on the isle of marvels

odysseus awakes in the remarkable stillness of dawn
calypso is gone from the bed
he has never seen the nymph sleep
all is so quiet
lost track of the days
lost track of the love
lost track of the sea
lost track of...
he gets up from her soft bed
where she has loved gods
where she has loved heroes from ages past
her bed where she never sleeps only loves
odysseus looks in her mirror
his tanned battered intelligent face
his straight nose
his frowning eyes
his planes and angles
he's seen better days
befuddled
moving slowly as if in a dream
dreams of struggling
never fulfilling the task
never getting it done
never never never
let that word echo round her cave
things in the mirror flicker
things in the mirror change
odysseus sees himself an old old man
his strong limbs withered
his robust body weakened
his unswerving gaze now rheumy and faltering
calypso appears behind him, the old man
unchanged for all the years
she steps out of her robe
the old odysseus watched her in the mirror
she goes to her bed and lays down
she beckons to him
she lies on her side and beckons to him
come yes come she says and he hears her only in his mind
as the old man watches in the mirror
his younger self goes to the immortal nymph
through tears and years the old man sees them
lovely lady of the sea and shore
calypso so soft and hard
she moans just like a mortal woman
the mirror changes as if filled with vapour
the mirror reveals an empty bed
voices all around whisper in odysseus' ear
words he cannot understand
he reaches out but the caves walls seem to move
in the mirror he goes out into her wonderful garden
he looks at her flowers
that pulsate in strange colours and vibrancy
the flowers move in unison to the first breezes of the day
everything has changed
odysseus feels open
everything is coming in
this wondrous bower
the grapes which grow on trellises
her sheep and goats graze for the wool
that the lady spins upon her loom
her birds
for the lady must have song
but when she sings all else is silent in the world
and her voice shames the nightingales
2 tiny rivers run through her garden from a spring
" my garden is an inclosed spring, my love" she had said
holding his hand to her
odysseus remembered this and smiled
he watched the nymphs minnows dart in her silver streams
he put his head down to the waters and
he drank from her crystal spring deeply
as he lifted his head
in the rippling reflections
he saw her form once again
move like a dream
across his life
calypso weaving
calypso singing
calypso brushing her dark hair in the mirror
calypso walking with her goats
calypso at midday as she swam in the sea
calypso in the long afternoons of her endless summer
calypso telling him of times long ago
of jason of theseus of perseus
all she had known
the isle was alive
and everything there did its mistress' bidding
the fruit grew and was sustained by her powers
the elementals obeyed her
the rain fell only when she desired
odysseus went down to the shore
as he did every day
as he had done for thousands of days
the sea stretched away
away away away
he could not even remember
why he had wanted to leave

evoker

odysseus
we see him now
he's a medium man in everyway
only his eyes
only his eyes have this look
they are the colour of the sea
we see the nymph calypso
tall pale dark haired
tattooed on her skin spells and enchantments
they sit together on a little beach
she lightly strokes his back
her fingers move like electricity underskin
odysseus stifles a shudder of pleasure
for the nymph makes men forget themselves
here on her island
here in this glittering grey sea
here on this strange and random world
the sun sets but the evening is warm
the man eats cheese and bread
he drinks a deep draught of calypsos wine
her fingers and her dark wine continue to bewitch him
odysseus on the enchanted isle
calypso with her crystal rivulets and her golden loom
her seabirds and falcons
her lovely maids each a different elemental
calypso sings in her unfathomable voice
as she sings we see her songs manifest as foggy images
we smell faint aromas
we taste but distantly ambrosia
the nymph sings
of arcadia of pan of the grape
of wondrous heaven
of zeus' love for mortal women
of the burning cold stars
of sleep
of dream
of mortal mans death
see her dressed in red
her black hair bound back
her amulets of sea silver
her anklets of jade
her ring is a golden skull with sapphire eyes
ardent and immortal witch
odysseus stares out to sea
a medium man in every way

careless whisker

underglass
finalization of the cut
out with the old
in with the pneumatic
torn away
more kilbey...oh no
someone watching me
envying me
cursing me
you know where i am
come on n get me
as if i dont know who you are
you think : oh it couldve been me...
no
no it couldnt have been you
you didnt have what it took
i didnt decide that
everybody else did
its a free market
and frankly you had no marginal utility
you never even knew me
but oh how it must have goaded you to see me rise
and still no one loved you
yes i understand the craving for love
poor you...unadored all these years
how can you bear it?
the weight of all that obscurity
and there he is
your opposite
your opposite in everything
hes reappeared
hes getting the keys to some kingdom
you stewing in your day job
i would be sad but thats what you deserved
many were called but few were chosen
you betrayed yourself
you were not where you wanted to be
i'm sure youd happily forgotten about me
and then
damn it
i was probably stuck in your face
that name going round in your brain
oh my pretty face in a magazine
kilbey says this
kilbey says that
it must have made you fume
but you had no platform
but you had no forum
but you had no listeners except a few bored cronies
theyd heard it all before
and eventually switched off
when you started your rants about me
all that pent up steam!
i wonder at what stage did you realise it was over
and mercifully give up?
i wasnt surprised the first time when it was you hassling me
and i'm not surprised now
you see
if anyone understands envy its me
everyone here knows that
loads of envy festering in me..to my own ruination
how excited you must have been
when you finally found a platform
a platform to tell people that.....
that...
and thats where it kind of went wrong for you
because you realised
well
there really wasnt much to say
youre all jumped up and ready to go
but
jesus
you aint got much information
you dont really know me
you cant really say anything bad about me
but you hang in there
being a mystery sniper over the years....
(pardon me, i'm yawning again)
but you just cant handle it
even after my ups and downs
if you see anyone "loving" me
it incenses you
why?
well its obvious i suppose
you think
why dont they "love" me?
well the reason that they dont
is that youre an anonymous sniper
on someones blogs comments
and that doesnt get much adoration
unless youre really funny....nope
or cute...nope
or even in-the-know...nope
youre a bitter shadow from the past
youre a face accosting me at a mall
this is the difference between us
i went out n made starfish n jack frost n priest n etc
you did a cover version of a 2 chord new wave song
and it was a little dull n dismal
not one person ever adored you for it
let me tell you adoration isnt all its cracked up to be
its fickle
and it bites
and it hurts
and it hurts when its all gone
it wouldnt have suited you
it wasnt on the cards for you
i know it sounds cruel
but im trying to let you off the hook
the hook of your obsessive hatred
let your axe be ground
turn your sword into a ploughshare
just breathe n let it go
forget about me
go gently into that good night
youre alive...rejoice!
maybe theres still hope
now
let it go

null n void

yawn
maybe i am keeping 50 people happy
how many was baudelaire keeping happy?
how many was vincent van go go keeping happy?
at least its 50 more than you ,mr anonymous
there are many ways to measure success and failure
money is one way
hey i made enough money to get here
and never work for the man
and all the ideas i work on are from my own head
i have dreampt up stuff to keep me going
i know you didnt really want an answer
but there you go
i realise your own frustrations cause you to lash out
at people you perceived as being "loved"
sometimes everyone feels like that
your complete lack of talent n your tiny penis have not helped
never mind
you now made the grade
bickering with a washed up rockers die-hard fans
such a hollow triumph
or did you feel good?
meanwhile in bondi
the washed up rocker has celebrated chrimbo too hard
yoga n swimming have been neglected
and lying around groaning is being pursued
i watch my 3 kids take ricky apart on a windy park
at the edge of the great ocean
but i am powerless to help him
as they ride, pummel and buck
eve is really going for it
and the baby runs around squealing in excitement
but im lying on a park bench half asleep
under a grey low sky
i wake up every now n then confused
to see my kids giving ricky a good razz
the kids are all tanned...n evie freckling
scarlet has a golden colour on her face
she truly is the most exquisite kid
she hurts her foot and i carry her
she gives me tiny little kisses
and whispers i love you dad
i say if you keep doing that
i'll keep on carrying you.....
yes
i am proud of my daughters
they are bloody lovely
and unlike me
they get on well with everyone
any one of em
could be a prime minister
or an incredible actress
or a famous artist
or a really good friend
its like nature has corrected all the design errors in me
and got it right in them
less the hostility and bitterness that plagues me
my kids are loved and they know it
thats what i can do for my family
i dont come home drunk n violent
i dont slap their mother about
i dont gamble and play around
i'm there for em most of the time
i wasnt for elli n minna n thats a terrible thing
thats one benefit of being a washed up rocker
no day job
oh i'd take one if i could
yes
to try and get ahead i would
if there was a job i could do
but there isnt
and i'd ruin it for the others working there
so dont wish me on the work force
still
one has to do what one has to do
and i will
(whatever it takes at the time)
blah blah blah
how silly of me to explain myself
as if you dont already know
youd never dare to say these things to my face
because then i'd look you in the eye
and answer you
and you wouldnt like my answer
your advice to me
is like me advising bob dylan what to do
its null n void
itd be like me advising you about your investments
itd be like a herring in the northern sea
telling a panther what to do
a mangy one but a panther none the less
remaining in the ruins of ecstasy
grooving out his terminal buzz
and look
i thought maybe you would understand this
the whales are optional
eject the whales
when youre cruising down a shuddering highway
and your top is rolled down
and youre grooving
suddenly them whales start up
(first thing: are they actually whales?)
second thing : would you rather 20 minutes of silence?)
just eject it
you dont HAVE to listen to em
you got painkiller for 3 bucks
n berate me for it?
as if i fucking care how much you paid for it
i'm busy planning new stuff
im gonna have an exhibition
and every painting will have words n music attached
is that moving on?
i'm working on gb3
im working on k/k
we're finishing the churchs new album
blah blah
you know it all
i fight the good fight
armed with my ideas
i am allowed a little destructive leeway
from my admirers
because i have created so much
but you.....?
cant you see what a fool you are?

boxing day 2008

the day after christmas
whoah!
nk made roast vegan chrimbo dinner
in attendance nelg
thee mr ricky
jlk
ak n ek
lil sk
warm warm night
people out n partying
see guy dancing with/ doing his girlfriend in a window
english kids at the bankomat
talking about cocaine too loud
talking about this n that
greedy killer what have you done
we party on till 6 oclock in the morning
we have a cup of coffee and sit outside
watching the moving jumping stars
we see a guy practicing these waltz steps on his own
we hear someone violently puke
we watch as all the lights go off
only when morning is touching the sky
with her rosy fingers
do we finally retire into the house
nk has her party mix on
i hear autosleeper by chapterhouse
i hear the verve
i hear grants far out corporation
we play black ryders album over n over
the black ryders (unfinished?) album
jesus...its transcendent ...
nk keeps going oh this is my favourite track
and playing them over n over
the black ryder are scott von rypers band
with aimee nash of course(spelling?)
they shoegaze and implode in sweet sweet music
wow we dig this record immensely
its become a firm fave for these intoxi-nites
supplanting even the stooges
there is no higher compliment i think
than to listen to music high
this black ryder is sweet sometimes sickly sweet
its naive and knowing
its innocent and burnt out
things are submarine
theres no clarity
everything floats n wafts or is frazzled
its like an x ray of a rock band
everything appears at once
the record is impossibly "druggy"
without probably ever mentioning it
i cant really hear that much of the singing
its not necessarily necessary
of course thee mr ricky is playing on it too
jesus hes on glen bennies album too
looping and going backwards n all his usual tricks
ricky and i share an aesthetic
we understand
we love
we always using
the drone
that note which goes thru everything
painkiller 2....
scott plays some lonesome lonely slide guitar
hes a subtle kind of guy
softly spoken
a real olde fashioned gentleman
his guitaring seems to partially represent this
maymi on the other hand
a passionate arrogant bloke with conviction
his guitar playing is like that
he and scott n william get all merged up
you cant tell where one ends n the other begins
this delights el maymo
who loves getting lost in the other instruments
maymi n i
we both love stuff like
spaceman 3
spectrum
spiritualized
loop
neu
ride
straitjacket fits
bill nelson
the underground lovers
the triffids
eno n fripp
its not about your prestige on the lead guitar
its about the creation of atmosphere
thats what we do
create atmospheres
painkiller 2 is enough atmosphere to breathe
but be careful
it could make you lightheaded
we attempt to conjure up the feeling
of being out of your mind on dope n speed
or the flickering formless chaos of falling asleep
the acid explosion
the final victory of unconsciousness
rah rah rah!

^*^*^*^*^*^*^* (snow falling on rooftops by sk)

its a lovely day here
nothings ever perfect
but there you go
warm day
its cloudy
a day to drift
flowers
trees
birds
sky
children
its quiet oh so quiet
i wear a flannelette shirt n shorts i cut off from longs
i am tanned n freckly
i type type type
soon will go down the beach
what else can you do on chrimbo day?
watch the paleskinburn
watch the macho ritual
watch the fake tans fake boobs n fake smiles
none of us believe we will ever have to leave
but in one years time who will be left?
i will be in the moment therefore
i will not long for christmas gone
nor some future time when my ship comes in (again)
i will paint n paint
i must paint 30 pics by march
i gotta nexxybishun in pittsburgh
art man technology
yeah...should be able to extrapolate sumthing
painkiller mk 2 is great
a perfect canvas to work on
hey i bet ricky could think up an overdub or 3
paint
painkiller 2
do k/k 2
i dunno
go down beach
loadsa strange types
ugly little geezers with beautiful wives
english tourists wearing santa hats
queueing up for the disco
theyre gonna get sloshed n outta of their skulls
theyre gonna fry n fall in love n wake up feeling sick
theyre gonna jump about to the incessant doof doof doof
as a million twenty sumfings from europa
jam themselves into the pavilion of dreams
the sun beats down hard
the eccy comes on hard
the music is hard
you stumble into the sea youre twenty three
youre from spain or italy
youre in bondi outta your tree
you drinkin' booze you dropped an e
the palm trees are nodding at ya
the sun xrays your soft naive skin
you have everything in a backpack in a locker
your passport
your ticket
your condoms
your money
your good shirt thats nearly clean
your postcard from your dad n sister
your directions to a hostel in the junction
an all day bus pass
someones phone number in manly
a receipt thats unreadable
the sun beats down
much stronger than at home
it beats down through the clouds regardless
it presses on your forehead like a burning iron
the sea is cold and clear
youre not used to the waves
they knock you sideways
you go down easy
the water is salty in your throat
it hurts your eyes and fills your ears
you crawl out
and eventually get back into the dance party
you french kiss some english girl
you give an irish bird a chinese burn
you talk italian n drink scotch
you have a japanese beer with a chinese chick
some hottie gives you the cold shoulder
or was she fainting
the music just pumps on n on
like a huge robotic lover
you cant tell whats happening
people yell in your ear
people crash against you
youre in....where....australia...?!
the worlds gonna end in 4 years...less than that now
its fucking christmas day
youre sunburnt even with yer olive skin
youre wearing a pair of shorts and a fcuk tshirt
your name is julio
or stefan
or jimmy
or moondog
or whatever it is
it doesnt matter any more
it never did
you see that now
nothing matters
but that sun
that music
that stranger kissing you
that sweat soaking your skin
that collective sway n push of the crowd
the
noise
the beer
the e
the confusion
palm trees, clouds
out there families eating christmas dinner
people dying in hospital on xmas day
people working down mines
people blowing up rubber swimming pools
people riding scooters
people skypeing their mum
people sleeping it off
people with aching backs
people with sore throats
people with a good feeling
people listening to painkiller 2
me n ricky listen back to painkiller 2
15 minute
18 minute tracks
it rolls out n on
its like a loada stuff at once
scarlets in the bath playing with her shark set
this aint a shark she says
tossing me the hammerhead
yes it is! i say
no...this is a shark! (holding up the big great white)
yeah yeah
i got a new guitar strap n some candy
ok
might have some right now
ha ha ha
bah humbug!

white hippy moses christmas eve (n aurora) ramble (n rant)

my dearest subjects
and objects
chrimbo is upon us
a time when one reflects upon the events of the year
and reaches for another slice of brandy soaked chrimbo pudding
mmm (burp)
pardon me....
a time to recap
recap any objects you pay have left the cap off of
or recap your cap gun
the cap sat on the map
go cap in hand and head in cap (if theres room)
get caps for your teeth
buy a white hippy moses beard from greedyba$tard @avarice.lime
tomorrow is santas little boys birthday
and everyone will eat roast rain dear
and santa will fly thru the skies on his slay
pulled by a flock of wild turkeys
or is santa slayed by the wild turkey
and dropped all his toys
that man aint getting down my chimney no more
santa claws oooh hes a mean old man
i prefer santa fe
at least they have an "artsy" community there...
me....?
i just noticed that darling scarlet
has scribbled on eves face
that has taken me a long time to do
hmmmmm.....
i rub at scribble hopefully...
nope...its biro n it aint moving!
darn little goose!
scarlet may be the colour of her botty after this.....
(fifty lashes and bread n water)
yeah
anyway
(just letting it go...)
chrimbo chrimbo
when we celebrate with tinsel
which represents our true deep inner feelings
and we chop down small pine trees
to symbolize new life
and we chuck em out on the street 5th of jan
to symbolize the new year
and we eat dead chicken to symbolize merriment
and we kiss aunty maude who we hate
to symbolize chrimbos power
to make you do things you hate
and
we give gifts to celebrate that fellas birthday
only it isnt actually his birthday
it was some other holiday before that
n
someone thought...hmmmm...
these pagan bastards, they really enjoy their winter shin digs
so lets combine it with chrimbo...n it'll be wholly holy (with holly)
(jolly too)
can you imagine being satan claws n being jolly all the fuckin' time?
ho ho bastard ho! whattya want for chrimbo you snotty nosed little brat?
what ? a mega ipod and a full set of gen-o-side war games?
how old are ya? what? 4?
ok can you take a little time to read these conditions?

(in small print)
SANTA CLAUSE 666
THIS PRODUCT WILL MAKE YOU BLIND
AND THEN
ITS GONNA MAKE YOU CRAWL
ITS GONNA MAKE YOU BAWL AND SHOUT
ITS GONNA CAUSE A BLACK SLIMY DISCHARGE FROM YOUR NOSTRILS
IT CONTAINS PIECES OF EIGHT AND TRACES OF JEALOUSY
IT IS 15 CENTS REDEEMABLE IN CAL OR S.A.
IT IS MADE IN GENUINE SWEAT SHOP CONDITIONS
BY TINY TIM-LIKE ORPHANS
USING ALIEN TECHNOLOGY
SUPP LIED BY THE GRAYS TO THE REPTILIANS
FOR PURPOSES
OF BUGGERING UP MOTHER EARTH
PLEASE DRY CLEAN ON BLACK FRIDAYS ONLY
NON TOXIC IF YOURE A SWALLOW(EXCEPT CAPISTRANO)
NO RESPONSIBILITY TAKEN ONLY MONEY
MADE IN KNOCKED DOWN BITS OF THE AMAZON
MADE FROM NARWHALS HORN N SNOW TIGERS BALLS
TESTED ON BABIES N OLD LADIES IN ROMANIAN DUNGEONS
CONTEST NOT OPEN TO FAMILIES OR FRIENDS OF THE FOLLOWING:
VIET CONG
BLACK SEPTEMBER
IRA
MAFIA
JACUZZI
TRIPLE SEC
WHITE SOUP REAMISTS
WEATHERCOCKS
TERRY-ISTS
ROUNDHEADS
BLACK REBEL UNICYCLE CLUB (AND THEIR DAD)
THE TENDER GARDENERS
ANYONE WHO EVER THOUGHT A NAUGHTY THOUGHT ABOUT THE U.S.
ANY COMMIES OR PINKOS
ANY FOREIGNERS OR STRANGERS
ANY ONE WHO HAD A HEART
ANY ONE ELSE NOT ALREADY MENTIONED
GORE FOR DISPLAY PURPOSES ONLY
LAUNCHER SOLD SEPARATELY
NOT RECOMMENDY FOR PACIFISTS OR PESSI-MISTS
NOT FOR SALE IN LEMURIA EXCEPT ON PRESCRIPTION
COMES WITH OWN APPLICATOR IN 3 FLAVOURS
ETC
ETC
I AM A TOTAL DICKNOSE
AND I AGREE WITH EVERYTHING YOU SAY
SIGNED...........
DATED............
WITNESSED.............

you stuff your gifts into someones stockings
and you notice the fairy on the tree is watching you
you kneel and ask mary for guidance
you hear footsteps on the roof
get this!
a cat wearing some kinda paramilitary red n white jumpsuit
is sliding down your chimney
he explodes through your gas heater in soot n sparks n reindeer manure
ho ho bastard ho
its quite a mantra isnt it
chrimbo is a time of festive joyous feelings
but drink plenty of water and take vitaman x the next day
chrimbo is a time of hauling holly to the decks
and gold and the other two things
and orient-r which is a great bar in kilbeyville
and chrimbo is a time of adoration
just find something to adore or to a door
or even to do
chrimbo is a time of flying reindeer and candy cane
so take it seriously
santas flight routes have been approved
however he may bypass turkish kurdish boarders
and drop in on the la hareem club in downtown saudi arabia
give me some speed n give the deer ones some snow
chrimbo is a time of returning unwanted books and
arguing with some toffee nosed git to get a refund
chrimbo is a time of talking to olde grande aunt flo
about her lil' will....
chrimbo is a time of drinking loadsa grog n shlurring yer shpeech
chrimbo is a time of bonging on n on in fronna the telly
n eating toast n corn flakes
while it rains
or bakes
or grimly freezes
your nuts right off yer nutcracker
chrimbo is a time of abject loneliness n being uninvited
(like the freakin' clowns, baybee)
chrimbo is a time of remembering what an utter utter bastard
olde king herod was
hence
hark the herod angels shrink!
and
chrimbo is a time of merriment
thats getting drunk
and its a time of celebration
thats getting drunk too
and forgetting and forgiving
by getting drunk
and remembering.....
um...
and chrimbo is a time of midnight mass
oooh creepy
i wonder if they have any more of that wine there
or those cute little wafers
everyone loves chrimbo especially the tinsel makers
n the candy cane guys
and that sweet fairy among the trees
and the flashing red lights in kings cross
and the lovely decorations in cardboard city
and shanty town
and the ex-cons can be santas too! protesters
and to our lovely land lady
with her strange properties
where everything
goes up n up n up n up
including my chrimbo finger
chrimbo is a time of taking and giving em hell
chrimbo is a few days off work so who cares what it is
chrimbo is me
and chrimbo is you
you giving subscribing donating
to me
go on or i'll tell farther christmas
so the time being can cook his own goose
and the doodles n woofle
get all they deserve
ah!
merry merry chrimbo then
and all through this house
no creature is stirring
not even big fat black cockroach
stuck in a roachmotel
without his credit card
oh deer!
goodnight rudolph
i have a red nose ALL year round!

killer of pain

well
a smallish but enthusiastic crowd
we played well
me raggedly but enthusiastically
we improvised a little more than last time
same set list
well received
very happy tho i wish more there
the wonderful sue c (n husband)
the marvellous iseult
the astonishing big smiles kate
who did indeed have big smiles
the dynamic duo lady di n therese
in matching blue n pink seance shirts
anakki bloody mayhem
(what a little stunner!)
who was sufficiently inspired to
form her own group)
my brother russell (who i slept with)
and lovely amy scully

capt mission
sir david r , prince among accountants
george the handsomest cabbie in the world
petaluma who did my merch
nelg looking healthy
margot smith
a lovely lady who gave me a bottle of jaeger
i wasnt expecting it
and the boys n i sat
absentmindedly drinking the stuff
backstage
and hit the straps half pissed
my bass was outta tune n tuner not working
i made a few mistakes in my half pissed
cookied up, slightly speeding
excited nervous condition
we had some great jams
ricky switched on his raagini
(an artificial tamboura drone)
and i sang hey krishna hey rama
hey vishnu narayana
i felt some energy pour into my sweaty head
little lights lit up on my bass
showing me where to put my fingers
an autocue spewed the words behind my eyes
everything was swimming before my eyes
the band pounded down like a beauty
william bowden...what a find!
scott von ryper ...ditto
ricky maymi who is sick of reading his fuckin' name
on this fuckin' blog....hes a modest guy
but he rocks with a vengeance
he loves anything
droning
surging
modulating
oscillating
echoing
repeating
looping
he is the nazz
and the ultimate good vibes man
scott had a perfect gig from where i stood
i'm not sure what those 2 were doing a lot of the time
but i sure loved it so i let it wash over me
like the shoalhaven river just near braidwood
william called in the random spirits of the air
teepee the drummer
was huge
he did his usual incredible gig
what a drummer!
a rock i could n can depend on
4 very nice human beings
each excelling in some particular area
before the show
i did an interview with noise tv
watch sbs next weekend
i was a little over the top
some of my personae escaped
including
a curt n poufy tv presenter
a drunken scotsman berating the music biz
(complete with bad accent)
a drunken snobby old english git
a fool
an idiot
and a cretinous moron
all gleefully portrayed by moi
my wife was there
she looked beautiful
and was enthusiastic about my performance
and showed her appreciation in many ways
i did ok with merch
but didnt sell many prints
but sold a few cards
unfortunately (holly)
i gave some prints to the band for chrimbo
and one to m kennedy...
other painkiller facts
after strong smell in club
we were told to smoke our dope outside...
we said : we are smoking it outside!
*
for dinner i had bruschetta chips n pumpkin n macadamia soup
ricky scott n william all smoke cigarettes
william n tim like red wine
scott likes beer
i like jaeger
*
according to babysitter
the doodles went down easy
but the woofle batted on
n on n on n on
feeling good n refreshed today
guess what
*
i have 3 cds of new painkiller to listen to
i aint heard it before
this is whole band on second album...raw material
*
jorden brebach did a great mix!
hes also currently mixing new c. album
in his orange room studio in surry hills
*
i incorporated chrimbo carols into some songs
*
i wore a painkiller t shirt
my free david jones jeans
black socks
black boots
black underpants
two gold earrings
an expression of bewilderment
*
my bass being outta tune threw me for a loop
i was confused during first n second song
my e string was miles out
*
we finished on every hour god sends
grant came up with that title
when i was mocking him saying
grant works every hour god sends...that poor man...
he turned it around
it could be the theme song for 21 12 2012
*
i'm goin' swimming now n taking the girls
bye





i

abrasion

deep in the desert
no no no
those mad singing women
the congas
the bongoes
the rainsticks
the rippling electric piano
the real piano as if submerged
the sand slowly fills up the glass
dont try n understand me
oh you never will
let me wash over you like the shoalhaven river
let my words hold you up
let me drive for a hundred miles deeper
take me back in time oh i know you cant
i feel alone in the crowd
i dont know how they stand it
i walk along with my shadow in the mesa
i talk to myself as i drink from my canteen
i try to learn to play the bass again in my bedroom
i try to remember english and how it is spoken
i get stoned with ricky but hes lost in his loop
am i a musician
am i a tragedian
am i an olde insane childe
whispering my imaginary friends name through my beard
my fingers and my throat get sore
what do these words n notes mean
which kilbey chose em n why
i am disconnected
i am not at home
i grin like a fool but i'm empty as a shell can ever be
my friends at the pool
miha as good king wenceslas
cam as billy the fucking kid
mark as an alchemist or apothecary
eddie as amazonian shaman
mick as confucious
paul as one of the earps
everyone as someone else
everything out of place n dislocated
the wind blows down hard on eden
i type n type but i dont say much
i struggle to resume consciousness
i fathom the metric system
i just put anything down at all
its easy go on try
i hear thunder on a quiet day
sydney , goodbye, i cant go on anymore
cable schmabel
pick me up in the air waves to night
i am always here
i am never there
please
your response is un needed
go on
say something
evaporate
or go bust

paladin

hold him down boys
c'mon give us some truth
another voice : tell us something we dont know
yet another voice : ...n we might letcha go.....
ok
ok ok
i am a free lance unemployed renaissance man
i was born in 1954
gee that makes me.....
voice : old!
the early years of my life were uneventful
apart from several bank robberies
2 revolutions
and a volcano
things were pretty much the same as all kids
i worked down the mines and i drank whisky
voice : c'mon we already know all this...!
i am the 1st son of a 1st son of a 1st son
i bank with the riverbank
i shop at the enchanted hollow tree
i write songs about the time and the distance
voice : which time....which distance...?
well err uh....there are many times
8.11 in the morning for example....
or 1492
when columbus sailed the ocean turquoise
and the distance is
the distance between you and me
i mean you metaphysically
not literally
and by literally i mean....
voice : tell us about your little gang
what....?
another voice : tell us about david neil.....
yet another voice : and your sister kathy...
ok ok
you see its a mild morning here
voice : and....?
and small fluffy clouds ponce about in the sky
while the effeminate sun hides coquettishly behind
the pink pink pink moon
voice : this had better be leading somewhere, kilbey...
yes and the palms are chattering their teeth
and a cactus has gone in for a towel
the sandy soil whistled in a gravelly voice
another voice : tell us about the south american warlords son....!
oh yeah he's harmless
voice : we hear hes carrying a ragini and a stylophone these days
another voice : jesus boss, this guy has a stylophone...?
voice : thats right....isnt it, kilbey...
yet another voice : tell us bout the vampyre...
another voice : and the scientist....
voice : and the whales too...where did you meet them
another voice : are you aware that a mr simon polinski
of some leafy suburb, melbourne
is under house arrest
and has signed a sworn confession : ie
fucking kilbey fucking did it! the utter bastard....!
voice : you better come clean, mister
ok ok
this is the truth
i am an alien
i never wrote utmw
it is the national anthem of my people, the xanxians
who live in a far corner of the sky
(some of us have round shoulders)
i cant remember if i cried
when i read about his winnowed bride...
voice : this is more like it...
i raised by a gas gas gas
in the year 2525 if man is still alive
we got 4 years TODAY!
exactly
4 years stuck on your eyes
here comes that rainy day feeling again
and if your love is true
i will give to you
every part of me
voice : we can use this....
going to the movies only makes me sad
fixing a hole in the ocean
i feel just like jesus son
jesus christ superstar
away in a manger
a crib for a bed
when i'm rushing on my run
over fields we go
laughing all the way
its my life
and
its my wife
tell my wife i love her very much
she knows
something in the things she shows me
and i really dont care anymore
following yonder star
little jesus are you watching me?
its becoming very clear
that you shouldnt be here....
round yon virgin
mother n child reunion is only a motion away
in a manger
little lord jesus laid down his sweet head
but he never lost his head
lying in the dark like an angel on my chest
i tell myself i am the cosmos
i am the october man i dream of many things
i saw three ships go sailing by
i sing the body electric
i am i am i am
voice : go on..are you getting all this, brad..?
a white moon appeared
watching the whole world
through the peculiar hole in the sky
you see this sky
this skies in love with you
scuse me while i kiss this sky
look at the stupid girl
shes like somewhere over the rainbow
something in the way she moves
she moves through the fair
she dont belong here anymore learn this the hard way
she aches just like a woman with a reason
may nothing you dismay
jesus christ was born today
jesus christ was born
voice : thats probably enough...
until the 12th of never
goodbye goodbye goodbye
voice : its not what you say..
gazing at you i see the heat

another life

voice of another kilbey
whisper whisper whisper
fragment of fictional memory
what is lurking beneath ordinariness
kilbey lost his mind
i have commandeered this page
i am not him
he is not me
there are millions of us in every direction
kilbeys to kingdom come on
as far as the I can see
tragic isnt it
the mechanistics are in place
the stars are aligned
the scorpion will move into the crab
the lion will lay down on the lam
one and only kilbey
no he has split up now
no one reads on saturday
the sound of the wind in a letterbox
people leave in a hurry
the holidays stretch on ahead
they will roll in the surf
they will fuck in hotels
they will drink in the hot black australian night
they will drive on lonely roads
they will be stuck in traffic
they will swell out and disperse
they will play cards at night in caravans
they will argue with the sunburnt landlords
they will stop for fuel and a piss
they will stop n look at scenic spots
my dad will be out there driving
somewhere in melbourne
asking for directions to a moorabin he can never seem to find
and grant will be sittin' at a bar drinking his long island tea
and david mccomb will be sitting in a hot room writing some song
about how his baby has disappeared into the bush
and mozart will be checking in to his room at batemans bay
and paul klee will be cruising down the great ocean road
kilbey youre losing it mate
kilbey to earth
everything coated with fuzz or scum
a caramel coating dipped with angelfruit
yeah oh i forgot
lemuria
how are the rents there these days?

one door closes....another door opens...(....says kilbey...hopefully)

i been living here in bondi 6 years now
and although i got used to the "glamour"
i got used to the squalor too
i got used to living in a substandard grotty place
with no garden...just a concrete yard
with windows that dont open prop'ly
with no water pressure
with a small 3 bedroom apt
on paper thin floor boards
so you can hear everything downstairs
(n boy how loud it must be for them:
the doodles must sound like stampeding buffalo
when theyre running around)
im used to it being blasting hot in summer
i'm used to freezing my what -nots off in winter
and huddling round the oven to get warm
i been used to the incessant cockroaches n ants n mozzies
i been used to the worn out carpet n linoleum
i been used to the noisy buggers below n next door
and i been considerate not to blast music at odd hours
(except the other night when the gutter twins came on
full bore at 2 in the morning...it was the alarm on my pod!)
yeah its a grotty place we been living
no storage no built in wardrobes no nothing
a horrible dishwasher we never use
but
i had the pool
and
the pool
and
the pool
oh how i love the pool
yes i do
i do love that pool
i love the water
i love the sauna
i love all my mates n the old blokes
i love the deep endorphin hit of twenny laps n a sauna
i love walking there across the beach
yeah i love it
it has re shaped n defined me
but
a couple of days ago
i got a letter in the mail
from the real estate office
they have been instructed because of rising prices
in all sectors
to raise the rent
70 dollars a week!
my grand total now being with garage about $666 a week
(its true)
660 bucks for a very mediocre little dump
a nice balcony
a nice sunroom
but.....660 bucks...?!
and to let us know the week before christmas...
its real fucken scrooge material, isnt it?
(the lady aint no christian (literally n figuratively))
shes gotten greedy
oh well
thats her problem
i aint paying 666 bucks a week
for this
especially cos i am about to start paying off le tax homme
at some crippling weekly rate
and i still neeed a new car
and i need prescription glasses
(remember i left mine in a cab after tibet do?)
and we all need to see le tooth quack
you know
all that regular family stuff
and quite frankly
seventy bucks a week for this joint
is the nail in the coffin of this episode
even if mr joe wealthy or rich subscriber
piped up
n said
i';ll pay that extra seventy
i'm still moving out
i been squeezed out
i'm a statistic
a rent payer squeezed out of sydneys east subs
i check the internet
what else can you get round here for 666 bucks
not too bloody much
2 bedroom flats
or tiny dingy 2 bedroom terraces...if youre lucky
at least my current place had some views
n it was full o' light
so where else can i fucking live
yes i could move down the coast n drive into syd
or up the coast
but i wanna
but i needa city
sometimes
i dont wanna be in some little parochial town
where me n natalie are the weirdest parents at school
but
adelaide.....nah
perth...nice but too far away
darwin.....not for me
canberra....yawn..i neeed the sea!
brissie....i like but too hot for nk
well lets see
hmmm
i spent some time in melbourne
gee i always liked it there
specially bayside
i got my polinski in melbourne
i got my sam s
i got my sarah l
i got my donald b
i got my glen bennies
i got my martin kennedys
i got my golden memories of moorabin days
and cakey with uncle cyril n auntie eve in acland st
i get on the net
wow
just to get some idea of rents
jaysus christ!
you can rent a 3 or 4 bedge house
with gardens n ac n heating n garage n
all the blah blah blahs for under 500 a week
and if i ever do get my deposit together
you could afford to buy something reasonable
and its bayside right
the sea air
it aint the surf
but its the sea, aint it
yeah them leafy quiet suburbs next to the bay
a new career in a new town
bondis spitting us out
i just cant pay thru the nose for a dump
i see the lovely gardens in bayside real estate
my kids come n google properties with me
they were sad about leaving
but now theyre real excited
ooohing n cooing
as we look at the nice places available
for much much less then here in bondi
with its ten million backpackers
with its ten million dog poos
with its brazilian gangsters n russian mafia
n with its blow-ins n its ten million dress shops
i'm getting out of this incessant sun
maybe i'll go white again...
n guess what
as an added bonus
thee mr ricky is threatening to move there too
so uh
thats it
i'm gonna try n make this happen
quick!
ps
i also saw the triffids film
its great
but i'm a bit miffed
there should have been a bit more of me
they edited out a couple of vital songs
it pissed me off!
my voice is shot but i'm very animated
and ....
hey
i'm letting that go too
along with the greedy uncharitable landlady
(a monster of dickensian proportions)
and i'm gonna do something new
i hope
i hope escape bondis orbit intact
i ve had enough
and enough equals enough, right?
in spades

time being notice

not feeling that creative
gonna have a few days off
see you soon
kilbey

dispelled

only we werent walking through trees
we were walking past buildings
we were walking through the busy streets of some city
some heartless cruel city
which had sprung up in the darkness
a city driven by a tyrant
a despot
an impostor
men appeared out of doorways
whistling at my sister
then as i watched kathy started to grow
i was still a boy
but kathy began to grow up
swarthy faces appeared grinning
a sailor spat in the gutter
an old man made a suggestive gesture with his fingers
no kathy i said please dont look
kathy was no longer listening to me
as i watched her breasts sprouted and grew
her clothes changed
her hair became lighter in some strange style
she wore high heeled shoes and carried a handbag
her lips were red
her eyes were huge and dark
no kathy i said...stop this!
she wasnt even listening
she couldnt even see me anymore in the hustle bustle
i pulled at her hand
i noticed her nails were painted a bright pink
she wore gaudy rings
kathy! i shouted
she turned to me slowly
as if she had great difficulty in seeing me
she looked down
oh kathy whats happened to you
she regarded me with some distant pity
go home now she said...this is no place for a childe
she let go of my hand
and she drifted away through the crowds
already talking to some gentlemen
in one minute she was gone
i was alone in this terrible place
where every face was hard or sad or angry
the people all pushed past me
wherever i stood i was in someones bloody way
the people cursed at me and each other
they mumbled and stumbled
they limped and struggled
they wandered mindless
madness was in the air
the people clutched their dirty cloaks
and shivered in their greatcoats
they smoked foul pipes and drank from metal cans
the women were all brassy artificial and frightening
the men were all cowardly misshapen and brutal
the few children as i saw were miserable wretches
hiding in shadows
running out to snatch up bits n pieces of refuse
this is bad magic i shouted out
no one heard me
no one cared what i thought
i looked in a window
row upon row of people sat
working away on screens
that flickered in front of them
i saw columns of numbers
i saw naked men and women doing unspeakable things
i saw pictures of buildings coming down in flames
mountains spewing fire into the sky
waves rolled down on towns
the wind and rain lashed out like tormented fiends
i saw men fighting and people cheering
i saw men arguing in a great room
i saw the usurper upon his throne
smiling kindly while his eyes were dead
i saw beasts devour each other
i saw a lioness eat her young
men spearing huge fishes that screamed in pain
a pack of men chasing a disc and battering each other
horses reared up throwing their black riders
things fell from the sky
the people kept touching the screens and the pictures changed
a grim looking man got up from his seat
he walked out the door
he said to me
pointing at his screen
go on boy
i have twenty minutes left on that
go on you can use it....!
i went in and sat down at the screen
i touched it
and it sprang to life
a black screen with white letters
the dark picture of a man playing a strange instrument
in greenish letters stood
BEING IN TIME
underneath that
a heading
expelled

inside

everything was happening too fast
the countryside moved by like a mechanical backdrop
when will it stop? whispered kathy
i couldnt answer her
i didnt know and i was feeling too sick
we were travelling over mostly empty terrain
scrubby trees and sparse yellow grass
we saw a fox pass beneath us once
and an old man walking a dog
we saw a river suddenly loom
then snatched away by the distance
we collided with a hill
and both tumbled together
the breath knocked out of us
we sat up
looking around
gasping
we were engulfed in a juicy black night
out of nowhere
evening had ridden in
warm and spicy
are we in wales? kathy asked
i took her hand in mine
i squeezed her soft little fingers
i looked around at the palms softly moving
in the most delicious breezes
just over the ridge
the rolling surf gently pounded
we could hear exotic birds calling
in the falling darkness
yes
i said
this must be wales....
lanterns hung in the trees
the sound of a fiddle and laughter
we walked through the trees
kathy and i
magicked i supposed
someones put a spell on us she said
soon enough we came to a table of little men
they were sitting and drinking and arguing
all dressed in green and grey like the trees
one by one they became quiet as they saw us
and they sat still and wide eyed watching us carefully
kathy said
good evening little men
my name is kathy and this is my brother...
i bowed low
my lords....
the little men laughed at this
emboldened kathy went on
we believe we have been magicked here
and we were wondering if this is wales...
the little men talked among themselves briefly
and one of them stood up
his voice was rich and musical
he spoke with a strange lilted accent
no childe this is not wales
nor is it any land you have ever heard of
and yes childe
you must be magicked if you are standing there
as you surely are
because i can see you, cant i?
he sat down again
and the little men seemed to lose all interest in us
we wandered on reluctantly
kathy thought it was rude to linger any longer
she pulled me after her
we walked away among the trees
we thought of dad
waiting for us to come home
we thought how worried he would be
tiny tears shone in kathys eyes
dont be scared i told her
i'm just thinking about dad she said
we walked on
we felt we must
away from the sound of the rolling sea
away from the sound of the little men and the fiddle
into the trees
until we were deep
inside

hope less hope

for a free piece of time being cake
send 1000 dollars to me now
inside stamped addressed envelope
your cake will be delivered c.o.d.
or maybe w.h.i.t.i.n.g.
do you have call whiting?
all that sweet green icing flowing down.....
wow
its a windy day here at the wo-mansion
well blow me down with a feather
its sunday
i am still alive (somewhat)
travelling in another place
in the middle of the night
fleeing romance for a breather
i stood n saw
the stars soar across our midnight sky
the moon harnessed to a chariot of clouds
she bestrode that black night a pink empress
the moon rolled thru the night
and appeared naked and unashamed
before all her subjects
an excerpt from a reawakened life
a seamless join
like real upon real upon real
life rewards and punishes
winning streaks
losing swirls
gaining n losing its all illusion
figures moving in columns
numbers
one for the angry sea
two for the burning tree
three for the black n empty hole
four for the fading names
five for the crying shames
six for the fix you nix in the mix
copyright greedy sod publishing 2012
dec 21
gonna end it
the two towers
the planes are.....missiles....
the people scream why ? why? why?
the puppetmaster understands their need
will we collide with mars?
voice : yes
what will happen to all my plans?
voice : your plans...ha ha ha....
just over 4 years to go then.....?
voice : 4 years stuck on your eyes
the falcon has been taken from the falconer
the centre cannot hold
the arms cannot hold
the eyes cannot see
what will life be like without us?
voice : who can tell?
stunned i sit backstage caressing my axe
yellow fingers reach out of the sun
the stars seem to pitch and fall
and lo :
the first angel appeared blowing a silver trumpet
and the angel said : see.....i am come....
and he reached into the ocean
and he summoned out the serpent
which came out of the depths in living fire
and it vomited out a black cloud
and the cloud squeezed the sun
squeezing out starblood
and the people still prayed to mammon
whose name is lush
represented by number 11
originating in the east a great storm
and the angel shuddered
crying :
oh that it had to come to this...!
nostradamus sitting in a bar reading his stars
no more queens
no more popes
no more.....
i weep for rome
i weep for babylon
i weep for berlin
i weep for los angeles
i weep for the children
our children
waking up one day without a world
whose fault is all this?
voice : yours!
i should have done something
i should have done something
i must not let the world die
i must not let the world die
next time i will see
next time i will see
will our souls disappear out of this world?
will we the living get the same deal?
will i burn or freeze or freeze to burn?
where can i hide?
voice : nowhere!
what can i do?
multitude of voices : help us help us!
bang! we're all gone
swallowed up
unmade
done in
put down
over n out
is this true?
voice : it is inevitably true
man....that really sucks!

automatic writing

people complain n complain
this was this
that wasnt that
i wonder what really happened
people say i'm leaving......
leaving where?
there is nowhere here to leave
its just the words of an old n weary rocker
tattooed on the black sky
my little diary if you please
type type type
foolishness
nescience
self obsessed twaddle
why read it?
why read it?
why read it?
what do you expect from kilbey?
this is all he gives
words
words
more
words
if kilbey didnt exist
a random word generator
programmed up on kilbeys vocabulary
could spit this stuff out
just like all them computer programmes
where they fed in the beatles
but i'm still waiting to hear the song that came out
aint it incredible
its 2008 n i write this stuff
and guys all round the world read it 2 seconds later
sitting here in hyper downtown virtual nth bondi
it rained hard all night
this morning is warm tentative n tender
this smorning hollow like the trojan horse
filled with some invasive future
thats gonna jump out n sack my city
king priam says we can get back in the game
but man
that helen is a hot number if you like spartans
yeah we all gonna die for some pretty ladies face
did you guys know that
aphrodite appeared in the thick of battle
to spirit paris out of the fray
diomedes saw her and stabbed her fucking wrist
he stabbed the goddess of loves wrist
i wonder how well he did with the ladies after that
i bet he could walk in a brothel covered in gold talents
and he still wouldnt get a root...
ah those were the days
i pray to the goddess saraswati
goddess of art and tempeh burgers
i pray like this :
oh most gorgeous goddess
please allow me to become
the most successful artist since
salvador muhammed dali...
i was in sauna the otherday
there was a woman in film industry
i say oh i'm watching such n such a series
she says: oh i could have done that better
and
oh yes
i could rewrite shakespeare so much better
i couldve written all that stuff by mozarthoven much better too
n all them beatle songs
yeah i could have
its all academic
its all fucking moot
anyone could do anything
you might write utmw again if you like
or do what i would have done
given other circumstances etc
me ...i'm kilbey
i do what kilbey does n no other
i am the best n the worst
you know all that jive
go n look around
there aint no others out there
theres no comparison
theres no reason to get all excited
yeah
i just write whatever comes into my head
and a lotta stuff comes into my head
i got my feelers out
people come n go
thats ok
use what you want n leave the rest
the whales sang on my song
gee they made a mess of the studio
all those fuck-ing plankton dealers hanging abaht
the whale said killer
killer : whale...?
whale : ok before we start singing mister, know this
some of us get paid in krill
some of us in fish
we are not gonna sing unguarded dolphin
or use any japanese microphones
and er...no sperm whale jokes, ok?
but bloody polinski
he had dugongs n manatees
all of them cetaceans
crowded in a vocal booth
the right wales were so self righteous
the humpbacks parked in the disabled spot
the blue whales were kinda sad
the sperms all called moby dick (!!??)
the bottlenosed whatnots were all pissed
the big one with the horn...whats 'e called again?
(someone somewhere else : a narwal)
he was doing the falsetto bits
just before the five hundredth drop of rain hits
i was down in some sea
dontcha see?
i was in the ocean
i was swimming along with my pod
i was big and cold and serene
and ya see
we were all singers
and we were all singing these beautiful songs
one off improvisations around a theme
how i loved my little she whale n my lil calf
how we sang n we dived n we listened
we listened to other whales far far away
their voices flowing thru the resonant etheric water
their songs mingling with other songs
once sung it goes on forever
we pick them up
amend them
bend them
make them an ode to bliss
or an elegy for a gone friend
and i'm steve kilbey inside a whale
yeah you know that story too
i was jonah
i still am
why cant i do what it seems i must do?
i dont even fucking know what it is
someone in next room :oh yeah you do
meanwhile
its 10 00
i would like to knight sir david r
and sir john t
arise good men n join me round the round table
guineverre is in a frisky mood
and i dont like to lance a lot
the key to the chastity belt doesnt fit
i already tried
the saxons are invading whales
the all sing n bear gifts from greeks
kilbey writes his diary
there is no right or wrong
i can appropriate jim morrison
or lindy morrison
or apollo the far-sighted
i can write whatever i like
look
uh....
well....
anyway
thats how it all happened
thats why if the australian navy
sent a fucking torpedo right up the next whalers botty
well...i for one would cheer
one just doesnt kill whales anymore
theyre singers!!
i mean
WTF?

Esponja De Arte

uh huh
i cracked the sea
it looks a little like draped material
but it is the sea
i just looked long long long n hard
i started in a corner with a solitary ripple
n i drew each bloody line or i erased it away
my sea will do
my sea will be just fine
phew!
tibor got dragged away to his death
by a scrap metal man
nk n lil sk watch teary eyed from the window
dad...? says lil sk...whats wrong with tibor..
well darlin' ...i say
as they pull his hub caps off n thread a huge ugly chain
through his soft familial cabin...
well darlin'....tibors been a good car...
...and we all loved him....
...i loved 'im more than anyone....
....but you see ...
theres this highway in the sky....
and by tea time tibor will be cruising it
his cd player will be pumping the gutter twins
where cars never run out of petchrul
n never over-heat
n never blow their head gaskets....
there is a groan as they winch tibor aboard
the big truck
he swings uncertainly in the air...
oh god his wheels go round searching for purchase
the men struggle with tibors mighty bulk
pushing n pulling him
at each new insult nk n lil sk softly moan
finally they get him lashed down
a man walks around doing something
oh no exclaims nk
there is a hiss n tibor lurches down...
theyre letting down his tires...she says teary eyed
the truck drives away through the rain
tibor bound n defeated....does he still feel pain?
i see my stupid bumper stickers disappear for the last time
"no fat blokes"
cleverly driving around pissing off half the geezers in australia
although bondi contains many fine specimens
the hinterlands are populated by lotsa blokes
eating lotsa cheesy wheezie
n drinking lotsa beery weary
n doing no exxy-size at all
they have become fat blokes
in other languages rendered thus
der grossen schwine-belly
los bastardos de blubbero
or simply
le grande splodge
anyway no insulting stickers for tibor 2
if there ever is a tibor 2, that is.....
ricki came over n i showed him some of my jack frost in usa 1991
i have 8 hours of vid im threatening to make into dvd
i play ricki the bit where our hapless t.m.
is hopelessly lost in the middle of some sorta turnpike ballsup
hes trying to make a call on a call box but the phones arent working
or he cant find any change
or he keeps dialling the wrong number
(no mobile phones in 1991, folks)
i'm filming him
i'm filming him on the side of a huge freeway
cars n trucks whizzing by in the rain in all directions
i'm laughing and cackling like a fiend from hell
at all his misfortunes
the guy is a strange lugubrious guy with thick feminine lips
n blinking hurt eyes like a cow
but he cant take a fucking trick
he sticks his last quarters in the last phone box
the quarters drop
he turns to me n winks
ah success...
hello ...says a voice
the t.m. nods at me n smiles
hello he says
is this radio knqr point 99?
(we were sposed to be doing an interview there)
he waits confidently for the answer
it comes
no!
oh...he says
they hang up
but he goes on saying something to the phone
i start cackling like a 3 year old moron
mclennan sits in the back o' the car
so fucking imperiously
he smokes a cig
and waves the smoke out the window
in small precise hand movements
like a prince dismissing an unfavourite courtier
i report on our lack of progress
giggling n carrying on like an obnoxious prick
"we're lost...giggle giggle
none of the phones work
hes got no more quarters..giggle giggle"
mclennan is not amused
he sits in a cold rage
disgusted by this jokers lack of wherewithal
is that camera on ? he hisses at me
as he puffs furiously on his peter stuvyesant
the dopey tm gets back in the car
grant is sitting looking at this huge fucking map
of new york phiilly n baltimore n all its highways
do you know where we are ? asks the dopey one hopefully
yes... says grant pointing to the middle
where a thousand complicated lines n symbols converge
..we're somewhere here!..he says jabbing at the confusion
n thrusting the map at the guy as a wrinkled up ball
me?
i go on filming n giggling
the guy goes on bumbling n stumbling
grant goes on silent n fuming
finally i try to film from the car
through the miserable drizzling rain
as the hapless tm in a booth
bashes a dead telephone down
over n over n over
in a senseless bloodthirsty rage..
when we finally arrive at the station
hours n hours late
its a little cottage in the middle of a fucking forest
im giggling
grant is fuming
the guy is bumbling
wow
this has gotta come out
in between you'll hear us playing some songs
and goofing off
grant regaling us with tales
me being me
a real turkey....before my great fall
gee
my hair looks good tho...

Der Kunstchwamm

painting a picture
painting a picture of me n eve on a boat
sailing outta sydney
yeah yeah yeah
me n eve are relatively easy
evies characteristic eyebrows n eyes
her thick curly hair being blasted back by the wind
she grimaces almost as the boat moves thru the chilly air
me..i got my raybans on standing behind her
all well n good
the city in the distance
yeah
represented by a few vertical splodges of pastel
give em some windows n some doors
give em some light on one side
some differences in height
try to make it seem that some buildings are behind others
i guess thats the trick
to imply depth
to imply life
to imply a complete story
if this painting ever hangs on a wall
and if people ever stop to ponder it
it should have a few things up its sleeve
a few surprises
some eye candy
some inspired technical prowess
some different looking surfaces
i'm not sure what any of this will be yet
i'm just trusting in the process
(new agers can call this the universe)
i believe the process will reveal bit by bit
a map of how to complete the painting
i will muddle away until i think of something
now not having done lots of skies
n not too many seas
i see
how hard skies are
n how much even harder is the sea...or water generally
at first i had a pastel sea
my sea was green n grey n white pastel
swirled together "intuitively" to look like the sea
it didnt look anything like the sea
there were some nice patterns
soft patterns
the pastels can be smudged around with yer finger
some really juicy creamy ones will go a long way
you just move it all about with your fingers
go out n buy yourself some pastels nice paper
n a little soft rubber (thats eraser to you, mr humphries)
rub the pastel about on the paper
now put your finger in it
and smear it around
now take yer eraser n rub it away
oh ho
you see
you can rub into it
you can adjust how much you wanna take away
by how much pressure you apply to eraser
et voila
i reckon this is the easiest way to do a painting there is
but
yet
my sea was lacking
bigtime
my sea did not look like the sea in photo i'm painting from
my sea was kinda mellow
the real sea was choppy n sharp
with this certain pattern of light n shade n waves n ripples
that characterizes the sea definitively
i was failing to get in the hard egdes n sharp shadows
the pastel couldnt/wouldnt give it
picking up a slightly wrong sized paintbush
and after having fixed the pastel
i attempted to paint in some choppiness
the marine blue dried much lighter than it had looked
the shadows became too colourful
they were the wrong shape
why did i have the wrong sized paintbrush
in the mess of my room
i couldnt find the right sized one
a tiny little transparent detailer
i picked up another strange brush
one i have only recently begun to use
a long thin brush with very few hairs
i tried to do some white foam
i had the white gouache paint quite watery
i naively hoped it would form some watery pattern
but it just looked kinda messy
n unlike the sea
which was quite precise
you can stare at the sea or a photo
for ages n ages
but it wont mean you can crack the code of its pattern
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
you can stare at the sea but can you paint it?
my long thin brush had wrecked the havoc
i even tried some iridescent pastel
hoping you know
it would glitter like the water
but nope
and it schmeared all over the place
coating everything in a dull unsealike razzle
i decided to paint the whole sea in
marine blue with a little black
to darken it up
(im sure thats not a good way to do it)
so i fixed it
got out a big thick brush
splodged it on
covered it up
a greenish blueish solid thing
well yes
this has potential
the sky is all soft shapes
mauvey grey n lemon yellows
let the sea be hard...or something
my eyes fall on a paintbrush i hadnt ever used before
about 4 years ago i got a set of brushes as a present
some i still had not got around to using
this one is the opposite of the the long thin one
its got a fan shaped wedge with numerous stiff little hairs
(simmer simmer)
i paint a little patch of marine blue on some olde cardboard
i put the strange brush in some white
and in up n down strokes i do a naive wave formation
it looks good on the cardboard but alas
on the big patch of sea on my painting it looks rotten
and thats where it stands right now
i gotta consider the sea some more
work harder on understanding its pattern
its very elusive

steve klee-bee

just what this world needs : another blog......

(in a bit of a bind
no one understands me
so why am i telling you....?)

is it wednesday already....wow
is it december already....wow
is it hot enough for ya?
gee its been a great year here at ttb
bill higgins won employee of the month
and mrs newton in accounts daughter had a baby boy
congratulations to all
reggie n the boys in the service department
had a great family picnic day last week
it was no coincidence reggie won the spoon race :
his mother janet tompkins ran the cutlery section at fossies for years!
some olde ttb staffers got together at the bull n cricket pub
and over a shandy( or 2 !) roger muller
entertained us with stories of the old storeroom on watkins st
while
mrs colin ferguson regaled us with tales of serial number mix ups
(before computers made her redundant, that is!)
and lizzie n some of the other typists tried their hands at darts
(maude got a triple 6)
now its the crazy season starting here at ttb
everyones wearing santa hats as we count down the days
lets have a safe holiday:
all ttbers are pointing their scissors at the floor
and not running if carrying them
(or a sharpened pencil)
this year we've only ordered 2 christmas trees
and pleased to say we've nabbed a rare type of pine for the office do
once home to the now extinct jub jub bird
which sadly died out when its natural habitat
was knocked down for christmas trees
young william in the mail room
is a fierce "eco-warrior" insisting on recycling his paddlepop sticks
and brad and gerald from internal affairs
have put their eggplants in a nursery
some big nights on the calendar coming up
the 22nd of dec
i'll be hosting my traditional drinks with the chairman
in the board room (second door to left after laundry)
please rsvp my secretary or give your pledge
to mrs jenkins in reception
young sally shirley needs a ride to do kinkos
cant young simon in the mail room give her one?
jackie davis in the library has a doily for sale
and my goodness me
look at the time
7 30 in the morning here ttb time
gosh!
we'll be opening the doors soon...
have to get my uniform on
cant be slack you know
an example to set
rah rah rah!
ah here comes our first customer now.....

ever endless spool of words

you know i could be happy
if that damned shark hadnt bitten off my leg
if that bloody snake hadnt poisoned me
if that eternal revenue hadnt repossessed my son
if that bastard hadnt stolen all my songs n
repaid me by burning me at the stake
if i hadnt been braised by a toothy beardless wag
if i listened
if i watched
if i'd applied myself more at school
headmaster : why dont you apply yourself, boy
kilbey : with what applicator , sir?
headmaster : youre green and wet behind the ears, lad
kilbey : am i a pleasie-o-saw, sir?
headmaster : are you a half-wit, boy?
kilbey : no sir, i'm a full one
headmaster : you need the cane, lad
kilbey : yessir! research has shown painful impact
on the fingers including burst blood vessels n bruising
can improve cognitive function and neural response time!
headmaster : hold your hand up,BOY!
hold your hand up, BOY!
hold your hand high!
kilbey picks up his aria violin bass guitar
and el kabongs the principal (on principle)
the head weilds the cane like errol finn
hes quite a fencer
kilbey leaps about destroying the heads memorabilia
with mighty swathes of his guitar
smash go the old photos of the head as a boy
in his winning rowing team
smash go the trophies from eton
bash goes the photo of his porky grandson
the deputy rushes in with his cane
kilbey is now fighting off 2 senior teachers n the janitor
single handedly he manages to get the MC5 on the school p.a.
UP AGAINST THE WALL MOTHERFUCKERS sing the MC5
which must have been the 1st time most people had heard
the oedipal conjunctive
(this really happened at lyneham high, someone put
that record on the p.a....it played full blast
for about 1 n a half minutes
before it was switched off;
the perpetrators were expelled)
then
with my swinging bass
i liberated class after class
who burst hungrily from their classrooms
swarmed to the music room
and arming themselves with instruments
reeked havoc
kilbey kilbey kilbey! they all roared
i leaped up on the podium
in the ass-emblee room
and i boldly took the mike in the jim
or was it the jim in the mike
or was he on the tramp at the time
anyway
this is what i said
o children of a lezzy god
we are the fewcha
yes today we have won a small victory
(is this its taste?)
voice in crowd : no, that was half a vegemite roll...
kilbey : ah...but we must be alert
(we need more lerts)
(coughing...becoming serious, now)
i will lead you to the land of milkshakes n honeybuns
i am the teen mess higher
i am the nazgulrene
i am i am i am...
the crowd : are you?
kilbey : yes i am
as i stand here
with the flower of the education department vanquished at our feet
amidst the busted euphoniums n ruined bass drums
yes i am sent victorious noble and quite quite glorious
but
the sickroom is filled with our injured
and
we have seized the tuckshop
fryer tuck has been deposed
here...free half vegemite rolls for all
(cheers)
the teachers common room is awash in the tyrants tears
oh we have crushed babylon...!
the boys roared and stamped
the girls fainted and screamed
such was my personal empowerment on that day
now
(i said)
now i must go up onto mt ainslie
to talk to g.h. over
to obtain the deckalog
the tencom mangoes
alone i walked for many minutes
up up up into the cloudy heights
where no man had ever trod
past the scenic lookout
past the j.m. waddlespoon memorial picnic tables
past the dumping of rubbish strictly forbidden sign
(and all the rubbish under it)
past the carpark full of stationary bouncing panel vans
past the slippery when wet sign
(ritchie sambora shooting holes in it)
and up
to
the very
summit
1,778 centimetres above see level
in the pines
(in the pines)
above the twee line
and i called out
show yourself
i must needs see your face
voice from heaven : hang on, hang on....!
sound of toilet flushing n kettle boiling
kilbey : god!
god : yes, my son
kilbey: no i was just saying god! cos a mozzie bit me
god : a moslem, my son? then dont blame me....
kilbey : why didJa make em?
god : no that was Al R. ......
kilbey : no...the mozzies....!
god : oh...uh....well it cant be all good, can it?
kilbey : do You love teenagers, God?
god : i am a teenager myself, my son
kilbey : then reveal Thyself...
god : you are not ready for My glory, sunshine
kilbey : c'mon....
suddenly the creator filled the sky with his visage
he was a handsome hip cat with a feather cut n skull earrings
he was smokin' something n sloshing down orange juice
he had on a heavenly zigger jacquet
n real anti-lopes
he had a fender 7 string bass n a handpainted paisley strap
he had grown a nifty little beard that was slightly out on the left side
he had a few blackheads around his nostrils
his eyes were slightly bloodshot n dilated
he had a bit of a nasty cough
he had a trial subscription for a sunday newspaper
he had bits of lolly wrappers in his pockets
he couldnt remember his mothers phone number
what was it he was going to say....?

the cracks become quite clear

aw i'm getting old n cold
i'm slipping out of the charts
i cant pull a crowd
i cant take a fucking trick
where am i going wrong?
i got nothing
no authority
no sell-a-bility
no presence
no profile
no mojo
no oooomph
muddling along
everyone switching off
like lights in a city at dawn
the more i try to prevent it
the faster it happens
a losing streak
like a poker game where i cant even get a pear
i sit n stare at my cluttered desk
a packet of nag champa
it says warning
INSIST
FOR
THIS LABEL
TO AVOID
IMMITATION
BUY FROM
REPUTED
DEALERS
ONLY
gee i hate grammatical n spelling mistakes
on packets, menus, billboards etc
like in a cafe a sign says : smokers this isle only
a sign at ice bergs : swimming conditions idyll
phew
at least that got me outta my funk
i mean
complaining about your falling ratings
dont help the ratings go up
its like waving your hands about
as you go down in the quicksand
(and i aint got the power, anymore)
its hard when things go wrong
but you never learn anything if you just win
except how to be a good winner (but most never do)
winning is just there
as a contrast to losing
cos you gotta play every part
some people seem to never lose
but you dont know what goes on in their hearts
today doing an interview w/some guys in here
will have to clean it up....sigh....
have lists of things to do
mundane troublesome things
this n that
figure out how im gonna do it
knuckle down, knucklehead
get humble , numbskull
apply some elbowgrease (yuck)
put on yer thinking cap (makes me look silly)
pull up yer socks (the elastics a bit stretched)
turn over a new leaf ( i need a new tree)
smell the roses (an aphid bit me)
pull yourself together (mr humphries)
the show must go on
and on
and on
apparently
i once said to a colleague
you think youre right
and the rest of the world is wrong!
he said I AM !
and oh
for that kind of naked belief
because i'm floundering around here
in this sea of nescience
sick of all my dips
dismayed that the hoi polloi
cant dig my groovy trip
surrounded by philistines
n phools
pressure pushing down on me
pushing down on me
so hard
casting swine as pearls
getting it all mixed up
a right old jumble
woe is me alas alack boo hoo
maybe thatll knock me back up the charts
a mercy read
an open letter to the universe:
i'm ready to roll a double six

a world where strangers trod

maybe i really am fucking mad
maybe i just dreampt up all these people
did i dream up martin krall?
did i dream up terry n terri?
did i dream up david neil or linda neil?
did i dream up natalie dalton or miranda jansson?
did i dream up ploogy n banga pearson?
did i dream up peter kopf n jamie west-oram?
did i dream up steve kilbey?
today it all feels so unlikely
simon polinski mixes the soundtrack of my life
he rolls in the thunder
he catches the radio signals n mutates them into riffs
he turns slowed down calves into whales
he spins in the watery elements
he allocates the distant shouts
snatches of conversation
n vice versa
he takes my words
sends them deep into a one way night
with all the chattering madness in my head
because kilbey is tuning in everything now
the future is happening
oh gawd help us!
the future is happening right now to me
a combination of drugs
sin
yoga
age
natural predisposition
feigned madness becomes real
real life becomes faint
no anchor to hold me here
i remember the night
me n david neil had the girl on the balcony
i remember the christmas lights n the purple sky
the taste of coffee n wine n sex in my mouth
the girls name was really mountjoy
david kissed her chest
kilbey kissed her back
i kissed her mouth
i kissed her white feet
as she eventually slipped off her black boots
cars sped by in the street below
it was a hot night man
we moved with some urgency
i lay on my back looking at the stars
david was whispering in her ear
the girl giggled in the dark
one hand reaching out for kilbey
one other hand reaching out for him
david looks up from what hes doing
steve?
a gentleman in everything always
steve? says the girl in her west virginian accent
where you from miss mountjoy ? kilbey asks
i'm from morgantown sir..she says demurely
as she writhes in davids lap
wheres morgantown honey? someone else says
why morgantown west virginia sir! says mountjoy
shes wearing these kitten ears...i only just noticed
thats a nice touch kilbey says sneeringly
you like those baby? says mountjoy
and david closes his eyes and moans so softly
and it sounds just like his record
on that song "a world where strangers trod"
just after the crescendo
a slight pause in the music
before the high hat taps it all back in again
n you hear david murmur something just like that
n now a couple of irish guys hefting a case of beer
had to stop below our balcony n were gawking at us
fuck off ! david hissed at them
but they just stood there watching miss mountjoy
how do you like those guys watching us ? i said
i like it just fine, sir said miss mountjoy
and kilbey n i watched
n the stars watched
n the 2 irish guys watched silently
reverently
mountjoy was speaking in tongues
what did you say? said david astonished
i dont know that was my kundalini talking she said
her soft drawling voice was extremely provocative
mountjoy seemed sent from some planet
where women were created soft n sweet n deliciously immoral
kilbey said
we're gonna miss you miss mountjoy
yes sir...i do believe you will she said
twisting around
so as to distribute all her favours even steven
it was just me
kilbey
david neil
miss mountjoy
2 irish guys on the street below
the stars
the night
the twinkly christmas lights
a plane flew overhead
maybe they all looked out the window
welcome to david neils dream says the captain
as the passengers all touch down down down
the passengers are all making out
and everyman is neil
neil:kneel!
and everywoman is mountjoy
a song comes on the intercom
davids song cockpit
he wrote this one with me
can you tell?
cockpit
baby i'm all confused
see me landing
i'm landing on sea
please come up to the cockpit
and rescue me
baby i'm all diffused
see me drowning
i'm drowning on land
please come back to the cockpit
i need a hand
and tonight we really gonna soar
yes tonight we really gonna get some more
dont leave me alone in the cockpit i adore
miss mountjoy said i love that song david
kilbey said well he wrote it for you
mountjoy frowned
in long west virginian vowels she said
why sir thats impossible
i only met you gentlemen tonight..
we all laughed at that
even the stars n the irishmen n the passengers
maybe we made this all up together ...suggests david
give everyone a co-write then kilbey says
miss mountjoy..kilbey asked
what IS your first name
why sir..she said
my name is love!

the wilderness

wait up david wait up...!
i called through the foggy morning to my friend
we were in a holiday inn car park
and we were stumbling through the tempe hinterlands
and we were about to go onstage in ottawa
and we were smoking a joint in davids bedroom
we were tuning up in a caravan down the coast
david, did you ever go to australia...?
david never went there ...says someone out of earshot
dave shook his head wearily..i'm here n now, aint i?
everyone laughs
its a song isnt it?
on the first solo record after he left that super group
i never liked what eric did on lowboy
but i hear he still plays it to this day:
lowboy, how low can you go boy
the stuffs out the back
but the sky has turned black
yeah you can rest yer head
now the pigs have been fed
is there anything you can still enjoy...?
i guess i should write copyright d. neil
but i cant be bothered
davids not likely to sue me
the photo of a mans face comes on the screen
its lenny weissmann
davids manager lawyer and enabler
its an old photo
jesus i didnt know weissman had so much hair...
david grins : he pulled most of it out over me
everybody laughs
the band pull into focus
they all laugh
but there is a huge emptiness contained in their mirth
aw theyre all numb says david rolling his eyes
more laughter from the band n the crew
some seedy shady lady steps out of the shadows
lenny was a good guy...he was great for david...
she looks around for a challenge but finds none
in the harsh lights she looks so old
like she smoked 1 million cigarettes n drunk 1 million whiskies
i'm marilyn savage....david wrote deadline for me
someone strums the sad chords that start the song
a descending minor pattern that never seems to lead anywhere
but suddenly merges back into the beginning imperceptibly
ah...that was davids genius says weissmann looking up from his desk
the woman takes the microphone
she wanders out onto the stage
the fiddle player n pedal steal begin to softly wail
the crowd recognize marilyn savage
everyone here probably saw that documentary
everyone saw her interviewed by johnny carson that time
when david first came to l.a.
the drums roll in
marilyns got a croaky old voice but its pleasantly in tune
shes an octave up from where dave used to sing it
never thought i'd see my name in a headline
never thought i'd get myself off of this deadline....
from this distance she doesnt look too bad
david whispers in my ear
we need some vancouver stuff says a voice down the line
cut to vancouver autumn 74
i had my twentieth in davids uncles place out in some lake
marilyn savage was there n her brother boyd
who did lights for david in the early days
god! look at the fashions
david looks kinda cool tho
somewhere between a surfer n a prince
i wish this had sound
it does have sound! says boyd savage twiddling a dial
the party fades up into real life
here we all are so young n splendid n alive
its good to be alive smirks david n the band all laugh
david n the band have a troubled relationship
too many drinks n drugs n violence
too many opinionated girlfriends says david on one old interview
i only met david a year ago in canberra
he was supposed to be at university.....
david never went to australia said weissmann
blatantly contradicting me
i think you'll find steves memory a little uh....
marilyn savage :its true...david was never there
you can believe whoever you like
but one year later to this day in june
there i was
playing bass with david at the new genoa orpheum
sold out!
we were all so nervous
david tuned n retuned his guild 12
the one they say i stole but it was a gift, i swear
backstage we were harmony rehearsing alberta
alberta was a bit of a hit
lenny kept saying the harmonies were all wrong
alberta now you gone n made me cry
steve youre singing the wrong words man says david gentlemanlike
we sit in daves bedroom
we were trying to write this song called my secret star
david had gotten some girl pregnant
he'd shaved off his beard n cut his hair
he was using eyeliner
he had a coke habit n was experimenting with bisexuality
he ran out of money n briefly worked as a wine salesman ha ha
after the accident he married a doctor and moved to florida
yes he came n saw me play in miami in 1986
he was wanted by interpol at that stage
the so called doctor had run off in his yacht
david was barely recognizable in his sunglasses n grey hair
we decided to do davids beautiful song "normandy"
i hear he wrote it about his dad
we thought david might come on
but he never did
when the show was over
there was no sign of him
i dont stay out late much anymore he said sadly
cue the song "scarlet"
we see archival footage of davids plane taking off
unbelievable that they chartered their own plane
the plane climbs into the clear blue sky over the pacific
david sings :scarlet i cant believe my eyes
you dealt me out from your pack of lies
and baby if this is really the end
please introduce me to yer friend"
david shoots the final scene
the cocktail of drugs
lenny fires a shot
david has a blast
marilyn savage on her knees in the back of the plane
the captain says we gotta turn back
glass shatters
someone screams
someone else is shouting
i watch the screen transfixed in the darkness
david nudges me in the next seat
youll like this bit
the blood swirls into the chamber
weissmann is slapping davids face
the plane is losing altitude
the long duel guitar solo reaches its climax
a ball of flame on the horizon
becomes the rising sun
david emerging from the sea with his surfboard
we see marilyn sitting on the beach waving
young lenny weissmann with that big mop of hair
the screen goes blank
a sign comes up
the end / fin
i look for my name in the credits
nah...no mention
that would be david
in spades

velvet black / jet black

there must be a tiny black line around each leaf
without this things will blur
velvet black as night
jet black as coal
the early morning rain is gentle
it alights softly upon my face like tiny cold kisses
wakes me up from my dreams
the gardens are verdant
the flowers glow in unlikely colours
birds contentedly twitter
planes up in the clouds continue to distantly roar
imagine the people sitting in the plane
they get told their breakfast options
they leave sydney far behind
they exit a story
they leave the stage
i dont want this quiet mossy morning to end
i dont want the angry boiling day breathing down my neck
with its wagging tongues and its honking horns
i want to hide in this morning
muted as it is
with no hard edges
so n so says blah blah blah
someone else got such n such
yeah really oh thats too good or bad
heres my card
credit me debit me call me stall me
peter or paul me
blow me down with a feather
my back aches
my ears ring
my eyes fade
my mind is closed for nightwork
my hand is dealt
my children awake
my my my
the palm outside my window feels the breeze with green frondy fingers
i sit in my clutter drinking pitta tea
remember the doshas?
well i'm a fiery sort so i drink things to pacify the fire
burning n returning
how i wish i was going on some holiday today
over the rainbow or that general direction
troubles melt like lemon drops
away upon the chimney tops
did david neil sing that?
i give myself 15 minutes to finish this up
if i aint cracked it then i never will
minutes de evolve into seconds
n they just fly past
the world winds harder
life speeds up
dont you know
dont you know
one minute slips into the past forever
irretrievable and gone
then another then another
my fifteen becomes thirteen
my unlucky lucky number
13 men on a dead mans chest
yo ho ho n a bottle of rum
i hit twelve panicking up a door
12 dig n delve
i am the delver if nothing else
11 aint so bad as i thought
60 seconds of mild anxiety
i await for 10 philosophically
oh there it is
it was inevitable after all
dont waste it talkin' about it
uh...cant stop thinkin' bout 9
when it comes my finger blurs across my dirty i-book
9 for the lily white boys dressed all in green-o
or something
is it some kinda code
predicting the end of the world 2012
or just next weeks horse race
theres 8 right on time
dead on time
hung up on a deadline
8 is straight
8 is a lot more than...
7
i gotta soft spot for 7
it was nick wards lucky number
so i guess i shouldnt bet my sausage on it
7 by 7
7 times i cursed my 7 tears
and then 6
counting down seriously when you hit six
666 the numba of the beest
ooooh scary stuff ....i'm quaking aint you
555 my dad smoked cigs called 555
5 lucky to still be alive in this hive w/ my hand-jive
four four four
what for?
why ?
all i have is questions
but i'm too impatient to hang about for the answers
cos 3 is coming
3 is hear
3 minutes to express myself
3 lousy minutes
already down to 2 n a half
2 thats low
dont tell me 2 aint low
low boy
how low can you go boy
david neil did sing that
what a lovely song
n then just as i get happy
i realise i have 1 minute
1 minute 60 seconds
i'm paralysed in indecision
i think of poor david neil
his jet falling outta the sky
the needle still in his arm
the bullet still in his chest
waiting for velvet black/jet bl......


(sound of engaged dialtone ringing on forever)

plunger

i dont want to alarm you
but i'm plummeting thru your hands
there i go
tho you do gasp n grasp
you can never seem to get a hold
i live on september the thirteenth island
its right between easter island n christmas island
fact : the sudden sunlight circulates in the seaspray
the sea spray that i see that i say is spray is missed
the sand that i planned to demand in my hand is beyond
understanding
god says every grain of sand is numbered
"hi,
if youre holding this grain of sand
it belongs to s. kilbey
some romantic beach shack
13th of september island
this grain of sand is # 57378885643
a reward will be paid for its return"
my island home
my island home
my island home
is a'waiting for me
beach comber come home now
come in from the heat
yeah i had a man friday once
boy thursday i called him
gee its thursday today
well waddiya know
i had to let him go
every damn thing on the island...
1st the volcano
2nd the crocs
3 rd the sharks
in equal 3rd the snakes
5th the spiders
6 th jellyfish
etc
he had a problem with everything you know
and i dont take to whiners or shirkers
oh yeah he could speak a crude form of english :
he was educated at lyneham high, after all
a kind of ex-strange student
a very impudent student if i may say so
after he bullied me all the way thru a double metalwork period
i still was stupid enuff to hire him tire him then fire him
jesus lyneham high
they said 16 per cent of canberras pregnancies were from lyneham high
or was that the amount of urine in dickson pool
or was that the number who ended up in jail
which we sometimes spell gaol
which suggests how very random n ridiculous things are
i did a little island-ology at school
which is lucky
cos i know how to light a cigarette
or open a bottle of beer with my former teeth
my grass skirt had weeds which hurt my legs
we had a little island set up inside a classroom
we'd dress up like the black n white minstrels
n chuck connors n shake spears
n we'd row out to the shimmering sea
and net monsters between our canoe
can you?
i doubt it .....
miss waddlespoon our teacher kept me back
n showed me
what happened when the white hot lava
hit the warm pink sea
i hid in her caves
she stood on my promontory
we stripped back the jungle around the lagoon
island-ology was looking good for me
later the deputy head
miss mountjoy
chose me to represent our school in terraforming
she took great interest in my use of basalt
my obsidian swirls were the talk of lyneham
oh how i loved my bauxite shavings
how they smiled on my molten core
but thats the real world
and here....
just a small dessert island with only 2 airports
september the 13th island
just a dot on the map of love
just a tiny
i wake in the morning
the salty air blowing round my beard
the parrots screeching in the canopy
pilate talking in the cockpit
the survivors stum-ball around in their pear-o-chutes
oh look maude...its steve kilbey
yes! welcome to my island
some of you may never go home again
(ooh i hope not...!)
please dont eat the coconuts with SK engravied on them
please dont feed the monkeys
or monkey with the feed
please avoid the mountain trail after 5 pm
as it will be closed for ambushes
please take your room key with you if you go swimming
its good for jabbing in the sharks n sea-snakes eyes
bathe near chubby children...the crocs prefer em
no fertility dancing or appeasing the sun god after 11 pm
all castaways should be out of huts by 11 pm
no sunburn no blisters no service
dont wee in our rockpools
we dont put winkles down your toilet
dont vandalise our volcano
the collection of fiery ash is strictly forbitten
caution : human sacrifice next ten miles
watch out for falling cannibals!
i am a suave olde island meister
the sun n sin king
sinking