belmore rhapsody

the 'orrible church begin re-hearsing today
out in some god forsaken suburb of western sydney
away from the pseuds and surfers of my beloved eastern subs
slaving away over a hot fretboard
deafening myself with my own bloody racquet
knocking myself out with my own beat
drinking cans of coke and munching on potato crisps
pacing around in the sun n shadows outside
i look at the weeds and the lizards
i look at the bits of paper blowing around
i look at the tar on the road
i look at the dust in the gutter
i look at the rust on the cars
i do yoga out there on my own
out in a parking lot surrounded by wherehouses
while the others fiddle with their stuff
i do my lonely yoga out there
i sod around with whatever i can find
i kick small stones
while i wait for whatever they have to do
before we play
bass n voice is easy mister
i just go straight into the p.a.
the other things take some jiggling about i spose
i dunno
i hate being in there
in that room with all that electric n electronic fallout
i spent too much time with equipment
and its soft radiations
anyway
i cant remember the words
i cant remember the notes
i cant remember the bleeding names
i cant remember the faces i should pull
i cant remember
nevertheless
i must
so i shall
submerge myself in the church
do my bit
play my part
a cog in the mechanism
a point in the distance
a teem player
easy as picking foxes from a tree
my fingers glide o'er the strings
my voice gets the words from somewhere
et voila
i stumble back into it on auto pilot
all guns blazing
singing my old heart out again
for the cause
for the faderland
for the folks who paid their good money
i dont know what it will be this time
no one does
will just follow along
as it leads us by the noses
and we run after it
with our guitars strapped on
baying and howling
chasing a good tune
see ya soon then

tri-dent

i emerge from the sea
i am watery and grave
lord of the deep
oh you know my name
oh you sure know my name
i am that angry earthshaker
i am the blue haired one
i am violent and swirling and cold
oh i am handsome behind my malevolent glare
oh i am old beyond any measure of years
oh i am quick to rage and thunder
oh i roam this world
demanding sacrifice
bring me your virgin daughters
bring me your calves with the gilded horns
bring me your reddest darkest wine
bring me your enemies blood
i am simultaneously suave and savage
i am towering over your craft in a narrow strait
i am visiting my monsters in their holes
i am fucking poseidon baby
oh god it feels so good to be me
but my anger never abates
my bitterness
my spleen
envious of zeus
that bastard
lord of sky
me submerged
before even atlantis went down
before lyonesse
before lemuria
before the first man entered the sea
i was
i father bright sons on bitches of women
my boys die on the plains of ilium
damn you troy
fuck you greece
fuck you olympians too
yeah
i am the rocker of cities
i swallow ships whole
i explode in a gale of storms
look in my grey eyes
look at my twisted beard
look at my legs knotted in muscle
i am pitta i am fire
i am fire and water
not earth or air
i burn n i drown
immersed in oceania
abroad in akkadia
release those mighty bulls
and see me vault over their golden horns
in crete
in cythera
where i tryst with aphrodite
amoral and dopey
like a goddess of love should be
shes clumsy
she knocks things over
she shows me all her secrets
i think
well now ive really had her
but i still swim to her islands
and i call upon her
in her own temple
i appear like a gathering mist
i whirl my cloak about me
i materialize grey haired and tanned
the slaves tending her sacred fires are shocked
oh my lady the sea god is here to visit you
dont keep me waiting poseidon bellows
in the temple of love in the temple of love love love
how dare he walk in here like he owns the place
i am your master he bawls
i am your lord...
aphrodite deigns to appear
you are fucking rude n pushy my lord
here...take these
poseidon pushes something into her mouth
three tiny round pills
on each
is stamped a trident
oh my lord ...says aphrodite
as poseidon fondles her all over
tiny cherubs float about
poseidon swats at them
occasionally knocking one down in a bloody heap
tell those idiots to keep away from me ..he growls
and he passes out
in the wee small hours
he arises
walks to the shore
and disappears under the water
in the morning she finds
a small sea shell
in his place

booze

so sick of fucking booze
so tired of its stupid effects
i pour myself a big glass of lies
and i go dahn the booza
and i rabbit on with a loada bullshit
screaming in some pissed idiots ear
abaht a loada self aggrandizing tripe
bawling out my nonsense
trying to impress some sozzled ninny
or some drunken olde bag
i get red in the face
my skin coarsens
my features coarsen
my lovely olde smooth nose
becomes all bulbous n purple
my olde ticker shudders under the strain
my blurry vision becomes like underwater
my words come from a slurry place
i get confused and aggressive
so i drink some punch...oh ha ha ha
the booze reeks
its a poison after all
thats right not a drug but a poison
a little of that poison feels ok
a lot of that fucking poison n yer poisoned
booze frightens me as much as smack
smack is more addictive
but booze is more destructive
booze will fucking take you apart
booze will turn you into a fucking idiot
booze will turn you into the hoi polloi
booze is a bastard
AND I FUCKEN SEEN IT IN ACTION MY WHOLE LIFE
and i fucken sussed it out
and thank god my mum n dad never drank
and now the olde being himself
sure i have a sip or nip
i enjoy one drink or maybe 2
but never 3
but never before long after dark
never unless for an occasion
i wouldnt care if i ever saw or tasted booze again
it isnt good for musicians
it makes them sloppy
like it makes one sloppy at anything
i am so fucking tired of booze running this world
people come up to me n say
oh your skin is nice for an ancient mariner
i say
baby dont drink!
dont
dont
dont
think clearly for a change
smoke some fucking ganga
thats why god put it on this wunderful world
god gave us weed
god gave us cactus
god gave us mushrooms
yes god gave us wine too
but not gallons of beer n vodka and jim beam
i exhort you
all my readers
watch the booze
the booze is a slow destroyer
but shes steady as she goes
youll end up olde n ugly n spouting bilge
it dont help with creativity...its a fucking myth
have one drink
thats it
thats as good as it gets
or do you wanna get giddy n vomit
do ya wanna promise some s o b the bastard moon
do ya wanna wake up with some hag/beast and say oh ....no......!
do ya wanna blast your brain wrinkles into pickles
this stuff gonna do you over good
bah!
drinkers!
avoid me!

sleight prophet in the mind mine

hammer on hammer off
i can get anything i want
cmon i'll take you there
i have a guide in here
it bounces off a deep submarine knowledge
some monster speaks
and i obey
at the bottom of the lonely sea
ideas come rushing up to meet me
because every night i drown in sleep
and i sink to the ocean floor
like you never could know
sometimes when i cant remember how to speak
or what to say
i think of anything at all
i remember the future again
or did i already say that?
here i am going rounder and faster
my angles come out on my face
my old new skin falls between the cracks
why should i care.......you couldnt buy a mind- like mine
mind mine where we dig for brains i trust
cos i dig my own mind
i got my own audience in here and they clap n whoop
n holler
i pick away at some solid mental diamond
wow its dark in my freakin' mind
no wonder i dont come down here much
fuck my darkness is scaring me kilbey
hey dont talk to yourself steven
hey you shuttup
no YOU shuttup
i gave ya the best blogges of my life
hey both of ya shuttup!
oh no...
what is it.....
a cave-in.....
(screams of horror)
dont go talking too loud youll cause a landslide
mr jones
kilbey ! kilbey!
oh its fucking kilbey now
no i'm fucking kilbey now
oh are ya fucking yerself?
no i am my own fucking self
i am the self
the selfless self
the highest h....
oh shuttup kilbey!
(chorus of many voices : yes shuttup kilbey)
well its hard to be silent
when youre the reincarnation of dante
and i see you smirk
but if it aint me
then who the hell is it?
and you say life....?
yeah i done that plenty of times once
lone voice in the crowd : no more paradox...!
crowd take up chant : NO MORE PARADOX!
kilbey appears finally
the real kilbey
he looks like a tortured martyr in beatitude
he gazes off unfocussed
and the light fills his eyes in such a way that....
stop
this is an illusion
the real kilbey
the one y'all fuckin' paid for
crawls and claws his way to the top of a dream-stage
hes dressed in tight black jeans gone a bit baggy
hes wearing a priest=fuckin' aura, baby t-shirt
hes totin' his friggling totally bomba-lishus bass
he steppes up to the mike...
yawn
what?
i said YAWN!
but....
but kilbey said
yeah what did kilbey say....
well he said this
he said that
he said i hate it here
he said i like it there
he said...
look you shuttup
ok ok
enough
go on...get yer coat off
no leave 'im alone...its just him n me...right?
get yer fucking coat off then
no way its just him n me...right?
the coppers knock at the door
kilbey comes to the door
eve-nin ossyfah!
weve 'ad comp-laints abaht the noyze sah!
ok ok i'll keep it down from now on sah!
thank you and good night sah!
meanwhile
?

mansuit alterations

i come home
the kids got the croup n the flu
they cough n hack n choke n gasp
i go to the wardrobe n take out another mansuit
slip into it and walk abroad
i go down in historys fens and backwaters
i submerged like a crock of dials
i'm a horror to myself
i'm a surprise arent i
i'm a memory of those gone before
i'm a soulscraper blarney-vore
i'm a kinda than before
hey up n hey down
hey presto too
so much afoot
cant keep up
i flail like a schwimmer in the some are heat
i can master with the aid of this skull powdered cord
back in the east
where easter is faster
faster than horses and witches
the long process begins
yet it must be observed diligently
as morning breaks on the lovely leaves
as the pink sun assumes his full majesty
as fast as i can make it all up
trying to stay ahead of a tidal wave of whispers
i type out the morning on my screen
i am compressing the colours and sounds
i am buried in imaginings
this will make you fissures of men
this will come back by itself
this will occur to me from time to time being
the heavy deadwait
the omni-directional hit of disgrace
the harpoons and barbs of now or never
change my past
change my mind
no change given
no quarter neither
i dont know nothing
i donna wanna know nothing
thats something i do know
i know that for sure at least in spades
later
much later
the man in the mansuit shop
is looking over mine
oh boy he says
boy oh boy he says again
he checks the fit
he measures my inside ego
he fiddles with my brains zip
he notes down the colour of my sound
he adjusts the gravity
he increases the poly flesh micro weave
yeah he says
oh he says
h,mmm he says
well i can see the problem he says
is it worth fixing tho he says
could costya a few bob he says
hard to get those spare parts he says
he points to a million tiny holes which perforate the suits soul
oh fuck i say
thats ok i say
just do what ya can i say
he shakes his head
sure if you wanna me to he says
yeah go ahead i says
he gives me a quote on a bitter paper
mansuit fractal elocution $ 365
impositioning the spirit drive $366
triumphing the lower interstices $666
registering the ^^^^ $13954
orgoning the conscious matter 21122012
i said
is this a rip off?
he said
trust me mr kilbey
YOU GOTTA FUCKEN GOOD DEAL!

number 3

number 3
last night
triffids final stand for a while
my voice was shot
my god i hope you dont think i was trying to singh like that
the usual 4 songs
except for my voice i was ok
jumping around more than ever
till finally in field of glass
i went more gonzo than i thought poss
was this what triffids fans wanted?
i dunno
i was simply compelled to do it
the music
the lights
the occasion
the pounding of life in my heart
the screaming voices of all my distant lives
dave mccombs songs reach me and turn me about
oh dave i hope you heard last night
20 years on my son
those songs aint even looking like running outta mojo
theres as much pain n glory n agony n ecstasy as ever before
you were perths own dylan cave cohen
you were a bit of a genius
and if you were anything like your brothers
you were a fucking nice bloke too
dave i love singing yer songs
it was a true honour
(much rather sing those songs than my own)
born sandy d is one of the best records ever by anyone
the triffids are amazing
they encompass so many styles and approaches
its hard to step into daves shoes and sing his songs
it was hard n demanding work
i have learnt so much
it was a privilege to work with cats like harvey n casey
alsy n jill are so lovely
graham lee is a beautiful cat n keeper of the flame
rob mccomb is a great musician n genuinely nice bloke
mark dawson n jp n julian n james ...too cool
the snarski brothers...what great singers
ditto mel o
youth group...soon mega stars in spain
n ricky who is like a fucking son to me
i love all you guys
and steve miller the whacky m.c.
youre a very funny guy
good on ya!
gimme more engine shudder please
triffids!
yeah
dish up some more please
i'm ready
anytime you say
till next time
a river derchee

stumped

second nite of triffids in the gardens
i sit down by the water listening to the show in the distance
a warm balmy nite has come down on perth
the water looks like black plastic in a play
i walk up eventually to gig
go backstage
have some jaeger (just one shot tho)
smoke some weed
put on the clothes
pose in the mirror
stand on side of stage
watching jill birt sing raining pleasure
gee she looks so good up there tonight
and the song never fails to send a shiver up my spine
eventually steve miller does his intro
which is weird n funny at the same time
some of it even reminded me of this blog
with its references to east and west and parallel universes
i go on and the band start up lonely stretch
and just a few miles away
i guess is that very landscape of which dave must be singing
and i close my eyes
and i'm in that bush
and its getting dark
and the whole night crashes down
on me in my car
lost and hopeless n helpless
what was i doing out here
but following them
the man n the woman i will pursue across 3 or 4 songs
the triffids n friends rock on around me
then
wide open road
not so easy to sing in some ways
gotta keep thinkin' about timing
then stolen property
with its aching confused recriminations
and its switches of perspective
i love this song
i go offstage
i walk outta the venue
back to the water
listen to gig in the distance
white birds wheel in the light
the water is black n absolute
boats n yachts moored out in the estuary
people dancin' n partyin'
a strange black stripe in the sky
i sit down there till the encore
i go back
graham lee says are you ready, steve?
lets do it! i say
we go on n do field of glass
i turn into the diametric opposite
of almost everything i have been up n till now
i am breaking out of that old chrysalis
that was constraining me
which said go onstage and smirk n sing softly
now i'm just gonna do what i want
n not let myself stop me...whatever that means
i throw myself into it
even beating the stage with my hand
i scream n yell n whoop n all that stuff
you probably never thort your humble suave hero would do
anyway
we get a great response
everyone comes up n congratulates me
even the normally taciturn marty casey n mick harvey
say they thought it was good
and cmon
they seen it all by now...
so thats a compliment , right?
after it is over
i go n sit by the water again
being accosted on the way by an english fan
who says in a cockney accent over n over
its just like the doors
its just like the doors!
its just like the fucking doors!!
tonite: last nite for a while
emotional mood swings ahead
hasta la vista

title for the sake of a title

sentence for the sake of a sentence
pause for space
space for the sake of god
the gardens at night
a great crowd has assembled
king is white and in the crowd
the lights shine
some contraption describes a great arc against the swarthy night
the people laugh and drink
lovers caress in the shadows
the shadows in the lovers caress each other
the trees watch on
one day a nymph will show me their souls
some celebration some clamour
some event
see the people seated waiting
music begins
songs of a man who died way too soon
in some ways died of a broken heart
a man who felt everything too much
you can tell that from those songs
you cant write em like that
if you dont feel it that much
out the back
the usual caste of likelies
him from them
those lot
that man who doesnt like me
that man who does
i wait around
becoming slightly inebriated drinking
its ok its herbal with lemonade
i go on to do my first song
the music pumps me up
look i love to sing these songs ok
i love these songs to death
and maybe i do over do em
the songs tell me how to sing
not vice versa
so the songs fill me with bright energy
i direct my self towards a silhouette
an outline of black
i am pushed around by the throbbing bass
i am riled up by the vibes
i clobbered by the drums
i swayed by the lonesome lonesome steel guitar
i persuaded by the piano
i shook by the organ
i cough up the words
they fill my head sequentially
i open my mouth and they come raging out
manifesting themselves in pumps of adrenochromal surges
so i sing i shout i runabout
got hotter than the heat
the heat the park and other things
where do i go onstage?
freed up of the responsibilty of an instrument
its easy to get into some dreamy trance
look the conditions were not perfect
it should have ben louder
the audience seem a little timid
whatever
thats their prerogative
they paid their dinarii
and they have no more obligation than that
still if only they knew how much more they coulda gotten out of us
but nevertheless
it was still very very satisfying
made no mistakes
so make no mistake
i aint a muggles
i aint a beginner
i aint a brawler or a brute
im a man
cant you see what i am?
and i live and die for you
life goes on brah la la how the life goes on
so press yer space face close to mine love
and gimme yer hands
cos yer WUNDERFULL!
and i was dancing when i was 7
danced myself into a song
a song of songs
neil diamond : and when she comes i run just like the wind
cos wild is the wind
and a word on a wing
and the wine dark sea
and amphytrites hands swirl me thru the watery days
cos all my days become nights
and the nights become white
and white contains all colours
even tho ya think thatd be black
and black is black
i want my baby black
and colour me gone
cos i am
gone Gone GONE!

haphazard (lite)

i am he
here i am
in the west
get here
and we'll do the rest
steve kilbey awoke before dawn
and he walked on down the hall
he took another face from the ancient gallery
and he walked on down the hall
i look in the mirror
see multiple mes
i hear my brain at work
calculating
subtracting its cut
i see my eyes watching me
i see the night has one thousand eyes
i see vishnu has one thousand names
i see there are one thousand ways to die
i see the fragile future tottering on an iffy past
i see moths turning into caterpillars
i see my ghost that haunts me down
i see radha walking away into the jungle
oh that sweet gopi lope
krishna waits in the darkness for his love
he feels the tingle of anticipation
he stands there a blue glow in the night
meanwhile in perth at the end of the earth
i guess i gotta sing for all i'm worth
voice from another room : not much....
yeah
i'm a singer...what the fuck does that mean?
you tell me
cos i dunno
i just ramble on n on
like a rambling rose
i just me with my constant fucking dialogue with myself
i sucked off into my brain
with my god given freckles n my wispy hair
crammed in here with my thousand other selves
i thrash around like a nasty eel
i smoke dope and its money for olde rope
i talk about marco bolan and king solomon
i revere the great masters and i disdain the vulgar hoi polloi
i walk thru my kingdom disguised as a medium man
i solve disputes and have villains beheaded
i go off to jerusalem and i go off to earlwood
i go off to north bondi and i go off to subiaco
i sing songs
i hammer them hard
i climb aboard them like ships
and crash down from the mast
i write the most beautiful songs about ugly things
i reconcile opposites
the way other people write shopping lists
i move amongst humanity practically unnoticed
i gimble and i gyre in the wabe
kiss my asana satan
i am everyman
i am earth
i am virgin
i am mother/father
i am since forever
never was a time you and i did not exist
the fourth of never...and thats a long long time
tonight i will walk on that stage
and out of my throat will fly seven larks
and out of each larks throat will fly seven songs
and from each song
seven notes in an octave
seven stars in seven skies
take the t outta steven n its seven
so i stand in my room in apt 7
and i ask myself seven times who i am
first
my reflection says
you are kilbey
second
you are man
third
you are spirit
fourth
you are almost outta time
fifth
you brought it all on
sixth
you are ordinary
seventh
you must be crazy talking to yourself in a mirror
i touch my reflections skin
i caress my own face
i recoil from my gaze
i touch my scars
i finger my wrinkles
i see death all over me like a monkey
i scratch my head
i hesitantly sing
to see if i still have a voice
my olde dried up dusty words
my ancient song of song of songs
(neil diamond : sing it out sing it strong)
oberon n titania sit in their bower cooing n oohing
poor lonely calypso down by the shore
stupid paris checking into to the sparta hilton
stupid helen running off in the night
stupid olde zeus fucking some swan
stupid olde world going round its stupid olde sun
we killed jesus
we killed king
we killed the baptist
we killed jfk n fucking bobby n marilyn
we killed time
we killed lilith
we killed al crowley
we killed steve kilbey
kill that character off they screamed
i turn to ricky
hes standing up the back playing guitar
boy im really proud of him
hes playing lead hes playing rhythm hes playing drums
hes playing with the triffids
i step up to fucking mike
i inhale deeply
i open my throat
i let the words come
i sing with my body
my mind tees it all up
my hands fly about like small fat birds
my vocal cords vibrate and rub
i enter my trance
i heat up
so hot in here
here in kilbeys body
im steaming up
i erupt in sweat
just like them jazz cats
them olde black jazz cats
sweating up a fucking storm
because of concentration
because they love music
and they love life
and it pours out of every pore
I AM
I AM
I AM!

flight to the west

killer gets up early so he can type type type
killer goes on le balc
and has an early morning jazz smoke
now here i am
giving you my all and only
my dear readers
well my plane didnt crash
it was late but it did nae crash
it was a crowded n unremarkable flight
i tried to work on my lappy
but the geeza in fronts seat came right back
n i couldnt type a word in fuckin' edgewise
after a while i skimmed thru the qantas menu
and ended up watching a show bout these naughty bloggers in blighty
the girl with the one track mind etc
all narrated by a scottish git with one of them edinburgh accents
that made it sound so urgent and fucking important
like he was discussing nuclear weapons or climate change or somethin'
anyhow
this naughty girl was doing naughty things with naughty men
and writing about it
it was quite naughty for qantas i guess
n featured very naughty naked bosoms (quite gratuitously )
and very naughty bits where the ladies read out their blogs
ie
i said to him
ooooh i wanna @#$%$ your @#$#$&
and he said oooh i wanna $%*& yer lovely great &^&*((%
and i said oooh you aint half naughty!!
etc
nevertheless
i remained unaroused in my cramped old seat
and was gladly glad when ye olde plain hit the ground
the lady picking us up had forgotten where the van was parked
we sat in the shade of a coolibah tree
and waited for her to find it
i checked in my apt
to find ricky rene maymi has snaffled the best room
we have a balc over looking the carpark....oooh nice
soon a triffid drops in with some jazzy jazz
ricky hooks up his computer thru the stereo
n soon we gotta bitta atmosphere going
we go over for dinner at a jap place
i get served freakin pork dumplings
which i understand to be tofu
i take a bite and
FUCK THIS BULLSHIT!
i spit out this foulness
this bits of dead piggy wig
yeccchhh!
i feel violated but didnt swallow any of that filth
ok
i just fucking carry on
what can ya do?
i drink some sake
the triffids all come out n join us
mick harvey from the bad seeds etc is an interesting n funny bloke
mark snarski tells me he dont wanna sit nexta to me
cos i look too bloody healthy
"this is sposed to be rocknroll" he says
n orders some disgusting smelling sqiddley diddley
n lights up a foul cigarette
if thats fucking rocknroll
then my dick is a kipper
(as my dad used to say)
i get up n leave
me n ricky check out the venue
AND IT IS AN ABSOLUTE TOP SHELF CORKER !!!
(ie for foreign readers the kilbster is well pleased)
its a great big lovely outdoor stage
there are sofas n stools n tables n chairs
it is well civilized
all around looms the botanic gardens
n the suave skyscrapers
and fountains n rivers n trees n affluent people
oooh i like it
like a jehovahs witnesses idea of heaven i seen in their pamphlets
i'm really looking forward to singing my songs there
then back to hotel
an early night
this email connection is costing me 25 bucks a day
so dont say i never buy ya nothing
anyway at 330 in the morning
the fire alarm goes off
ricky cant be bothered getting up
but i wander downstairs
where the whole hotel is lined up
in various states of undress n undies
i see mick harvey standing on the street
looking like an owl whod fallen out of its nest
finally were all let back in
me
n ricky who finally gets up
we sit there at 4 am smoking n talking on the balcony
finally i neeed to release some stress
i yell out at the bastard moon and stars
and all of sleeping perth
FUCK YOU! I"M WORKING FOR GRAHAM LEE!!!!!

a dark day

wake up early kilbey
youre flying off to perth wa
tonite night off
tomorrow rehearsal
fri sat sun triffids outdoor perth festival
right now sitting here in n bondi
surrounded by rain n darkness
it seems a long way off
some plane
some airport
some taxi
some other room
somewhere else
if i dont hold my mind down
it floats off
off n away specially on mornings like this
while the rest of the family sleep on
the kids dream dream dream
the rain goes tap tap tap
the wind goes ooooh rattle ooooooh rattle
the cars in the street go whoosh
the ringing in my ears goes zzznnnnnngggg
my old heart goes thump thump thump (dont stop yet)
my stomach goes groan flying groan
the clock tick tick but never tock
my mind goes silent
the constant stream of ideas is turned off
i experience the silence
my mind goes blank
but what do i think of during the blankness...?
small parts of me go on calculating n plotting
somewhere in here
in my mind bigger than the universe
in my mind which can imagine infinitely
in my tiny closed grumpy mind
so small it cannot admit even one more outside idea
my small mind my big mouth my stupid smirk
my blah blah blah
my bits of blu tac
my bits of paper
my meridians of pastel dust
my empty plastic bottles
my empty cans
my old lolly wrappers
my stupid bag of dope
my nasty olde coff
my constant anxiety
my messed up messy mess of a room
outside
the city skyline has disappeared into a fog
the clouds swallow up sydney
and frankly
who cares
the sharks bite
the crooks crime
the hoods from the hoods in their hoods...no robin hoods
the tedious lumpen proletariat chasing one thing after another
the recession which is king out there
the planet starting to rebel
the morning starting to arrive
a soft grey light suffuses my room
some hoarse crow barks outside my window
my feet are cold so cold at the end of time
i hear noises of humans getting up
winter around the corner now
the streets are not inviting
bizness men get up feeling sick drinking cawfee
numbly button up their suits
drive to work
and each gasp on the cig
jangles yer nerves and fouls yer breath
you arrive at yer job
a beencounter in a widget and sprocket company
shuttup kilbey somebody has to count the widgets
ok ok
i just an imagining it after owl
mr widget fidgets at his pesky desk
the quick brown sprocket jumps over the lazy plug
the figures sway back n fourth on his screen
his new cup of cawfee says drinka me
his new cream cheeese bagel says eata me
his next cig says smoka me
he stands in the rain in the big end of town
look i'll play the part myself
i'm standing there
(looking handsome in my suit, if i may fairly say so)
i'm standing there
you saw me standing there smoking my bagel etc
down in the doorway with the other smokers
if i smoke 20 a day at ten minutes each
why theres 200 mintes gone...just like that
plus walking up n down the stairs
plus the cigs n cawfee make me weee like the billy-o
plus going out to buy more cigs n bagels
its a wonder i been counting any widgets at all
i sit back at my desk
my buddy sends me a message on face book
gee...i read it for a while
until i need another cig
the boss tells me to come in his office
uh oh
we only need to count half as many widgets cos
uh the depress...i mean the recession..
but the govts injecting 3 billion into widgets so
(gee i hope they hit the vein!)
and ah...i need another cawfee n cig now
i need to calm down
half as many widgets as before....hmmmm
can i do that ? i wonder as i loll in the doorway
making insolent faces at the passersbys
and blowing smoke rings into the ether...
illusion shattered
the kids all suddenly get up
last night scarlet and i went outside
ooh what a dark day she said
ha ha
now they tumble out of bed laughing n talking
the woofle clutches a balloon that seems like it may burst anytime
the doodles got their own thing going on
gee i'm lucky i aint that widget guy
(that suit tho...it was quite bee coming)
i just gotta getta onna plane to ye olde perth
at the ends of the earth
4 hours to fly
i wonder if other triffideers from sydney will be on that flight
youth group?
mel o?
anyhow
i'm gonna get my lapp top out n write some stuff i sposed to do
the new church album must be coming down the line soon
youll be glad i aint a widget counter
you be glad i a singer
you be glad i so good wiff words
you be glad i aint gotta suit
you be glad i aint gotta jobbie
you be glad i sing the body alektryk
you be glad i anticipated all your dreams
and put them in these songs
listen to em n weep
weep cos ya love those damned songs so much
weep cos we all gonna die
weep cos the pollens making yer hey fever play up
weep cos kilbey is at the top of his game n climbing
up n up n up
into the sky
the indian rope trick
i pull my ladder up after me
and i ascend into a world of dakinis and angels
up there
i am finally 'preciated
(present company accepted...i know you depreciate me)
and my every little whim is catered for
trouble is
i am now such an ascetic aesthete
(look those words up if you dont know em)
i am practically whimless....
whimpering...maybe
but whimming......errr....no
there were some important things i needed to say
no
there were some imperfect things
there were some foolish things
these foolish things remind me of you
i take me leaves
n bid you all frond a dew
as i take to the thin air
in a very heavy machine
god i hope i can believe in it
see you in the west
sk






l

the dawn awoke before killer

and it walked on down the hall
oh jimbo i miss you
if i could only be half as dionysian as you
but jesus
it killed you
so i just content myself painting pictures
and writing catchy little songs that the kids'll love
i slip in arcane references for those in the no
i slip in puddles as i rush my girls thru the rain
scarlet kilbey comes in n lies down on some pillows
i blasting marquee moon
she doesnt wake up till i accidentally kick her
im painting a pic of barry obama
im quite taken with his handsome honest good looks
i cant believe we got ourselves a decent geezer at the helm
who woulda thunk it?
i heard hes gonna invite me to the not so white anymore house
to jam in the ovally office
yeah dream on sailor on the seas of fate
i do some long interview with donald on 4ZZZ in brissie
we discussed everything including the dreaded gear
and my advice to absolute beginners in show biz
(fuck off! its already too crowded)
i started swearing towards the end
but i guess they can leave it in
weather is strange here
rain sun wind rain
i say we should drop sharks on the fucking bushfires
kill 2 birds with one stone
and afterwards therell be roast flake for the locals
actually doing a benny fit for fires on 24th feb in glebie
at word in hand
actually the whole bushfire thing is tragic n numbing
it takes a lot to jerk a tear outta my cynical old eye
but this does it everytime
ok kilbey just think yourself lucky
and such beautiful towns that damned fire took...
im not much one for burning whiches at the steak
but i think mr firefuckingbug should feel the heat
what an evil nasty creature....n what do ya do with em?
meanwhile in sydney
at town hall station
some nasty doggies bale up our mr ricky
and snifter him for druggie wuggies
but guess what
serenity and poverty
rendered our mr ricky cleaner than clean
and those dopey dawgies schniffed our hero in vain
but nice use of police resources
err hey fellas
(cliche following )
WHY DONTCHA CATCH SOME REAL CRIMINALS?
anyway
our mr ricky will be joining me n others
in perf
oh perf
capital of um west(ern) aust(ralia)
not the one in scotch-land
and its got its twin city freo
which is yonder n very groovy (some say)
when my mum n dad migrated here
when i was a tiny sweet lad
the first place they came to was fremantle
and there was a sign which was advertising
a certain brand of insecticide (flick)
and the sign said
GET A FLICK MAN
but some naughty wag had joined up the L and the I
rendering it somewhat changed
my dad told me later
when he saw that
that he thought he would enjoy australia after all...
*
david neils album is almost wrapped but for one track
and some minor fixes
mutton kennedy sends me some more k/k new stuff
which is very very nice
i have a long talk to miranda kilbey on the phone
ah boys......
shes got one of them boyfriends that cant express his feelings
he dont know what he wants
and shes quite flummoxed
(if a swede can be flummoxed...i know turnips can)
jesus
how can some oaf be treating my daughter like that?
oh true love never runs smooth
i know because i heard gene pitney sing that in 1963
and i aint ever forgotten
the things you hear in a song
stay with ya longer than any other kinda things
fucking hell i got marco bolan going round n round constantly
guy on 4zzz says who would ya have to dinner, any 7 ya like?
i says bolan bowie jesus buddha lennon
he says ya got 2 more
i say
i reckon those guys would be enough
oh yeah i'd have mr ricky there too
for moral support
and make sure buddha washed up his plates afterwards
ok
i got one more pick
and theres no women there yet so
ok its outta dannniii min-ogre and a veronica
gosh its hard to have a dinner party isnt it?
maybe i should invite ann boleyn pre cut
or a sybil from the olde days
or take medusa up to the reptile park
or enter pegasus in the bleedin' melbourne cup
can you really imagine some weird dead famous types
sitting round at some tossers dinner party
imagine serving jesus some guacamole
(what the hell is this? (in hebrew))
imagine playing buddha the new U2 record
(what a ponce!(in pali))
yeah
i'm just trying to scrape together the price of a sandwhich
and get mahself a cup of cawfee
i'm on a street corner in the snow
i'm in an alley in l.a.
i'm hanging out in badlands nevada
i'm down n out in cork or in boston
i'm at the naughty old mans home in west ur
i'm a foolish git with a dirty laptop
broadcasting n narrowcasting my vile bilge
all over the into-net
i am i am i am
hey its garbage day in n bondi
so it cant be all dull
someone next door has (been) moved out in a hurry
and the entire contents of their place sits in the rain
notice boards with photos
scateboards and boxes of xmas decorations
socks n undies n sad reminders
i wonder what happened
the inevitable pickers pick at it
and soon the discarded memories are blowing round the streets
aint life sad?
it can be

the empiric world

molecules whirl
mirrors absorb
rivers run and run
dawn turns into night
night turns into midnight
the birds talk among themselves
the silence listens
the darkness gawks
the wilderness walks
on n on into the fields
the rain wanders in
the clouds float underneath everything
the music drifts like perfume
the empiric world
the meaningless forms
the formless meanings
the breathtaking minutes
the long long seconds leading up to this
the warm bed of family
the cold world outside

hey la hey hey lo la

the imaginary reader remains imaginary
you think you are real
but i assure you
you are merely a part of this fiction
you read voraciously
you are fed your reality by the story
you glued to your screen
your old life was just a dream
you exist to read this story
when it ends you will extinguish
an actor will go on playing your part
the actor will know what to say
everything has been taken care of
now feel free to indulge
please live my story up to the hilt
i am you
we are all in this together
almost a thousand of us
all thinking this together
all over this imaginary world
in carthage
in rome
in athens
in abyssinia
in timbuctu
in san fran
in sante fe
in situ
in gloria deo excelsis
i am everyman
you know it for sure now
and i have led this life
so that you didnt have to
i made the music you needed to hear
but no one else on this whole imaginary world could do it
i said those things you needed to hear
but who else could say them?
you owe me
you owe me your concentration then
concentrate now
and we will all be together
concentrate with me now
please
deep breaths
slow in
slower out
close your eyes
your third eye will read these words
we are becoming connected
interlocked
locked in n locked on
lovelock shylock lock stock n crockery
if i say i am standing in a garden in buenos aires
then i am standing in a garden in buenos aires
we are all standing here
invisible (like)
just kilbey and his sister
but we know everything in their minds
it doesnt matter whether kathy has a brother or not
many people have claimed he doesnt exist
we know in our deepest heart that kilbey is real
his voice at some stage has spoken to us
as he throws his random fractions of the big picture out there
he has no answers but he has no questions
he just mentions things like a kinda code
and you hear a phrase
and you go
yes he understands
so all the understanders are gathered here
in this garden
you have a right to be here
as much as stevekilbey
only kathy is truly real
only kathy will walk away
and put a small plaster on her finger
which was pricked by a thorn
only kathy will walk away
and cook dinner in her kitchen
while drinking red wine
oh god
we are all so imaginary
think about your solid life
and it evaporates like a mist
like the slight fog in this garden
this rambling garden studded with magic realistic objects
little statues covered in mirrors
ponds with weird fish
an old car redecorated with scenes from myths
you can imagine
yes
you can well imagine
so imagine it well
this garden
a sign says gethsemene
this garden with its wild exotic flowers
this southern hemisphere garden
this magic continent where things are not so ordinary
all the magic has gone out of europe
this is where it all begins
south america
the hairs on my arms raise up n shiver just to say it
south america
where all things are still possible
does kathy like south america
oh yes she says
she turns to face us
oh kathy
you look so tired
framed in your foggy garden
oh how i will long to be there
as i get jostled in a crowd
or line up on a plain taking off
or stand on a corner waiting for some soup
or questioned by the senseless authorities
about where i acquired my genius
oh the garden the garden
the trellises the insects the beautiful weeds
the cracked crazy paving
the walls n fences
the sounds of beyond the garden
the south american sky stretching overhead
saying to me
why dont you come back home?
now here i am
with all my friends
with all my imagineers
all still concentrating
why?
for the hell of it all
because you must want to find something here
here in my sisters garden which has an inclosed spring
my sisters garden with its dappled shadows
we look around
each of us picks up things special to them
a lost heirloom
some words from a loved one
a useful premonition
a new understanding
here here
take them
take them
no i insist
take everything from this garden you can
dont blame me if you cant find it here
look harder search discover
oh kathy can you see em .....my friends my imaginary friends
oh kathy can you ...can you
yes my darling i can see them now...small points of energy
they are the readers kathy....the readers..can you credit it?
no ....its quite strange...i must admit...
but kathy what does it all mean...?
mean? mean? magic realists never mean...they imply
and the reader infers?
correct
kathy?
yes
are there any more of those biscuits?
you may have one, steven
only one?
yes because
its the last one.....

valentines day 2009

kilbey stared at the book in his hands
its in spanish he said
no i said its not
we looked at the first page
the language seemed to change as we looked
it went in spanish but came out english
it was in english but with a strange lilt
like kilbey had never spoken english before
we sit there in the garden
the royal we
you see when you have so many sides to you....
kilbey puts on his new reading glasses
he looks good in glasses
like a psycho lecturer
from the school of hard knocks
ok ok
i should just give you an excerpt of the book
i should just tell you what it said
that book
that man
valentines day
twin sister
rainy morning
argentina
the book was reading one thing
yet saying something else
the first line of the book read
it was a lovely rainy morning
but it said
the sun was shining somewhere else
another bit read
mrs garcia waited in the line patiently
but it said
mrs garcia is dreaming this whole thing
kilbey became confused
its reading one thing
but saying another he complained
and its smelling something else....
eh? whats that
kilbey sniffed the book
by jove...youre right!
the book smelled of the lemurian jungle
the book smelled of rehearsing in dickson in 1971
the book smelled of some medicinal herb
the book smelled of burning newspaper
the book smelled like a dark rainy day
read some more ! someone said
yes...please do! said someone else
voice in next garden : what happens next?
many things happened next
the earth turned a little
a palpitation in space
it shuddered on its great course
doors opened
ways became closed
things changing on route to 2012
the whirl gets faster and faster
demanding billy dolls
and sailing to a maya america on
a samsara mayflower
odysseus on the beach
the nymph calypso strides across the sand
she insinuates herself through the night
you fool she says to him
you would still be alive even now
she looks at him so sadly
and he stares back into that alien face
why did i ever want to go home?
kilbey hey kilbey
is this in that book?
or are you just digressing or what?
hey you shaddup! kilbeys trying to write
hes trying to visualize the whole thing
no hes not! its happening as we speak
as we chatter incessantly in the back of everyones mind
doubt
anxiety
fatigue
madness
odysseus wonders
kilbey wanders
wanders thru pages of florid prose ie
*
page 23
in certain groves and glades
the society would meet in the warm weather
and strangers would appear in their midst
thats a spirit says kilbey sipping the morning
without any warning
one finds oneself
inserted into a story
you walk along a strand
you duck into a cab
you knock on some door somewhere
where are you now? says a voice i never heard before
thats the passive voice said another voice
the book is chaotic
i hate reading things that jump all over the place
dont you?
kilbey in the garden
oh kathy
oh kathy
kathy appears
can you imagine
what a fine sight she is!
people say of course hes gotta sister
i know someone who went to school with em
sometimes i interpret her as kilbey searching for...
aw i dunno some cliche....
his sister is wearing sunglasses n a hat
gee her jawline is still firm
even though she has bags under her eyes
and her neck is nearly unwrinkled
she stands up so straight
still (to me)
and kilbey
something girlish about her
dad used to call her girl
hed sing that beatles song to her
oh girl girl
kathy now is like a big old girl
walking through some magic realistic garden
and i her brother
what kind of brother was i?
i was cruel
i was taunting
i was intruding
i was rough
what kind of sister was she?
she was kind
she was soothing
she was trying to understand
how can we be identical ?she asks me
two little sperms
two little eggs
they split us up to do boy n girl
is this in the book ? ricky asks
i fall asleep on the sofa
ricky is arguing with david neil over some chords
listen i hear ya man.... ricky is saying
but i dont think that thing was working....ok?
ricky paces around
calling a hundred guitar moves on the screen
he weeds n prunes like a constant gardner
selecting which bits of guitar will flourish
and which bits perish
and in florida
the bits which will in
orlando
bloom
and spring has flowers gushing out her mouth
prima vera
the first truth
oh spring
oh the rites
oh the wrongs
oh the celebration across asia minor
solomon meets queen of sheba
antony n caesar do cleopatra together
dynasties
slavery
black magic
what about jesus? asks someone
yeah jesus too ...says a weary bleary kilbey
fallen asleep while the book winds on
the painting paints itself
the song writes itself
you cannot play something which isnt there
and in the rainiest night of all
the book suddenly ended a chapter
and kilbey kept on travelling
the same olde momentum
same olde velocity
yogas made you into a monster snarls kathy
they dont make monsters like you anymore kilbey says
the nymph on the sure : i hate to stand her and babylon
esteban dios : magic realism is not about, it is because
shakespeare : go prospero go prospero
van gogh : go go go
long timer : go
the cast assemble in the garden
we rehearse our dialogue
i wonder who that is playing kathy?
i wonder who that is playing kilbey?
i wonder who
that is...
that person
playing
the imaginary reader?

friday 13th 2009 buenos aires

i awake to find its raining
i lie in bed trying to remember who
and where i am
i remember yesterday
working down the studio with ricky
i sometimes think ricky might be a fictional character..
voice from another room : hes too bloody good to be true
i remember how we first met
the church had done a gig in mexico
things had gone wrong
our bus was hi jacked by a gang of acid crazed marxist students
ricky who was only 15 at the time
had garroted the leader with a bass A string
and led us out via a tortuous secret path
to a field of peyote mushrooms
where we got higher than the son
he also had a good supply of primo no-cal purples
plus a case of cold beer for the crew
that night ricky and i became blood brothers
and we have a tatoo that joins up
to form a map of the fire exits at winterland ballroom
sure enough when i had arrived there he was
sorting it all out and drinking a cawfee
i had to touch him to see if he was really real
hey whoah !he said as i pinched his arm
dude i'm for real....you outta pinch yourself!
i took his advice
cant remember the result
we worked on our david neil stuff
wow
i cant wait to get back home n play it to you
gee its rollicking heartbreaking catchy spooky stuff
god maybe i should really take it easy
god maybe i should lay off all the bad stuff
god maybe i should add a little more plate reverb to that damn tambo
god are you listening to me
god is your name vishnu or jehovah
god when will i be rich?
god when will i be young?
god please make my death painless
god please make it a long way off in the fewcha
god oh look i'll speak to you later
i was at any rate alone in a garden
a lovely edenic garden
it was raining but it was summertime
oh summer summer summer
i sing my line from my little operetta
in summertime
umbrella trees down by the sea
limbs like men to bend low
you turn
and you see me....
i muse on my song for a while
thought of all the people who would never hear it
it was a song
thats all it could ever be
yes i would paint david neil
yes yes
i would
right now!
kathy ? i called out in her garden
kathy?
she came out of the kitchen looking tired
i say kathy you look tired...
no not tired steven ...old
dont gimme that olde stuff k..i'm even older than you..
but its different for men...
how is that?
i dont know ..you n esteban with your beards...
you girls with all your hair long n lustrous
but steven its GRAY!!
she turned her face into the sun
i remember ed that rod stuart song
the morning sun when its in yer face really shows yer age
kathy says slim i dont wanna get olde and die
we look at each other
no one fucking does , k...eh? or what?
women seem to have more to go wrong with their lives...
but they live longer...dont they
yes in an almost manless world in some village..
christ!
we were depressing each other
c'mon darling i love you i said
i held her against me
she always slightly resisted or pulled away
why do you do that? i whisper in her ear
because youre always just mucking about ..she says
and gently pushes me away
here esteban gave you this
she held out a book
inside the book was a little envelope full of goodies
wow! i said
you two should grow up kathy said
but you like us like this i said
no she said
i cant remember seeing either of you
any other way
kathy walked off to trim her roses or whatever
i sat at their table in the garden
in the early morning lightest drizzle
i looked at the book my twins other half had given me
valentines day 2009 it was called
why thats tomorrow i thought
as i sipped my cawfee
as i sipped my mango date banana strawberry smooothie
as i sipped my argentinian special jazz cigarette
as i ruminated deep in the suburbs of buenos aires
as i listened to david neil on my headphones
as i walked with jesus christo in my heart of hearts
as i painted buddha deep in the city in my minds eye
as i boogaloo-ed up broadway
as i remained detached
as i remained attached to detachment itself
as i was all over the shop
and nowhere to be found
i opened up the magic realists book
and i read the first page
i was soon
lost
amongst
his winged words

kathys cloud

i fly to argentina
where my sister lives
but when i arrive
ive already split into a loada different people
my sister is waiting for us at the aeropuerte
dressed like i dunno what
i must say for an olde girl pushing 55
she looks pretty damn good
el maymi has flown down with me
because his dad is the argentinian minister for defence
and because we're hoping to mix our new record
at silverado studio in a leafy little street
just off the main drag
that damn kathy who is my twin my double my opposite
she knows how to hurt me
needling me about things i didnt think i'd done
mentioning embarassing things
only she and i know about
of course kathys got twins
and their twins have got twins
so it looks like little scarlet k
is the only monozygotic kilbey extant
oh kathy it hurts to see you becoming old, my love...
you know steven you always know how to cheer me up...
steven if youre a vegan..that chocolate is not vegan my dear
kathy, if you were a vegan, youd look as young as me
steven as a painter youre a good bassplayer
kathy as a sister youre a good enemy
steven threw yabbies at our uncle ken, ricky
kathy stole dads cigarettes and got caught being sick
he was in the sea cadets!
she was a fucking brownie!
he dated carmel farquar
she dated moose bostick, the school bully
bullshit!
its true..
she reaches out from driving n flips me in the face
its bullshit!
ricky in the backseat : whoah!
we drop him off at silverado
he seems a little miffed with the in-fighting
and he hefts his guitar n suitcase of pedals in silence
and some guy appears to let him in
me and kathy drive off
nice fucking work you upset our mr ricky
no bullshit you upset him by going on
i didnt go on
yes you did
no you went on...i tried to ameliorate everything...
...and made it worse...
the conversation goes on like this
we arrive at the hacienda ...gee...not bad....
but you didnt get this yourself...
what d'you mean by that...?
you married a rich fucking author n he got it for you
yeah...maybe he'll marry you too...if youre nice
i laugh
i would marry the bastard if he'd get me a joint like this
we go inside
different mes go in different rooms
the angry nasty me in a gentle balcony room
the patient nice me has a room near the kids
the handsome straight up me is in the guest room
and the ugly crooked me in a caravan in the garden
kathys husband esteban
well he reminds me of me
what with his fucking white little beard
his freckly skin
the angles of his face
and oh no
i cannot fucking believe the dude sports 2 gold rings
just like....errr me....and errr kathy too for that matter
jesus christo i say
kathy you married a spanish version of moi!
you vain ninny...youre the whatever version of him!
and dig this
esteban has a twin sister too!
is she here?
no but shes coming!
how old is he...are they...?
54 she smirked
what star sign?
virgo! she said triumphantly
youre trying to do my head in!
esteban spoke pretty good english
i had read some of his books
and christ!
i had to admit they were pretty good...
kathy: why did you HAVE to admit it....?
esteban poured me some sangria
it had some chili in it it was delicious
we smoked some good dope
esteban likes the good things in life... kathy says
so do i ...i say cheerfully raising my glass
oh but he can afford them says kathy winking at her smug hubby
oohh ...i say..but cant think of anything much cleverer than that
estebans sister arrives...conesuela
jesus shes like the rest of us
freckly
fine brown hair
middle aged
angular
slightly rude
and slightly ok
only slightly
she rather got my back up to tell you the truth
much to kathys delight
the woman began needling me about this n that
have you read borges she asks in her snooty way
yes i say i love him
which ones have read? she asks
well that one where he has to ah..imagine..uh..
the 2 argentinians frown at me
the twin sister smirks...yeah you know that smirk...
the argentinians start to do me like a tennis table team
firing questions at me
and giving each other the answers
before i can even muster a wrong mutter
my status as renaissance man is revoked
we put on my latest record im working on
everyone sits there bored for a while
then they start to talk through it
in the middle of my new opus
fucking esteban gets up n puts something else on
astrid gilberto or something
fuck it
why cant things go the way i want
even in my own story
my own sister
my own flesh n bloody blood
kathy serves up some coffee
dont eat all the biscuits you pig! she hisses in my ear
i dont even like them ! i whisper back
then why have you eaten 4 already?
it wasnt 4...or...(a quick mental calculation) or sorry
she smirks again
she shakes her head
you see
kathy is just an old smart ass housewife
living it up in buenos aires
dabbling in whatever shes dabbling in
the kids are ok
the nice patient me doesnt mind em
the youngest is sixteen
the old horrible me doesnt like em
bloody horrible music he bitches all thru dinner
esteban rolls another perfect spliff
mind if i add little of this? he says
he taps something into it from a small bottle
whatever i shrug
the next day at the studio
thats today!
wow you look awful! laughs our mr ricky
musta been good right?
its kinda soft n rainy outside
its real kathy weather
she must love it here
i write a little instrumental piece
im gonna call it kathys cloud i say to her later
ugh! she says
and pours out more sangria

our stupid blog

our stupid blog no one ever groks
our stupid blog with its thousands of names
our stupid blog justifying nothing
our stupid blog signifying whatever
hey listen you
why are you reading me?
howcome i aint reading you?
hey im the slipperiest one
hey i hold 4 kings plus me makes five
what are you holding?
one shabby queen three sixes and a 9
or ?
see!
i dunno
i make anything mean anything on here
i juggle time
i wriggle out of death
i suckle vipers at my bosom
my sacred calves propel me forward to my doom
everybody trying to bring me down
trying to break my fucking crown
steven..does it mean loyal or royal...i forgot...
yeah i was a kid once
you shoulda seen me
cruel n horrible...oh things aint changed much
i get so much conflicting advice
i get so much disinformation
they all chatter chatter chatter
like the birdies in the trees
suddenly my children tumble out of bed
voluptuous nine year old spirits
aurora like some northern italian goddess
and beltane eve like an oldtime princess from connaught
they come in and kiss me
oh god i am real...after all
in bondi its dark cold and rainy
the kinda day a mad olde hippy idiot
could slip into some dope induced reverie
how hes this n that
some ancient whatsis come to life
the only renaissance man still kicking tiny goals
some lancelot du lack
some christian wolf
slavering after his rosy crucifixion
and snarling at the bastard moon
but really
i'm as gentle as a little kitten
with a big rat in its mouth
and i'm as gentle as that fluffy cloud( which is full of hail)
and really
wont some great patron step forward
and provide me some Great Comfort
i cant afford the air that i breathe
both my kidneys will be repossessed friday if i dont pay up
and jesus
cocaines gone up to a thousand bucks a pinch
i have no car i have no engine
i have no washing machine
i have no antelopes with gilded horns
i have life certainly
maybe too much or too many
but c'mon
life is a temporary thing
and ive moved into my time-on period
and fuck
the rats ARE running faster this year
and i cant even remember
that i am a man in a mansuit
being dreamt up by maha vishnu the preserver
while his rather attractive wife the goddess of fortune
soothes his sleeping brow
so
i digress
i know it doesnt matter what i really say here
you read in whatever you like
as you rush down yer corn flakes
and hurry thru some blizzard
or real casual in some franchised cafe
knocking back yer long black n yer short white
ooh pay yer mortgage
ooh pay yer palimony
ooh pay yer taxes
ooh pay for yer kids hap kiddo lessons
(but wheres my subscription then?)
oh my oh my
me?
i knock out 3 thousand word articles on songwriting
i paint a gallery of past lives
i imagine buddha down in the city on miracle street
i swim in the cold icy ice bergs
an olde olde digger
(to whom i am a bit of a kid)
says
hey steve-o
howcome the fuckin water temp is 16 degrees
in the middle of summer?
i say
i do not know o olde n venerable swimming digger
perhaps verily
yonder continent antarctica
is really melting down
hence all this cold water...
he says yes
yes youre right
this world is saying
ive fucken hadda nuff of youse cuntz!
and the good digger
with the rude vocabulary sauntered off to do his thing
i swim in the cold almost deserted n violent pool
(a description of yer humble hero perhaps?)
i have found borrowed stolen a new pair of gogs
with yellow lenses
and i feel like i swim thru a giant freezing berocca wee
the waves pound down
seaweed sand n jelly fish
decorate your scribe
i retire to la baby pool
where i do my breaststroke (ooh errr)
and practice my crawl
in the sauna
i speak of many things
whether pigs have wings
why the sea is boiling cold
but mostly cabbages n kings
unfortunately
there was no one in there listening
i am i said
to no one there
and no one heard
not even
my towel
then i said
i am i am i am i am i am
the great god pan is dead!
a man looked up from his newspaper n said
oh do shut up!
i walked home listening to all my new records
the church
k/k
gb3
davey neil
and a few records of nineveh bops n boogies
i channeled during a thracian bonging session
(we bonged nepenthe cones with ambrosia sprinkles)
so i listened to myself
singing all these new songs
chortling with delight
because i couldnt focus in on one word or note
so wrapt up in the misty dark day
that swirled around me
like the underworld
and i thought
gee
i wonder how my dad wooda liked my new songs
n i wonder what kathy'll think
when she hears em all say i gone mad
probably jus' laugh
and i wonder why
why my sister married that south american magic realist
and i wonder if he ever read my story
i sent him
about a reincarnated king priapus
who comes back to this sci fi world
of computers n simulation packages
and boo-teak hotels
and bottles of water that cost ten dollars
and scarlet kilbeys
and west virginian women
and scars n xrays n credit cards n hollywood endings
and recriminations
n regrets
n oh sorry i got carried away with myself
and i keep on writing songs
a guy says yesterday he could write twenty songs a month
are you kidding?
i could write twenty months a song
i could sing the body electric during a power cut
i am i am iam
voice in another room : there he goes again
i am almost outta time
therefore i have too much time on my hands
you can see it
tick tick tick but never tock
i remain
i am the eternal
we all are
we all are me
we are
we are
we are
OUTBOUND
baybee can ya frickin' believe it?
we are we are we are
ok you had yer fun
now donate some money
and go back to whatever it was
you were doing
before you red
this loada olde tripe

disappearance

none of you know me
nobody
none of you
i am king liar
n my nature is to type type type
in my mind i am so free
i roam around n i do what i like
i pick any fruit i want
and i make up these stupid stories
sometimes i put them to music
sometimes i paint em
sometimes i tell you about the imaginary life
of fictitious people
like david neil
like steve kilbey
like whoever else
sometimes oh my oh my
i embroider and embellish
and i tell myself so many things
that i start to believe i really am neil or kilbey
and i make imaginary records
and i do imaginary gigs
for imaginary audiences
all over my imaginary world
in reality
just like the wizard of oz
i am a decrepit phantom
hiding behind a series of shallow personae
manipulating my fantasies
with dodgy sleight of hand
and some clumsy verbal prestidigitation
i put myself thru some bad times
just so i can play the martyr
i reach for my trusty guitar
and i moan on
about how hard my cushy life is
and how i paid my dues
(when was that?)
and i reinvent my nebulous self
as some kinda romantic crusader
or some kinda ancient king
good just and wise
but oh my god
aint it all just showbiz?
sometimes i paint myself as an artist
sometimes i act like an actor
sometimes i imitate real singers with my crafty throat
sometimes i rail against something
that i'd jump at any chance to do
i am sour grapes
i am prejudice
i am envy
i am jealousy n scorn
i am a stab in the back
i am me me ME!
othertimes
i am not me
i am not myself
and i hit some vein
and im rushed and on my run
and the lights all come on
and i walk in the sun
and i find a door back to fucking ithaca
or wherever the fuck
i dunno
maybe its just more of the great lie
a lady says to me
are all your songs true or do you just make em up?
a guy says to me
why do people lie?
a childe says to me
daddy is this real or make believe?
now its funny to ask me, aint it?
seeing as how i am the unverifier
i am the most fictional character you ever saw evaporate
i have no substance
i have no real meaning
i learn to reorganize language at a meta level
simple words i use in combinations i have planned
continue to impress n affect you
but as i sit here
i wonder if i do truly exist
outside this page
if i have any other being
outside time being
as you read me i live
as you switch off i fade
as you forget me i die
whatever you think of me
i assure you
i am not even its opposite
but some diametric negation
of all your expectations
i am i am i am

the bitter comes out better

hanging out with david neil yesterday
yeah yeah
hes a ghost
well i aint holding it against him
david tells me what to sing
he tells me what to write
oh we write some beautiful songs together
david whispers the words in my ears
as fast as i can write them down
some of them are different to what i had thought
sometimes i stand there singing
i open up my throat and davids voice comes out
sometimes its just my same olde voice
sometimes david tells me how sing
sometimes i imagine i'm david
and i picture his lonesome death
when he was shot
and he o.d.ed
and the plane crash at the same time
mr ricky is there
playing up several storms
i guess david had some words with him too
cos hes got all that wah wah going
and ricky already knew a lot of davids tricks
davids girlfriend lois comes in looking for him
they go off for a coffee
and when david comes back he looks real taken aback
so he bids me write a "so long, i'm a gonna ramble off" song
i can hear david ad-libbing in the corners of my headphones
a dead romance comes to life
flowers briefly
and withers under the weight of the terrible past
lois is looking for david
but hes gone
he vanished back into my fucking head
and he pulled in this whole universe with him
the kids are outside crying
davids kids
my kids
lois kid
new kids on the blonde
unborn kids reach to david
but he aint ever gonna be anyones father
david says steve write me something sweet
so that damned woman will cry for me
and write me something bitter
to put in my bloodstream
to replace all that heroin
and all that love
and all that white alberta snow
and david opens a beer
and he slumps down on the floor
saying
jesus fuck
fuck jesus
he sucks in his breath
and he moans
ricky takes me aside
davids losing it man he says
i get angry with all of em
nick the engine ear ducks outside for a smoke
ricky fiddles with an a.r.p. sequencer
david tries to roll a smoke
his pale spirit hands all a tremble
we both break out in a sweat
fuck it david
i'm going through your withdrawals now....i say
david grins grimly
you channeled me, brother!
i feel his puny little body inside my skin
all the coffee all the cigarettes
i feel his aching love for lois
and i feel all the weight of his heartbreak
and i feel all them punches someone landed on his face
and i feel the bad hits and i feel the sloshes of jungle juice
and i feel the blow jobs and i feel the rattle of an aeroplane
and i feel sick
and i feel nervous
and i feel different
and i feel davids hands strumming my guitar
his fingers pick the strings
his fingers undo the locks
his fingers scratch my head
his fingers point the way
his high reedy voice
all smoked out
his hot tears
now all shed
david steps up to the plate
and he is the master of all he surveys
a couple of amps
their standby lights glowing red in the semi-darkness
a piano still sitting in the corner expectantly
a load of guitar pedals all willy nilly
some baffles
some lyrics i wrote out for us before
david tells nick to switch on the music
which song do ya want? nick asks the ghost
lets sing cockpit now david

i gently suggest
david says ok
nick fiddles about for a few seconds
getting the song up n ready to go
a piano starts up tentatively
some acoustic strums
some slide guitar moaning away
the drums stutter into life
the song lurches away
a hesitant and unsure song
david leans in to the microphone
and his ghostly voice comes out
filling the room with its weak keening sound
baby i'm all confused
see me landing
i'm landing on sea
please come up to the cockpit
and rescue me
and tonight we gonna soar
and tonight we gonna get some more
and tonight we gonna really live
and tonight we gonna try to forgive...
david breaks down
and the music stops
i find i'm actually crying myself
and i say
jesus
fuck
fuck
jesus
oh jesus.....














david neil "the wilderness years"
restored remixed remastered
coming soon on karmic hit records!

apotheosis

sometimes
i dont know what to say
the words rush into my mind
and get jammed as they fall onto the page
beauty still staggers me
lovely music moves me to the other place
dylan or bolans words move through me like 'lectricty
gods grace.....oh pray for it unceasingly
i ride the rollercoaster and i go up
kilbey down is a deep sordid horror
but kilbey up.....ah ...i wonder have you ever been this high, childe?
when someone shuts up that nagglng voice in my head
when someone in the next room says
steven you are cleared for liftoff
oh to have this head without all those voices
i spent twenty years in an asylum in france
just to escape these voices....
nevertheless
and notwithstanding
i start to ascend the great arc of a mood swing
its the paint you see
the cobalt blue
inhaling its deadly vapours all day longer
i have gone quite quite strange...oooh rather!
and now
i lick the cobalt straight from the tube
and guess what?
MY FUCKING TONGUE NOW GLOWS IRIDESCENT BLUE!
aside from making me completely crazed
i feel much myself at home
you think i only got this one mansuit?
yeah
well youre right actually
but
god i'd change it if i could
change it for something more a la mode
you see before you the ravings of a ghost
a ghost in a suit
a ghost of a chance
wholly 100% ghost
spirit come and take me now
in some other un-universe
k/k is finally done
a thing of gentle love and beauty
a thing of subtlety and wonder
a thing of such exquisite charm
2 of the best doing what they do best
mk with his panoramic vistas
his attention to detail
his many simple things which imply a cosmic complexity
his honesty and integrity
his own original one-off take on music
even the simplest things sound like him
of course i always mention glenn bennie
another melbourne guitar wizard
these 2 guys whatever they do
and completely different to each other
IT SOUNDS LIKE THEM N NO OTHER!
no thats no easy feat
to sound like no other
in this world of imitation
originality is number one in my book
out of all those geezers n gals
who pick up that guitar for the first fucken time
to those who persevere and learn to play C
to those who go on to play in bands
finally culminating n people like mk n gb
who let the universe speak through them
when they play n compose
they are great artists manipulating the palette of rock
they cant help being themselves
both serve up scrumptious backing tracks
fit for me
yes me
and i dont sing on any olde thing
but when i hear mk n gbs music
the words go winging into my heart
saying sing me you crazy olde hippy sing me
and my voice wraps around those words
and in my mind i see it all unfolding
i walk through mks muted world of fogs and sighs
stripped of any great racket
the walls are transparent
you can see n hear n smell the great ocean
oh such clean songs
oh such simple inevitable songs
oh why hasnt someone written them before?
mk works at music like a watchmaker
fitting tiny parts together
or like a fresco painter preparing a wall for a master
a man who appreciates great music MUST contain distance
to these intriguing pieces
i do my thing
you know by now what that is
ambiguity
dislocation
melancholy
allusion
my voice croons intimately in your ear
i'm in the room
with you
so close
i am so close yet that music is so distant
and what i'm saying is kinda sad
but yet you feel so happy
and...
oh
being pulled in all directions here
the artists are stacking up juxtapositions
you strive for reconciliation with these various mixed emotions
you are elevated as the emotions tighten pulling you up
you reach the end of a song floating in yer disbelief
there may have been better lyricists before me
i do not deny
and to them i am truly indebted
but i do here n now
declare myself
the best in the world at what i do
no other has my depth my subtlety my vocabulary
nor my deep humilty (HA !)
no one exploring my field of melancholia
all to bring you that strange happiness
only an olde master like MOI can dream up
unpopular i maybe
but on my own excruciatingly high expectations
i am getting better n better
i mean its hard when youre as GOOD as MOI
its hard to get much better but....oh...gotta push that envelope
gotta try to....
gotta hold on to my tradition
gotta use all my tricks
gotta use all my voices
voila
in the least amount i will imply more
i am an implier
i imply this n that
you infer this n that
you do all the work
you imagine it all
i aint telling you much
you gotta lotta room to move
mks givin'ya even more
go ahead
buy all my new records n weep
cos i hit the mark everytime
and baby
aint that what you expect from an old master bastard like
me?

ask me how

whatever you say i am
i am
sam i am
i am i am i am i am
look at me
all angular n red
look at my brain stuffed full of disinfotainmentalism
look at my fat little fingers aw....how cute...
look at my tour
oooh i'm treading the boards
ooh im going to some distant city
ooh i'm on a plane going up in the sky
hey its saturday aint it?
hey wheres my mate ricky "whoah!!" miami?
hey wheres my guitar n my pipe n my bowl
hey wheres the audience and the global warming
hey theres only a thousand zebras left....aw it'll do, wont it?
hey wheres that song with the c#minor?
fuck
i dunno
rummaging around in my brain
find terry n terri
find kathy
find my winning ticket
find my little unicorn.....ah...how sweet...?!
find my feet
find the strength
find out
i chuck my heart in my mind
it doesnt fit properly but who cares
sometimes they overlap
sometimes my brain throws out
what my heart would easily accept
sometimes when my heart is too proud
a niggling thought in my mind
can lead to a repossession
i wander on down through my blog n my life
i pick up relics n souvenirs as i go
a tear here
a tear there
(tear to rhyme with there)
tear along this line--------------------------
kilbey just stumbles along
all rubbery and docile
he plays his dna hand
he meets the commentors on a frozen tundra
he blooms one more time before he fades away
he smokes yet more dope
he does more yoga
he swims n swims
he paints n paints
he listens n listens
my hands hurt
my back recoils
i work like a bohemian slave dog
sweating over a hot pastel
i compose music and words while i cook my toast
i pray to god as i squash some ants
they ran out of triple sec
so i just had orange sec
and i tried to forget all the things you did
i tried to forgive you your trespasses
but i'd rather have you prosecuted
and i kept turning the tv off
its eating up your life
and i pick up another paintbrush
and i pick out another colour
and i submerge myself in a hundred faces
staring out dumbly from gallery of my life
ooh you lovely ladies
ooh you handsome devils
ooh you whining harridans
ooh you manipulating little sObbers
now i am so weary....
world weary
whirled wary
i turn again
to face the onslaught
of patent madness
impending olde age
and unbearable grooviness
i am the being in time
i am always
and i will always be
thus

arrogant sobs on every level

so many levels
so many sobs
i weep for lemuria
i weep for atlantis
i weep for a little boy crushed by a truck
at the bottom of baines place in the sixties
i weep for a boy i saw once with no ears
i weep for myself because i'm old and washed up
i weep for you because of your isolation
i weep for the finders and the keepers
i weep for the ugly awkward ones who need love too
i weep for frustration and self loathing
i weep like a willow
i weep into my pillow
some melancholy that i follow
has left me feeling so hollow
so i weep for the sleep that will never come
and i weep for the people
i never met n will never know
who might have loved me as a friend
and been my solace in this 21st century
because i'm not at home here
i'm on the lamb in these days
trying to lay low
with occasional bursts of transcendent prose
kilbey is mad
was mad
ever mad...?
i dont think so therefore i'm not
madness has no glamour on me
ill-starred maybe i am
but still clean
still sharper than one micron
still unbowed before the wall of sludge they call fun
i hate fun as a concept a justifier
i dont make music for fun
i dont write this poisonous bilge for fun
i hope you have some fucken fun reading it
but i dunno about fun
i'm burning up with some terrible malady
my eyes can hear the future clearly now
is that a symptom of my fever?
right now
if you wanted
i could imagine something fantastic for you
or instantly write you a song
about how cool you verily are
my instruments are arraigned about me
the muses hover at my fingertips awaiting instruction
a wonder to myself
i pluck my loot
i bang on my base
i drum up some thing
i enter the studio
i fling violins at people
i murder the engine ear
with a conductors baton
i hammer the faders home
i turn red and i yell at the music that does not transcend
transcend what ? gasps my stupid laptop
transcend this fucking mundanity! kilbey shouts
i am an alien
i am on the wrong planet
i dont wanna waste my precious time being here
who am i? i screamed into the e-void
and answers came back
you are this
you are that
i love you
i hate you
i do not care about you...
i turned trembling
the doctors had shrugged
the lawyers shook their heads
the generals turned away
the actors were merely actors
the leaders all stood behind us
only the poet dares to go there
where where where?
(the clamouring voices)
there is where ecstasy and sorrow collide
in some contradiction
a poet will suspend you vibrating
to some new groovy truth and....
aw shucks
i'm giving away the trade secrets now
anyhow
where was i
i weep for um.....how does cauliflower sound....?
....no no...uh..i weep for uh....concupiscence ....uh..
yeah ...thats better.....oh look a glimpse into my brain...
oh...is that how he does it, dorothy?
guess so harry guess so
oh look no on a mat appear
oh no look theres a cute little allusion
oooh hes a clever olde bugger dorothy
ooh hes a bit of a treat to us olde deers
oooh dont know why he aint as rich as bohno hughson
oooh my daughter valerie went to school with him
what she say then
hes an arrogant SOB on every level!
whats a sob?
its a little cry or gasp
how many levels are there, dorothy?
many many many, harold, many many many
how strange life will be for kilbey i still be saying
poor olde steeve he never gets it , right...?
look its a new church album.....
whats that all about then?
i bet its got some nice new songs on it
songs about the time
songs about the distance
songs by the man in his mansuit
songs of hiding and pursuit
songs of gliding and gah-loots
songs about other songs
i sing the causal and astral bodies electriques
i sing a certain song you have been waiting for your whole lives
here dive in
there are many songs
look
many new songs
all songs are guaranteed to contain LOVE
all songs will last n last n last
all songs guaranteed to make you sob
all songs contain traces of music
all songs contain traces of ancient greece
all songs contain traces of arrogance
all songs contain traces of ....mystery
mmmmm mystery
mystery baby oh mystery
dont you love a lover a love a love a mystery
dont you just wanna loose n lose n loose yourself
in a good mystery
well my songs got it! he says triumphant
voice in next room says :jerk!
voice in another room : get on with it
mystery mystery
cant explain
musnt explain
am i mad? its a mystery
am i sad?
its a mystery
am i really so fucking bad?
its a...ha ha..yes ...yessa ....mystery
what will ever make me glad?
its a mystery
government warning :
these songs will make you wish steve kilbey WAS the p.m.
government warning : kilbey is an icon
he needs considerable repair and reconstruction
DONATE GENEROUSLY TO THIS BLOG
or risk total isolation
cos if this man goes down
you will be all alone
IMAGINE THAT
a kilbEy less world
imagine that
youre on your own now
NO KILBEY
are you imagining it?
its bleak
its terrifying
but childe
please try
a world devoid of ME?
oh ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
(this blog is suddenly interrupted by a knocking)
mr kilbey?
mr kilbey?
its time to go on....
mr kilbey its time to fucking go on now sir
mr kilbey wake up youre having a bad life
mr kilbey the orchestra is waiting
mr kilbey the audience are patience (or patients?)
mr kilbey
you are an arrogant SOB on every level
and its been a pleasure to know you sir
good luck sir
bon voyage sir
over n out sir
into the ether
i commend my spirit
spirit come n take me now
spirit come n fill me now
ooh
wonder what the weather will be like today?

does my ass look big in this mansuit?

who am i?
i was born in 1954 in england
my mum n dad were called mum n dad
i was an obnoxious little childe and had no friends
at the age of three i took up the bass guitar
and penned many songs that were......yes?
steve kilbey!
no...i'm afraid youre just guessing now...
but...uh....i thought steve kilbey was....
no no no
steve kilbey is not the correct answer...
who am i?
who are you...who who....who who...?
i really wanna know.....
well who the fuck are you?
i say i
cos i is used to saying i
but who am i really?
am i who i was?
am i who i will be, kilbey
i'm sometimes so sick of olde kilbey
CANT I BE SOMEONE ELSE
yes i look good for a very olde codger
but i want some real youth
i want the agenda-less day of a faun
i want the raining pleasure
i want to get drunk n you wear the hangover
i want stick my fingers in white chocolate
while somebody else can lick them clean
i want reckless thoughtless aimless nights to arrive
i want more than that
i want to see my past lives all trailing
like a distorted afterimage on a huge screen
kilbey will weep to be a mere shadow one day
another ex-life
oh you heard of steve kilbey
yeah...i used to be him...
oh how was he to be?
ah....ok...up n down i guess....
yeah...i heard that...
a grumpy olde renaissance man
renaissance man my arse
jus' cos he wrote some same stupid songs n did some ropey paintings..?
well err yeah thats as good as it gets these days...
so in the lack of vinnie van google
and leonardo di caprio-vinci
i guess guys like olde kilbey move up
i guess so...
like best of a bad bunch..
dude...it is a bad bunch out there..
how many blokes could explain the iliad to ya?
kilbey
how many could explain the mahabharata or the kalevela
kilbey could...
how many blokes can merge a diary into prose poetry
sk
how many blokes appreciate space noise AND frank sinatra
how many blokes do so many good and bad things at once
how many....
STOP!
this endless list of what i can do does not define me
this also endless list of what i cannot do does not define me
who the fuck is inside here now dictating this to kilbey
this is the sanest question a mad man can ask
all my life people say
steven youre this
steven youre that
steven you should be a lawyer a priest a rear admiral a star
steven you should see yourself
steven youre a handsome/ugly bastard
steven youre so young/old
so masculine/feminine
so friendly/rude
so stupid/brilliant
GET AWAY FROM ME ALL YOU...
how voyeuristic you all are to witness this breakdown...
the centre is not holding
does anyone have a tranquillizer....?
ah thank you....a glass of brandy
let me get my breath
oh the years catch up with me
oooh i am a poor old man
down on his luck
misunderstood by the philistine hoi polloi
who wouldnt know a renaissance man from a removal man
and anyway
i know who i'd rather have on my side
when i finally have to quit this fire trap
and relocate to infernal melbourne
where it buckles in the rail
and there are no shadows
yet
whispers reach my ears
i am locked in a tower cooking up my exhibition
i slap on paint like a tart slapping on make up
i smudge n i rub n i stand back n say
fuck thats fucking awful
i make records like you would make toast
stick in a song for me, ta
thats it a little jam...and ...presto
dont you ever get sick of reading about me?
because in reading about me youre reading about you?
huh?
do you really believe that?
yes?
does everything end in a question mark?
does it?
look
tell me who i am
tell me in less than fifty four words
why you think bondi beach would be a great vacation spot
for you and your family
and you may win
3 weeks at my place
my family n i waiting on you
HAND N FOOT
in spades baybee
yes
a dream vacation
complete with me as your servant
bringing you the sydney morning herald every morning
and rewarming up your hot water bottle every night
just tell me in your own words
your own words mind you
WHO AM I?
or
WHO I AM
or even
I AM WHO?
send your comments to
time being
15 nefertiti street
west nineveh
666-1313
i will moderate them carefully
with my big olde moderator
(it makes me feel much greater)
n
(in austrian accent)
I'LL BE BACK !!

lost day 3

... the bullets hit me in the heart
it is a shocking pain
i am thrown backwards
my eyesight grows dim almost immediately
confused thoughts n memories rush into my head
in truth
i have often longed for death
not the pain n fear
but the cancellation
the nulling n voiding
the wiping clean of the slate
the great zeroising
the rest n reset
the big sleep
i want to merge into blackness
have no more cares n concerns
this whole damn world hanging round my neck
i have wanted off so many times
sometimes i have seen death
like the extinguishment of a flame
one simply ceases to be
blown out
gone daddy gone
now your life is gone
no more bills arguments noise cruelty pain humiliation
no more responsibilities
no more expectations
no more nothing really
but in your real real heart
you know
you know
it aint gonna be like that
you may obtain a little rest
you may get a little respite
hell
everyone deserves that
even whoever the "you" i am addressing here..
whoever the "i" is or am...
the bullets have done their gig well
and i'm dying
look
i'm frightened
i'm struggling
i'm bleeding like a dog
then
then
then
what is it?
ssshhh!
i'm trying to put this into words...
ok....
i leave this all behind
the execution
the men
the small dirty yard where i was shot
the city where i was held
suddenly what does it matter.....?
why should i care about anything
and then i rest
i rest out there
in here
deep in here
far out there
far out in out
deep rest
while i rest
i am aware
who is i?
i is the awareness remaining
i is the finger who types
i is the you i share with you
the me in me
that makes me want to reach the you in you
i is the eternal
blissful sleep
sacred slumber
i wash the years from my face
i wash that kilbey right out of my hair
no ones son or father
no man nor woman
no ghost or angel
i simply am
i am iam iam i am
my doing is all done
now i am
am what ? says a voice from another room
i am i am ...i reply to myself
i am the thought
this is delicious
this feeling of "i" ness
detached unlocated anywhere
no more agendas
no more trips
no more sleight of hand
no more ambition
endless peace
no
not endless
says another voice
from another room
agitation begins subtly
your calm begins to fracture
why was it ever thus?
you
(now its you not i, thank god)
you
yes you
yes YOU
who do you think i was talking to?
YOU YOU YOU YOU N YOU
all of you
all of those yous
you wanna have another go
you wanna have another shot
you said
hang on a minute
maybe i will give life another try
but the struggle the pain the fear i say
no no no
you say
i will give life another try
maybe it...
maybe it wasnt so bad after all
maybe it was ......
JESUS now!
why did you wanna do that?