to me how much braver russell is than me
he never complained of feeling sick
he just sat up and cast up his accounts
me...i woulda complained all the way from jindabyne
till i finally did it
and then i woulda been all fragile the rest of the day
russell finishes vomiting and carries on as if nothing happened
up the front mum n dad argue over the carpet
and who gave out the biscuits in the first place
meanwhile in 1990
a horrible brassy old strumpet writing for an english rag
who fancies marty but hates me
writes a very nasty article that sinks the ss church in blighty
grunge comes along
followed by boy bands
followed by emo
and lollapalooza
and mr white knocked at my door
ohh mr white
you were such a good friend then you hurted me good
and in north bondi they build a duplex in the fifties
and on sultry days a mad woman living there
peers into the future
she sees a brown n freckled medium man
in his late middle age maybe
its hard to say
and hes typing at a little white oblong thing
with a screen
and he listens to strange music
from a white shoebox looking thing
and his room has a picture of a silk screened buddha
gold he shines beneath the bodhi tree
the leaves and mountains gold tinged
his silver halo radiates around his holy head
the end to suffering
wanting is suffering
desire is suffering
or leads to suffering
be content whispers buddha
everythings ok
is everything ok now? dad asks as he drives
yes everythings ok we say
the radio plays apache by the shadows
or is it shadow by the apaches
everything in flux
everything constantly changing
learn to love it
love to learn it
soft rain gently falling outside
soothes the hot surfers
the hot surface
the path is clear
neptune arises
scarlet whirls like a dervish
a machine powers down
the day drones on
and on
Monday, February 18, 2008
my car has abandonment issues
my wardrobe is concealing things from me
my slippers are slipping
my carpets low self opinion
my fridge is cold towards me
my fans just wanna blow
my mirror comes up with nothing original
my windows unopeness
my music all unheard
my paintings lost somewhere
my kids acting like children
my wife behaves unmanly
my mother no fraternal feelings for me
my brothers never in the sisterhood
my father waiting waiting patiently
my work is play
my words are just words
my sing-speak voice no choice eh joyce?
my relatives no relationship
my friends who needs enemies
my enemies cant be bothered
my festival the moons birthday
my sex sometimes it owns just random gender
my goodness ha ha ha
my garden.....tar and cement
my weight worth itself in fools gold
my teeth and it was all yellow
my eyes grey brigade
my nose red and straighter than "straight"
my mouth like a rivers
my beard of neutron stars
my jawline like a clean sweep
my neck swan rake
my hair wispy whispery and soft
my brain insane in the men-brane
my mind unwinding not minding
my money shot
my clock feels temporary
my time is at least 3 quarters gone
my ears hear ringing humming screaming
my legs were made for walking
my soles mates
my feet not centimetres
my calves bulge like guppies eyes
my knees crack and buckle
my thighs ironed out
my groin groin grone
my loins lions loins sir
my belly abdominable snowman
my chest sunken in the sea
my armless harms
my handy hands, duane
my fingers which keep touching things
my nails are nihilistic
my freckles oh how i used to hate em
my wrinkles olde man look at my life
my chances slim, slim
my hopes hopeless
my dreams zzzzzz
my my
my
*
my slippers are slipping
my carpets low self opinion
my fridge is cold towards me
my fans just wanna blow
my mirror comes up with nothing original
my windows unopeness
my music all unheard
my paintings lost somewhere
my kids acting like children
my wife behaves unmanly
my mother no fraternal feelings for me
my brothers never in the sisterhood
my father waiting waiting patiently
my work is play
my words are just words
my sing-speak voice no choice eh joyce?
my relatives no relationship
my friends who needs enemies
my enemies cant be bothered
my festival the moons birthday
my sex sometimes it owns just random gender
my goodness ha ha ha
my garden.....tar and cement
my weight worth itself in fools gold
my teeth and it was all yellow
my eyes grey brigade
my nose red and straighter than "straight"
my mouth like a rivers
my beard of neutron stars
my jawline like a clean sweep
my neck swan rake
my hair wispy whispery and soft
my brain insane in the men-brane
my mind unwinding not minding
my money shot
my clock feels temporary
my time is at least 3 quarters gone
my ears hear ringing humming screaming
my legs were made for walking
my soles mates
my feet not centimetres
my calves bulge like guppies eyes
my knees crack and buckle
my thighs ironed out
my groin groin grone
my loins lions loins sir
my belly abdominable snowman
my chest sunken in the sea
my armless harms
my handy hands, duane
my fingers which keep touching things
my nails are nihilistic
my freckles oh how i used to hate em
my wrinkles olde man look at my life
my chances slim, slim
my hopes hopeless
my dreams zzzzzz
my my
my
*
Sunday, February 17, 2008
premise on the premises
in 1983 and a half
i was dating a mermaid called marina
i was hooked on a drug called glass
i often had that glazed over look
sometimes i felt shattered
sometimes i felt transparent
i was on a tour in south america
the magic realists tour
cocaine was 5 cents a gram
and you could get a five course meal for a smile
orphans hounded us
they kidnapped our then keyboardist
a czech needed cash
he turned up 3 years later in memphis
wearing a skirt and saying he was malcolm fraser
i was in a hotel room
trying the local glass
it came in clear sheets
it had no odour but a sharp taste
we were playing in the forests
in the glens
down by a racetrack
in the market square
in my bathroom wine flowed from the taps
red wine from one side
white from the other
my feet were screaming
my songs were still in customs
being inspected
the south americans slept all day
i roamed the empty streets
thieving from unattended bazaars
an old lady told my fortune with the cards
she smiled and then cried
and she smiled again
she smacked me round the head
and told me in to fuck off back to montevideo
the orphans caught up with me
joined by a load of urchins
ploogy had a friend called bbbob
who was a albino herm with esp
and a ford aurora
with creamy bucket seats
and a console made of jet and obsidian
the car smelt of sandalwood and indica cigarettes
bbbob picked us up in amazon street
just round the corner from the brazilian bank
where i saved a gazillion pesos by feigning interest
the glass really kicked in
a window of opportunity
the coppers were keen to interview me
let em get in line behind los pop hits i thought
and some tv show on after midnight in rio
where things got real magic realistic sometimes
i'd watched it before
when some shaman with a crow had been on
and some author who claims to change into a jaguar
(or was it a daimler)
the glass was letting it all through
the mermaid had swum a long way to get to our next gig
which was down in some bar in chile
but she was netted by japs for re-surch
an ugly business
they stood on her scales
she was tanked to the gills
holy mackerel!!
the sub-mariners own sweet sister
angled like a perch
with baited breath
flounder about
it really cut her up
and that is why i dont drive mazdas or fiats
in my hotel room
condensation was forming on my glass
i gotta get outta here i called my evil manager
roger u centsless
theres a boat leaves next week says centsless
its bound for joppa......
be on it he said
our last gig at the old brazilian was a failure
ploogy gave away his snare drum and his microphones
and then he gave away his kidneys and other organs
our trombonist was arrested after a scuffle in a nightclub
involving an incan prince inkin' prints
and some hookers booked by the bookers for the cookers
by hook or by crook but look......
they were all shook up
jimmy jim jim our californian zitherist
who came on for universal chord
fell into some glass on santiago blvde
i can see everything he said
before he got all misty
the tour lost a prophet
the loss was sustained
our record co satan lucifer records
funded by bad corporations
trading in naughty products
well
they bailed us out
after i promised i'd write another
over the mrilky lei
of course
i did
that song was called
rock lil honeybun (cos big daddy gonna gitcha) (pts 1 and 2)
and the rest
as they say
is
hystery
i was dating a mermaid called marina
i was hooked on a drug called glass
i often had that glazed over look
sometimes i felt shattered
sometimes i felt transparent
i was on a tour in south america
the magic realists tour
cocaine was 5 cents a gram
and you could get a five course meal for a smile
orphans hounded us
they kidnapped our then keyboardist
a czech needed cash
he turned up 3 years later in memphis
wearing a skirt and saying he was malcolm fraser
i was in a hotel room
trying the local glass
it came in clear sheets
it had no odour but a sharp taste
we were playing in the forests
in the glens
down by a racetrack
in the market square
in my bathroom wine flowed from the taps
red wine from one side
white from the other
my feet were screaming
my songs were still in customs
being inspected
the south americans slept all day
i roamed the empty streets
thieving from unattended bazaars
an old lady told my fortune with the cards
she smiled and then cried
and she smiled again
she smacked me round the head
and told me in to fuck off back to montevideo
the orphans caught up with me
joined by a load of urchins
ploogy had a friend called bbbob
who was a albino herm with esp
and a ford aurora
with creamy bucket seats
and a console made of jet and obsidian
the car smelt of sandalwood and indica cigarettes
bbbob picked us up in amazon street
just round the corner from the brazilian bank
where i saved a gazillion pesos by feigning interest
the glass really kicked in
a window of opportunity
the coppers were keen to interview me
let em get in line behind los pop hits i thought
and some tv show on after midnight in rio
where things got real magic realistic sometimes
i'd watched it before
when some shaman with a crow had been on
and some author who claims to change into a jaguar
(or was it a daimler)
the glass was letting it all through
the mermaid had swum a long way to get to our next gig
which was down in some bar in chile
but she was netted by japs for re-surch
an ugly business
they stood on her scales
she was tanked to the gills
holy mackerel!!
the sub-mariners own sweet sister
angled like a perch
with baited breath
flounder about
it really cut her up
and that is why i dont drive mazdas or fiats
in my hotel room
condensation was forming on my glass
i gotta get outta here i called my evil manager
roger u centsless
theres a boat leaves next week says centsless
its bound for joppa......
be on it he said
our last gig at the old brazilian was a failure
ploogy gave away his snare drum and his microphones
and then he gave away his kidneys and other organs
our trombonist was arrested after a scuffle in a nightclub
involving an incan prince inkin' prints
and some hookers booked by the bookers for the cookers
by hook or by crook but look......
they were all shook up
jimmy jim jim our californian zitherist
who came on for universal chord
fell into some glass on santiago blvde
i can see everything he said
before he got all misty
the tour lost a prophet
the loss was sustained
our record co satan lucifer records
funded by bad corporations
trading in naughty products
well
they bailed us out
after i promised i'd write another
over the mrilky lei
of course
i did
that song was called
rock lil honeybun (cos big daddy gonna gitcha) (pts 1 and 2)
and the rest
as they say
is
hystery
Saturday, February 16, 2008
hazard
my paintings have gone missing in the fed ex
my intuition said oh sk watch out for yonder slacker
who doth handle your paintings too casually
and behold! the knucklehead has verily gone and
stuck em in a tube which came undone
somewhere south of antartica
please dont let em be lost
oh please dont let em be lost
including the family portrait which i slaved over
and all the rest
keep yer fingers and toes crossed fiendss
not justa the money
(fed ex no re-fundy on original paintings)
but the love n work
oh no dont let it all just disappear
like the "good" version of ripple
erased by a knucklehead in 1991
or my book of poems chucked out
when i went on holidays from public service once
by the way a book of my lyrics n things is on ebay
please spend confidently as some of the proceeds may come to me
theres some unused unseen stuff in there too i guess
i dunno i couldnt afford to buy it thats for sure
but someone said theyd buy and give it back to me
but i dont want it
what use is it to me?
i chuck all my olde schlock out
moving around the world has necessitated this
i was shocked to find the amount of stuff
i had accumulated in my house in rozelle
particularly in the basement
spare renault engines from when i had that stupid floride convertible
sewing machines from russells old girlfriends
silk screening paint long congealed in the buckets
screens of all descriptions
boxes of mouldy cassettes
contents ?
video cassettes
contents?
things people had left
meaning to come and get
but never did
books and magazines
cardboard boxes of church fanmail slowing yellowing
and becoming damp
old shower curtains
old sea grass matting
old bits of rolled up carpet
old pots and pans
dead plants
suitcases full of damp mouldy weird clothes
old pairs of shoes and boots
boxes full of photos all fading away
bits of timber packets of nails
horrible old paintings all mould encrusted
boxes of old music rags full of nasty things
cans of fixative and engine degreaser and whatnot
i first moved to rozelle from canberra in 1979
my house underwent many changes
from dark intense acid den
thru to a light n bright house for very early twillies
with a little deck out the back
and a little house for em to play in
and a modern gas heater
and lovely floorboards
people moved through that house
like fish drifting through coral
russells mates and girlfriends
plus his girlfriends girlfriends
a bunch of whom went to an art college
on our street
which meant the place was always full of
noisy young women smoking bongs and cigs
drinkin coffee
and plotting their rise to the top of the fashion heap
there were always stencils and pencils and cans of paint
developing fluid blueprints patterns scissors full ashtrays
and a general squawking giggling carryon that i fucking abhored
once i came back from a tour
and the girlfriend and her girlfriends had given my clothes away
she was actually wearing one of my shirts
that she'd cut up and sewed stuff onto
she was nonchalant when confronted
i was enraged
she spilt some kinda gluey muck all over my red carpet
meaning a plantpot forever had to stand on that spot
russell n his friends were a lot more casual about the place
than i was
but i always felt like an old dictator at the time
russell and i had lots of silly stoned adventures
involving losing keys and money and locked out broken down
paranoid frightened laughing hysterics
we tried to make opium out of lettuce leaves
we read books from the esoteric book shop
we tried to become magicians or whatever we thought it was
we quoted crowley and regardie and buddha and nick kent
we listened to mighty wah! and freur and deux filles and big star
we saw films at the valhalla
that were mainly about sex or drugs or world war three
or all of the above
we went to lismore and swam in waterfalls
we went to the national park with ploogy or evo
smoked joints sitting on the edge of huge cliffs
we mucked around in the bedroom studio
trying out pieces of new equipment
we had begged borrowed or sold
we made friends with next door neighbours
who were raving pot-heads too
we knocked down the fences between
so we could get into their kitchen easier
where one of the sisters was usually passing around her bong
the 2 houses were an epicentre for hippies
crystal healers
fashion students
musicians
girlfriends
boyfriends
their friends
and their friends
there were lots of impromptu parties
lots of dope smoking and munchies
ie me and russell watching telly at 3 in the morning
walking backwards n forwards to kitchen
for an endless supply of toast and cornflakes
as we smoked on in lounge room
marijuana was endemic to life in those days
it was not questioned
roadies
managers
musicians
guys in record co
agents
punters
everyone smoked dope
it was almost a given
in sydney at least
it was not an exotic illegal thing
it was a "normal" part of life
everybody smoked day and night
of course i was a pot apostle
i turned everyone on
and ranted at the ones who didnt wanna do it
i took incredible stupid risks (in legal terms)
i ate hash and went blind for 3 or 4 hours once
i came home from tour and always someone
at my house
some party some gathering
some couple of layabouts crashing on the couch
calling overseas n using all the hotwater
ploogy hung around
smoking bongs and getting slowly but surely
more wound up
he was always up to some prank
he was an amazing energetic blur in those days
81 82
everybody liked him
everybody didnt like me
i was the old gloomy one
the famous one
but seemingly pissed off
about something all the time
gee
the layabouts thought
i'd be happy if i was him
i suddenly earned some good money too
in comparison to all the other types around but
i felt unhappy and isolated
russell seemed so much more bohemian
and in the thick of things
i didnt like his friends and they didnt like me
but which had come about first ?
everyone shoulda loved me i thought
cos i was a star
but it had the opposite effect
i was embarrassed to play the church at home
or even mention them that much
i should have been enjoying myself but
the other guys in the church started to avoid me
as i was assuming my nasty dictator character
it wasnt really that
it was just that i wanted things done my way
as revealed to me through creative insights
and they wanted to rebel to see what would happen
although i am obviously an ideas man
i also have a nasty antisocial streak
that seems to negate my insights
i am often ignored
there was no right or wrong
everyone was kinda against everyone in a way
yet we were united against the world
go figure
my intuition said oh sk watch out for yonder slacker
who doth handle your paintings too casually
and behold! the knucklehead has verily gone and
stuck em in a tube which came undone
somewhere south of antartica
please dont let em be lost
oh please dont let em be lost
including the family portrait which i slaved over
and all the rest
keep yer fingers and toes crossed fiendss
not justa the money
(fed ex no re-fundy on original paintings)
but the love n work
oh no dont let it all just disappear
like the "good" version of ripple
erased by a knucklehead in 1991
or my book of poems chucked out
when i went on holidays from public service once
by the way a book of my lyrics n things is on ebay
please spend confidently as some of the proceeds may come to me
theres some unused unseen stuff in there too i guess
i dunno i couldnt afford to buy it thats for sure
but someone said theyd buy and give it back to me
but i dont want it
what use is it to me?
i chuck all my olde schlock out
moving around the world has necessitated this
i was shocked to find the amount of stuff
i had accumulated in my house in rozelle
particularly in the basement
spare renault engines from when i had that stupid floride convertible
sewing machines from russells old girlfriends
silk screening paint long congealed in the buckets
screens of all descriptions
boxes of mouldy cassettes
contents ?
video cassettes
contents?
things people had left
meaning to come and get
but never did
books and magazines
cardboard boxes of church fanmail slowing yellowing
and becoming damp
old shower curtains
old sea grass matting
old bits of rolled up carpet
old pots and pans
dead plants
suitcases full of damp mouldy weird clothes
old pairs of shoes and boots
boxes full of photos all fading away
bits of timber packets of nails
horrible old paintings all mould encrusted
boxes of old music rags full of nasty things
cans of fixative and engine degreaser and whatnot
i first moved to rozelle from canberra in 1979
my house underwent many changes
from dark intense acid den
thru to a light n bright house for very early twillies
with a little deck out the back
and a little house for em to play in
and a modern gas heater
and lovely floorboards
people moved through that house
like fish drifting through coral
russells mates and girlfriends
plus his girlfriends girlfriends
a bunch of whom went to an art college
on our street
which meant the place was always full of
noisy young women smoking bongs and cigs
drinkin coffee
and plotting their rise to the top of the fashion heap
there were always stencils and pencils and cans of paint
developing fluid blueprints patterns scissors full ashtrays
and a general squawking giggling carryon that i fucking abhored
once i came back from a tour
and the girlfriend and her girlfriends had given my clothes away
she was actually wearing one of my shirts
that she'd cut up and sewed stuff onto
she was nonchalant when confronted
i was enraged
she spilt some kinda gluey muck all over my red carpet
meaning a plantpot forever had to stand on that spot
russell n his friends were a lot more casual about the place
than i was
but i always felt like an old dictator at the time
russell and i had lots of silly stoned adventures
involving losing keys and money and locked out broken down
paranoid frightened laughing hysterics
we tried to make opium out of lettuce leaves
we read books from the esoteric book shop
we tried to become magicians or whatever we thought it was
we quoted crowley and regardie and buddha and nick kent
we listened to mighty wah! and freur and deux filles and big star
we saw films at the valhalla
that were mainly about sex or drugs or world war three
or all of the above
we went to lismore and swam in waterfalls
we went to the national park with ploogy or evo
smoked joints sitting on the edge of huge cliffs
we mucked around in the bedroom studio
trying out pieces of new equipment
we had begged borrowed or sold
we made friends with next door neighbours
who were raving pot-heads too
we knocked down the fences between
so we could get into their kitchen easier
where one of the sisters was usually passing around her bong
the 2 houses were an epicentre for hippies
crystal healers
fashion students
musicians
girlfriends
boyfriends
their friends
and their friends
there were lots of impromptu parties
lots of dope smoking and munchies
ie me and russell watching telly at 3 in the morning
walking backwards n forwards to kitchen
for an endless supply of toast and cornflakes
as we smoked on in lounge room
marijuana was endemic to life in those days
it was not questioned
roadies
managers
musicians
guys in record co
agents
punters
everyone smoked dope
it was almost a given
in sydney at least
it was not an exotic illegal thing
it was a "normal" part of life
everybody smoked day and night
of course i was a pot apostle
i turned everyone on
and ranted at the ones who didnt wanna do it
i took incredible stupid risks (in legal terms)
i ate hash and went blind for 3 or 4 hours once
i came home from tour and always someone
at my house
some party some gathering
some couple of layabouts crashing on the couch
calling overseas n using all the hotwater
ploogy hung around
smoking bongs and getting slowly but surely
more wound up
he was always up to some prank
he was an amazing energetic blur in those days
81 82
everybody liked him
everybody didnt like me
i was the old gloomy one
the famous one
but seemingly pissed off
about something all the time
gee
the layabouts thought
i'd be happy if i was him
i suddenly earned some good money too
in comparison to all the other types around but
i felt unhappy and isolated
russell seemed so much more bohemian
and in the thick of things
i didnt like his friends and they didnt like me
but which had come about first ?
everyone shoulda loved me i thought
cos i was a star
but it had the opposite effect
i was embarrassed to play the church at home
or even mention them that much
i should have been enjoying myself but
the other guys in the church started to avoid me
as i was assuming my nasty dictator character
it wasnt really that
it was just that i wanted things done my way
as revealed to me through creative insights
and they wanted to rebel to see what would happen
although i am obviously an ideas man
i also have a nasty antisocial streak
that seems to negate my insights
i am often ignored
there was no right or wrong
everyone was kinda against everyone in a way
yet we were united against the world
go figure
Friday, February 15, 2008
alkaloid intermezzo
spirit burns on body
using up matter and time
body extinguishes
fire rises like smoke
is this truth too obvious to see?
the answer to every question is take it easy
the answer to all my dilemmas panics anxieties fugues
take it easy
try but dont try too hard
dont concentrate too much
but dont drift off either
approach things differently
change myself deliberately
have courage
let go
see the similarities
the gambler blows on his dice before he rolls
he is putting his will into them
perhaps doesnt mean much really
but over a long period
it will mean beating the guy who doesnt do it
interconnection
there is a way in
knowing when to quit
knowing when to detach
knowing when to bend
and when to lash out
dont think with your stomach
dont think with your genitalia
dont think with your wallet
dont think with your skin and hair
imitate greatness
persist
oh that one word
that word i hated
i knew i had no persistence
no resilience
but now
a cocktail of time addiction yoga predilection
luck and bad luck
fantastic success and abject failure
hotels in rome
and methodone clinics in sydney
handshakes in l.a.
handcuffs in n.y.
lose your father
gain your daughters
argumentative bastard
singular minded
be blasted away
prepare to shed skin
say youre sorry
say youre sorry
forgive as you hope to be forgiven
accept as you hope to be accepted
discipline
the other hated word
the one my olde pommie relatives brandished about
self discipline
i will remain in this cold water
i will do yoga today even though my blah blah hurts
i will paint that painting
i will strive for originality and flare
i will incorporate knowlledge gleaned from everywhere
all my endeavours will reflect my preoccupation with god
i cannot believe in 1950s law and order
i cannot believe in witchtrials and patriotism
i cannot believe in cruel evil acts rationalised by the west
i cannot believe this is all for nothing
i cannot believe youre happy with tv and booze
i cannot believe how i blew it for myself
i cannot believe in jealous old jehovah
some uberstraight uptight old man of a god
how could a cranky old sod like that
have come up with frangipani trees?
i believe in jesus christ who said let love in
i believe nick cave said that too
i believe in krishna who said there was never a time when we were not
i believe in vishnu who said i am and i am not
i believe in buddha who said take it fucking easy
i believe in hieronymous bosch who said
fuck all that brown and grey bullshit
my paintings vibrate, baybee!!!
i believe in vinny van go go who said
i dont care what you think
i KNOW this stuff im doing is fucking hip
i believe in jimi hendrix
who let his fucking fingers do the talking
i believe in those beautiful operas when the singing
takes yer breath away
i believe in the herb and its constant revelations
i believe in not eating dead rotting things
i believe music is divine
i believe science keeps getting it all wrong
i believe there are other worlds
i believe there are other dimensions and places
i believe our western methodology
is but a tiny tiny tiny aspect of a total glorious reality;
many experiences in life have taught me that....
a human being is a walking conundrum
a spirit driving flesh via a mind
almost everything the west wants is bad for it
pizza tv tanks wealth youth meat booze cigs success fame
trophies fun oil facelifts botox gossip-rags make-up
fake-tits microwaves mobile phones underarm deodorants
engines motors systems factories aeroplanes tranqulizers
poker machines bombs guns rockets tazers slaves
jobs in office under fluoros
ah its all bullshit
i keep on moving closer to the source
the self saucing source
the big banger
numero uno
the nazarene
the golden land of a trillion buddhas
the mayans crystal skulls
the egyptians hieroglyphic depictions
the memories of lemuria which persist
statues of ganesha next door in nepalis house
every morning the old lady in her sari
every dusk
she burns her sweet incense to her gods
ganesha and buddha
buddha who proclaimed an independence of gods
now a god himself
she offers incense to her gods
she thinks of them
she honours them in her heart
she connects with the absolute reality behind the statues
she has her rituals
she has her remembrance
she has her communion
in a garden laden with white and red flowers
the old lady doth verily talk and walk with god
maybe thats just a metaphor
maybe thats the truth but not in a literal sense
maybe its deep without a meaning
ok
i gotta go to "work" now
bye
using up matter and time
body extinguishes
fire rises like smoke
is this truth too obvious to see?
the answer to every question is take it easy
the answer to all my dilemmas panics anxieties fugues
take it easy
try but dont try too hard
dont concentrate too much
but dont drift off either
approach things differently
change myself deliberately
have courage
let go
see the similarities
the gambler blows on his dice before he rolls
he is putting his will into them
perhaps doesnt mean much really
but over a long period
it will mean beating the guy who doesnt do it
interconnection
there is a way in
knowing when to quit
knowing when to detach
knowing when to bend
and when to lash out
dont think with your stomach
dont think with your genitalia
dont think with your wallet
dont think with your skin and hair
imitate greatness
persist
oh that one word
that word i hated
i knew i had no persistence
no resilience
but now
a cocktail of time addiction yoga predilection
luck and bad luck
fantastic success and abject failure
hotels in rome
and methodone clinics in sydney
handshakes in l.a.
handcuffs in n.y.
lose your father
gain your daughters
argumentative bastard
singular minded
be blasted away
prepare to shed skin
say youre sorry
say youre sorry
forgive as you hope to be forgiven
accept as you hope to be accepted
discipline
the other hated word
the one my olde pommie relatives brandished about
self discipline
i will remain in this cold water
i will do yoga today even though my blah blah hurts
i will paint that painting
i will strive for originality and flare
i will incorporate knowlledge gleaned from everywhere
all my endeavours will reflect my preoccupation with god
i cannot believe in 1950s law and order
i cannot believe in witchtrials and patriotism
i cannot believe in cruel evil acts rationalised by the west
i cannot believe this is all for nothing
i cannot believe youre happy with tv and booze
i cannot believe how i blew it for myself
i cannot believe in jealous old jehovah
some uberstraight uptight old man of a god
how could a cranky old sod like that
have come up with frangipani trees?
i believe in jesus christ who said let love in
i believe nick cave said that too
i believe in krishna who said there was never a time when we were not
i believe in vishnu who said i am and i am not
i believe in buddha who said take it fucking easy
i believe in hieronymous bosch who said
fuck all that brown and grey bullshit
my paintings vibrate, baybee!!!
i believe in vinny van go go who said
i dont care what you think
i KNOW this stuff im doing is fucking hip
i believe in jimi hendrix
who let his fucking fingers do the talking
i believe in those beautiful operas when the singing
takes yer breath away
i believe in the herb and its constant revelations
i believe in not eating dead rotting things
i believe music is divine
i believe science keeps getting it all wrong
i believe there are other worlds
i believe there are other dimensions and places
i believe our western methodology
is but a tiny tiny tiny aspect of a total glorious reality;
many experiences in life have taught me that....
a human being is a walking conundrum
a spirit driving flesh via a mind
almost everything the west wants is bad for it
pizza tv tanks wealth youth meat booze cigs success fame
trophies fun oil facelifts botox gossip-rags make-up
fake-tits microwaves mobile phones underarm deodorants
engines motors systems factories aeroplanes tranqulizers
poker machines bombs guns rockets tazers slaves
jobs in office under fluoros
ah its all bullshit
i keep on moving closer to the source
the self saucing source
the big banger
numero uno
the nazarene
the golden land of a trillion buddhas
the mayans crystal skulls
the egyptians hieroglyphic depictions
the memories of lemuria which persist
statues of ganesha next door in nepalis house
every morning the old lady in her sari
every dusk
she burns her sweet incense to her gods
ganesha and buddha
buddha who proclaimed an independence of gods
now a god himself
she offers incense to her gods
she thinks of them
she honours them in her heart
she connects with the absolute reality behind the statues
she has her rituals
she has her remembrance
she has her communion
in a garden laden with white and red flowers
the old lady doth verily talk and walk with god
maybe thats just a metaphor
maybe thats the truth but not in a literal sense
maybe its deep without a meaning
ok
i gotta go to "work" now
bye
Thursday, February 14, 2008
valentines day , cythera 2008 BCE
tiny flowers
and other small vegetal parts
were suspended in the sea
dancing between the waves and the cream coloured sand
all moving with the motion of the ocean
little bits of leaves and seaweed all playing their parts
everything exactly where it should be
doing as it must
transparent fish glide through the plant matter
and golden particles
the soft sun so gently penetrates the shallow waters
its fingers enter the sea to warm her slowly
sun rays
sea rays
the morning is hallowed holy
it stretches on forever in all in both directions
engulfing every other feb 14
the water of the sea is like marine green glass
she reflects the sun in her warm dazzle
above the zephyrs play
bringing the scent of musk and lavender and attar
bringing the words of song and prayer and oath
bringing the touch of mist and pine and snow
and the women sing
and the women sing
and the women sing
they knockout the inevitable greek chorus
about loves victories over men
the destiny of the great conquerors and the vanquished
the fops in their tat
the muscle boys in arenas with scars
all knocked out by love
the mighty kings
but its just to put things in perspective
because the morning is still intact
a little cloudy but still very warm i guess
and the lovely one is bathing in the sea
in the sea from where she was born whole
like a painting
like love personified then deified
moving with such graceful grace
moving through the water
so easily so smoothly
naked and china white
long hair with glints of all colours
small breasts so delicate and smooth like fruit
your hips flare out as if designed by a artist
your mysterious loins concealed by the waves
your strong white back
as you swim away
away away away
and the women sing a second chorus
about sunsets colour of blood
mornings sobering remorse
worlds deep grief
moons old sorrow
and the zephyrs play
beings in the sky celebrate
dropping more flowers and granting any wishes
everyone loves love
and the absolute mistress of love
demanding the golden apple above wisdom and power
for how many kings look for wise or powerful queens...?
they all seek love love love
oh ho ha ha see love evaporate
see love get used up
see love run out and tossed aside
see love a shadow of its former self
see love a burnt acrid powdery residue
see love a slimy rubber
see love a distant blur
see love a mad blot
see love a fading memory
you see love temporary fickle monstrous lustful engorged
love battered and butchering triumphant and torn
but not here on loves strand
in a honeymoon haze
the lovely one dips and dabbles in the aquamarine scene
of sky and sea
cloudy and warm
a soft lovely light
cythera her home
in the arms of the waters
flowers all falling softly like ashes
the gods of the winds and their female companions
hair streaming back as they adore in full flight
only the most caressing gentle warmest warm breezes
colourful fish swim around her shapely ankles and toes
her tatoos of fish and stars and flowers
her wonderful small bruises
all appear to worship love
love love love
loves day
day of love
all day
everyday
loveday
everylove
love every day
and
then
love every day
and other small vegetal parts
were suspended in the sea
dancing between the waves and the cream coloured sand
all moving with the motion of the ocean
little bits of leaves and seaweed all playing their parts
everything exactly where it should be
doing as it must
transparent fish glide through the plant matter
and golden particles
the soft sun so gently penetrates the shallow waters
its fingers enter the sea to warm her slowly
sun rays
sea rays
the morning is hallowed holy
it stretches on forever in all in both directions
engulfing every other feb 14
the water of the sea is like marine green glass
she reflects the sun in her warm dazzle
above the zephyrs play
bringing the scent of musk and lavender and attar
bringing the words of song and prayer and oath
bringing the touch of mist and pine and snow
and the women sing
and the women sing
and the women sing
they knockout the inevitable greek chorus
about loves victories over men
the destiny of the great conquerors and the vanquished
the fops in their tat
the muscle boys in arenas with scars
all knocked out by love
the mighty kings
but its just to put things in perspective
because the morning is still intact
a little cloudy but still very warm i guess
and the lovely one is bathing in the sea
in the sea from where she was born whole
like a painting
like love personified then deified
moving with such graceful grace
moving through the water
so easily so smoothly
naked and china white
long hair with glints of all colours
small breasts so delicate and smooth like fruit
your hips flare out as if designed by a artist
your mysterious loins concealed by the waves
your strong white back
as you swim away
away away away
and the women sing a second chorus
about sunsets colour of blood
mornings sobering remorse
worlds deep grief
moons old sorrow
and the zephyrs play
beings in the sky celebrate
dropping more flowers and granting any wishes
everyone loves love
and the absolute mistress of love
demanding the golden apple above wisdom and power
for how many kings look for wise or powerful queens...?
they all seek love love love
oh ho ha ha see love evaporate
see love get used up
see love run out and tossed aside
see love a shadow of its former self
see love a burnt acrid powdery residue
see love a slimy rubber
see love a distant blur
see love a mad blot
see love a fading memory
you see love temporary fickle monstrous lustful engorged
love battered and butchering triumphant and torn
but not here on loves strand
in a honeymoon haze
the lovely one dips and dabbles in the aquamarine scene
of sky and sea
cloudy and warm
a soft lovely light
cythera her home
in the arms of the waters
flowers all falling softly like ashes
the gods of the winds and their female companions
hair streaming back as they adore in full flight
only the most caressing gentle warmest warm breezes
colourful fish swim around her shapely ankles and toes
her tatoos of fish and stars and flowers
her wonderful small bruises
all appear to worship love
love love love
loves day
day of love
all day
everyday
loveday
everylove
love every day
and
then
love every day
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
a quickie
not much time
off to studio soon
walk thru rain listening to hendrix on way to pool
water same temp as air 23 degrees c
feel like your flying
fierce wind blowing drops away from my face
rain falls i swim on
a long slow lazy swim
my mind switches off
occaisional memories flash on n off
the bottom of pool covered in white sand
the green water sloshes around
up n down i go
my body synchs up
breathing effortlessly
the body works like a machine
i try to perfect my strokes
the sauna is hot
i watch my sweat drip from my forehead
and splash on the wood
we are almost all water
i do my chi gong in the rain
i catch sight of myself in a window
one minute i think i look good
next minute i think i look bad
my opinion of myself in all things
constantly bouncing between two poles
either im the bees knees
or im something useless
it keeps me on my toes
im also self obssessed as you may easily see
no matter what i fucking write
someone will jump on n criticize it
fact fiction opinion memory drug veg whatever
there is that carping complaining comment
gee maybe im paranoid but it sometimes seems like the same guy
someone with a grudge against me
cos i didnt behave how i was s'posed to
you know it wouldnt be too hard to figure out, would it?
just so ya dont think anonymous fools me
oh
and did you know that i gotta cracked program
that identifies every anon to me
muse: is that true?
you bet yer sweet bippy it is
everything is possible these days
been working on the church
singing n writing words
ah i dont wanna demystify it for ya
had a butterscotch muffin
deffo not vegan but i had severe munchies
drinking too much berry v
but gee i love guarana
ooh it suits my system dont it
yes
i too was a fan of roy s
all that jazz.....hmmm
dr benbow in nakey lunch etc
its sad knowing hes gone
a message to my dear friend suzanne
in far flung djakarta (or however they spell it)
i drove your car yesterday
tim jumped in and ate a quiche
and tiny little flakes of pastry fell thru the air
decorating the pristine black interior
already littered with one empty fiji bottle
and one empty v can
and (shock) a chocky wrapper
(vegan chocky)
i felt if james could see it he would explode
but will vacky in time for your return
yes gigs are on the horizon for me me me
early april in melb
ditto for syd
a dvd launch
gee does that mean davidson gets his own guest list?
i dunno
you get a free dvd by coming to gig
(but the entry fee is steeper)
i tell ya
im gonna play for a longtime
im slimmer and funnier and have more charisma than i used to
muse : oh thats a vulgar declaration killerbee
come and see me
get a dvd
i can kiss your hands and shake your baby
you can anointeth me in precious cash
or swipe me with yer card
i tell ya one thing
im gonna be doing some different songs
can i talk martin kennedy to coming along in melbo?
ooh i hope so....
can i get polly dog doodell to mix me?
oooh i hope so
what else?
thats enough for now
gonna pick tim up somewhere
have work to do
cant sit here all day
in stormy north bondi
rabbitting on to you
cmon mofo
bring on your niggly little barbs
and we all know who you are....
sk
off to studio soon
walk thru rain listening to hendrix on way to pool
water same temp as air 23 degrees c
feel like your flying
fierce wind blowing drops away from my face
rain falls i swim on
a long slow lazy swim
my mind switches off
occaisional memories flash on n off
the bottom of pool covered in white sand
the green water sloshes around
up n down i go
my body synchs up
breathing effortlessly
the body works like a machine
i try to perfect my strokes
the sauna is hot
i watch my sweat drip from my forehead
and splash on the wood
we are almost all water
i do my chi gong in the rain
i catch sight of myself in a window
one minute i think i look good
next minute i think i look bad
my opinion of myself in all things
constantly bouncing between two poles
either im the bees knees
or im something useless
it keeps me on my toes
im also self obssessed as you may easily see
no matter what i fucking write
someone will jump on n criticize it
fact fiction opinion memory drug veg whatever
there is that carping complaining comment
gee maybe im paranoid but it sometimes seems like the same guy
someone with a grudge against me
cos i didnt behave how i was s'posed to
you know it wouldnt be too hard to figure out, would it?
just so ya dont think anonymous fools me
oh
and did you know that i gotta cracked program
that identifies every anon to me
muse: is that true?
you bet yer sweet bippy it is
everything is possible these days
been working on the church
singing n writing words
ah i dont wanna demystify it for ya
had a butterscotch muffin
deffo not vegan but i had severe munchies
drinking too much berry v
but gee i love guarana
ooh it suits my system dont it
yes
i too was a fan of roy s
all that jazz.....hmmm
dr benbow in nakey lunch etc
its sad knowing hes gone
a message to my dear friend suzanne
in far flung djakarta (or however they spell it)
i drove your car yesterday
tim jumped in and ate a quiche
and tiny little flakes of pastry fell thru the air
decorating the pristine black interior
already littered with one empty fiji bottle
and one empty v can
and (shock) a chocky wrapper
(vegan chocky)
i felt if james could see it he would explode
but will vacky in time for your return
yes gigs are on the horizon for me me me
early april in melb
ditto for syd
a dvd launch
gee does that mean davidson gets his own guest list?
i dunno
you get a free dvd by coming to gig
(but the entry fee is steeper)
i tell ya
im gonna play for a longtime
im slimmer and funnier and have more charisma than i used to
muse : oh thats a vulgar declaration killerbee
come and see me
get a dvd
i can kiss your hands and shake your baby
you can anointeth me in precious cash
or swipe me with yer card
i tell ya one thing
im gonna be doing some different songs
can i talk martin kennedy to coming along in melbo?
ooh i hope so....
can i get polly dog doodell to mix me?
oooh i hope so
what else?
thats enough for now
gonna pick tim up somewhere
have work to do
cant sit here all day
in stormy north bondi
rabbitting on to you
cmon mofo
bring on your niggly little barbs
and we all know who you are....
sk
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
yada yada yada
things not going that great actually
gave a wrong digit in sequence
to someone paying me and money has gone missing
damn it!
a frugal week at chez k for all n sundry
seem to be forgetful and preoccupied
moving in and out of conflict
family hit by coffs n colds
today working on church record
(drumroll)
round at tims studio
whats it like?
wouldnt you like to know
sing sing sing
write words
talk n argue
harmonize
buy lunch
soy hot chocky please
work work
hey tim
what happens if i plug this in here.......?
KABOOM!
duh.....sorry!
gave a wrong digit in sequence
to someone paying me and money has gone missing
damn it!
a frugal week at chez k for all n sundry
seem to be forgetful and preoccupied
moving in and out of conflict
family hit by coffs n colds
today working on church record
(drumroll)
round at tims studio
whats it like?
wouldnt you like to know
sing sing sing
write words
talk n argue
harmonize
buy lunch
soy hot chocky please
work work
hey tim
what happens if i plug this in here.......?
KABOOM!
duh.....sorry!
Monday, February 11, 2008
fast and easy : slow and hard
sitting up a tree tree tree
talking to my bird
caw caw caw she says
i says this and that
i'm hungry and cold and wet
as per bloody muddy usual
cold as a corpse
hungry as a horse
wet as a wicked old toad
i plot i plan i dodge the man
men at arms
men wander around through the green trees
i'm hatching a scheme
cooking up a little dreamy dream
one fell foul swoop
magic and revenge
then i feel a pain
a sharp pain in my chest
oh no
crow is looking at me all wrong
i see her cawing but i hear nothing
its funny i thought that arrow would have hurt me more
crow is up and fluttering about
another arrow flies through the tree
and another
and another
they go by so slow
slowly floating by
fly away now you stupid crow
quickly now
i see another arrow travelling real slow
i see its fletching
the black feathers guiding it home
the thought occurs to me
they have used a crows feathers
and it makes me sad
as i sit up in my branch
watching arrows go by silently
slowly
an arrow protruding from my chest
a miracle
it causes me no pain anymore
crow flapping about like a fool
a very disobedient bird
i tell her to go go go away
im feeling very faint and tired now
fly away old girl i say or seem to think i say
and an arrow hits her
and she tumbles out of the tree
i let go and i fall
fall fall falling fell
crash
i see myself crash
a dirty old heap
the soldiers poke at me and move on
i suppose i'm dead
where is crow i think
silly crow she never listened
fast?
i hear my name
fast?
i turn around
fast the magician.....?
a black woman
a beautiful black woman
fast....is that you? she asks
and who might you be ? i ask not even surprised
easy ! she says
easy? i says
easy.......i am crow....
no!
seems so....shall we go?
yeah.....lets blow!
fin
talking to my bird
caw caw caw she says
i says this and that
i'm hungry and cold and wet
as per bloody muddy usual
cold as a corpse
hungry as a horse
wet as a wicked old toad
i plot i plan i dodge the man
men at arms
men wander around through the green trees
i'm hatching a scheme
cooking up a little dreamy dream
one fell foul swoop
magic and revenge
then i feel a pain
a sharp pain in my chest
oh no
crow is looking at me all wrong
i see her cawing but i hear nothing
its funny i thought that arrow would have hurt me more
crow is up and fluttering about
another arrow flies through the tree
and another
and another
they go by so slow
slowly floating by
fly away now you stupid crow
quickly now
i see another arrow travelling real slow
i see its fletching
the black feathers guiding it home
the thought occurs to me
they have used a crows feathers
and it makes me sad
as i sit up in my branch
watching arrows go by silently
slowly
an arrow protruding from my chest
a miracle
it causes me no pain anymore
crow flapping about like a fool
a very disobedient bird
i tell her to go go go away
im feeling very faint and tired now
fly away old girl i say or seem to think i say
and an arrow hits her
and she tumbles out of the tree
i let go and i fall
fall fall falling fell
crash
i see myself crash
a dirty old heap
the soldiers poke at me and move on
i suppose i'm dead
where is crow i think
silly crow she never listened
fast?
i hear my name
fast?
i turn around
fast the magician.....?
a black woman
a beautiful black woman
fast....is that you? she asks
and who might you be ? i ask not even surprised
easy ! she says
easy? i says
easy.......i am crow....
no!
seems so....shall we go?
yeah.....lets blow!
fin
Sunday, February 10, 2008
fast and easy : enemy
run away run away run away
always running away
those ugly soldiers
stupid brutal creatures
lords and lieges battles and sieges
hack and crack and lord and sword
arrow spear bolt and jolt
dead kings
usurpers
crowned prince
intrigue
palace full of malice
they needed me then crow
before i met you darling bird
before i lost my gold
before i was old and out in the cold
that damned worm
killing killing burning returning
eating sleeping stinking flying
the prince was just a boy...
are you listening to me now, crow?
why you rude bird, you are ignoring me
oh the bloody rotteness of it all
ignored by a damned crow....
its bloody well come to this has it?
well in those days in those days
i had a lovely familiar
yes i thought that'd make you listen crow
you black devil bird
yes oh yes i had a love lovely familiar
oh you jealous old thing crow
ha ha dont peck me now
STOP ! that hurted me!
well i know you dont like to hear about owl
i told you crow dont you dare peck me again.....!
oh my poor owl....
roasted and eaten by that worm
she could spot a little mouse
high in the sky
so high we could hardly fly
oh her deep dark eyes, crow
oh she makes you seem almost blind, crow
now, crow, see what you did with your claws to my arm
oh the harm youve done to my arm...
how dare you treat me so you lowly thing
youre just an old black bag of bones
no decent wizards'd have you you know
no no no
ha ha ha crow
oh im so sorry my sweet my little birdy girl
i didnt mean to say those things
we're all we've got, girl
we got to be nice to one another
a fine to-do a fine to-do
up a tree talking to a bird
am i really mad i wonder
maybe says the tree...dont break me branches
am i really quite done?
no no says my little one
oh no says crow
you'll go and go and go...
you really think so crow?
crow goes: i dont know....
but little blackbird
you'd never work for another wizard would you?
she caws no no
but i can see shes thinking about that bastard warlock of grimsby
how dare you think of that imposter formerly of gloucester
before that cockfosters....
how dare you daydream of that rascal and rogue Toadfinger
that insipid and tepid druid
that spell-less smelly fraud and fellow
that yellow bellied forkbearded fuck-knuckled fool
spawn of a hag and an idiot ogre
not even a conjuror... not even a
WHAT?
how dare you caw that, crow?
how dare you caw that to me
up a tree
surrounded by the enemy?
oh how can you bear to break my old heart so, bird?
Toadfinger did not summon the storm
that quenched the worms fire...
that was me crow
or maybe just a seasonal shower
who knows it was mars or maybe novembre...
oh crow how can you believe these things?
shhh crow shhhh!
i dont want them soldiers finding us up this tree
what a pickle! what a set-to! what a bloody turn-up for the books!
crow cant you fly thereover...?
i can spy a little nest yonder in that leafy tree
do you think that there could be any little eggies for our breakfast..?
not now crow...wait till the soldiers go
no you really dont know anything do you crow
yes i mean except fly
and yes you can see far better than me
yes you do find things before theyre lost, mrs crow
look all right
you are a most useful creature
but please dont talk about Toadfinger in my company
save it for your friends the vulture and fox
how can you talk about the man who stole my life and
took my road and not expect me to explode?
damned toadfaced fool
damned frog features
damned obvious magic
damned idiots who think it was him did worm in
damned worm damned dragon
damned girlish prince the little prick
damned villainous villagers
oh they will all stew you stupid lot
oh crow dont worry bout the soldiers now
fly to that cosy nest and pluck me a little blue egg i can suck
magic doesnt happen on an empty stomach you know
how dare you offer me grubs from the disgusting soil?
i am a man
i cannot eat grubs or lizards or the hornets gizzards
fetch me an egg
must i beggy beg beg?
what?
the nest is bare?
how many grubs
then are there?
why then crow
you must share!
only 3?
ha one for you
and
two for me
always running away
those ugly soldiers
stupid brutal creatures
lords and lieges battles and sieges
hack and crack and lord and sword
arrow spear bolt and jolt
dead kings
usurpers
crowned prince
intrigue
palace full of malice
they needed me then crow
before i met you darling bird
before i lost my gold
before i was old and out in the cold
that damned worm
killing killing burning returning
eating sleeping stinking flying
the prince was just a boy...
are you listening to me now, crow?
why you rude bird, you are ignoring me
oh the bloody rotteness of it all
ignored by a damned crow....
its bloody well come to this has it?
well in those days in those days
i had a lovely familiar
yes i thought that'd make you listen crow
you black devil bird
yes oh yes i had a love lovely familiar
oh you jealous old thing crow
ha ha dont peck me now
STOP ! that hurted me!
well i know you dont like to hear about owl
i told you crow dont you dare peck me again.....!
oh my poor owl....
roasted and eaten by that worm
she could spot a little mouse
high in the sky
so high we could hardly fly
oh her deep dark eyes, crow
oh she makes you seem almost blind, crow
now, crow, see what you did with your claws to my arm
oh the harm youve done to my arm...
how dare you treat me so you lowly thing
youre just an old black bag of bones
no decent wizards'd have you you know
no no no
ha ha ha crow
oh im so sorry my sweet my little birdy girl
i didnt mean to say those things
we're all we've got, girl
we got to be nice to one another
a fine to-do a fine to-do
up a tree talking to a bird
am i really mad i wonder
maybe says the tree...dont break me branches
am i really quite done?
no no says my little one
oh no says crow
you'll go and go and go...
you really think so crow?
crow goes: i dont know....
but little blackbird
you'd never work for another wizard would you?
she caws no no
but i can see shes thinking about that bastard warlock of grimsby
how dare you think of that imposter formerly of gloucester
before that cockfosters....
how dare you daydream of that rascal and rogue Toadfinger
that insipid and tepid druid
that spell-less smelly fraud and fellow
that yellow bellied forkbearded fuck-knuckled fool
spawn of a hag and an idiot ogre
not even a conjuror... not even a
WHAT?
how dare you caw that, crow?
how dare you caw that to me
up a tree
surrounded by the enemy?
oh how can you bear to break my old heart so, bird?
Toadfinger did not summon the storm
that quenched the worms fire...
that was me crow
or maybe just a seasonal shower
who knows it was mars or maybe novembre...
oh crow how can you believe these things?
shhh crow shhhh!
i dont want them soldiers finding us up this tree
what a pickle! what a set-to! what a bloody turn-up for the books!
crow cant you fly thereover...?
i can spy a little nest yonder in that leafy tree
do you think that there could be any little eggies for our breakfast..?
not now crow...wait till the soldiers go
no you really dont know anything do you crow
yes i mean except fly
and yes you can see far better than me
yes you do find things before theyre lost, mrs crow
look all right
you are a most useful creature
but please dont talk about Toadfinger in my company
save it for your friends the vulture and fox
how can you talk about the man who stole my life and
took my road and not expect me to explode?
damned toadfaced fool
damned frog features
damned obvious magic
damned idiots who think it was him did worm in
damned worm damned dragon
damned girlish prince the little prick
damned villainous villagers
oh they will all stew you stupid lot
oh crow dont worry bout the soldiers now
fly to that cosy nest and pluck me a little blue egg i can suck
magic doesnt happen on an empty stomach you know
how dare you offer me grubs from the disgusting soil?
i am a man
i cannot eat grubs or lizards or the hornets gizzards
fetch me an egg
must i beggy beg beg?
what?
the nest is bare?
how many grubs
then are there?
why then crow
you must share!
only 3?
ha one for you
and
two for me
Saturday, February 09, 2008
fast and easy : dawn
finally the light
sickly grey dawn
hungry and sick
as usual as usual
bones grind sinews crack bad back
numb and sad
old and mad
struggle struggle
no sleep no rest
no inn no guest
sucking mud biting flea
bad blood evil me
crow flies back
out of the grey sky
wheeling wheeling
in elegant arcs
scavenger crow like a bird of prey
any news of witch?
anything likely to make me rich?
no no no caws crow
trouble coming this way that way
which way?
all ways
fires and floods and famines and spears
war and plagues for hundred years
what to do what to do
straggle struggle
juggle things
everything up in the air
bubbles come up in lake
what monster stirs?
oh this lake makes me ache and ache
where are the gardens and domes i truly deserve
the feasts at least
the harnessed beasts
devils released
damned crow bringer of bad news
where are my shoes?
holes in soles and souls unholy
damn damp
wheres witch?
which witch?
the tricky witch
the one with the hare
you have the hare crow
and i'll have the witch
yes crow we can share
but how to get there
anywhere but here
i dont like here
i dont like now
i dont like this
not at all
must begin i suppose
on my toes
walky walky walky
i should be carried
or married to a queen
i never should have tarried in the tavern
or in the cavern
where i entered the earth
crow come here
sit close by head
on my shoulders
tell me bout the soldiers
with their spears and their jeers
march through marsh
the tramps a'tramping
drums and pipes
blast it all crow
must i be bothered to flee?
oh a horrible dawn you are
a bad start to a bad day
lost and alone
except for little crow
my black wand
my old bones
a spell
a spell
i need a spell
hmmm let me think...
oh well.......
sickly grey dawn
hungry and sick
as usual as usual
bones grind sinews crack bad back
numb and sad
old and mad
struggle struggle
no sleep no rest
no inn no guest
sucking mud biting flea
bad blood evil me
crow flies back
out of the grey sky
wheeling wheeling
in elegant arcs
scavenger crow like a bird of prey
any news of witch?
anything likely to make me rich?
no no no caws crow
trouble coming this way that way
which way?
all ways
fires and floods and famines and spears
war and plagues for hundred years
what to do what to do
straggle struggle
juggle things
everything up in the air
bubbles come up in lake
what monster stirs?
oh this lake makes me ache and ache
where are the gardens and domes i truly deserve
the feasts at least
the harnessed beasts
devils released
damned crow bringer of bad news
where are my shoes?
holes in soles and souls unholy
damn damp
wheres witch?
which witch?
the tricky witch
the one with the hare
you have the hare crow
and i'll have the witch
yes crow we can share
but how to get there
anywhere but here
i dont like here
i dont like now
i dont like this
not at all
must begin i suppose
on my toes
walky walky walky
i should be carried
or married to a queen
i never should have tarried in the tavern
or in the cavern
where i entered the earth
crow come here
sit close by head
on my shoulders
tell me bout the soldiers
with their spears and their jeers
march through marsh
the tramps a'tramping
drums and pipes
blast it all crow
must i be bothered to flee?
oh a horrible dawn you are
a bad start to a bad day
lost and alone
except for little crow
my black wand
my old bones
a spell
a spell
i need a spell
hmmm let me think...
oh well.......
Friday, February 08, 2008
fast and easy : lake
demons dust and dark ages
gnawing boring squirming worming
charming alarming harming harming harming
oh im so tired and damp and tired of being damp
and i should be dressed in silks and satins and elegant shoes
reclined in a gentle warm light
an obedient servant perhaps
a childe to do my bidding
a nice jug of rich red wine
but the fields are my home
i shiver under hollow logs
i chase away the weasels
oh wretched me!
my poor old bones
my freckled skin
my wispy hair
my pointy nose
my white white beard
my sore sore feet
my fiery heart
my blue black crow
my jet black wand
i broke the rules
my evil eye
gold to lead
living to dead
white to red
cut to bled
a new newt in a new town
suck leech suck
bite ant bite
slither snake slither
hither and thither
i curse and it gets worse
devil you jesus lord of the flies
am i really mad i wonder
but the moon says oh no no no
am i so ugly i ask crow
oh no no no
my crow she doesnt think so
we come to a lake
a lakey lake silvered and smooth
i dont like it crow i says to the bird
crows caw caw caw
this is unholy water i says to her
crow shakes her shapely head
nasty little lake here hindering us
cant swim it ugh shudder
i heard of things living in these waters
take you down into horrible cold wet jaws
slimy scaly big and coily
a waterworm with teeth like razors
black lake
unhallowed stagnant mire
mournful water
dead trees
lake you were not here before
how did you lake spring forth?
where do you go when you go away?
what are your big black fish?
how many fathoms deep to the drowned village?
how cold is your slippery murk?
oh evil lake
oh ugly body
come crow
i would be gone
woe begone
but the land around you sucks
and the marshes emit a chilling mist
fly crow away
crow flies up away from this sickening thickening fog
she finds the clean air up above us
but oh i am alone
my wand will not ignite
to cast its magical light
i am trickless
crow has flown away but where...?
alone on the ground
the mist carries no sound
enveloping me hiding me from my moon
i cannot remember my spells
my words have no authority
my mind has no belief
old and alone with my jet black stick
waving around in the soundless misty mist
tripping and ripping my cloak
soak me rain
chill me night
take my sight
thin my skin
old and cold
muck and mould
oh poor me
a magician you see
a powerful man
a dragon killer a mighty sorcerer
reduced to this
seduced by time
ravaged and ruined and coming undone
bleached and faded and abraded and frozen
unchosen unblessed uncaressed
bugger this lake!
black filthy pond
black useless wand
black absent crow
black burning heart
bad bad world
full of spiders and slugs and thugs and riders
wet leaves thieves blood and mud
tree trunks and foxholes and lost souls
thorns and horns and hedges and teeth
rotten life you black maw
horrible sky starts to rain and pour
poor me
where is crow?
gnawing boring squirming worming
charming alarming harming harming harming
oh im so tired and damp and tired of being damp
and i should be dressed in silks and satins and elegant shoes
reclined in a gentle warm light
an obedient servant perhaps
a childe to do my bidding
a nice jug of rich red wine
but the fields are my home
i shiver under hollow logs
i chase away the weasels
oh wretched me!
my poor old bones
my freckled skin
my wispy hair
my pointy nose
my white white beard
my sore sore feet
my fiery heart
my blue black crow
my jet black wand
i broke the rules
my evil eye
gold to lead
living to dead
white to red
cut to bled
a new newt in a new town
suck leech suck
bite ant bite
slither snake slither
hither and thither
i curse and it gets worse
devil you jesus lord of the flies
am i really mad i wonder
but the moon says oh no no no
am i so ugly i ask crow
oh no no no
my crow she doesnt think so
we come to a lake
a lakey lake silvered and smooth
i dont like it crow i says to the bird
crows caw caw caw
this is unholy water i says to her
crow shakes her shapely head
nasty little lake here hindering us
cant swim it ugh shudder
i heard of things living in these waters
take you down into horrible cold wet jaws
slimy scaly big and coily
a waterworm with teeth like razors
black lake
unhallowed stagnant mire
mournful water
dead trees
lake you were not here before
how did you lake spring forth?
where do you go when you go away?
what are your big black fish?
how many fathoms deep to the drowned village?
how cold is your slippery murk?
oh evil lake
oh ugly body
come crow
i would be gone
woe begone
but the land around you sucks
and the marshes emit a chilling mist
fly crow away
crow flies up away from this sickening thickening fog
she finds the clean air up above us
but oh i am alone
my wand will not ignite
to cast its magical light
i am trickless
crow has flown away but where...?
alone on the ground
the mist carries no sound
enveloping me hiding me from my moon
i cannot remember my spells
my words have no authority
my mind has no belief
old and alone with my jet black stick
waving around in the soundless misty mist
tripping and ripping my cloak
soak me rain
chill me night
take my sight
thin my skin
old and cold
muck and mould
oh poor me
a magician you see
a powerful man
a dragon killer a mighty sorcerer
reduced to this
seduced by time
ravaged and ruined and coming undone
bleached and faded and abraded and frozen
unchosen unblessed uncaressed
bugger this lake!
black filthy pond
black useless wand
black absent crow
black burning heart
bad bad world
full of spiders and slugs and thugs and riders
wet leaves thieves blood and mud
tree trunks and foxholes and lost souls
thorns and horns and hedges and teeth
rotten life you black maw
horrible sky starts to rain and pour
poor me
where is crow?
Thursday, February 07, 2008
fast and easy: terrain
damned witch !
damned bird !
damned magic !
damned rain !
damned villagers !
mutter mutter curse and splutter
come here then girl ....
stop making all that damned noise !
crow flies to my shoulder
she sits pecking the nits out of my hair and beard
ah thats good make yourself useful
NO!
dont peck so hard you stupid thing...
oh i am sorry crow my beautiful girl
oh yes
soon my girl
something nice for us to eat
and a warm dry place
soon
oh we are so old so old drenched and cold
by my magical art i start a small fire
crow flies away into the nighty night
shes going hunting
her huge wings blot out the stars
many lives ago maybe crow was human woman
many lives ago maybe i was hawk or falcon
i sit and poke my flaming little fire
burn burn die and return
crackle branches crackle leaves
spark and dark spark and dark
oh i will love to see the faces in the villages
when i raise the sun in the middle of the night
when i call it back from yesterday
and crops fail
and children sicken
hopping toads
crawling snake
choking smoke
dying ache
beelzebub and arioch
mandenezzar and horribus
wicked worms undoing us
oh i need a spell
oh i need to gather myself
oh i need some things
crow where are you ?
where do you fly?
thunder rumbles
bats against the purple sky
my crow amongst the bats
the sky filled with dark things
witches
flying goblins
i spit
crow crow
i cannot read your thoughts tonight
my fire dies
my hope is gone
then crow appears
bedraggled and small
i take her in under my robe
move out of forest then
find witchy witch
steal her magic
eat her hare
over hill and dale
over field and road
tramping trudging so begrudging
blackbird against my chest softly pecks
my wand of jet
the blackest stick
my black magic stick
i have charged thee
spit and spunk and poison and blood
fire and earth and water have cleansed thee
unburnt you emerge from hells flames
full of satans revengeful scorn
black wand
black bird
black heart
black sky
i will drown the world in black
black angel inside my crow
black trees and black death
my wand glows ever so faintly
pale blue in the darkness
it twitches and jumps
eager eager nasty stick
do your dirty wishes
you spiteful rod
evil jet
left handed magic
the wrong path
oh i'll show 'em
master of birds
a murder of crows
roasted witch
crooked cooked bitch
burny itch
deep ditch
stumble fumble trip and bumble
evil upheaval biting little weevils
oh we'll make 'em sweat mrs crow
oh we'll blast 'em dead mr wand
ah the moony moon comes sailing up
away clouds!
let her shine
let wand drink deep of moons power
let the night fill him with malice
let everything good be cancelled out!
damned bird !
damned magic !
damned rain !
damned villagers !
mutter mutter curse and splutter
come here then girl ....
stop making all that damned noise !
crow flies to my shoulder
she sits pecking the nits out of my hair and beard
ah thats good make yourself useful
NO!
dont peck so hard you stupid thing...
oh i am sorry crow my beautiful girl
oh yes
soon my girl
something nice for us to eat
and a warm dry place
soon
oh we are so old so old drenched and cold
by my magical art i start a small fire
crow flies away into the nighty night
shes going hunting
her huge wings blot out the stars
many lives ago maybe crow was human woman
many lives ago maybe i was hawk or falcon
i sit and poke my flaming little fire
burn burn die and return
crackle branches crackle leaves
spark and dark spark and dark
oh i will love to see the faces in the villages
when i raise the sun in the middle of the night
when i call it back from yesterday
and crops fail
and children sicken
hopping toads
crawling snake
choking smoke
dying ache
beelzebub and arioch
mandenezzar and horribus
wicked worms undoing us
oh i need a spell
oh i need to gather myself
oh i need some things
crow where are you ?
where do you fly?
thunder rumbles
bats against the purple sky
my crow amongst the bats
the sky filled with dark things
witches
flying goblins
i spit
crow crow
i cannot read your thoughts tonight
my fire dies
my hope is gone
then crow appears
bedraggled and small
i take her in under my robe
move out of forest then
find witchy witch
steal her magic
eat her hare
over hill and dale
over field and road
tramping trudging so begrudging
blackbird against my chest softly pecks
my wand of jet
the blackest stick
my black magic stick
i have charged thee
spit and spunk and poison and blood
fire and earth and water have cleansed thee
unburnt you emerge from hells flames
full of satans revengeful scorn
black wand
black bird
black heart
black sky
i will drown the world in black
black angel inside my crow
black trees and black death
my wand glows ever so faintly
pale blue in the darkness
it twitches and jumps
eager eager nasty stick
do your dirty wishes
you spiteful rod
evil jet
left handed magic
the wrong path
oh i'll show 'em
master of birds
a murder of crows
roasted witch
crooked cooked bitch
burny itch
deep ditch
stumble fumble trip and bumble
evil upheaval biting little weevils
oh we'll make 'em sweat mrs crow
oh we'll blast 'em dead mr wand
ah the moony moon comes sailing up
away clouds!
let her shine
let wand drink deep of moons power
let the night fill him with malice
let everything good be cancelled out!
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
fast and easy 2: forest
deep in forest
now i am i am so deep
damp and dank and weasels and woe
magician in exile
no tricks now i promise
oh crow who flies above
oh worm beneath the ground
red flugsvamp
black eyes of my bird
she flies up through the trees
she croaks out to me in her broken voice
she lets me know where she goes
by my art
by my learning
by my natural propensities
by my aged bones
by my white beard
crow flies out of forest
my grey eyes see as well
my grey eyes superimposed on her black eyes
oh i laugh hysterically as crow spirals up and up
oh my lovely spirit
oh the realms of sky
her strong wings beat and squeeze the air through them
i feel her find the thermals and suddenly we plummet upwards
we rise and we rise crow and i in the thinnest thinny thin air
oh and crows eyes can see and see and see
mountains in the distance
a tower a precipice
armies moving in distant snows
a tiny moth moves through the air
nearly half a mile below
and crow falls like a stone
snatching the juicy thing from the night
up crow up i think
and i hardly even know my old body and bones
fallen into swoon under the pines
as crow bears both our souls into the viscous sky
and then we both see it
a fire
someone cooking something up
someone doing something magical
crow swallows the last bits of moth with a gulp
down we glide to take a closer look
a witch a witch a witch
oh a pretty pickle
witchy little familiar
i feel crow react
the witches familiar is a hare
she sits stroking a large grey hare before her fire
impossible to see her face under her wide brimmed hat
she chants and cackles in the firelight
crow circles and caws
keep quiet crow i think
the hare startles in her lap
she looks up into the sky
she puts the hare down
she begins to take off her robe
she is old to be sure
but her white flesh is still firm
i become confused inside the birds head
the crow shudders in midflight
my thoughts are overpowering him
the witch looks up at us and laughs
ah she had done this deliberately
her nakedness undoes my concentration
the bird screams
and i fall back down into my body with a sickening jump
i awake in the darkness
my head pounding
all aroused and erect
the bird calls in the trees
bah! the witch has undone me with her simple trick
but there is tomorrow
and then another
tomorrow
now i am i am so deep
damp and dank and weasels and woe
magician in exile
no tricks now i promise
oh crow who flies above
oh worm beneath the ground
red flugsvamp
black eyes of my bird
she flies up through the trees
she croaks out to me in her broken voice
she lets me know where she goes
by my art
by my learning
by my natural propensities
by my aged bones
by my white beard
crow flies out of forest
my grey eyes see as well
my grey eyes superimposed on her black eyes
oh i laugh hysterically as crow spirals up and up
oh my lovely spirit
oh the realms of sky
her strong wings beat and squeeze the air through them
i feel her find the thermals and suddenly we plummet upwards
we rise and we rise crow and i in the thinnest thinny thin air
oh and crows eyes can see and see and see
mountains in the distance
a tower a precipice
armies moving in distant snows
a tiny moth moves through the air
nearly half a mile below
and crow falls like a stone
snatching the juicy thing from the night
up crow up i think
and i hardly even know my old body and bones
fallen into swoon under the pines
as crow bears both our souls into the viscous sky
and then we both see it
a fire
someone cooking something up
someone doing something magical
crow swallows the last bits of moth with a gulp
down we glide to take a closer look
a witch a witch a witch
oh a pretty pickle
witchy little familiar
i feel crow react
the witches familiar is a hare
she sits stroking a large grey hare before her fire
impossible to see her face under her wide brimmed hat
she chants and cackles in the firelight
crow circles and caws
keep quiet crow i think
the hare startles in her lap
she looks up into the sky
she puts the hare down
she begins to take off her robe
she is old to be sure
but her white flesh is still firm
i become confused inside the birds head
the crow shudders in midflight
my thoughts are overpowering him
the witch looks up at us and laughs
ah she had done this deliberately
her nakedness undoes my concentration
the bird screams
and i fall back down into my body with a sickening jump
i awake in the darkness
my head pounding
all aroused and erect
the bird calls in the trees
bah! the witch has undone me with her simple trick
but there is tomorrow
and then another
tomorrow
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
fast and easy
with no small trepidation
i set out on my journey
my self imposed exile
my feet heavy with doubt
my hair blasted back by the wind and rain
my white knuckles gripping my wand of jet
my crow my familiar above
crying mournfully against the sky
a black crow with blue beak
blacker than black
a beast of a bird to be sure
but now we belonged together
we were watching out for each other in symbiosis
the crow and i we learned to think alike
the crow would soar in the skies
i would look through its eyes
i feed it sweetmeats and teach it to talk
a beautiful bird it is oh it is
and wonderful things that it has found for me
found before they were ever lost mind you
golden rings and things
tears of hanged men and more again
the bird in forest like a dark blur
turns its eye to gaze at you
a message passes between you
how i do not know
it occurs to us at the same time
the rain is like needles
the pines drip drip drippety drip
the moon is full behind the storm
and the moon the crow and i in cahoots
the moon and the crow in the sky
i on the ground below
as agents for each other within alien elements
the moon can intercede with the atmosphereans
those beings who live in the ether
yes no part of creation is empty
why would it be?
why why had they drummed the old mad magician out out out
the moon looked across the see and saw
the crow croaked in the branches of ash
the lovely moon who whispered low to me
the crow with feathers black as coal
both female the bird and satellite
both orbit me so dutifully
am i really mad i wonder
and the moon croaks and the crow whispers
am i really mad i wonder
and the earth just twists it around on me
its all in the past now
where else could it be?
me
the crow
the moon
three associates in town
fast and easy
i set out on my journey
my self imposed exile
my feet heavy with doubt
my hair blasted back by the wind and rain
my white knuckles gripping my wand of jet
my crow my familiar above
crying mournfully against the sky
a black crow with blue beak
blacker than black
a beast of a bird to be sure
but now we belonged together
we were watching out for each other in symbiosis
the crow and i we learned to think alike
the crow would soar in the skies
i would look through its eyes
i feed it sweetmeats and teach it to talk
a beautiful bird it is oh it is
and wonderful things that it has found for me
found before they were ever lost mind you
golden rings and things
tears of hanged men and more again
the bird in forest like a dark blur
turns its eye to gaze at you
a message passes between you
how i do not know
it occurs to us at the same time
the rain is like needles
the pines drip drip drippety drip
the moon is full behind the storm
and the moon the crow and i in cahoots
the moon and the crow in the sky
i on the ground below
as agents for each other within alien elements
the moon can intercede with the atmosphereans
those beings who live in the ether
yes no part of creation is empty
why would it be?
why why had they drummed the old mad magician out out out
the moon looked across the see and saw
the crow croaked in the branches of ash
the lovely moon who whispered low to me
the crow with feathers black as coal
both female the bird and satellite
both orbit me so dutifully
am i really mad i wonder
and the moon croaks and the crow whispers
am i really mad i wonder
and the earth just twists it around on me
its all in the past now
where else could it be?
me
the crow
the moon
three associates in town
fast and easy
ramped
music uncrush me
with a song in my heart
i awaken with a tingling
i brush my eyes
i part my seas
i memorize the position of the still extant stars
i am exchangeable
i am fortunate
i am bits n pieces of other people
i am angry i am sad
i am the residue from DMT
i am the result of modulation
i am fast still fast faster than your eye
i am with some difficulty
i am wade down in time
i am speaking english now
i am a man a man a man
people write a bout me
me me me me me me me me me me
there i said it and i said it
i know a world
i have seen differences
i have been amongst you unbeknownst
i travel in cog neat oh
i unravel in full sight of you all
did you want to continue
observe the know smoking sign
thank you for shifting the contents during the flyte
thank you for chewsing kilbey prod-ducts
thank you for your dough-nation
i am be-will-dud
i am i am i am
i is is is
i are i are
i am in a star trek book ha ha ha
yes its so true
get it
read about me
3rd prize!
ha!
i am eskey inglesias in booko
in the few-cha baybee
tim is groping an alien
ho ho ho
what on earth?!!!!
check it out check it out
mu mu
a tu-tu for to-to at 2 to 2 too
ok thats it
sshhhhh!
with a song in my heart
i awaken with a tingling
i brush my eyes
i part my seas
i memorize the position of the still extant stars
i am exchangeable
i am fortunate
i am bits n pieces of other people
i am angry i am sad
i am the residue from DMT
i am the result of modulation
i am fast still fast faster than your eye
i am with some difficulty
i am wade down in time
i am speaking english now
i am a man a man a man
people write a bout me
me me me me me me me me me me
there i said it and i said it
i know a world
i have seen differences
i have been amongst you unbeknownst
i travel in cog neat oh
i unravel in full sight of you all
did you want to continue
observe the know smoking sign
thank you for shifting the contents during the flyte
thank you for chewsing kilbey prod-ducts
thank you for your dough-nation
i am be-will-dud
i am i am i am
i is is is
i are i are
i am in a star trek book ha ha ha
yes its so true
get it
read about me
3rd prize!
ha!
i am eskey inglesias in booko
in the few-cha baybee
tim is groping an alien
ho ho ho
what on earth?!!!!
check it out check it out
mu mu
a tu-tu for to-to at 2 to 2 too
ok thats it
sshhhhh!
Sunday, February 03, 2008
DMT
if you dont like drugs or transcendental experiences
dont bother reading this blog
if you like the version of reality they fed ya
dont bother commenting
with your "drugs is boring" cliches
for anyone else whos interested
about 2 hours ago i smoked DMT for the first time
the businessmans trip it only last 6-10 minutes
ive had it in my drawer for over a year
a gift from our own capt mission
smoked it in a little glass pipe that was hard to come by
the stuff is acrid
an instantly familiar taste
it hits straight away
from zero to a thousand in no seconds flat
the speed of thought
a buddha hanging on the wall changed
its aspects constantly in flux
my wife sitting opposite me trailing energy fields
her face like a south american mask
struck by her classic timeless features
ricki sitting up close
his face is quite flushed
geometric flashes
kaleidoscopic symmetrical tiny stars
we look at vishnu in bondi my painting
behind the glass vishnus face modulates
his eyes bulge and swim
he smiles and winks
the gems on his helmet become real
he is lit from within by luminous blue light
nk is gazing at a ganesha wall hanging
the elephant gods beautiful eyes seem to brim with
compassionate tears
his pink skin is smooth and radiant
he becomes 3D like you could walk on in there to him
a painting of natalie and aurora moves of its own accord
they are in rippling motion behind the glass
the movement is like underwater
i have several more hits of the stuff
it only lasts a short time
no deep deep thoughts
kind of cartoony
very relaxing
very entertaining
proving there is more out there
than you can believe
if you just took your blinkers off
now i feel pleasantly drowsy
mmm nice
can i have some more?????
dont bother reading this blog
if you like the version of reality they fed ya
dont bother commenting
with your "drugs is boring" cliches
for anyone else whos interested
about 2 hours ago i smoked DMT for the first time
the businessmans trip it only last 6-10 minutes
ive had it in my drawer for over a year
a gift from our own capt mission
smoked it in a little glass pipe that was hard to come by
the stuff is acrid
an instantly familiar taste
it hits straight away
from zero to a thousand in no seconds flat
the speed of thought
a buddha hanging on the wall changed
its aspects constantly in flux
my wife sitting opposite me trailing energy fields
her face like a south american mask
struck by her classic timeless features
ricki sitting up close
his face is quite flushed
geometric flashes
kaleidoscopic symmetrical tiny stars
we look at vishnu in bondi my painting
behind the glass vishnus face modulates
his eyes bulge and swim
he smiles and winks
the gems on his helmet become real
he is lit from within by luminous blue light
nk is gazing at a ganesha wall hanging
the elephant gods beautiful eyes seem to brim with
compassionate tears
his pink skin is smooth and radiant
he becomes 3D like you could walk on in there to him
a painting of natalie and aurora moves of its own accord
they are in rippling motion behind the glass
the movement is like underwater
i have several more hits of the stuff
it only lasts a short time
no deep deep thoughts
kind of cartoony
very relaxing
very entertaining
proving there is more out there
than you can believe
if you just took your blinkers off
now i feel pleasantly drowsy
mmm nice
can i have some more?????
electrical disturbance
a night of stormy passion
children go gently into good night
black rain falls outside
sydney hot and steamy
my wife and i indulge
in everything
yes
lose myself within my flesh
naked or in my pinstripe suit
i am slave and master
i am brutal and soft
in the darkness my huge pupils see everything
she is so gorgeous
i am such a monster
sweating and bucking and slipping
hours glide by
1 2 3 am
my baby and i love to love
rock around the clock
dont write about that she says
but gee youre good she adds
the rain bangs on
the music plays softly in our room
the fan whirrs
the blinds clang n bang in the breezes
taboo you
we seek oblivion
i am a man
cant you see what i am
spirit mind body
not surviving on head alone
lost in the mysterious temple
four bidden
touching touching
my face says it all
my little wife pulling the strings
sometimes so gentle
sometimes so violent
hurting loving loving hurting
hurt me cupid
hurt me aphrodite
shoot me down
sweet toxic love all over the place
the children dream on
we ride on into the morning
almost no sleep
the ruins of love
the day intrudes
in the cold light she is still beautiful
dishevelled young slim feminine
suddenly the kids are all up
oh no
oh no not ready for that
we retreat into safety
the rain just falls n falls
desire seemingly inexhaustible
why is that?
her smell
her voice
her way of loving
her fragrant breath
her girlish ways
we do not long for the bars n parties
we do not long for the outside
here
a sanctuary
wedded bliss!
ahhhhh....
children go gently into good night
black rain falls outside
sydney hot and steamy
my wife and i indulge
in everything
yes
lose myself within my flesh
naked or in my pinstripe suit
i am slave and master
i am brutal and soft
in the darkness my huge pupils see everything
she is so gorgeous
i am such a monster
sweating and bucking and slipping
hours glide by
1 2 3 am
my baby and i love to love
rock around the clock
dont write about that she says
but gee youre good she adds
the rain bangs on
the music plays softly in our room
the fan whirrs
the blinds clang n bang in the breezes
taboo you
we seek oblivion
i am a man
cant you see what i am
spirit mind body
not surviving on head alone
lost in the mysterious temple
four bidden
touching touching
my face says it all
my little wife pulling the strings
sometimes so gentle
sometimes so violent
hurting loving loving hurting
hurt me cupid
hurt me aphrodite
shoot me down
sweet toxic love all over the place
the children dream on
we ride on into the morning
almost no sleep
the ruins of love
the day intrudes
in the cold light she is still beautiful
dishevelled young slim feminine
suddenly the kids are all up
oh no
oh no not ready for that
we retreat into safety
the rain just falls n falls
desire seemingly inexhaustible
why is that?
her smell
her voice
her way of loving
her fragrant breath
her girlish ways
we do not long for the bars n parties
we do not long for the outside
here
a sanctuary
wedded bliss!
ahhhhh....
Saturday, February 02, 2008
ex-spurt
yeah
heres all my secrets
all my a'comings n a'goings
all my reasons alibis n excuses
where do we start
the pears are cooking
the baby on my lap
theres a sunshower
the gloom returns
a low grey sky
the barometer shudders
the baby is hot and damp
she sits and her chubby little fingers stroke my arm
my arm is fried golden by the sun
the small hairs on my arm are golden too
bleached by sun and sea
the baby seems hypnotized as she watches me type
we listen to joanna newsomes ys
or is the baby going to sleep
she murmurs slightly and climbs off my lap
minna is snoozing in the doodles room
eve is shopping with nk
aurora is off with suzanna b over at karins
i sit here in my messy room
weighed down by books n cds n paints n leads
n postcards and discarded wrappers n empty grape juice bottles
empty tins of berry v guarana drinks
i suck on a cola nut chunk
it is slightly numbing
it provides calm energy
it taste nothing like coca cola
or any other cola drink
just like berry v dont taste like berry
and artificial cherry and grape flavours disgust me
i listen to joanna newsomes winding rolling music
part showtune part medieval
a bit like me
what happened to me?
expansion or collapse
i get up to check on the pears
theyve gone nice n brown as the dates have dissolved
suzanne comes back
and the baby screams go away go away at her
nk and evie come home from shopping
minna still snoozing on the bed
surrounded by women at every turn
joanna still singing in here
strange stuff strange stuff indeed
strange days now
the weather is extraordinary
i move away from science and towards magic
i move away from this world n towards some other
i am happy to be me
i am happy to be 53
i am happy in my messy room
i am happy with the church record so far
i am happy to be happy
i have love
i have romance with my darling one
i have comrades and associates
i have friends in high places
i have friends in low places
i have everything i could need
thank you lord ganesha
thank you kindly jesus
thanks also lord vishnu
and his incarnations krishna n buddha
thank you allah n jehovah
apollo lord of music and healing
aphrodite the cytherean
lady of love
hosanna hosanna
hallelujah
iao iao ao ao
do what thou will shall be the whole of the law
adams apple
eves dropping
eden n merimbula
the west pole
identikle twins
elektra june arrives there is love
in the background constantly
all my girls
under one roof
i can do good daughters if nothing elsie
love
steve
heres all my secrets
all my a'comings n a'goings
all my reasons alibis n excuses
where do we start
the pears are cooking
the baby on my lap
theres a sunshower
the gloom returns
a low grey sky
the barometer shudders
the baby is hot and damp
she sits and her chubby little fingers stroke my arm
my arm is fried golden by the sun
the small hairs on my arm are golden too
bleached by sun and sea
the baby seems hypnotized as she watches me type
we listen to joanna newsomes ys
or is the baby going to sleep
she murmurs slightly and climbs off my lap
minna is snoozing in the doodles room
eve is shopping with nk
aurora is off with suzanna b over at karins
i sit here in my messy room
weighed down by books n cds n paints n leads
n postcards and discarded wrappers n empty grape juice bottles
empty tins of berry v guarana drinks
i suck on a cola nut chunk
it is slightly numbing
it provides calm energy
it taste nothing like coca cola
or any other cola drink
just like berry v dont taste like berry
and artificial cherry and grape flavours disgust me
i listen to joanna newsomes winding rolling music
part showtune part medieval
a bit like me
what happened to me?
expansion or collapse
i get up to check on the pears
theyve gone nice n brown as the dates have dissolved
suzanne comes back
and the baby screams go away go away at her
nk and evie come home from shopping
minna still snoozing on the bed
surrounded by women at every turn
joanna still singing in here
strange stuff strange stuff indeed
strange days now
the weather is extraordinary
i move away from science and towards magic
i move away from this world n towards some other
i am happy to be me
i am happy to be 53
i am happy in my messy room
i am happy with the church record so far
i am happy to be happy
i have love
i have romance with my darling one
i have comrades and associates
i have friends in high places
i have friends in low places
i have everything i could need
thank you lord ganesha
thank you kindly jesus
thanks also lord vishnu
and his incarnations krishna n buddha
thank you allah n jehovah
apollo lord of music and healing
aphrodite the cytherean
lady of love
hosanna hosanna
hallelujah
iao iao ao ao
do what thou will shall be the whole of the law
adams apple
eves dropping
eden n merimbula
the west pole
identikle twins
elektra june arrives there is love
in the background constantly
all my girls
under one roof
i can do good daughters if nothing elsie
love
steve
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