the flowers are growing inwards
their beauty is only to impress themselves
i understand at last their terrible sadness
the colours the perfumes the shapes
at night i wander in the astral
i see it all
the crooked past
the potential present
the over future
the next future with its tricks and deceits
the future which never comes with its robots named gladys
i wander through the citizens bedrooms
ha ha i glide thru all walls like thru a gossamer web
invisible and inaudible
i see their snoring and desperate attempts at love
i see their perversions and their peccadilloes
who cares...i am a free spirit
wouldnt you love to float over the sea and land
a weightless energy and intelligence
i go wherever i want
but things stand in my way
doubt for one
fear for another
stupidity for a third
i hurl myself into unknown gardens
and some monster is roused from its deep pool
it comes slithering across the lawns to me
i think no this cant be happening
the thing bites into me with its filthy fangs
i scream out in my bed
i fall a thousand miles
i wake up covered in an icy sweat
quickly i'm up and at my journal
recording all the data n statistics of my flight
how i was re routed due to black angelic static
how i soared above troy and saw how small it really was
how i lived my long lives in ignorance and pride
now i know the language of the cricket and the lark
now i have penetrated the heart of an oak
now i fly where i will at night
riding the backs of the waves
i jump aboard a huge fish
which moves through the equatorial seas like a leviathan
i move cautiously thru old siam
to some here i may be detectable
morning finds me in deserted ruins of temples within a jungle
i walk thru lemuria seeing it as it was
i visit nineveh again out in the desert
stupid proud nineveh
i tell you your god is a piece of clay
make of him what you will
fashion him into vishnu
fashion him into jehovah
fashion him into the sweet lord baby jesus
fashion him into baal
leave him inchoate
leave him to someone else to finish
the spirit possesses me right now
he has commanded me to write these words
i wonder why he doesnt do it for himself
i wonder who'll get aurora a piece of toast if i'm all possessed
you wonder too much
and
do too little
i suppose
suddenly back in sydney australia
where some of me is still stationed
a huge black cloudburst opens up its nasty mouth
and spits out dark rain drops coming down hard above you
the other kids wake up
running out of the room
still asleep
looking like the most beautiful children in the world
eves tiny tiny ears and her tangled chestnut hair
shes from tir na nog i am sure of it
a celtic faery type
i am not joking
aurora is more from lyonesse
shes more continental with her blonde hair n brown skin
scarlet should be puck
a real impish childe
complete with a rotten temper
and liable to do anything
me.. ?
some shabby oberon
some throneless old fisher king
casting my spells and nets
down by a bleak shore at dawn
walking through the crimson n purple bushes
yesterday elementals cause sydneys power to shut down
the shops all dark n empty
the traffic speeding and chaotic
i see a magazine and on the front is U2
adam whatsit looking like a glum solicitor
and mercifully out of focus and paul bono hewson
with his nanny goat beard and smudged mascara
(an awful combination, fashionistas!)
and his grizzly olde head
and with a frightening look in his bloodshot eyes
oh my god! and this is the photo they approved...?!
and his quote about not throwing tvs out of windows
but rather buying the company who makes the tv....
and then i remember why i loathe em
and suddenly i remember how incredibly silly they actually are
and yeah im jealous of their vast fortunes
but i'm sorry
they are now officially silly
silly silly silly
i mean ...bono.....c'mon
its silly, right....?
the edge......oh fer crying out loud...the edge
have you ever seen a less edgy man in your life?
hes more like the window sill
or
the chair
or the card table
sorry men called the edge or bono or sting...
you wont see the killer with a silly nickname...ooops!
so thats it
recording more of my multi media madness round at jordens
notwithstanding powerstrikes or viral strikes
or 3 strikes and we're all out
good morning to you
wake up
its all over
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
mistakes i made a few
the killer awoke before dawn
put his boots on
and he walked on down the hall
and he came to the room
where his cheap n dirty laptop computer was
and he sat down in the dark hours to write
mortality pressing in from all sides
pressure exerted subtly
the roar of the crowd
the clacking of the mynah birds
the braying of the law
a good friend of mine
chucked in jail for growing dope in his garden
good work officers
we all sleeping safe
now this menace is in jail with NO visitors
a bloke who writes lovely things n
wouldnt harm a fly
etc
pay lipservice to an olde and evil law
do your job thats what youre paid for
lock em all up n let some corrupt judge sort em out
the law is a complicated n tricky thing
the govt must know what there doing, right?
the truth is
no one really knows what theyre doing
or why did we have 8 years of bush
and why all these wars
and why do everyone of us make a hundred mistakes a day
i know i do
i know i'm wrong about nearly everything
an i think of what david bowie said
we're just older children thats all
an think about it for a minute
with all the fear and uncertainty of the child
scarlet kilbey for example
working at cross purposes to herself all day
making it harder for herself with her jealousy and fears
its alright shes 3 and a half
she will bury all this within herself
but it will all still be there her whole life
her rages when shes being condescended to
her capriciousness
her fickle moods and savage swings
her decisions based on whims
her ugly retaliations
her demanding attention
all this will be re absorbed into her adult persona
all just below the surface threatening to boil over
im pushing bloody sixty
but my emotions are still very much those of a kid
i often suspect that this childish font of malarkey
also could be the source of my creativity n energy
theyre almost inseparable
like you gotta respect your inner child tyrant
if you wanna get things done
thats why genius goes off the rails all the time
trying to obey yet not obey that 3 year old ego
the thing you like about my work
is the thing you'll hate about me in person...
you love that song the disillusionist
but you dont wanna be personally disillusioned by me
but thats my tragedy and thats my specialty
and thats just the way it probably is
i cant keep my inner 3 n a half year in check
and hes running around like a fool
and ruining my ability to get organized
yet the 3 year is writing the goddamned poetry
n doing the paintings
the 3 year old gets me outta bed
n promises me we gonna do something really good
yeah whatever eh fiendss...?
more self analysis from the killer
trying to explain something unexplainable
or is it inexplicable...?
anyway i bristle to think of my gentle friend
in fucking jail...with NO visitors
for growing a bit of weed
this is not what we wanted
this is so bloody stupid
but all the inner 3 and a half year olds
who control the "law"
cant see how completely uncivilized it is
to lock up geezers like this for what is
essentially a thought crime
ie the dope transforms yer thoughts
and the "law" dont want ya thinking those thoughts
cos the "law" wants you to be just like them
and take the system very seriously
here the "law" is working counter to itself
by persecuting an otherwise law abiding chap
but aint that just like a 3 n a half year old...?
dont look for logic in this world
there is none
we're all pretending
anyone can lose it at any moment
people go mad
people wise up
people get fucked n fucked over
people come good
people go bad
people get bought n sold
people change their minds n hearts
people are anything they wanna be
girls just wanna have fun
boys will be boys
women they will come n they will go
mortal man doomed to die
my god youre dealing with a lot of variables here
watch out
beware
emptor cave
dont trust yer senses
danger within n without
its like a jungle
ha!
put his boots on
and he walked on down the hall
and he came to the room
where his cheap n dirty laptop computer was
and he sat down in the dark hours to write
mortality pressing in from all sides
pressure exerted subtly
the roar of the crowd
the clacking of the mynah birds
the braying of the law
a good friend of mine
chucked in jail for growing dope in his garden
good work officers
we all sleeping safe
now this menace is in jail with NO visitors
a bloke who writes lovely things n
wouldnt harm a fly
etc
pay lipservice to an olde and evil law
do your job thats what youre paid for
lock em all up n let some corrupt judge sort em out
the law is a complicated n tricky thing
the govt must know what there doing, right?
the truth is
no one really knows what theyre doing
or why did we have 8 years of bush
and why all these wars
and why do everyone of us make a hundred mistakes a day
i know i do
i know i'm wrong about nearly everything
an i think of what david bowie said
we're just older children thats all
an think about it for a minute
with all the fear and uncertainty of the child
scarlet kilbey for example
working at cross purposes to herself all day
making it harder for herself with her jealousy and fears
its alright shes 3 and a half
she will bury all this within herself
but it will all still be there her whole life
her rages when shes being condescended to
her capriciousness
her fickle moods and savage swings
her decisions based on whims
her ugly retaliations
her demanding attention
all this will be re absorbed into her adult persona
all just below the surface threatening to boil over
im pushing bloody sixty
but my emotions are still very much those of a kid
i often suspect that this childish font of malarkey
also could be the source of my creativity n energy
theyre almost inseparable
like you gotta respect your inner child tyrant
if you wanna get things done
thats why genius goes off the rails all the time
trying to obey yet not obey that 3 year old ego
the thing you like about my work
is the thing you'll hate about me in person...
you love that song the disillusionist
but you dont wanna be personally disillusioned by me
but thats my tragedy and thats my specialty
and thats just the way it probably is
i cant keep my inner 3 n a half year in check
and hes running around like a fool
and ruining my ability to get organized
yet the 3 year is writing the goddamned poetry
n doing the paintings
the 3 year old gets me outta bed
n promises me we gonna do something really good
yeah whatever eh fiendss...?
more self analysis from the killer
trying to explain something unexplainable
or is it inexplicable...?
anyway i bristle to think of my gentle friend
in fucking jail...with NO visitors
for growing a bit of weed
this is not what we wanted
this is so bloody stupid
but all the inner 3 and a half year olds
who control the "law"
cant see how completely uncivilized it is
to lock up geezers like this for what is
essentially a thought crime
ie the dope transforms yer thoughts
and the "law" dont want ya thinking those thoughts
cos the "law" wants you to be just like them
and take the system very seriously
here the "law" is working counter to itself
by persecuting an otherwise law abiding chap
but aint that just like a 3 n a half year old...?
dont look for logic in this world
there is none
we're all pretending
anyone can lose it at any moment
people go mad
people wise up
people get fucked n fucked over
people come good
people go bad
people get bought n sold
people change their minds n hearts
people are anything they wanna be
girls just wanna have fun
boys will be boys
women they will come n they will go
mortal man doomed to die
my god youre dealing with a lot of variables here
watch out
beware
emptor cave
dont trust yer senses
danger within n without
its like a jungle
ha!
Sunday, March 29, 2009
the gypsy freeloaders
yesterday we found a little room here
we didnt know previously existed
i thought it was a wardrobe or something
but down at the end of a little corridor
was a little meditation room
with a hushed silence
while esoteric books lined the shelves
one felt almost like an intruder on the rooms solemn quiet
an incense stick lay waiting to be lit
between a white carved dragons jaws
heavy sackcloth kept out the dazzling outside sunlight
nice room!
we walked around newport and avalon
we drove up to palm n whale beach
(nice going , iva!)
we had some indian food
which was good but i couldnt eat that much
which is good too
i remember living in america n taking ephedra stacks
to curb my appetite
but then i'd go to dennys n eat cheese sandwiches n chips
now i cant handle eating that much
leave while youre still hungry
dont fill up
its justa lotta strain on yer system
filling your belly to the max
you'll always need more n more
so we left the restaurant still slightly hungry
we had palak paneer n dal n naan
natalie likes missions dark ghana chocolate
the sand up here is coarser n more yellow
they have some nice seapools
there are lots of long haired blond kids on skateboards
we went to cafe
it took 45 minutes to deliver some banana bread n porridge
it was ludicrous
i read the paper waiting
wow
some celebrity dating some celebrity
some war somewhere
some murder
some plane crash
some market folds
some dollars burn
some footy player scores a goal
some politician is a useless lying worm
some people go to a party
some people go to the races
some people stay home n eat pizza n watch crime shows
soon we must depart the hidden nook of mission h.q.
wend our weary way back home
for the hourlong drive
plus everyone'll be squeezing into bondi today
its a glorious sunday morning
i pull on my mansuit
more grey hairs
more wrinkles
more years a'showing
have some of missions nice muesli for brekky
type this rubbish out
pretending to work
while nk packs up our stuff
remember
if any one out there has a chalet
a cottage in a forest
a villa
a castle
a romantic parisienne garret
a caravan by a forest
or some other nice holiday destination
we are available to stay there
free of charge!
get your place written up here too
if i got enuff places together
we can move out of our bondi joint
and just travel about staying here n there
the gypsy freeloaders
we didnt know previously existed
i thought it was a wardrobe or something
but down at the end of a little corridor
was a little meditation room
with a hushed silence
while esoteric books lined the shelves
one felt almost like an intruder on the rooms solemn quiet
an incense stick lay waiting to be lit
between a white carved dragons jaws
heavy sackcloth kept out the dazzling outside sunlight
nice room!
we walked around newport and avalon
we drove up to palm n whale beach
(nice going , iva!)
we had some indian food
which was good but i couldnt eat that much
which is good too
i remember living in america n taking ephedra stacks
to curb my appetite
but then i'd go to dennys n eat cheese sandwiches n chips
now i cant handle eating that much
leave while youre still hungry
dont fill up
its justa lotta strain on yer system
filling your belly to the max
you'll always need more n more
so we left the restaurant still slightly hungry
we had palak paneer n dal n naan
natalie likes missions dark ghana chocolate
the sand up here is coarser n more yellow
they have some nice seapools
there are lots of long haired blond kids on skateboards
we went to cafe
it took 45 minutes to deliver some banana bread n porridge
it was ludicrous
i read the paper waiting
wow
some celebrity dating some celebrity
some war somewhere
some murder
some plane crash
some market folds
some dollars burn
some footy player scores a goal
some politician is a useless lying worm
some people go to a party
some people go to the races
some people stay home n eat pizza n watch crime shows
soon we must depart the hidden nook of mission h.q.
wend our weary way back home
for the hourlong drive
plus everyone'll be squeezing into bondi today
its a glorious sunday morning
i pull on my mansuit
more grey hairs
more wrinkles
more years a'showing
have some of missions nice muesli for brekky
type this rubbish out
pretending to work
while nk packs up our stuff
remember
if any one out there has a chalet
a cottage in a forest
a villa
a castle
a romantic parisienne garret
a caravan by a forest
or some other nice holiday destination
we are available to stay there
free of charge!
get your place written up here too
if i got enuff places together
we can move out of our bondi joint
and just travel about staying here n there
the gypsy freeloaders
Saturday, March 28, 2009
mission 'im possible
aha
i am not at home today
me n nk are up at capt missions groovy beach shack
on the northern beaches of sydney
he even lent us his car to get here....
its a real proper hippy beach pad too
full of plants and cactii
and books n cds n dvds all on esoteric things
its surrounded by trees n lovely lawns
and i really must say
that me n the lovely nk are having a great time
its a whole other vibe up here
in avalon n newport
the trees n everything is different
missions got posters of david bowie
and a little balcony with a hammock
hes got recording equip n guitars
hes got big colourful cushions
and nice furniture
the sun streams in the kitchen window
the birds sing outside
a different tune to be sure from bondi
there are no children
its so quiet
our bedroom is painted crimson
missions kitchen is an explosion of stuff
this morning is so very soft
mission has candles n lanterns
mission has some lovely incense
mission
you lucky bastard
living here all alone with your loyal hound
you dabble in this n that
searching for your huge calm truth
yeah you guys remember mission from my night on the vine
hes the guy who collapsed in wonder
at how beautiful the vegetal kingdom was
after he stepped outside in the morning
the wonder of it all
the love swept him off his feet
now you dont want that every day i guess
but imagine
just once
you suddenly see this world thru the eyes of a stranger
you see the flowers
you see the leaves
you see the trees
you see the bees
and for the 1st time
you suss the huge intelligence n love behind it all
no we are not random splodges of flesh
we are creatures
created by our creator
who is bold enough to name him?
lord vishnu has 1000 names
he has 1000 magnificent attributes each needing a name
vishnu who holds the spheres in their orbit
vishnu who dreams up worlds as he sleeps
universes pour out of his pores
and everything is created and in its place
to perform this dance of maya
and every now n then
you meet some guys
you know their dancing days are nearly done
by their gentle grace and demeanour
softly spoken men with no ego agenda
note : this iS NOT ME
but real gentlemen
with the emphasis on gentle
the kind of man who can dig a buncha fleurs so heavily
that his fucken knees give out
he was paralysed with the enormous cosmick plan
and it fucken floored him
well
facing yourself on some exotic powerful manifestation of nature
eg the vine or the bark or the mushroom or the cactus
is just about the bravest thing you can do
you never know what ya gonna find
and shifty ambitious geezers like moi
sometimes get a blast from outta their past hearts
that withers them in its onslaught n fury
but our capt mission
is not your ordinary guy
hes done time playing the game
now hes moved into some free space
a generous and warm hearted geezer
this is a marvellous little break for us
its so quiet up here
you could move in n never leave...
people living in some wintery north east american town
or people living in leeds or in rinkeby
or people living in the western subs of sydney
or people in amsterdam
would be amazed
by the lush tree-i-ness
the bushes and the shrubs
the pacific crashes not five minutes walk away
its saturday morning
i'm on a little holiday
ooh me n nk are having such a good time
thank you mission
you sir
are a DIAMOND GEEZER!!!!!
i am not at home today
me n nk are up at capt missions groovy beach shack
on the northern beaches of sydney
he even lent us his car to get here....
its a real proper hippy beach pad too
full of plants and cactii
and books n cds n dvds all on esoteric things
its surrounded by trees n lovely lawns
and i really must say
that me n the lovely nk are having a great time
its a whole other vibe up here
in avalon n newport
the trees n everything is different
missions got posters of david bowie
and a little balcony with a hammock
hes got recording equip n guitars
hes got big colourful cushions
and nice furniture
the sun streams in the kitchen window
the birds sing outside
a different tune to be sure from bondi
there are no children
its so quiet
our bedroom is painted crimson
missions kitchen is an explosion of stuff
this morning is so very soft
mission has candles n lanterns
mission has some lovely incense
mission
you lucky bastard
living here all alone with your loyal hound
you dabble in this n that
searching for your huge calm truth
yeah you guys remember mission from my night on the vine
hes the guy who collapsed in wonder
at how beautiful the vegetal kingdom was
after he stepped outside in the morning
the wonder of it all
the love swept him off his feet
now you dont want that every day i guess
but imagine
just once
you suddenly see this world thru the eyes of a stranger
you see the flowers
you see the leaves
you see the trees
you see the bees
and for the 1st time
you suss the huge intelligence n love behind it all
no we are not random splodges of flesh
we are creatures
created by our creator
who is bold enough to name him?
lord vishnu has 1000 names
he has 1000 magnificent attributes each needing a name
vishnu who holds the spheres in their orbit
vishnu who dreams up worlds as he sleeps
universes pour out of his pores
and everything is created and in its place
to perform this dance of maya
and every now n then
you meet some guys
you know their dancing days are nearly done
by their gentle grace and demeanour
softly spoken men with no ego agenda
note : this iS NOT ME
but real gentlemen
with the emphasis on gentle
the kind of man who can dig a buncha fleurs so heavily
that his fucken knees give out
he was paralysed with the enormous cosmick plan
and it fucken floored him
well
facing yourself on some exotic powerful manifestation of nature
eg the vine or the bark or the mushroom or the cactus
is just about the bravest thing you can do
you never know what ya gonna find
and shifty ambitious geezers like moi
sometimes get a blast from outta their past hearts
that withers them in its onslaught n fury
but our capt mission
is not your ordinary guy
hes done time playing the game
now hes moved into some free space
a generous and warm hearted geezer
this is a marvellous little break for us
its so quiet up here
you could move in n never leave...
people living in some wintery north east american town
or people living in leeds or in rinkeby
or people living in the western subs of sydney
or people in amsterdam
would be amazed
by the lush tree-i-ness
the bushes and the shrubs
the pacific crashes not five minutes walk away
its saturday morning
i'm on a little holiday
ooh me n nk are having such a good time
thank you mission
you sir
are a DIAMOND GEEZER!!!!!
Friday, March 27, 2009
the hole proof troof
naivete is no excuse
bawled a policeman in my ear
i was cuffed
printed
and processed
any drugs ?
yes please ! i said
oh we got us a wise guy.....hey larry we got us a wise guy..!
a big nasty new york style copper appeared
he grabbed me by the cravat
whaddya fink yer diff'rent ? he yelled in my face
no sir no sir ..i squawked
thats better ! he said
pushing me in the dankest dungeon downtown
alone with my thoughts
i began writing poems on the wall
scratching them in the solid rock with my fingernails
and filling them with fresh blood
to tell the truth they were hard to read in the complete blackness
and i never finished them properly
or using much shorter words than i woulda liked
time passed past
2034 came around
my eightieth birthday
i was released
i couldnt believe how the world had changed
everyone wearing protective clothing
what we are being protected against ? i asked
everything grandad ! said the guy fitting me
the sun
the air
the water
each other
the noise
the disease
the argy bargy of life, old man!
i staggered outside the prison gates
no trees
no birds
no flowers
the sky was grey and dry
the earth was all used up
a silver car sped by silently
something like a bus pulled up
and i hopped on
i got off at bondi junction
the zeitgeist mall had been knocked down
where it stood was a noxious pit of green water
the high rises were now a dark jungle of twisted metal
it was hard to breathe in my suit
i kept trying to get the nitrogen oxygen mix right
but i was feeling dizzy and out of breath
i walked down bondi road
it was now called mal turnbull blvde
but the shops were all closed or burnt out
a few other people wandered in their suits
but it was impossible to tell
who they might be
i was rip van wrinkle
staggering in the remnants of my olde life
eventually i found my way to ninny street
my olde address
my olde house still stood there
i banged on the door
a youngish woman in her late twenties early thirties
brown curly hair with a blonde aureole
scarlet? i asked
she nodded behind the perspex safe-t door
dad?
yes sweetheart, its me..
go away dad ...! she motioned moaning
i'm not allowed to let you in.....
i wandered down to the sea shore
lonely as a cloud full of fumes
bondi beach was nearly gone
the grey empty sea nearly lapped the pavilion
yeah
the fish were all gone
anything still living in that sea.....the mind boggled
nobody swimming or surfing..it would be a slow death
still a bus-thing full of jap tourists pulled up
out they jumped in their colourful sun-suits
posing against the wreckage of our civilization
the pavilion was now some kinda factory or something
a big pump shuddered underground
above us the dry grey sky
i walked into the pavilion
there were all these little booths
i pushed my credit -thing in a slot
a door opened and i stepped in
you may now remove your helmut said a sign
i hunched over a console
products were advertised on a screen
menus for weird things i didnt understand
transparent schema and instructions in strange hybrid languages
different logos and emblems
i saw sony flash up more than once
but the others were unrecognized
what do you want? asked the machine eventually
in a neutered machine voice with a slight australian accent
what can i have? i asked amazed to hear my olde rheumy voice
how much have you got? asked the machine in its flat way
i stuffed my credit-things into its slot to be read
you have 13 hours remaining ...the machine replied disinterestedly
food?
a menu appeared
hot chocolate
various biscuits
rehydrolized water
fruit when in season
i ordered a hot chocolate and a various biscuit
the hot chocolate was scalding hot runny and tasteless
the biscuit was damp and crumbly and sickly sweet
great ...i remarked
the machine made some quiet sound
what else?
what else do you require? asked the machine
i want the hole proof troof i said
the machine hummed expectantly for a while
i'm sorry sir could you be more specific?
i just wanna know what happened ...i said
oh...said the machine (oh!?)
then you need history ....
ancient or modern?
gimme modern...last thirty years ..i said
ok said the machine
begin replay now
i was suddenly enveloped in the past
it was like i was really back there
out the back of some club doing yoga
while jets jetted overhead
and a dog barked somewhere
it was a hot night
and lightning lit up the sky
it was sydney allright
sydney back in the olde days
when you could still breathe it in
wow!
here it was
virtually perfect!
tomorrow
i lose interest in this story n start something new
bawled a policeman in my ear
i was cuffed
printed
and processed
any drugs ?
yes please ! i said
oh we got us a wise guy.....hey larry we got us a wise guy..!
a big nasty new york style copper appeared
he grabbed me by the cravat
whaddya fink yer diff'rent ? he yelled in my face
no sir no sir ..i squawked
thats better ! he said
pushing me in the dankest dungeon downtown
alone with my thoughts
i began writing poems on the wall
scratching them in the solid rock with my fingernails
and filling them with fresh blood
to tell the truth they were hard to read in the complete blackness
and i never finished them properly
or using much shorter words than i woulda liked
time passed past
2034 came around
my eightieth birthday
i was released
i couldnt believe how the world had changed
everyone wearing protective clothing
what we are being protected against ? i asked
everything grandad ! said the guy fitting me
the sun
the air
the water
each other
the noise
the disease
the argy bargy of life, old man!
i staggered outside the prison gates
no trees
no birds
no flowers
the sky was grey and dry
the earth was all used up
a silver car sped by silently
something like a bus pulled up
and i hopped on
i got off at bondi junction
the zeitgeist mall had been knocked down
where it stood was a noxious pit of green water
the high rises were now a dark jungle of twisted metal
it was hard to breathe in my suit
i kept trying to get the nitrogen oxygen mix right
but i was feeling dizzy and out of breath
i walked down bondi road
it was now called mal turnbull blvde
but the shops were all closed or burnt out
a few other people wandered in their suits
but it was impossible to tell
who they might be
i was rip van wrinkle
staggering in the remnants of my olde life
eventually i found my way to ninny street
my olde address
my olde house still stood there
i banged on the door
a youngish woman in her late twenties early thirties
brown curly hair with a blonde aureole
scarlet? i asked
she nodded behind the perspex safe-t door
dad?
yes sweetheart, its me..
go away dad ...! she motioned moaning
i'm not allowed to let you in.....
i wandered down to the sea shore
lonely as a cloud full of fumes
bondi beach was nearly gone
the grey empty sea nearly lapped the pavilion
yeah
the fish were all gone
anything still living in that sea.....the mind boggled
nobody swimming or surfing..it would be a slow death
still a bus-thing full of jap tourists pulled up
out they jumped in their colourful sun-suits
posing against the wreckage of our civilization
the pavilion was now some kinda factory or something
a big pump shuddered underground
above us the dry grey sky
i walked into the pavilion
there were all these little booths
i pushed my credit -thing in a slot
a door opened and i stepped in
you may now remove your helmut said a sign
i hunched over a console
products were advertised on a screen
menus for weird things i didnt understand
transparent schema and instructions in strange hybrid languages
different logos and emblems
i saw sony flash up more than once
but the others were unrecognized
what do you want? asked the machine eventually
in a neutered machine voice with a slight australian accent
what can i have? i asked amazed to hear my olde rheumy voice
how much have you got? asked the machine in its flat way
i stuffed my credit-things into its slot to be read
you have 13 hours remaining ...the machine replied disinterestedly
food?
a menu appeared
hot chocolate
various biscuits
rehydrolized water
fruit when in season
i ordered a hot chocolate and a various biscuit
the hot chocolate was scalding hot runny and tasteless
the biscuit was damp and crumbly and sickly sweet
great ...i remarked
the machine made some quiet sound
what else?
what else do you require? asked the machine
i want the hole proof troof i said
the machine hummed expectantly for a while
i'm sorry sir could you be more specific?
i just wanna know what happened ...i said
oh...said the machine (oh!?)
then you need history ....
ancient or modern?
gimme modern...last thirty years ..i said
ok said the machine
begin replay now
i was suddenly enveloped in the past
it was like i was really back there
out the back of some club doing yoga
while jets jetted overhead
and a dog barked somewhere
it was a hot night
and lightning lit up the sky
it was sydney allright
sydney back in the olde days
when you could still breathe it in
wow!
here it was
virtually perfect!
tomorrow
i lose interest in this story n start something new
Thursday, March 26, 2009
gimme a brake!
little steven lived in his naive world
at the end of ninny street
he liked to count his lute
he like to dabble with his paintbox
he liked to go to the park
and feed the dux
he was happy with a tomato sandwich
all he asked for was a sip of water
all he ever needed he squeezed in a little bag
and he roamed around
through the foaming gloaming
threw the cartoon woods
where his strange painted bird lived
in n out of hollow trees
his daughters were dryads
aurora was the spirit of an ash
eve the spirit of an oak
and little scarlet was the spirit of a tiny red gum sapling
the sun wasnt shining that day
so he painted an acrylic yellow glow up in the corner
of the archangel sky
and wind gods who blew jasmine and spice
and all on a little flat piece of wood
and his two elder daughters appear
of the eldar race they were
twin spirits of the two rivers
anna miranda was the tigris
elektra june was the euphrates
and the moon swung down low all pink n confidential
and oh
i strolled through my world
thinking music to a computer who recorded my thoughts
i pumped out all the symphonies and songs i would never have time
to actually write
this way my constant creativity was drained away from me and cooled
because it drives you mad sometimes
when you dont want it
i sat down to answer my letters
dear steven
can we have more gazelles in the garden?
signed
herbert and jenny frobish
dear herbert and jenny
consider it done!
yours truly
little steven k
dear l. steven
i like the colour of the flamingoes
dont change it!
love mopsy and ted
dear mopsy n teddy
i wont!
love
steven
i was proceeding in this manner
when i noticed men working in my woods
no no no you cant work in here! i yelled yet
there they were
hammering stuff up
knocking stuff down
crushing robins and squirrels underfoot
smudging all the colours in my world
my sister kathy came running out
oh dear brother stop this madness!
a big space had been cleared in my wood
a horrible circus appeared complete with clowns n animals
i was most distressed to see a mangy old black panther
prowling around in a dark cage
and growling feebly and laying back down with a groan
immediately clowns appeared and prodded n mocked the great cat
an ugly old stripper twirled her dirty jugs and winked at me
i hid my eyes and blocked my ears to the distant trumpeting
of a distressed elephant
steven do something ! kathy screamed fighting off a bat
the newspapers had arrived
the gutter press
the gossip rags
no this is my naive world ! i shouted
as a new caffeine franchise was executed
as a suave doctor in a nice suit listened to my naive heart
here take this he said
tossing me a pack of amiodarone
now my heart beat is de- regulated
now tariffs appeared on my borders
now i filled in a questionaire about their performance
no i was most unhappy
violently ticking off the boxes
the bees were killed by their wasps
their dogs ate my bunnies
their cats clawed my baby birds
their money had bought me up
their contracts had tricked me forever
their traps had tripped me over
they built a school and filled it with fools
they taught us how to learn their words
they guided us in their paths
they muscled in on my silences
they sniggered at my sensitivities
they guffawed at my little sword
kathy fought off a hyaena-man
dad was fighting off angina pectoris
my woods
my cartoon woods
my softly emerald green dripping woods
home to cute lil beasties and woodland folk
i run around trying to stop it
but i achieve nothing
except getting exhausted
losing my breath
firing out words
grasping at strauss
going down slow
this is the zeitgeist mall
this is the underground car park ten miles deep
this is the black widow funeral parlour
this is the fucknuckle brothers giant wearhouse
this is country piggie fast food drive thru
this is mega drug store rx plus smokes
this is dark satanic milk
this is fried chicken bits dipped in grease
this is lonely boy
this is actually that
this is really happening....
now
stay tuned!
tomorrow:
the hole truth!
at the end of ninny street
he liked to count his lute
he like to dabble with his paintbox
he liked to go to the park
and feed the dux
he was happy with a tomato sandwich
all he asked for was a sip of water
all he ever needed he squeezed in a little bag
and he roamed around
through the foaming gloaming
threw the cartoon woods
where his strange painted bird lived
in n out of hollow trees
his daughters were dryads
aurora was the spirit of an ash
eve the spirit of an oak
and little scarlet was the spirit of a tiny red gum sapling
the sun wasnt shining that day
so he painted an acrylic yellow glow up in the corner
of the archangel sky
and wind gods who blew jasmine and spice
and all on a little flat piece of wood
and his two elder daughters appear
of the eldar race they were
twin spirits of the two rivers
anna miranda was the tigris
elektra june was the euphrates
and the moon swung down low all pink n confidential
and oh
i strolled through my world
thinking music to a computer who recorded my thoughts
i pumped out all the symphonies and songs i would never have time
to actually write
this way my constant creativity was drained away from me and cooled
because it drives you mad sometimes
when you dont want it
i sat down to answer my letters
dear steven
can we have more gazelles in the garden?
signed
herbert and jenny frobish
dear herbert and jenny
consider it done!
yours truly
little steven k
dear l. steven
i like the colour of the flamingoes
dont change it!
love mopsy and ted
dear mopsy n teddy
i wont!
love
steven
i was proceeding in this manner
when i noticed men working in my woods
no no no you cant work in here! i yelled yet
there they were
hammering stuff up
knocking stuff down
crushing robins and squirrels underfoot
smudging all the colours in my world
my sister kathy came running out
oh dear brother stop this madness!
a big space had been cleared in my wood
a horrible circus appeared complete with clowns n animals
i was most distressed to see a mangy old black panther
prowling around in a dark cage
and growling feebly and laying back down with a groan
immediately clowns appeared and prodded n mocked the great cat
an ugly old stripper twirled her dirty jugs and winked at me
i hid my eyes and blocked my ears to the distant trumpeting
of a distressed elephant
steven do something ! kathy screamed fighting off a bat
the newspapers had arrived
the gutter press
the gossip rags
no this is my naive world ! i shouted
as a new caffeine franchise was executed
as a suave doctor in a nice suit listened to my naive heart
here take this he said
tossing me a pack of amiodarone
now my heart beat is de- regulated
now tariffs appeared on my borders
now i filled in a questionaire about their performance
no i was most unhappy
violently ticking off the boxes
the bees were killed by their wasps
their dogs ate my bunnies
their cats clawed my baby birds
their money had bought me up
their contracts had tricked me forever
their traps had tripped me over
they built a school and filled it with fools
they taught us how to learn their words
they guided us in their paths
they muscled in on my silences
they sniggered at my sensitivities
they guffawed at my little sword
kathy fought off a hyaena-man
dad was fighting off angina pectoris
my woods
my cartoon woods
my softly emerald green dripping woods
home to cute lil beasties and woodland folk
i run around trying to stop it
but i achieve nothing
except getting exhausted
losing my breath
firing out words
grasping at strauss
going down slow
this is the zeitgeist mall
this is the underground car park ten miles deep
this is the black widow funeral parlour
this is the fucknuckle brothers giant wearhouse
this is country piggie fast food drive thru
this is mega drug store rx plus smokes
this is dark satanic milk
this is fried chicken bits dipped in grease
this is lonely boy
this is actually that
this is really happening....
now
stay tuned!
tomorrow:
the hole truth!
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
7.32 and no blog cooked
now its 7.33
i sit in my cluttered spare oom
the one fulla paints n pastels n bits of paper
i am behind on so many things
unanswered e-messages
i cant keep up
i dont wanna keep up
i'm being bombarded with info
spread sheets
call sheets
scripts
plans
introductions
instructions
contracts
files
articles
photos
videos
songs
how could i possibly keep up with it all
one guy writes to me
says he wants to have a correspondence with me..
who does he think i am....robert browning?
marty rings up
can you answer some questions for zillo magazine in germany
oh god if i have to....
i still havent written my article on songwriting
(you think itd be easy but not with punctuation
and bloody capitals
i write how i think
my brain hands down my thoughts
unpunctuated)
still the modern man is under attack from the outside world
everyone can contact ya these days
and then ya fall behind and feel permanently rude
while i was in hospital n after
a week of emails congealed somewhere in the past
i try to get at em
but todays demand my attention
with their exclamation marks in red
and their throbbing attachments
bursting with new bytes of info n disinfo n misinfo
that my groaning brain has to deal with
some of its really important stuff too
important to me to try n remain in this rat race
but i know the rats are all running little faster this year
as i get older n older
some people viewing me like a heritage building
and thats amusing to the eternal outsider like me
i'm happy to be a heritage building
as long as you pay when you enter
but i aint being a heritage building for free
i didnt want a legacy
i wanted to rock, you know
i still do
and standing somewhere solemnly singing utmw
bores the tight black pants off me
i'm into the present you understand
i like what i'm doing now
but i gotta keep moving on
i cant stop n ponder some olde thing
unless i choose to do so here
in the safe warm nostalgia of my own
when i'll uncover my past gently for you
look
a memory here
a memory there
an anecdote about ploogy
of course
its all part of the service here at TTB
you'll get all of that n more
when you subscribe for one year
(you'll probably get it if you dont)
but i resent the constant implication
"your best work is behind you"
in this age of nonentity
cant the hoi polloi grok a driven man like me
and understand that i dont give a flying fig
about utmw and its spot in a poll
yeah...whats that gotta do with the act of creation
or as marco boleyn asks on beltane walk
"but could it gimme love gimme love
gimme little love from gods heart?"
and if the answer is ever no
then one should
as far as possible
decline
so
ok
i got all this work to do
why dont i do it?
laziness
becoming distracted
procrastination
lacking any backbone
lacking any application or structure
i prefer painting to all else
i feel like i'm working but its pleasant
unlike the computer which is unpleasant n unnatural
unlike the tap tap tap to write this rant
yesterday we found some rollerblades someone had left out
they fit the doodles perfectly
and auroras been clomping around in em all morning
must sound like hell down below
she paints a picture
of a plane flying over a rainbow
and the planes saying
save our world!
autumn is in the air
my exhibition in pittsburgh looms n looms
youd be mad not to go
youd be madder not to buy a painting
youd be so happy if you did
and so would i
very happy
indeed
i feel like ive yet to give you yer moneys worth today
but at least you got the warm cosy feeling, right
not necessarily the same thing
the time being is the great differentiator
sorting thru things so you dont have to
writing songs that explain your life somehow
in some lovely way only you can understand
yes im a heritage building
yes i'm a panther on tv
yes i'm a flesh n blood geezer struggling to keep up
yes i'm the reincarnation of your favourite olden daze king
yes i play a mean bass in my mofu mansuit
yes i paint n i sing n i compose n i conspire
yes mister i do it all while you watch
and marvel at such a fine fine mind...its one of a kind
chuck a fucken ducat in my e-hat then
buy my latest output
i gotta loada new songs n paintings waiting in the wings
i would like to salute mr jt n mr dr
who soldier on for me regardless
offering their inestimable services to the t. being
to enable me to cope with a mechanistic outside
that threatens to devour an aspie-like naive ninny like me
i am humbled by their help
i am deeply appreciative to my contributors/subscribers
other long haul geezers like klk and kn
to all of you i owe the best i can manage
and so i strive
a lady named hj
also has enabled my visual art to survive
and inspired me with her across the board dedication
and the constant supply of truly groovy art supplies
yes all my contributors
some solidly donating small amounts
some occasionally contributing large amounts
the very generous and the slightly stingy
the ones who cant contribute at all
the ones who enjoy it with their coffee
sometimes
sometimes
its overwhelming
without this internet thing
where would i be...?
i wouldnt know anything about any of you
and i'm sure
i would have fallen into despair
i sit in my cluttered spare oom
the one fulla paints n pastels n bits of paper
i am behind on so many things
unanswered e-messages
i cant keep up
i dont wanna keep up
i'm being bombarded with info
spread sheets
call sheets
scripts
plans
introductions
instructions
contracts
files
articles
photos
videos
songs
how could i possibly keep up with it all
one guy writes to me
says he wants to have a correspondence with me..
who does he think i am....robert browning?
marty rings up
can you answer some questions for zillo magazine in germany
oh god if i have to....
i still havent written my article on songwriting
(you think itd be easy but not with punctuation
and bloody capitals
i write how i think
my brain hands down my thoughts
unpunctuated)
still the modern man is under attack from the outside world
everyone can contact ya these days
and then ya fall behind and feel permanently rude
while i was in hospital n after
a week of emails congealed somewhere in the past
i try to get at em
but todays demand my attention
with their exclamation marks in red
and their throbbing attachments
bursting with new bytes of info n disinfo n misinfo
that my groaning brain has to deal with
some of its really important stuff too
important to me to try n remain in this rat race
but i know the rats are all running little faster this year
as i get older n older
some people viewing me like a heritage building
and thats amusing to the eternal outsider like me
i'm happy to be a heritage building
as long as you pay when you enter
but i aint being a heritage building for free
i didnt want a legacy
i wanted to rock, you know
i still do
and standing somewhere solemnly singing utmw
bores the tight black pants off me
i'm into the present you understand
i like what i'm doing now
but i gotta keep moving on
i cant stop n ponder some olde thing
unless i choose to do so here
in the safe warm nostalgia of my own
when i'll uncover my past gently for you
look
a memory here
a memory there
an anecdote about ploogy
of course
its all part of the service here at TTB
you'll get all of that n more
when you subscribe for one year
(you'll probably get it if you dont)
but i resent the constant implication
"your best work is behind you"
in this age of nonentity
cant the hoi polloi grok a driven man like me
and understand that i dont give a flying fig
about utmw and its spot in a poll
yeah...whats that gotta do with the act of creation
or as marco boleyn asks on beltane walk
"but could it gimme love gimme love
gimme little love from gods heart?"
and if the answer is ever no
then one should
as far as possible
decline
so
ok
i got all this work to do
why dont i do it?
laziness
becoming distracted
procrastination
lacking any backbone
lacking any application or structure
i prefer painting to all else
i feel like i'm working but its pleasant
unlike the computer which is unpleasant n unnatural
unlike the tap tap tap to write this rant
yesterday we found some rollerblades someone had left out
they fit the doodles perfectly
and auroras been clomping around in em all morning
must sound like hell down below
she paints a picture
of a plane flying over a rainbow
and the planes saying
save our world!
autumn is in the air
my exhibition in pittsburgh looms n looms
youd be mad not to go
youd be madder not to buy a painting
youd be so happy if you did
and so would i
very happy
indeed
i feel like ive yet to give you yer moneys worth today
but at least you got the warm cosy feeling, right
not necessarily the same thing
the time being is the great differentiator
sorting thru things so you dont have to
writing songs that explain your life somehow
in some lovely way only you can understand
yes im a heritage building
yes i'm a panther on tv
yes i'm a flesh n blood geezer struggling to keep up
yes i'm the reincarnation of your favourite olden daze king
yes i play a mean bass in my mofu mansuit
yes i paint n i sing n i compose n i conspire
yes mister i do it all while you watch
and marvel at such a fine fine mind...its one of a kind
chuck a fucken ducat in my e-hat then
buy my latest output
i gotta loada new songs n paintings waiting in the wings
i would like to salute mr jt n mr dr
who soldier on for me regardless
offering their inestimable services to the t. being
to enable me to cope with a mechanistic outside
that threatens to devour an aspie-like naive ninny like me
i am humbled by their help
i am deeply appreciative to my contributors/subscribers
other long haul geezers like klk and kn
to all of you i owe the best i can manage
and so i strive
a lady named hj
also has enabled my visual art to survive
and inspired me with her across the board dedication
and the constant supply of truly groovy art supplies
yes all my contributors
some solidly donating small amounts
some occasionally contributing large amounts
the very generous and the slightly stingy
the ones who cant contribute at all
the ones who enjoy it with their coffee
sometimes
sometimes
its overwhelming
without this internet thing
where would i be...?
i wouldnt know anything about any of you
and i'm sure
i would have fallen into despair
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
act of creation
i sit before my screen
like jehovah sitting before the void
on the day He created the world
so many possibilities
so much potential
i chase elusive memories in my mind
surely i havent told you everything...?
no
surely not in 3 and a half years....
so often i think of a story
oh i'll have to tell 'em i think
bout now i sit here empty handed
i see my biography is coming out soon
gee i feel important
then he took this
then he wrote that
then he got poor
i could have given it a better ending
"in 2003 some idiot covered one of his songs
and kilbey made zillions n moved into a mansion
in vaucluse just opposite nielsens park
he spends most of his time
painting n doing yoga in his
"crystal japan " gardens"
but no
it hadda be one of them
he blew it but hes at least not such a bad bloke now endings
oh ho
ha ha
someone in another room : its not over yet.....
yeah at least i can say
"have you read my biography?" as an icebreaker at gatherings
of more important immediate interest
my art exhibition at pittsburgh institute of washed up genii
man art n technology baybee
every pic got its own tale to tell plus music
you gonna wanna gotta get to pittsburgh p a
cos thats where its gonna manifest
soon soon oh so soon
for god sake re-stimulate my economy
and buy them all up
they will look so nice hanging in your living rooms
they will be worth a fortune in twenty thousand years time
when an antiquarian will find my self portrait
and say
they did have kings in those days
yes
i imagine richard lionheart looked a little like me
with the beard and the searching pained grey eyes
and with the compassion and great wisdom of ye olde time monarch
and the charisma to draw a blurred crusade around him
of all the things to aim for
i never thought of kingly
but i look around
and i DO indeed see the occasional king amongst us
ah what is that regal quality
that faux-imperial graciousness
i imagine olde wenceslas
looking out at that deep crisp n even snow
fuck...the snow was deep crisp AND even..
how often do you see that...?
i know ive gone on about this before
but it was the feast of steven
the king
the snow
steven
wow
its all adding up to me
or am i just another crazy eccentric poet-fool
mixed up in some pseudo rex malarkey?
oh how often do we ask that question?
i note some of you
sit there with your morning cuppa n morning biccie or cookie
and you read my strained natterings
and you feel like
oh ah oh ah
a nice gentle warm feeling of familiarity
oh the beings having one of his raves
not at all offended
that i have the gall to compare myself to good king wenceslas
you are, au contraire, mildly amused
like watching any old day to day thing
and yes
cant you see
i'm deeply woven into the fabric of peoples lives
(and dont tell anyone but i'm inching back up the charts)
i have become that other strange thing
ive become all cozy
cozy corner
i should rename this blog
kick off yer shoes
get comfy
switch off all that rubbish on yer computer
on comes that familiar black screen with the white letters
(course it dont let me write it like that)
there i am fiddling with a booze-ooki or whatever it is
and hey presto
my most arrogant arcane and acute baloney awaits
you sip yer cawfee
you nibble yer biccie
if youre in the u.s. or can. you nibble yer cookie
and you say
oh how nice
the killer thinks he looks like a kingly dude from the olden days
and everything seems normal in your world
have i lost my power to amaze you
to shock you
to make you choke on that bloody cookie
and splutter on yer earl grey
(earl grey...dontcha see...its talking about me)
you are thoroughly used to my shenanigans
you smile absent mindedly at my sordid ups n downs
you chuckle at my tawdry admissions
you giggle when i admit to a murder
you sigh when i explode over a shaved fish
ah ha
tell me
what do you want from your time being?
more helpful hints on home economics
topography maps
articles about led zepplin
my social round-up
agonizing self analysis
numbers games
card tricks
poetic reminiscing about the golden days when i was fab
cautionary tales from stockholms smack underbelly
free spirited renditions of campfire songs
cops n robbers
mr weird
kathy kilbey and twin time
paintings of my infirmities
or none of the above
remember then
my exhibition in pittsburgh
my biography
buy 2 ...cos youll wanna read it twice
and
thank you for your donations to the cause
just a dollar a week
cmon
aint that cheap?
dont ya wanna feel all cozy inside?
ah.....go on
nice, isnt it?
like jehovah sitting before the void
on the day He created the world
so many possibilities
so much potential
i chase elusive memories in my mind
surely i havent told you everything...?
no
surely not in 3 and a half years....
so often i think of a story
oh i'll have to tell 'em i think
bout now i sit here empty handed
i see my biography is coming out soon
gee i feel important
then he took this
then he wrote that
then he got poor
i could have given it a better ending
"in 2003 some idiot covered one of his songs
and kilbey made zillions n moved into a mansion
in vaucluse just opposite nielsens park
he spends most of his time
painting n doing yoga in his
"crystal japan " gardens"
but no
it hadda be one of them
he blew it but hes at least not such a bad bloke now endings
oh ho
ha ha
someone in another room : its not over yet.....
yeah at least i can say
"have you read my biography?" as an icebreaker at gatherings
of more important immediate interest
my art exhibition at pittsburgh institute of washed up genii
man art n technology baybee
every pic got its own tale to tell plus music
you gonna wanna gotta get to pittsburgh p a
cos thats where its gonna manifest
soon soon oh so soon
for god sake re-stimulate my economy
and buy them all up
they will look so nice hanging in your living rooms
they will be worth a fortune in twenty thousand years time
when an antiquarian will find my self portrait
and say
they did have kings in those days
yes
i imagine richard lionheart looked a little like me
with the beard and the searching pained grey eyes
and with the compassion and great wisdom of ye olde time monarch
and the charisma to draw a blurred crusade around him
of all the things to aim for
i never thought of kingly
but i look around
and i DO indeed see the occasional king amongst us
ah what is that regal quality
that faux-imperial graciousness
i imagine olde wenceslas
looking out at that deep crisp n even snow
fuck...the snow was deep crisp AND even..
how often do you see that...?
i know ive gone on about this before
but it was the feast of steven
the king
the snow
steven
wow
its all adding up to me
or am i just another crazy eccentric poet-fool
mixed up in some pseudo rex malarkey?
oh how often do we ask that question?
i note some of you
sit there with your morning cuppa n morning biccie or cookie
and you read my strained natterings
and you feel like
oh ah oh ah
a nice gentle warm feeling of familiarity
oh the beings having one of his raves
not at all offended
that i have the gall to compare myself to good king wenceslas
you are, au contraire, mildly amused
like watching any old day to day thing
and yes
cant you see
i'm deeply woven into the fabric of peoples lives
(and dont tell anyone but i'm inching back up the charts)
i have become that other strange thing
ive become all cozy
cozy corner
i should rename this blog
kick off yer shoes
get comfy
switch off all that rubbish on yer computer
on comes that familiar black screen with the white letters
(course it dont let me write it like that)
there i am fiddling with a booze-ooki or whatever it is
and hey presto
my most arrogant arcane and acute baloney awaits
you sip yer cawfee
you nibble yer biccie
if youre in the u.s. or can. you nibble yer cookie
and you say
oh how nice
the killer thinks he looks like a kingly dude from the olden days
and everything seems normal in your world
have i lost my power to amaze you
to shock you
to make you choke on that bloody cookie
and splutter on yer earl grey
(earl grey...dontcha see...its talking about me)
you are thoroughly used to my shenanigans
you smile absent mindedly at my sordid ups n downs
you chuckle at my tawdry admissions
you giggle when i admit to a murder
you sigh when i explode over a shaved fish
ah ha
tell me
what do you want from your time being?
more helpful hints on home economics
topography maps
articles about led zepplin
my social round-up
agonizing self analysis
numbers games
card tricks
poetic reminiscing about the golden days when i was fab
cautionary tales from stockholms smack underbelly
free spirited renditions of campfire songs
cops n robbers
mr weird
kathy kilbey and twin time
paintings of my infirmities
or none of the above
remember then
my exhibition in pittsburgh
my biography
buy 2 ...cos youll wanna read it twice
and
thank you for your donations to the cause
just a dollar a week
cmon
aint that cheap?
dont ya wanna feel all cozy inside?
ah.....go on
nice, isnt it?
Monday, March 23, 2009
sunsuit
existing on so many levels
my systems are integrated yet they remain discrete
my interfaces apprehend and interpret data
my electrics firing out the rhythm
my mechanicals obeying the beat
i eat music and spit out art
i wrestle the unknown for its secrets
i glide through the hoi polloi smoothly
like an eel cruising through ducklings
i listen to sigur ros (again!)
as i weave through the bondi crowds
behind me eve n aurora march with grim determination
with their eye-pods pumping
(getting an early start on tinnitus?)
they are very grown up for 9 years old
they half run to keep up with my manly strides
they listen to abba n hanna montana
n spice girls n sometimes even .....me.....
the sun is out
the sea is blue
the sea is green
the sand is soft and powdery n yellow
believe me
if youre some poor sap
lives in some bleak northern place
youre gonna think bondi beach came outta your dreams
sandwiched between 2 headland its just right
about a mile long
banners tents surfboards juice-sellers bikinis towels
balls frisbees eskies hats sun tan oil sunglasses goggles
and that holiday feeling with all them tourists
come down to see one of the best city beaches in the world
wow
they got all brands of humanity
big n small
black n white
young n olde
geezers on the latest type of rollerskates
geezers with stupid big dogs
geezers wiv the fam who just bought everyone an icecream
geezers with other geezers
geezers on their own
geezers with saucy wives
geezers with non-saucy wives
geezers who been keeping in good shape
geezers who let em self go
geezers still green and dopey
geezers venerable n wise
geezers from italy n spain
geezers who look rich even in their undies
geezers whove copped too much sun
geezers who just wanna eat some fishnchips
geezers dragging their moth-in-law along
geezers 'aving an argument with the non-saucy missus
geezers dressed in black jeans n leather jackets
geezers in g-strings that make them look a right ass
geezers who are tycoons with lovely watches
geezers who are the common man puffing n bawling n sipping beer
never thought i needed so many geezers
i search for a light in their eyes
sometimes you see it
someone looking back
and their eyes are saying
this is all just a show isnt it?
this aint fer real, is it?
but mostly the people
are pleasantly lost in their roles
the way that damned kilbey never could be
hes gotta question every thing in heaven n hell
i look at my daughters
eve is lost in her role
aurora looks back though
she looks back and shes there in the crowd
but shes detached as well
whereas eve is in there 100 per cent
shes marching along behind her father
shes pumping her music
shes hot n sweaty but shes enjoying herself
auroras computers have already started analyzing other things
she takes in non-important details of information
and becomes lost in her analysis
going off into day dreams about vague matters that tantalize....
the people flock to bondi
they arent out in the water as far as before the shark attack
but they are all up to their waists
a nice smorgasbord for some lazy great white pointer
(the lady next door had an red pointer once......hhmmmm)
the people the people the people
youll see everyone you know
if you stand here long enough
people fighting for a car park
people filling up on unhealthy rubbish
people hiring lockers
people renting surfboards
people buying a bondi t-shirt
the imported mexican palms sway in the delightful sea breezes
the cafes bustle over
the waiters hop about with big things of pepper
the punters guzzle booze
the skaters crack along the pavements
the rich with their fancy prams
the poor with their worn out shoes
the medium with their medium stuff
everyone has come to bondi today
i push on thru the crowds
my 2 speed walking apprentices behind me
cross over (sue) campbell parade
we make a kill bee line for home
poached pears with tahini
and an oat milk smoothie
now thats a real breakfast......
my systems are integrated yet they remain discrete
my interfaces apprehend and interpret data
my electrics firing out the rhythm
my mechanicals obeying the beat
i eat music and spit out art
i wrestle the unknown for its secrets
i glide through the hoi polloi smoothly
like an eel cruising through ducklings
i listen to sigur ros (again!)
as i weave through the bondi crowds
behind me eve n aurora march with grim determination
with their eye-pods pumping
(getting an early start on tinnitus?)
they are very grown up for 9 years old
they half run to keep up with my manly strides
they listen to abba n hanna montana
n spice girls n sometimes even .....me.....
the sun is out
the sea is blue
the sea is green
the sand is soft and powdery n yellow
believe me
if youre some poor sap
lives in some bleak northern place
youre gonna think bondi beach came outta your dreams
sandwiched between 2 headland its just right
about a mile long
banners tents surfboards juice-sellers bikinis towels
balls frisbees eskies hats sun tan oil sunglasses goggles
and that holiday feeling with all them tourists
come down to see one of the best city beaches in the world
wow
they got all brands of humanity
big n small
black n white
young n olde
geezers on the latest type of rollerskates
geezers with stupid big dogs
geezers wiv the fam who just bought everyone an icecream
geezers with other geezers
geezers on their own
geezers with saucy wives
geezers with non-saucy wives
geezers who been keeping in good shape
geezers who let em self go
geezers still green and dopey
geezers venerable n wise
geezers from italy n spain
geezers who look rich even in their undies
geezers whove copped too much sun
geezers who just wanna eat some fishnchips
geezers dragging their moth-in-law along
geezers 'aving an argument with the non-saucy missus
geezers dressed in black jeans n leather jackets
geezers in g-strings that make them look a right ass
geezers who are tycoons with lovely watches
geezers who are the common man puffing n bawling n sipping beer
never thought i needed so many geezers
i search for a light in their eyes
sometimes you see it
someone looking back
and their eyes are saying
this is all just a show isnt it?
this aint fer real, is it?
but mostly the people
are pleasantly lost in their roles
the way that damned kilbey never could be
hes gotta question every thing in heaven n hell
i look at my daughters
eve is lost in her role
aurora looks back though
she looks back and shes there in the crowd
but shes detached as well
whereas eve is in there 100 per cent
shes marching along behind her father
shes pumping her music
shes hot n sweaty but shes enjoying herself
auroras computers have already started analyzing other things
she takes in non-important details of information
and becomes lost in her analysis
going off into day dreams about vague matters that tantalize....
the people flock to bondi
they arent out in the water as far as before the shark attack
but they are all up to their waists
a nice smorgasbord for some lazy great white pointer
(the lady next door had an red pointer once......hhmmmm)
the people the people the people
youll see everyone you know
if you stand here long enough
people fighting for a car park
people filling up on unhealthy rubbish
people hiring lockers
people renting surfboards
people buying a bondi t-shirt
the imported mexican palms sway in the delightful sea breezes
the cafes bustle over
the waiters hop about with big things of pepper
the punters guzzle booze
the skaters crack along the pavements
the rich with their fancy prams
the poor with their worn out shoes
the medium with their medium stuff
everyone has come to bondi today
i push on thru the crowds
my 2 speed walking apprentices behind me
cross over (sue) campbell parade
we make a kill bee line for home
poached pears with tahini
and an oat milk smoothie
now thats a real breakfast......
Sunday, March 22, 2009
painting spree
ive gone on a painting spree
i cant stop painting
i listen to loud music and i paint n paint
the kids ask to go down the beach
all the way the images assault my eyes
the sky bends down n whispers to me
i listen to sound
i see music
my kids yabber away to me
the music pounds in my headphones
cars pull up and drive on
oh lovely march days
i march along with my 3 gals
aurora kilbey
eve kilbey
scarlet kilbey
3 of the perkiest girls you ever met
down the beach theyre straight in that sharkey sea
theres quite a few still in the flat pacific at 6 oh clock
i'm knocking out paintings at home
i'm on a roll
feel like i can do no wrong
i do eve as a dryad
i do myself as a hollow cheeked king from the old days
i do a giant bird turning to gaze at ya
i splash on the gold paint
ah i am an instant klimpt...ha ha
whatever
something supernaturally guides my hand
something outside me whispers suggestions
i access a library of human unconscious
my fingers move in new subtle ways
i thought age was a process of decline
yet here i am getting better
or am i going mad
or is it that
i simply cant tell
and ive drowned in my own egotistick wallowings
and a few accol-lites spur me on
what i do i'm doing better
but what the fuck is actually happening ?
at this incredibly late late stage of the game
almost impossible to get back in
ive rallied
ive sussed
i actually became GOOD!
yeah yeah
oh no
oh here he goes again....
but if you were me
you'd write about me,
wouldnt you?
me me me me me
what else do i know about?
you?
itd just be fiction
you got up
and you did this
and you did that
how the fuck would i know what you did?
so i am left with me
and my chiron trip
and with my kingly visage
which is hard to pull off
and my hands n voices
which pull stuff outta thin air
a strange energy drives me unrelentingly
at the very edge of raving madness
i walk the hinterlands collecting souvenirs
its ok ...i'm a poet....i know what i'm doing
still i ask
when i was just another podgy washed up ninny
what happened......?
which things
if faithfully adhered to
could turn a life around like that?
must be yoga
must be vegism
must be swimming
must be luck
you gotta do yoga every day
put that hour in
get a new life back
youll start to flourish n bloom
boom boom boom
oh you ones who hate it are the ones who need it most
sooner or later
when yer natural youth runs out
you better be riding that yoga train baby
you better be swimming in the holy sea everyday hot or cold
you better leave that meat
you better ditch those eggs
you better switch off that tv
you better get creating
you better get moving
you better get walking around
you better get cracking
dont stay still
dont eat pizza
dont drink beer or smoke fags
dont loll about like a ninny
fucking up n at em
take a swing
have a shot
or whatever
see if i care or even know if ya dont....
but i wish you could feel this energy driving me
hey you dont have to feel old and tired just yet
dont give in to lethargy pal
strive hard mister.....and do a painting or something
just dont sit around
its boring
and if you aint donated
today is a good day
if you have
the time being thanks you
very much!
i cant stop painting
i listen to loud music and i paint n paint
the kids ask to go down the beach
all the way the images assault my eyes
the sky bends down n whispers to me
i listen to sound
i see music
my kids yabber away to me
the music pounds in my headphones
cars pull up and drive on
oh lovely march days
i march along with my 3 gals
aurora kilbey
eve kilbey
scarlet kilbey
3 of the perkiest girls you ever met
down the beach theyre straight in that sharkey sea
theres quite a few still in the flat pacific at 6 oh clock
i'm knocking out paintings at home
i'm on a roll
feel like i can do no wrong
i do eve as a dryad
i do myself as a hollow cheeked king from the old days
i do a giant bird turning to gaze at ya
i splash on the gold paint
ah i am an instant klimpt...ha ha
whatever
something supernaturally guides my hand
something outside me whispers suggestions
i access a library of human unconscious
my fingers move in new subtle ways
i thought age was a process of decline
yet here i am getting better
or am i going mad
or is it that
i simply cant tell
and ive drowned in my own egotistick wallowings
and a few accol-lites spur me on
what i do i'm doing better
but what the fuck is actually happening ?
at this incredibly late late stage of the game
almost impossible to get back in
ive rallied
ive sussed
i actually became GOOD!
yeah yeah
oh no
oh here he goes again....
but if you were me
you'd write about me,
wouldnt you?
me me me me me
what else do i know about?
you?
itd just be fiction
you got up
and you did this
and you did that
how the fuck would i know what you did?
so i am left with me
and my chiron trip
and with my kingly visage
which is hard to pull off
and my hands n voices
which pull stuff outta thin air
a strange energy drives me unrelentingly
at the very edge of raving madness
i walk the hinterlands collecting souvenirs
its ok ...i'm a poet....i know what i'm doing
still i ask
when i was just another podgy washed up ninny
what happened......?
which things
if faithfully adhered to
could turn a life around like that?
must be yoga
must be vegism
must be swimming
must be luck
you gotta do yoga every day
put that hour in
get a new life back
youll start to flourish n bloom
boom boom boom
oh you ones who hate it are the ones who need it most
sooner or later
when yer natural youth runs out
you better be riding that yoga train baby
you better be swimming in the holy sea everyday hot or cold
you better leave that meat
you better ditch those eggs
you better switch off that tv
you better get creating
you better get moving
you better get walking around
you better get cracking
dont stay still
dont eat pizza
dont drink beer or smoke fags
dont loll about like a ninny
fucking up n at em
take a swing
have a shot
or whatever
see if i care or even know if ya dont....
but i wish you could feel this energy driving me
hey you dont have to feel old and tired just yet
dont give in to lethargy pal
strive hard mister.....and do a painting or something
just dont sit around
its boring
and if you aint donated
today is a good day
if you have
the time being thanks you
very much!
Saturday, March 21, 2009
fooling some of the people some of the time
me
the problem
me
the solution
self obsession
ego stroker
but how could i have done it
without kilbey
i couldnt just cut off the bits i didnt like
or could i...?
can ya have bob dylans songs without his weirdness?
can ya have kilbeys trip without his malarkey?
not yet
or stay home
listen to the records
imagine i was st francis assisi
listen to me apologising for what?
being an uncertain awkward stubborn young man?
its not like i killed or robbed or even punched anyone
i was....occaisionally rude and thoughtless
obviously i'm remorseful or i wouldnt write about it now
anyone actually reading my blog
is supposed to understand that i am not a perfect man
i was unpleasant in some ways if you tried to deal w/ me
but the people dealing with me were often unpleasant as well
music biz types begging for some comeuppance
i treated most nice people nicely
i'd say i wasnt the worst bloke you ever met
but i was flogging some trip about
and oh how it tires me now to think of it
still
i tell it how i saw it
i dont try n recast myself as man of the people
i was never that
i was always nice when meeting someones parents or children
i never kicked any animals either
i was always clean
my nails were never black
my ears washed behind
i said thank you everytime
i tried not to make the ladies cry.....i could never bear it at all
i was very envious
the biz was all based on an actual index
ie the charts
and the charts were real important in the biz
and you could instantly see
you were much bigger than these
and much smaller than them
why were we obsessed with bigness n smallness?
because the church was our team...right n wrong
and we wanted to beat the other teams
thats the nature of it....or it was to us
we hated to see bloody awful teams up the top
but we also were happy when some of the underrated bands
got some accord
we loved a slew of aussie n indy bands n we mentioned em often
we just bloody hated the 80s rubbish
oh god
there was so much rubbish in the eighties
I COULD FUCKING SEE IT>>>>>WHY COULDNT YOU LOT???!
the church was a beacon of fidelity to the glorious golden period
when rock was fucking cool
and exciting
and the lyrics were ...you know...kinda poetic n meaningful/less
and the blokes were blokes but with long hair n cool guitars
like stones dylan beatles
i LOATHED the thompson twins n all that horrible bloody row
i LOATHED spandau duran boy george anything like that
i hated the sentiment
i hated the look
i hated their stupid voices
the shallow vacuous words repulsed me
people say what books didja read back then?
the surrealist manifestos by breton
the sutras of patanjali
herman hesse and appolinaire
i read the bible i read the koran
i read the pali sutras of buddha
i read satre and i read biographies of stars
the lyrics of the eighties were anathema to me
consider my first lines on the first song on the first record
in the empty place
the soul stripped bare
of skins and heart
and i come apart
in your icy hands
you see
ok its not fucking shakespeare
but its not shakespeares sister either
most of the eighties
i say most
cos there obviously were good things too
but most was bloody rubbish
thats why people laugh when they hear it now
oh ho ho how funny ....
to think we used to like that stuff....?!
well i didnt
i was trapped in a decade of imbecility and i couldnae get out
and you wonder why i was a little weird
but of course
you dont wonder that
you know i'm weird
you accept me as being weird
cos weird is good, right
or you got the 21st century at your fingertips
you cant have the weird without the weird
you cant have it
not both ways
i tried
but you cant
the problem
me
the solution
self obsession
ego stroker
but how could i have done it
without kilbey
i couldnt just cut off the bits i didnt like
or could i...?
can ya have bob dylans songs without his weirdness?
can ya have kilbeys trip without his malarkey?
not yet
or stay home
listen to the records
imagine i was st francis assisi
listen to me apologising for what?
being an uncertain awkward stubborn young man?
its not like i killed or robbed or even punched anyone
i was....occaisionally rude and thoughtless
obviously i'm remorseful or i wouldnt write about it now
anyone actually reading my blog
is supposed to understand that i am not a perfect man
i was unpleasant in some ways if you tried to deal w/ me
but the people dealing with me were often unpleasant as well
music biz types begging for some comeuppance
i treated most nice people nicely
i'd say i wasnt the worst bloke you ever met
but i was flogging some trip about
and oh how it tires me now to think of it
still
i tell it how i saw it
i dont try n recast myself as man of the people
i was never that
i was always nice when meeting someones parents or children
i never kicked any animals either
i was always clean
my nails were never black
my ears washed behind
i said thank you everytime
i tried not to make the ladies cry.....i could never bear it at all
i was very envious
the biz was all based on an actual index
ie the charts
and the charts were real important in the biz
and you could instantly see
you were much bigger than these
and much smaller than them
why were we obsessed with bigness n smallness?
because the church was our team...right n wrong
and we wanted to beat the other teams
thats the nature of it....or it was to us
we hated to see bloody awful teams up the top
but we also were happy when some of the underrated bands
got some accord
we loved a slew of aussie n indy bands n we mentioned em often
we just bloody hated the 80s rubbish
oh god
there was so much rubbish in the eighties
I COULD FUCKING SEE IT>>>>>WHY COULDNT YOU LOT???!
the church was a beacon of fidelity to the glorious golden period
when rock was fucking cool
and exciting
and the lyrics were ...you know...kinda poetic n meaningful/less
and the blokes were blokes but with long hair n cool guitars
like stones dylan beatles
i LOATHED the thompson twins n all that horrible bloody row
i LOATHED spandau duran boy george anything like that
i hated the sentiment
i hated the look
i hated their stupid voices
the shallow vacuous words repulsed me
people say what books didja read back then?
the surrealist manifestos by breton
the sutras of patanjali
herman hesse and appolinaire
i read the bible i read the koran
i read the pali sutras of buddha
i read satre and i read biographies of stars
the lyrics of the eighties were anathema to me
consider my first lines on the first song on the first record
in the empty place
the soul stripped bare
of skins and heart
and i come apart
in your icy hands
you see
ok its not fucking shakespeare
but its not shakespeares sister either
most of the eighties
i say most
cos there obviously were good things too
but most was bloody rubbish
thats why people laugh when they hear it now
oh ho ho how funny ....
to think we used to like that stuff....?!
well i didnt
i was trapped in a decade of imbecility and i couldnae get out
and you wonder why i was a little weird
but of course
you dont wonder that
you know i'm weird
you accept me as being weird
cos weird is good, right
or you got the 21st century at your fingertips
you cant have the weird without the weird
you cant have it
not both ways
i tried
but you cant
Friday, March 20, 2009
follow and wallow
2000 motels fiendss
i check in
i check out
ploogy says turn the tv off steve i wanna sleep
the phone rings
theres a knock at the door
ploogy says can i borrow your B.O. stopper
ploogy says can i put on some more reggae
ploogy says oh thatll be some friends of mine
ploogy says oh i ate your licorice...sorry
ploogy says lets smoke some of your pot killer
i wake up
am i in memphis tennessee
and the sun is blinding
or am i in helsinki in the dead of winter
i go back to gothenburg where i met karin jansson
our bus has broken down
all our clothes have been stolen
i walk around in a polo neck foppish shirt for a week
that some guy gave me
we bump into karins all girl band
when i look in karins eye
we know we will have kids together
but dont ask me how....
we dont even touch
we just say goodbye...
but elli and minna were getting ready that night
selecting their parents or something
it was quite palpable
the church fly here and there
in london we stay in this house with a spiral staircase
with a rooftop garden
londons big agents woo us with hash cocaine n red wine
ploog n i bum around london
making friends with some psychedelic gang
that run a clothes shop in kensington market
most people in the scene considered us top shelf
and we WERE the best psychedelic band IN THE WORLD
and all the rest were so unoriginal
you see we werent just the outer accoutrements of psychedelia
we had the shirts n the hair n the guitars
we knew our way around beatles floyd byrds who
but we had the darkness of the seventies too
i was seriously trying to reconcile strawberry fields
and moonage daydream
of course this is a lofty n impossible task
so i contented myself with the church
who were already a pretty good band
more due to sheer luck
than anything else
pete was the experienced pro
he already had his huge sound even back then
he made it look so easy
talk about slow hand
and about 6 foot 3 n looking like m/angelos david
marty was THE most rockstarry bloke you ever saw
dressed up in his clobber he looked like superman or prince valiant
his clothes hung off him SO right
much better than mine even when i was skinny skinny
he was always at the centre of fun
effortlessly it seemed
and everyone seemed to like or envy him a bit
ploogy showered him in almost gay affection
stroking him and touching him
till marty said
RICHARD! FUCK OFF!
as i said
richard was a situationist
even tho he wouldnt have known that term
but it meant that
life was his canvas
and he created "situations"
to see what would happen
ie although he was not gay
he would hold mens hands he'd just met
ie bob clearmountain or peter walsh
to see how theyd react
weve just met peter walsh in sydney
hes flown out to produce hayday
we go out to get some food
from lauries vegetarian diner
n next thing ploogs holding walshies hand
and looking at him with a dumb expression
walshie just keeps on walking along
not freaking out
everyone laughs
and the ice is broken
ploogy liked to break taboos
and often would steal someones camera
take a few shots of himself
so when yer standing in the chemists shop
getting em developed
up comes a shot of richards whatnot wearing a pair of sunglasses
this may sound amusing to you all
but his maniac pranking used to send me bananas
one night in a cabin on a ferry
it was pitch black
ploog had already gotten sea sick
on baked beans guinness and hash
and had cast up his accounts all over a bloke on a lower deck
not content with this
he was now crawling around in the utter blackness of our cabin
shared by all 4 of us
and grabbing people in the dark as they fell asleep
i heard marty scream
RICHARD!
i warned him
if you fucking come near me richard...i'll ...i'll ..i'll..
but
he did
grabbed my leg as i was dropping off
i chased him round the blackness
tripping over things n banging my head
you wait you little bastard ...i'd hiss
but the next day came n all was always forgiven
in amsterdam for the first time
we went nuts
eating space cake n buying 400 different varieties of weed
at gigs people gave us weed n hash
we were awash in dopes dopiness
we did great at a gig in spain n the owner
gave us a blocka hash the size of a fucking toblerone
ploogy n i smoked it ate it and entered another universe
groggily and giggly we swanned round europe on our bus
we learnt to order orange juice in spain
all i ate in spain was a tomato roll n orange juice
day after day after day
it was all i could eat there
madrid was wild
cocaine n hash were so easy to get
we were filling big clubs
and doing loadsa interviews
the others started to hate me more n more
and i in return obliged em
by being more hate-able
i was pretty isolated on the road
spending a lotta time in my own company
or standing outside a record shop while
ploog n marty browsed for hours
i read lots of books
and i listened to lots of music
i walked around strange cities and imagined
how it would be to live there
at night i wielded my fretless black bass
and sung spoke my droll lyrics
the kohl was permanently smudged round my eyes
my hair was dark and long
my face was pale n gaunt
i wore impeccable psychedelic clobber
if you didnt understand this
then you were not of my universe
and not worth even considering
i had an exclusive trip
and not many cared to dig it
(whatever the fuck it actually was!)
i wasnt interested in meeting gushing male fans
bending my ear about some flexi-disc they had ...
everyone wanted to argue with me
so i argued with everybody
it was a high n lonely destiny
and when i should have been happiest
i was often the most miserable
but thats me isnt it
all over and in spades
i could never actually squeeze the satisfaction out of it
and i smoked so much dope trying to escape myself
but i was always there
on the horizon
or in the shadows
couldnt get away from kilbey
kilbey who made it all possible
and kilbey
ruining things, as usual
i check in
i check out
ploogy says turn the tv off steve i wanna sleep
the phone rings
theres a knock at the door
ploogy says can i borrow your B.O. stopper
ploogy says can i put on some more reggae
ploogy says oh thatll be some friends of mine
ploogy says oh i ate your licorice...sorry
ploogy says lets smoke some of your pot killer
i wake up
am i in memphis tennessee
and the sun is blinding
or am i in helsinki in the dead of winter
i go back to gothenburg where i met karin jansson
our bus has broken down
all our clothes have been stolen
i walk around in a polo neck foppish shirt for a week
that some guy gave me
we bump into karins all girl band
when i look in karins eye
we know we will have kids together
but dont ask me how....
we dont even touch
we just say goodbye...
but elli and minna were getting ready that night
selecting their parents or something
it was quite palpable
the church fly here and there
in london we stay in this house with a spiral staircase
with a rooftop garden
londons big agents woo us with hash cocaine n red wine
ploog n i bum around london
making friends with some psychedelic gang
that run a clothes shop in kensington market
most people in the scene considered us top shelf
and we WERE the best psychedelic band IN THE WORLD
and all the rest were so unoriginal
you see we werent just the outer accoutrements of psychedelia
we had the shirts n the hair n the guitars
we knew our way around beatles floyd byrds who
but we had the darkness of the seventies too
i was seriously trying to reconcile strawberry fields
and moonage daydream
of course this is a lofty n impossible task
so i contented myself with the church
who were already a pretty good band
more due to sheer luck
than anything else
pete was the experienced pro
he already had his huge sound even back then
he made it look so easy
talk about slow hand
and about 6 foot 3 n looking like m/angelos david
marty was THE most rockstarry bloke you ever saw
dressed up in his clobber he looked like superman or prince valiant
his clothes hung off him SO right
much better than mine even when i was skinny skinny
he was always at the centre of fun
effortlessly it seemed
and everyone seemed to like or envy him a bit
ploogy showered him in almost gay affection
stroking him and touching him
till marty said
RICHARD! FUCK OFF!
as i said
richard was a situationist
even tho he wouldnt have known that term
but it meant that
life was his canvas
and he created "situations"
to see what would happen
ie although he was not gay
he would hold mens hands he'd just met
ie bob clearmountain or peter walsh
to see how theyd react
weve just met peter walsh in sydney
hes flown out to produce hayday
we go out to get some food
from lauries vegetarian diner
n next thing ploogs holding walshies hand
and looking at him with a dumb expression
walshie just keeps on walking along
not freaking out
everyone laughs
and the ice is broken
ploogy liked to break taboos
and often would steal someones camera
take a few shots of himself
so when yer standing in the chemists shop
getting em developed
up comes a shot of richards whatnot wearing a pair of sunglasses
this may sound amusing to you all
but his maniac pranking used to send me bananas
one night in a cabin on a ferry
it was pitch black
ploog had already gotten sea sick
on baked beans guinness and hash
and had cast up his accounts all over a bloke on a lower deck
not content with this
he was now crawling around in the utter blackness of our cabin
shared by all 4 of us
and grabbing people in the dark as they fell asleep
i heard marty scream
RICHARD!
i warned him
if you fucking come near me richard...i'll ...i'll ..i'll..
but
he did
grabbed my leg as i was dropping off
i chased him round the blackness
tripping over things n banging my head
you wait you little bastard ...i'd hiss
but the next day came n all was always forgiven
in amsterdam for the first time
we went nuts
eating space cake n buying 400 different varieties of weed
at gigs people gave us weed n hash
we were awash in dopes dopiness
we did great at a gig in spain n the owner
gave us a blocka hash the size of a fucking toblerone
ploogy n i smoked it ate it and entered another universe
groggily and giggly we swanned round europe on our bus
we learnt to order orange juice in spain
all i ate in spain was a tomato roll n orange juice
day after day after day
it was all i could eat there
madrid was wild
cocaine n hash were so easy to get
we were filling big clubs
and doing loadsa interviews
the others started to hate me more n more
and i in return obliged em
by being more hate-able
i was pretty isolated on the road
spending a lotta time in my own company
or standing outside a record shop while
ploog n marty browsed for hours
i read lots of books
and i listened to lots of music
i walked around strange cities and imagined
how it would be to live there
at night i wielded my fretless black bass
and sung spoke my droll lyrics
the kohl was permanently smudged round my eyes
my hair was dark and long
my face was pale n gaunt
i wore impeccable psychedelic clobber
if you didnt understand this
then you were not of my universe
and not worth even considering
i had an exclusive trip
and not many cared to dig it
(whatever the fuck it actually was!)
i wasnt interested in meeting gushing male fans
bending my ear about some flexi-disc they had ...
everyone wanted to argue with me
so i argued with everybody
it was a high n lonely destiny
and when i should have been happiest
i was often the most miserable
but thats me isnt it
all over and in spades
i could never actually squeeze the satisfaction out of it
and i smoked so much dope trying to escape myself
but i was always there
on the horizon
or in the shadows
couldnt get away from kilbey
kilbey who made it all possible
and kilbey
ruining things, as usual
Thursday, March 19, 2009
just like the olde days
talking to russell on the phone yesterday
and i thought about the olde days
the mansfield street days
the days of op shop shirts
the days of trying to brew up up opium
out of 10 lettuces
the days of the paddington markets
the days of catching the bus into town
the days of amplifiers in the laundry
the days of four track recorders and freaky conclusions
the days of going on endless tours round australia
once we started in cairns n hit every town with a venue
until we got to melbourne
sometimes we were bloody awful, i'm sure
me n ploogy roomed together in those days
always getting up to some new pot fueled mischief
hugging trees (yes we really did)
haunting record shops looking for the perfect obscurity
records we loved:
nick kents "my flamingo"
richard stranges "rise of richard strange"
chris bells "i am the cosmos"
the monkees "the porpoise song"
mortal coils "song to the siren"
freurs "doot doot"
deux filles
magazines "correct use of soap"
nirvana "rainbow chaser"
dave miller set "mr guy fawkes"
russell morris "the real thing"
one balmy night
we checked into a lovely apartment in surfers paradise
we had run out of dope
and soon the band
n some of the crew were all sitting round our big table
it was 1981 i guess
outside the sea lapped the tropical shore
palm trees and convertible cars sped past
everyone in the band still friends
suddenly steve copeland arrived with a bag of weed
we smoked up
and i felt that lovely warm rush fill up my body
and all the ideas start to percolate in my head
ploogy put on pet sounds by the beach boys
which i'd never really listened to before
it was absolutely perfect
everyone quietened down to listen
to the summery softly romantic songs drench the night
a moment of rare tranquility stole over me
i thought i was hearing the most wonderful music ever made
the final track "lets go away for a while"
was the most heartbreakingly beautiful thing i'd ever heard
an instrumental complete with timpani
it seemed the veritable soundtrack of my life
things werent always so idyllic
ploog was always engaged in situationist pranks
marty was relatively quiet but often sulky
peter was the old pro
having done more touring than us others
he didnt give much away
i....i was the unpopular one
but
the necessary one
occasionally i'd say REALLY stupid things
but mostly limited myself to just stupid things
i once laughed at martys knobbly knees in qld
and he didnt talk to me until vic
(ie 30 towns later)
the band used to make me drive around in towns
where i'd get lost
(ie anywhere outside rozelle)
and especially melbourne
which baffled me
the way it had baffled my dad
(ie totally fucking bewildered)
once they said to me
"why dont you learn your way around?"
and i came back with
"i write the fucking songs thats my job
not finding my way around...any of you could do that!"
no one spoke to me for days....
we gradually built up friends in each place
and a lot of richards friends irritated the fuck outta me
they were always these lefty feministy types
trying to find fault with my bourgeois ways
they laughed at my make up n airs n graces
but they were always backstage sucking on our booze
as we walked offstage....
they all lived in freezing cold houses in winter
and grew their own stringy dope
they always smelt a bit stale i thought
ploogy would get a brand new girlfriend
and hed be magic
as he showed off to her on the first few nights
he was an incredible drummer if he could be arsed
but sometimes he was just mucking about
marty n peter always played too loud n no one could tell em
hence my tinnitus that i suffer from now
there was very little team playing in those days
it was more like every man for himself
we'd hit melbourne or brisbane or perth for a week
set up shop in a motel
and our days would be spent swimming in the pool
or cruising the op shops for paisley shirts
(i never spent more than 10 bucks on a shirt)
or cruising the record n book shops for finds
or receiving the locals round the pool
at night we'd play at the pubs n bars
there was always 5 or six hundred people at least
and for a long time
we sold out wherever we played
sometimes i had a good night
but most times i had to post experience it
as i stood on stage
counting the songs until i could get back
to the sanctuary of me n richards hotel womb
with our beat up portable cassette player
(the term ghetto blaster not thought up then)
and my sack of cassettes
it was a strange and somewhat lonely life
but we all loved the freedom
the long drives tearing down the highway in a ford ltd
the friends and the pot and the attention
every now n then something super groovy would happen
and i'd think jesus
3 years ago i was a public servant in canberra
now here i am being screamed at
n taking loads of drugs
i was skinny as a rake
from all that sweating every night
and people described me as "angular"
i put black makeup round my eyes
for theatrical effect n to imitate my heroes bolan n bowie
oh god we were the best looking band australia ever had
but i was so arrogant
i was so convinced i was right...about everything
there was only one person i was nice to
and that would be my current girlfriend
anyone else got my cynicism n my self aggrandizing
i was embarrassed to meet anybody
my handshake was limp
and my stare was rude
i wasnt interested in talking to anybody
why would i when i already knew everything
but i could write songs
my aspie -like obsession had paid off
i was writing songs faster than you could write your name
everything was a new song to me
sometimes i wrote 2 or 3 a day
i laughed at the others difficulty with it
coz i'd figured it all out so long ago
my brain was an ever flowing fountain of words
and although not a PROPER musician
i knew enuff to always knock something interesting together
i guess i had enuff of my dad in me to do that
i was a melder
i took from here n there n joined it up
and nobody really knew how i did it
ha ha ha
oh those early days
those olde days
ah
to have an hour back there.....
gee
thatd be fun....
and i thought about the olde days
the mansfield street days
the days of op shop shirts
the days of trying to brew up up opium
out of 10 lettuces
the days of the paddington markets
the days of catching the bus into town
the days of amplifiers in the laundry
the days of four track recorders and freaky conclusions
the days of going on endless tours round australia
once we started in cairns n hit every town with a venue
until we got to melbourne
sometimes we were bloody awful, i'm sure
me n ploogy roomed together in those days
always getting up to some new pot fueled mischief
hugging trees (yes we really did)
haunting record shops looking for the perfect obscurity
records we loved:
nick kents "my flamingo"
richard stranges "rise of richard strange"
chris bells "i am the cosmos"
the monkees "the porpoise song"
mortal coils "song to the siren"
freurs "doot doot"
deux filles
magazines "correct use of soap"
nirvana "rainbow chaser"
dave miller set "mr guy fawkes"
russell morris "the real thing"
one balmy night
we checked into a lovely apartment in surfers paradise
we had run out of dope
and soon the band
n some of the crew were all sitting round our big table
it was 1981 i guess
outside the sea lapped the tropical shore
palm trees and convertible cars sped past
everyone in the band still friends
suddenly steve copeland arrived with a bag of weed
we smoked up
and i felt that lovely warm rush fill up my body
and all the ideas start to percolate in my head
ploogy put on pet sounds by the beach boys
which i'd never really listened to before
it was absolutely perfect
everyone quietened down to listen
to the summery softly romantic songs drench the night
a moment of rare tranquility stole over me
i thought i was hearing the most wonderful music ever made
the final track "lets go away for a while"
was the most heartbreakingly beautiful thing i'd ever heard
an instrumental complete with timpani
it seemed the veritable soundtrack of my life
things werent always so idyllic
ploog was always engaged in situationist pranks
marty was relatively quiet but often sulky
peter was the old pro
having done more touring than us others
he didnt give much away
i....i was the unpopular one
but
the necessary one
occasionally i'd say REALLY stupid things
but mostly limited myself to just stupid things
i once laughed at martys knobbly knees in qld
and he didnt talk to me until vic
(ie 30 towns later)
the band used to make me drive around in towns
where i'd get lost
(ie anywhere outside rozelle)
and especially melbourne
which baffled me
the way it had baffled my dad
(ie totally fucking bewildered)
once they said to me
"why dont you learn your way around?"
and i came back with
"i write the fucking songs thats my job
not finding my way around...any of you could do that!"
no one spoke to me for days....
we gradually built up friends in each place
and a lot of richards friends irritated the fuck outta me
they were always these lefty feministy types
trying to find fault with my bourgeois ways
they laughed at my make up n airs n graces
but they were always backstage sucking on our booze
as we walked offstage....
they all lived in freezing cold houses in winter
and grew their own stringy dope
they always smelt a bit stale i thought
ploogy would get a brand new girlfriend
and hed be magic
as he showed off to her on the first few nights
he was an incredible drummer if he could be arsed
but sometimes he was just mucking about
marty n peter always played too loud n no one could tell em
hence my tinnitus that i suffer from now
there was very little team playing in those days
it was more like every man for himself
we'd hit melbourne or brisbane or perth for a week
set up shop in a motel
and our days would be spent swimming in the pool
or cruising the op shops for paisley shirts
(i never spent more than 10 bucks on a shirt)
or cruising the record n book shops for finds
or receiving the locals round the pool
at night we'd play at the pubs n bars
there was always 5 or six hundred people at least
and for a long time
we sold out wherever we played
sometimes i had a good night
but most times i had to post experience it
as i stood on stage
counting the songs until i could get back
to the sanctuary of me n richards hotel womb
with our beat up portable cassette player
(the term ghetto blaster not thought up then)
and my sack of cassettes
it was a strange and somewhat lonely life
but we all loved the freedom
the long drives tearing down the highway in a ford ltd
the friends and the pot and the attention
every now n then something super groovy would happen
and i'd think jesus
3 years ago i was a public servant in canberra
now here i am being screamed at
n taking loads of drugs
i was skinny as a rake
from all that sweating every night
and people described me as "angular"
i put black makeup round my eyes
for theatrical effect n to imitate my heroes bolan n bowie
oh god we were the best looking band australia ever had
but i was so arrogant
i was so convinced i was right...about everything
there was only one person i was nice to
and that would be my current girlfriend
anyone else got my cynicism n my self aggrandizing
i was embarrassed to meet anybody
my handshake was limp
and my stare was rude
i wasnt interested in talking to anybody
why would i when i already knew everything
but i could write songs
my aspie -like obsession had paid off
i was writing songs faster than you could write your name
everything was a new song to me
sometimes i wrote 2 or 3 a day
i laughed at the others difficulty with it
coz i'd figured it all out so long ago
my brain was an ever flowing fountain of words
and although not a PROPER musician
i knew enuff to always knock something interesting together
i guess i had enuff of my dad in me to do that
i was a melder
i took from here n there n joined it up
and nobody really knew how i did it
ha ha ha
oh those early days
those olde days
ah
to have an hour back there.....
gee
thatd be fun....
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
seizure salad
i accelerate into the future
i paint my seizure
my mouth down n blue
my eyes roll back in my head
i enter a field of excruciating pain
all around the screaming cacophony of hell
the light is blinding me
it goes in my eyes and bores into my brain
the noise opens me up
fire surrounds me
the smell of brimstone
a hideous sulphuric wasteland
i am trapped
trapped in a moment
no way out
i try to get out of that moment
but it has congealed around me
i am fastened in
i bounce against its frames and walls
everything intensifies
the flames burn cold
colder than death
colder than nothing
i say
steven you gotta get outta here
i say
somebody please
i gotta get outta here
i scream but in that place everything is screaming
i struggle but i am isolated
i smash into the edges but they hold me fast
a million years go by
each second takes a century
each thought is a nightmare of gothic proportion
i see myself reflected in the glare of unconsciousness
i convulse inside and outside and here and beyond
a filthy malignant spirit envelopes me
bawling in my ear
YOU ARE MINE!!
i ricochet around in my moment
the moment which holds me too fast for you
the moment is tearing me apart
there is only now
and now is terrible
everything that was numb is hurting
everything that was hurting has erupted in white hot searing agony
my eyes blink open n closed i can still see
i fight so hard
to gather myself
whats left of myself
my will my wherewithal
to resist
to resist
my resistance becomes more agony
what am i resisting after all....a moment...?
somewhere out there
unbeknownst to me
my wife is calling an ambulance
but i am oblivious to any other time or place
horrible things are fighting over me
they drag me into their place howling with glee
as i bang around in my moment
my heart is beating so slowly now
faintly like a distant drum
my mansuit is sweating great drops of precious electrolytes
my electrical system has gone haywire
my brain is trying to telegraph a rhythm to my heart
but all the lines are down
my heart left on its own for the first time
doesnt know what to do
it flutters it quivers
it speeds up n slows down to almost nothing
inside the moment
my lungs suck in flame
my blood has thickened to a crimson sludge
my empty guts writhe tortuously
a pounding behind my blind eyes
a roaring behind my deaf ears
a burning under my dumb skin
i put everything into trying to get out
i am falling apart
i am just a survival instinct
i am just pain
i am just ache
i am just throb throb throb
i am drowning in my own sweat
i am evaporating within my own fire
suddenly
without any warning
i emerge into a quiet dark night
natalie is on the phone giving an address
natalies father is holding me gently down in a chair
i am out
but
it starts again
i start to lose myself
forget myself
hell yawns wide
my seat tilts
and i slide back down into the fires
the creatures all begin to shriek
i claw my way back out
but they have hold of my legs
everything going BANG BANG BANG
the moment looms
the moment re envelopes me
i scream inside the moment soundlessly
and again i re emerge
natalie is telling the ambulance PLEASE COME QUICKLY
i look around
i dont need an ambulance...
not me....
not yet....
please....
i dont want to go anywhere
and then again
hell yawns for third time
back in i go
same old stuff
same old racket
same old nothingness
same old fear
same old devils
just when i cant bear another thing
i emerge finally again
the ambulance has arrived
its a cool night in bondi
a quiet night
its about a quarter to eleven
jesus christ!
could anything be worse
than that terrible place?
oh vishnu
i never wanna return there......
i paint my seizure
my mouth down n blue
my eyes roll back in my head
i enter a field of excruciating pain
all around the screaming cacophony of hell
the light is blinding me
it goes in my eyes and bores into my brain
the noise opens me up
fire surrounds me
the smell of brimstone
a hideous sulphuric wasteland
i am trapped
trapped in a moment
no way out
i try to get out of that moment
but it has congealed around me
i am fastened in
i bounce against its frames and walls
everything intensifies
the flames burn cold
colder than death
colder than nothing
i say
steven you gotta get outta here
i say
somebody please
i gotta get outta here
i scream but in that place everything is screaming
i struggle but i am isolated
i smash into the edges but they hold me fast
a million years go by
each second takes a century
each thought is a nightmare of gothic proportion
i see myself reflected in the glare of unconsciousness
i convulse inside and outside and here and beyond
a filthy malignant spirit envelopes me
bawling in my ear
YOU ARE MINE!!
i ricochet around in my moment
the moment which holds me too fast for you
the moment is tearing me apart
there is only now
and now is terrible
everything that was numb is hurting
everything that was hurting has erupted in white hot searing agony
my eyes blink open n closed i can still see
i fight so hard
to gather myself
whats left of myself
my will my wherewithal
to resist
to resist
my resistance becomes more agony
what am i resisting after all....a moment...?
somewhere out there
unbeknownst to me
my wife is calling an ambulance
but i am oblivious to any other time or place
horrible things are fighting over me
they drag me into their place howling with glee
as i bang around in my moment
my heart is beating so slowly now
faintly like a distant drum
my mansuit is sweating great drops of precious electrolytes
my electrical system has gone haywire
my brain is trying to telegraph a rhythm to my heart
but all the lines are down
my heart left on its own for the first time
doesnt know what to do
it flutters it quivers
it speeds up n slows down to almost nothing
inside the moment
my lungs suck in flame
my blood has thickened to a crimson sludge
my empty guts writhe tortuously
a pounding behind my blind eyes
a roaring behind my deaf ears
a burning under my dumb skin
i put everything into trying to get out
i am falling apart
i am just a survival instinct
i am just pain
i am just ache
i am just throb throb throb
i am drowning in my own sweat
i am evaporating within my own fire
suddenly
without any warning
i emerge into a quiet dark night
natalie is on the phone giving an address
natalies father is holding me gently down in a chair
i am out
but
it starts again
i start to lose myself
forget myself
hell yawns wide
my seat tilts
and i slide back down into the fires
the creatures all begin to shriek
i claw my way back out
but they have hold of my legs
everything going BANG BANG BANG
the moment looms
the moment re envelopes me
i scream inside the moment soundlessly
and again i re emerge
natalie is telling the ambulance PLEASE COME QUICKLY
i look around
i dont need an ambulance...
not me....
not yet....
please....
i dont want to go anywhere
and then again
hell yawns for third time
back in i go
same old stuff
same old racket
same old nothingness
same old fear
same old devils
just when i cant bear another thing
i emerge finally again
the ambulance has arrived
its a cool night in bondi
a quiet night
its about a quarter to eleven
jesus christ!
could anything be worse
than that terrible place?
oh vishnu
i never wanna return there......
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
pre existing condition
things are weird in my world
upheaval and heat
tiredness without much sleep
in my ultra vivid dreams
i am a king
i am a flea
i am a loan
my new records come out one by one
i hurl brilliance against an uncaring world
too much too late
each line of each songs tells a hundred possible stories
choose any path
they all lead back here
eventually
the church play a bloody corker in sydney
i have turned into somebody else
some body better
some body worse
some body much stronger
i have real authority (but authority to do what?)
my voice is hoarser more lived in
my music is simple and raw
i sweat and i stagger
i summon up music from deep within a place only i can get to
the eighties kilbey : sleek suave in cynical
the nineties kilbey : bloated blasted and boring
the 2000s kilbey :.....masculine mansuited mofo monster
what next?
am i a musician or a (washed up) rockstar ? some commenter muses
are they truly mutually exclusive
on stage i tend to make a racket
but if you listen to my records i am a musician too
but always more of a writer
peter koppes is an intellectual musician
marty is an intuitive musician
tim powles is a consummate musician
i am a bass player a singer n a writer
i try my best
now im trying even harder to transcend
thats why everybody loved our latest shows
i own my songs now in that i inhabit them
no longer a fey fop or dried up junky
i am strength i am pitta i am fire i am ambition
i sweat like a pig with silk ears
i sing like a lark on cocaine
i move like a panther who hasnt eaten for a while
our new songs are among the best possible in rock
vibrant melodic brimming with love n possibilities
buy untitled #23 and marvel at its energy
listen to its ever receding subleties
wonder at the new juice we're squeezing out of (a) rock
its gonna be a while before you get sick of this one
you gonna listen to it till the day you die
or die listening to it in flaming amazement at night
you want rich n lush?
you want ruff n rockin'?
you want emotion and intelligence?
you want heart n soul n brain?
you wanna hear some good playing?
ok
its the record for you
me and the church
back from the dead
dont say i didnt warn ya!
upheaval and heat
tiredness without much sleep
in my ultra vivid dreams
i am a king
i am a flea
i am a loan
my new records come out one by one
i hurl brilliance against an uncaring world
too much too late
each line of each songs tells a hundred possible stories
choose any path
they all lead back here
eventually
the church play a bloody corker in sydney
i have turned into somebody else
some body better
some body worse
some body much stronger
i have real authority (but authority to do what?)
my voice is hoarser more lived in
my music is simple and raw
i sweat and i stagger
i summon up music from deep within a place only i can get to
the eighties kilbey : sleek suave in cynical
the nineties kilbey : bloated blasted and boring
the 2000s kilbey :.....masculine mansuited mofo monster
what next?
am i a musician or a (washed up) rockstar ? some commenter muses
are they truly mutually exclusive
on stage i tend to make a racket
but if you listen to my records i am a musician too
but always more of a writer
peter koppes is an intellectual musician
marty is an intuitive musician
tim powles is a consummate musician
i am a bass player a singer n a writer
i try my best
now im trying even harder to transcend
thats why everybody loved our latest shows
i own my songs now in that i inhabit them
no longer a fey fop or dried up junky
i am strength i am pitta i am fire i am ambition
i sweat like a pig with silk ears
i sing like a lark on cocaine
i move like a panther who hasnt eaten for a while
our new songs are among the best possible in rock
vibrant melodic brimming with love n possibilities
buy untitled #23 and marvel at its energy
listen to its ever receding subleties
wonder at the new juice we're squeezing out of (a) rock
its gonna be a while before you get sick of this one
you gonna listen to it till the day you die
or die listening to it in flaming amazement at night
you want rich n lush?
you want ruff n rockin'?
you want emotion and intelligence?
you want heart n soul n brain?
you wanna hear some good playing?
ok
its the record for you
me and the church
back from the dead
dont say i didnt warn ya!
Sunday, March 15, 2009
sundae sir man
some strange events afoot
i close in on my psychic attacker...and....
oh no...surely it wasnt you......not you
oh no!
of course
why didnt i see it all along
i did
but never wanted to believe it
you!
you!
you whom i trusted
you utter bastard!
and now......
well youre gone
you are gone from my life now
as troublesome as that will be in many ways
you are unmasked
you didnt care if i died
you didnt care if i suffered
youve just been hating me for so long
for so so so so so so so long
but i tried to ignore it
i tried to get over your insults n sleights
no insults back
(you jealous worm!)
but now
adieu
we dont wanna see ya round this way again
i am gonna forgive ya
i am gonna forget ya
but i dont wanna clap my eyes on ya again!
whatever i did or did not do
i cannot believe you were the viper at my bosom
and thats it
we're finished!
my life seems like a film
i anticipate events
i write songs that i may not understand for years
things come down the line got my name on them
believe me my fiendss
life is very very very cosmic
everything that is was meant to be
everything that isnt wasnt
or exists as mere potential
only from the perspective of eternity will we understand
we have all lived before
we have all died before
we will all live and die so many more times
we will change our suits
we will change our masks
we must undergo everything so we understand everything
we must be betrayed so we understand betrayal
we must kill and be killed so we understand killing
we must love and be loved so we understand loving
we must hate and be hated so we understand hatred
all the time we are being refined
all the time we learn whether we know it or not
all the time we get closer and closer to the next level
whatever that is
we are such imperfect creatures
we have mastered this planet and fucked it up
i wrote almost 25 years ago in earthed
how the earths mad cannabalistic offspring were devouring her
now look around you
this is a result of our misunderstanding
this is a necessary design error in humans
we were born to go wrong
this is an obstacle race
we are the racers and the obstacles all at once
we are beast
we are eternal spirit
everyone is acting
everyone is confused
everyone is unsure
thus has it ever been
and if this earth can endure much longer
no matter what gadgets n stuff they come up with
the basic human problems will never cease to plague us
there will always be envy avarice greed lust n all the rest
people will always steal and kill and cheat and lie
we are in the unenviable position of knowing we will all die
no other creature on this earth is burdened by this knowledge
yet we must know it and go on as if we dont know it
heroes come and go on our stage
villains too
and the vast hoi polloi who are neither
but just wanna get on with their lives
no one wants war but there it is
no one wants famine and pestilence yet they remain
no one wants cruelty for themselves
yet we all deal it out over n over to others
everyone thinks its ok for them to pee in the pool
but would be horrified to think someone else was doing it
our philosophers come n go
but still no one knows how to live their life
great men are undone by scandals
small men assume power and get us all killed
the kings n queens
the bishops
the presidents n leaders
all baffled
all mistaken
all roads lead to that dead end
what can you do?
i dunno
i'm just playing in my band as the titanic goes down
some nice music for y'all till we go under
(only to re emerge)
sometimes i'm kinda fond of olde steve kilbey
he surprises me with his strengths
but he disappoints me with his weaknesses
he gets it so right
and
he gets it so wrong
oh i dont want to let go of him
because hes learned so much
and can do so many things now
i dont wanna start again
but death will strip us all of everything
and our former talents will be dormant
as predilections and proclivities and predispositions
ie i always knew i'd be a musician
ah
well
what am i getting at?
i dunno for sure
words to describe concepts that exist outside of words
ok
be careful
life is a slender thread
too much this
not enuff that
n
its over
do what you can
just do your best
what more can be expected
ps 3 days off all substances
and LOVING IT!!!
i close in on my psychic attacker...and....
oh no...surely it wasnt you......not you
oh no!
of course
why didnt i see it all along
i did
but never wanted to believe it
you!
you!
you whom i trusted
you utter bastard!
and now......
well youre gone
you are gone from my life now
as troublesome as that will be in many ways
you are unmasked
you didnt care if i died
you didnt care if i suffered
youve just been hating me for so long
for so so so so so so so long
but i tried to ignore it
i tried to get over your insults n sleights
no insults back
(you jealous worm!)
but now
adieu
we dont wanna see ya round this way again
i am gonna forgive ya
i am gonna forget ya
but i dont wanna clap my eyes on ya again!
whatever i did or did not do
i cannot believe you were the viper at my bosom
and thats it
we're finished!
my life seems like a film
i anticipate events
i write songs that i may not understand for years
things come down the line got my name on them
believe me my fiendss
life is very very very cosmic
everything that is was meant to be
everything that isnt wasnt
or exists as mere potential
only from the perspective of eternity will we understand
we have all lived before
we have all died before
we will all live and die so many more times
we will change our suits
we will change our masks
we must undergo everything so we understand everything
we must be betrayed so we understand betrayal
we must kill and be killed so we understand killing
we must love and be loved so we understand loving
we must hate and be hated so we understand hatred
all the time we are being refined
all the time we learn whether we know it or not
all the time we get closer and closer to the next level
whatever that is
we are such imperfect creatures
we have mastered this planet and fucked it up
i wrote almost 25 years ago in earthed
how the earths mad cannabalistic offspring were devouring her
now look around you
this is a result of our misunderstanding
this is a necessary design error in humans
we were born to go wrong
this is an obstacle race
we are the racers and the obstacles all at once
we are beast
we are eternal spirit
everyone is acting
everyone is confused
everyone is unsure
thus has it ever been
and if this earth can endure much longer
no matter what gadgets n stuff they come up with
the basic human problems will never cease to plague us
there will always be envy avarice greed lust n all the rest
people will always steal and kill and cheat and lie
we are in the unenviable position of knowing we will all die
no other creature on this earth is burdened by this knowledge
yet we must know it and go on as if we dont know it
heroes come and go on our stage
villains too
and the vast hoi polloi who are neither
but just wanna get on with their lives
no one wants war but there it is
no one wants famine and pestilence yet they remain
no one wants cruelty for themselves
yet we all deal it out over n over to others
everyone thinks its ok for them to pee in the pool
but would be horrified to think someone else was doing it
our philosophers come n go
but still no one knows how to live their life
great men are undone by scandals
small men assume power and get us all killed
the kings n queens
the bishops
the presidents n leaders
all baffled
all mistaken
all roads lead to that dead end
what can you do?
i dunno
i'm just playing in my band as the titanic goes down
some nice music for y'all till we go under
(only to re emerge)
sometimes i'm kinda fond of olde steve kilbey
he surprises me with his strengths
but he disappoints me with his weaknesses
he gets it so right
and
he gets it so wrong
oh i dont want to let go of him
because hes learned so much
and can do so many things now
i dont wanna start again
but death will strip us all of everything
and our former talents will be dormant
as predilections and proclivities and predispositions
ie i always knew i'd be a musician
ah
well
what am i getting at?
i dunno for sure
words to describe concepts that exist outside of words
ok
be careful
life is a slender thread
too much this
not enuff that
n
its over
do what you can
just do your best
what more can be expected
ps 3 days off all substances
and LOVING IT!!!
Saturday, March 14, 2009
gosh....shucks
i am so moved by your responses
i have never liked myself much
and i still cant believe anyone else does either
your concern and your kind words have truly moved me
i never foresaw any of this when i started writing this blog
i never thought that we could communicate like this
i never thought complete strangers would ever care what happened to me
i saw myself as some frosty intellectual ninny
dealing out my abstract poetry and my cynical baloney
i never thought anyone would end up getting attached to me
you see
there is hope
even for the the stupid old guys like me
you can go on improving
you can actually become a nicer person if you want
you can care about others
it aint a weakness its a strength
when the 89 year old gent with the paralysed side
took a few little steps in our ward
it was like for me a new world record had been set
how i admired his courage
how i admired his humility
how i admired the 2 male nurses who supported n encouraged him
how i admired the tireless workers catering to our needs
how proud i was that i lived in a country
that turned on this health system for EVERYBODY
not just the rich
how nice to see marty come in n visit me
his eyes full of concern
and my brother jlk n my good buddy nelg
and i believe
there was a purpose
i am re-humbled
i am re-inspired
i got a shake up but guess what
my heart is in good nick
i dont have heart disease like my poor olde dad
despite all the stupidest things ive done
i'm still ok
surely goodness n mercy must follow me the rest of my life
i get humbled when i think how johnny garrat thought of my words
when he collapsed
i get humbled that you all so worried about me
who am after all a pop singer
i challenge myself to become better
to write better songs
give better performances
to listen more n speak less
to focus on whats important
to eliminate my constant ego driven argy bargy
to be who i could be
im giving all substances a wide berth for a (long) while
included are caffeine pot n energy drinks
i wanna see my gurls grow up
i wanna rock into my olde age
and rock with intelligence n style
cos this is the music that i love
i count you all as my friends
you have got me all misty, guys
aint you embarrassed to see this fool all teary?
ok
i bet i'm back to my usual grumpiness soon
but i gonna enjoy this feeling a little longer
not sure if i deserve it
but i'm gonna just think about it
the love between my brothers n my sisters
all over this world
I LOVE YOU PEOPLE
sk 7.48 sat 14 march n bondi 2009
oh krishna
oh jesus
oh buddha
oh vishnu
oh god
everyone
just take it easy!
i have never liked myself much
and i still cant believe anyone else does either
your concern and your kind words have truly moved me
i never foresaw any of this when i started writing this blog
i never thought that we could communicate like this
i never thought complete strangers would ever care what happened to me
i saw myself as some frosty intellectual ninny
dealing out my abstract poetry and my cynical baloney
i never thought anyone would end up getting attached to me
you see
there is hope
even for the the stupid old guys like me
you can go on improving
you can actually become a nicer person if you want
you can care about others
it aint a weakness its a strength
when the 89 year old gent with the paralysed side
took a few little steps in our ward
it was like for me a new world record had been set
how i admired his courage
how i admired his humility
how i admired the 2 male nurses who supported n encouraged him
how i admired the tireless workers catering to our needs
how proud i was that i lived in a country
that turned on this health system for EVERYBODY
not just the rich
how nice to see marty come in n visit me
his eyes full of concern
and my brother jlk n my good buddy nelg
and i believe
there was a purpose
i am re-humbled
i am re-inspired
i got a shake up but guess what
my heart is in good nick
i dont have heart disease like my poor olde dad
despite all the stupidest things ive done
i'm still ok
surely goodness n mercy must follow me the rest of my life
i get humbled when i think how johnny garrat thought of my words
when he collapsed
i get humbled that you all so worried about me
who am after all a pop singer
i challenge myself to become better
to write better songs
give better performances
to listen more n speak less
to focus on whats important
to eliminate my constant ego driven argy bargy
to be who i could be
im giving all substances a wide berth for a (long) while
included are caffeine pot n energy drinks
i wanna see my gurls grow up
i wanna rock into my olde age
and rock with intelligence n style
cos this is the music that i love
i count you all as my friends
you have got me all misty, guys
aint you embarrassed to see this fool all teary?
ok
i bet i'm back to my usual grumpiness soon
but i gonna enjoy this feeling a little longer
not sure if i deserve it
but i'm gonna just think about it
the love between my brothers n my sisters
all over this world
I LOVE YOU PEOPLE
sk 7.48 sat 14 march n bondi 2009
oh krishna
oh jesus
oh buddha
oh vishnu
oh god
everyone
just take it easy!
Friday, March 13, 2009
episode
on wednesday night
after 3 days of a vicious stomach bug
and being completely dehydrated
(and under psychic attack from some ne'er-do-well)
i was talking to my wife in my kitchen when i collapsed
i have never collapsed before
this had nothing to do with any drug
i entered some horrific world
like being trapped in one frame of film
just going round n round in a loop
while the world screamed in my ear
like the most hideous vivid nightmare
it seemed like i had been in there for a million years
struggling to get out
the next thing i know
natalies dad
who luckily
has been holidaying with us
was kinda holding me down
as i tried to stand up
nks dad has worked most of his life in hospitals
steve ...youve had some kinda episode ...he said
i was covered in sweat
natalie was ringing an ambulance
i was struggling to get up
but her dad just held me down in a chair
i kept saying that i need to get some fresh air
but he wouldnt let me up
youre going to hospital steve he said
luckily he didnt let me up
coz i collapsed 2 more times
and re entered that hellish place
the kids woke up and came out
and everything was going round
and my vision was all totally fucked up
the ambulance came
they took my heart rate
it had gone down to 20 bpms
and it was totally out of rhythm
i got taken to hospital
i was put on a saline drip and given medicine
my heart was completely just beating however it liked
fast slow wait beat beat beat then nothing then a little beat etc
ok
i got treated
i got my heart n lungs checked out
i am amazingly n luckily gonna be alright
the st vincents hospital staff were AMAZING
i had a room with a view
but sadly shared it with 3 olde codgers
who were waiting for heart transplants and had had strokes
i wish i could have done something
all around were the old and sick n infirm
people who were never coming out
but still courageous n cheerful
the nurses were without exception extraordinary
they give n give n give
doing the most unpleasant things for not such good money
i am in awe of them
reluctantly we had to cancel the qld shows
i deeply apologise to those made arrangements
i wanted to do it
but it was impossible
i am gonna do sunday night however
i hope this is the right decision
cos i dont ever wanna go back to that place
in other news i am turning off the comments
and moderating them forever for now on
i am truly fucking sickened by the bilge i read on here
i apologise to ms veleska for her harassment
i am disgusted by the suggestion
that this was a ploy to get some contributions
sorry to the "nice " 99 per cent of ya
but the comments are moderated from here on in
just like we have locks on our doors to keep out
the dishonest one per cent who might rob us
so there ya go
if ya dont like that
get yer own blog
meanwhile
thanks to my well wishers n friends
im back
im ok
its gonna be alright
kilbey n bondi march 2009
after 3 days of a vicious stomach bug
and being completely dehydrated
(and under psychic attack from some ne'er-do-well)
i was talking to my wife in my kitchen when i collapsed
i have never collapsed before
this had nothing to do with any drug
i entered some horrific world
like being trapped in one frame of film
just going round n round in a loop
while the world screamed in my ear
like the most hideous vivid nightmare
it seemed like i had been in there for a million years
struggling to get out
the next thing i know
natalies dad
who luckily
has been holidaying with us
was kinda holding me down
as i tried to stand up
nks dad has worked most of his life in hospitals
steve ...youve had some kinda episode ...he said
i was covered in sweat
natalie was ringing an ambulance
i was struggling to get up
but her dad just held me down in a chair
i kept saying that i need to get some fresh air
but he wouldnt let me up
youre going to hospital steve he said
luckily he didnt let me up
coz i collapsed 2 more times
and re entered that hellish place
the kids woke up and came out
and everything was going round
and my vision was all totally fucked up
the ambulance came
they took my heart rate
it had gone down to 20 bpms
and it was totally out of rhythm
i got taken to hospital
i was put on a saline drip and given medicine
my heart was completely just beating however it liked
fast slow wait beat beat beat then nothing then a little beat etc
ok
i got treated
i got my heart n lungs checked out
i am amazingly n luckily gonna be alright
the st vincents hospital staff were AMAZING
i had a room with a view
but sadly shared it with 3 olde codgers
who were waiting for heart transplants and had had strokes
i wish i could have done something
all around were the old and sick n infirm
people who were never coming out
but still courageous n cheerful
the nurses were without exception extraordinary
they give n give n give
doing the most unpleasant things for not such good money
i am in awe of them
reluctantly we had to cancel the qld shows
i deeply apologise to those made arrangements
i wanted to do it
but it was impossible
i am gonna do sunday night however
i hope this is the right decision
cos i dont ever wanna go back to that place
in other news i am turning off the comments
and moderating them forever for now on
i am truly fucking sickened by the bilge i read on here
i apologise to ms veleska for her harassment
i am disgusted by the suggestion
that this was a ploy to get some contributions
sorry to the "nice " 99 per cent of ya
but the comments are moderated from here on in
just like we have locks on our doors to keep out
the dishonest one per cent who might rob us
so there ya go
if ya dont like that
get yer own blog
meanwhile
thanks to my well wishers n friends
im back
im ok
its gonna be alright
kilbey n bondi march 2009
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
sleeplessness
is there anything
anything
worse than sleeplessness?
nothing i have ever encountered
a dear friend of mine is almost unable to sleep
despite leading an exemplary life...
when she tells me of her insomnia
my heart truly aches
and i truly sympathise
because sleep is the most delicious gift
and insomnia is the most terrible curse
once
after getting off a tar heroin jag
the one that saw me in exodus l.a. rehab
and led to my encounter with my sweet lord
who hastened to me
when i screamed in the total agony of sleeplessness
anyway
i got out
and i went to sweden
where i visited elli n minna then 3 or 4
i could not sleep for 3 weeks not a wink
i was hallucinating
hearing voices
and falling into the foulest pit of angry despair
i tried everything other than sleeping pills / or drugs
at night i writhed in the grip of being alone with ....me
after all day long with ourselves
we neeed to escape
we neeed to detach
we neeed to switch off
oh blessed sleep
oh divine sleep
i would not wish sleeplessness on my worst enemy
people
if youre sleeping well
get down on your knees and thank your god
you others
heres some advice
dont pursue sleep
dont try n wrestle sleep outta the air
dont get desperate as night falls scaring sleep away
a warm bath with mineral salts
warm cup of soy or rice or oatmilk with black strap molasses
eat peanut butter and/or bananas
read a gentle n lovely book (say kahil gibran...or something)
exercise well all day but not to become over tired
swimming works a treat to get you all nicely sleepy
fresh air but dont have a stuffy or chilly room
i believe yoga before bed is very relaxing...just the easy poses if you like
throw yer legs up the wall...that helps you sleep
relax your jaw n scalp
let the gentlest thoughts come into yer head
try n visualize something nice
like something you did as a kid
or a time when you were sleeping well in some cozy corner
consciously relax from your toes on up
stopping at each muscle to invidually make sure its relaxed
one FALLS asleep not climbs asleep
its a kinda letting go or giving in
you cant force it
dont take sleeping pills
unless for extraordinary reasons....
valerian can work
herbal teas are good
avoid energy drinks or coffee after about 2 in the afternoon
a decent orgasm can get ya to sleep ...even an indecent one i guess
dont watch loud violent or noisy tv shows before bed
pray to god to send you some sleep
i hope you find some sweet sweeet sleeeeeep
please share tips or insomniac experiences on comments
viva la sleep!
sk
anything
worse than sleeplessness?
nothing i have ever encountered
a dear friend of mine is almost unable to sleep
despite leading an exemplary life...
when she tells me of her insomnia
my heart truly aches
and i truly sympathise
because sleep is the most delicious gift
and insomnia is the most terrible curse
once
after getting off a tar heroin jag
the one that saw me in exodus l.a. rehab
and led to my encounter with my sweet lord
who hastened to me
when i screamed in the total agony of sleeplessness
anyway
i got out
and i went to sweden
where i visited elli n minna then 3 or 4
i could not sleep for 3 weeks not a wink
i was hallucinating
hearing voices
and falling into the foulest pit of angry despair
i tried everything other than sleeping pills / or drugs
at night i writhed in the grip of being alone with ....me
after all day long with ourselves
we neeed to escape
we neeed to detach
we neeed to switch off
oh blessed sleep
oh divine sleep
i would not wish sleeplessness on my worst enemy
people
if youre sleeping well
get down on your knees and thank your god
you others
heres some advice
dont pursue sleep
dont try n wrestle sleep outta the air
dont get desperate as night falls scaring sleep away
a warm bath with mineral salts
warm cup of soy or rice or oatmilk with black strap molasses
eat peanut butter and/or bananas
read a gentle n lovely book (say kahil gibran...or something)
exercise well all day but not to become over tired
swimming works a treat to get you all nicely sleepy
fresh air but dont have a stuffy or chilly room
i believe yoga before bed is very relaxing...just the easy poses if you like
throw yer legs up the wall...that helps you sleep
relax your jaw n scalp
let the gentlest thoughts come into yer head
try n visualize something nice
like something you did as a kid
or a time when you were sleeping well in some cozy corner
consciously relax from your toes on up
stopping at each muscle to invidually make sure its relaxed
one FALLS asleep not climbs asleep
its a kinda letting go or giving in
you cant force it
dont take sleeping pills
unless for extraordinary reasons....
valerian can work
herbal teas are good
avoid energy drinks or coffee after about 2 in the afternoon
a decent orgasm can get ya to sleep ...even an indecent one i guess
dont watch loud violent or noisy tv shows before bed
pray to god to send you some sleep
i hope you find some sweet sweeet sleeeeeep
please share tips or insomniac experiences on comments
viva la sleep!
sk
Monday, March 09, 2009
hello
i really enjoyed playing at barwon heads
we thought it was one of the best gigs we'd ever done
i was not condescending
i was nervous n i was relieved it went well
i had a ball
anyone who was there could see that
utmw is a problematical song
people DO expect it
not devoted fans
but casual punters who pay their dough n wanna hear it
i usually joke around about it to offset its "importance"
i cant see how my relationship with my own song
should concern anyone else
i was trying to be self deprecating....sorry
i still like the song
and i dont mind playing it
melbourne itself i had too much to drink
i drank too much jaeger it crept up on me
whoops
but i think we did a good show any way
i was a little sloppy
i will bear it in mind from now on
as far as the sound being too loud
too loud drums etc
i will talk to our soundman today
i am unaware on stage what it actually sounds like
im sorry if he got it wrong
i still consider both nights successes
i still put 100 per cent into it
i promise you that
last nite at the festival was great
we got a great reaction from the sold out crowd
we felt like we vindicated ourselves
we played like bloody troopers
i think the whole 3 days were good
and i feel like the church may be able to
extend its lease on life a little further
i am pushing 55
please never forget that
with all the issues it brings
being an old rocker
i dig the church
i dig our music past pres n future
and i dig our audiences
the condescending days are long gone
i am appreciative of what i got
i accept constructive criticism
and im grateful for it
please dont attack each other on my comments
every body has a right to say they didnt like it
i feel however you misconstrued what i said about utmw
thats ok
i do say a lotta stupid things
but you know that
sk
we thought it was one of the best gigs we'd ever done
i was not condescending
i was nervous n i was relieved it went well
i had a ball
anyone who was there could see that
utmw is a problematical song
people DO expect it
not devoted fans
but casual punters who pay their dough n wanna hear it
i usually joke around about it to offset its "importance"
i cant see how my relationship with my own song
should concern anyone else
i was trying to be self deprecating....sorry
i still like the song
and i dont mind playing it
melbourne itself i had too much to drink
i drank too much jaeger it crept up on me
whoops
but i think we did a good show any way
i was a little sloppy
i will bear it in mind from now on
as far as the sound being too loud
too loud drums etc
i will talk to our soundman today
i am unaware on stage what it actually sounds like
im sorry if he got it wrong
i still consider both nights successes
i still put 100 per cent into it
i promise you that
last nite at the festival was great
we got a great reaction from the sold out crowd
we felt like we vindicated ourselves
we played like bloody troopers
i think the whole 3 days were good
and i feel like the church may be able to
extend its lease on life a little further
i am pushing 55
please never forget that
with all the issues it brings
being an old rocker
i dig the church
i dig our music past pres n future
and i dig our audiences
the condescending days are long gone
i am appreciative of what i got
i accept constructive criticism
and im grateful for it
please dont attack each other on my comments
every body has a right to say they didnt like it
i feel however you misconstrued what i said about utmw
thats ok
i do say a lotta stupid things
but you know that
sk
Sunday, March 08, 2009
melbourne 2009
yeah
we came
we sore
we conked out
we played
i had too much to drink
we rocked
i sat down
i lay on my back n played
i jumped
i bellowed
i rocked
i slipped
i stumbled
we were loud
i was sweaty
i got sore fingers
i got saw throat
we rolled n we strolled
we played encore
we played old new borrowed blue
yeah
n then i went home
had a minestrone soup on fitzroy st
had a bruschetta
and a fruit drink
i feel rotten today
too much booze?
well dont say
i didnt warn me
tonite
golden plains 8 00 clock tonite
wowee
love you lot
kill-er
we came
we sore
we conked out
we played
i had too much to drink
we rocked
i sat down
i lay on my back n played
i jumped
i bellowed
i rocked
i slipped
i stumbled
we were loud
i was sweaty
i got sore fingers
i got saw throat
we rolled n we strolled
we played encore
we played old new borrowed blue
yeah
n then i went home
had a minestrone soup on fitzroy st
had a bruschetta
and a fruit drink
i feel rotten today
too much booze?
well dont say
i didnt warn me
tonite
golden plains 8 00 clock tonite
wowee
love you lot
kill-er
Friday, March 06, 2009
weird seen in side a gold mind
i run about weirdly
my world has devolved into a 3 dimensional slop
small weird creatures struggle and fight to be free of it
i never thought things could get so weird
i never thought things could be so strange
i never thought i guess
i never thought such thoughtless things
the cosmic all shudders to spit it all out
the universe convulses as it expels us
and we lie at last
outside
outside of what? someone asks
why come here for the answers? someone else says
i think i know that voice
says another voice
i'm in another room says a fourth voice
i'm in another story.....
i wonder if there are any taxis out there
i got 9 dollars in my pocket...change from lunch
the clouds part for a moment
soft white sunlight pours down
i hit the road forward
and i keep on walkin'
what else is there to do?
my world has devolved into a 3 dimensional slop
small weird creatures struggle and fight to be free of it
i never thought things could get so weird
i never thought things could be so strange
i never thought i guess
i never thought such thoughtless things
the cosmic all shudders to spit it all out
the universe convulses as it expels us
and we lie at last
outside
outside of what? someone asks
why come here for the answers? someone else says
i think i know that voice
says another voice
i'm in another room says a fourth voice
i'm in another story.....
i wonder if there are any taxis out there
i got 9 dollars in my pocket...change from lunch
the clouds part for a moment
soft white sunlight pours down
i hit the road forward
and i keep on walkin'
what else is there to do?
Thursday, March 05, 2009
unearthly mark
the centre cannot hold
the falcon cannot hear the panther
the rough beasts are slouching about all over the place
among us walk the others
you know who they are
yes
you know who they are
the vanishers
the hard to remember now
the distant thoughts
mr weird, remember him?
i thought i was making all that up
but no
look i'm writing about him again
just on the verge of something big
just riding my mind till it can come up with something
just belting along down the alphabet
mr weird assembles himself in letters and light
out back in his day/night club
open all hours except ...
is this where we're rehearsing today?
some sullen roadie bumps in some gear
some tired geezer stands before a drink machine
insurance jobs blow up in the street
who cares?
my felafel n chips are making me sick
oh this is all so noir.....
i change the channel to some happier thing
little butterflies in an enchanted wood
spring suddenly drains out of the world
autumn arrives looking stern and unapproachable
unlikely considering everything
but who can really consider everything
my guitar gently cries mary and joseph
my bass hums with a life of its own
my drums rat a tat tat
mr weird stops in with a cawfee n a bagel
am i in america now? i ask naively
youre so mixed up says someone
yeah says mr weird
youre so mixed up
hes yer friend says someone new
yeah thats right says mr weird
what are you playing today?
well we're playing um......something...
yeah yeah great says weird
youre a smart fucking bastard arent you?
i check him out
he seems to change a bit you know
tall and long or towering over me
wow his eyes are something else
he picks up a drumstick n it breaks
aw he says
a phone rings
he walks away
lucky for you he says over his shoulder
i change the channel
dont do that says weird his face full flat on the screen
i try again
the butterflies the wood
weird appeared walking thru the wood
when you gonna learn steven? he says
this whole thing is stacked against you
you cant win
you dont wanna win
theres no winners
i'm just here to set ya straight thats all
weird sighed
try being me he said
i wouldnt mind that i say absentmindedly
ok he says
its morning then
i looked myself in the mirror
i am weird
i am him
i am he
he is me
ok
i say
now i'm gonna try being weird
the falcon cannot hear the panther
the rough beasts are slouching about all over the place
among us walk the others
you know who they are
yes
you know who they are
the vanishers
the hard to remember now
the distant thoughts
mr weird, remember him?
i thought i was making all that up
but no
look i'm writing about him again
just on the verge of something big
just riding my mind till it can come up with something
just belting along down the alphabet
mr weird assembles himself in letters and light
out back in his day/night club
open all hours except ...
is this where we're rehearsing today?
some sullen roadie bumps in some gear
some tired geezer stands before a drink machine
insurance jobs blow up in the street
who cares?
my felafel n chips are making me sick
oh this is all so noir.....
i change the channel to some happier thing
little butterflies in an enchanted wood
spring suddenly drains out of the world
autumn arrives looking stern and unapproachable
unlikely considering everything
but who can really consider everything
my guitar gently cries mary and joseph
my bass hums with a life of its own
my drums rat a tat tat
mr weird stops in with a cawfee n a bagel
am i in america now? i ask naively
youre so mixed up says someone
yeah says mr weird
youre so mixed up
hes yer friend says someone new
yeah thats right says mr weird
what are you playing today?
well we're playing um......something...
yeah yeah great says weird
youre a smart fucking bastard arent you?
i check him out
he seems to change a bit you know
tall and long or towering over me
wow his eyes are something else
he picks up a drumstick n it breaks
aw he says
a phone rings
he walks away
lucky for you he says over his shoulder
i change the channel
dont do that says weird his face full flat on the screen
i try again
the butterflies the wood
weird appeared walking thru the wood
when you gonna learn steven? he says
this whole thing is stacked against you
you cant win
you dont wanna win
theres no winners
i'm just here to set ya straight thats all
weird sighed
try being me he said
i wouldnt mind that i say absentmindedly
ok he says
its morning then
i looked myself in the mirror
i am weird
i am him
i am he
he is me
ok
i say
now i'm gonna try being weird
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
so i can sing my bloody song
rehearse n rehearse
my brain tries to disentangle lyrics n bass lines
i play bass n e guitar n acc guitar
i sing one song without any instrument round my neck
we have a guest keyboardist craig
whoi is 21 n must be amused playing with these grandads
hes bloody good tho
and does his thing without much fuss
we're doing 5 new songs off untitled 23
ricky comes in with us
its his last day in australia n hes a bit sad i guess
we pick up the david neil album
wow its gonna be a big mastering job that one
its got a bit of a boomy sound
the songs sound good tho
very happy with the songs
david neil would definitely approve
just the sounds a bit murky
ricky n i play the disc over n over at the rehearsals during the break
the others musta got sick of that, right?
we have take away thai food for din-dins
i play it safe with a double order of tofu in pee-nut sauce
i drink one mother energy drink
i have a few coffees (my new vice...ooooohhh!)
the church revisit a few old songs
they sound better than they did then
i was a head of my thyme
wouldnt you say...?
we run thru the whole set once
uh huh....i'm across it
i know all my notes chords words n whatever
clever olde mee
drive home and say goodbye to our mr ricky
how sad
will we be seeing him sooner or later
hes promised me a little plot of land i can retire to
in no-cal
amongst the redwoods n the purple heads
my own little shed
i'll paint till my 99th birthday
each morning ricky will bring me my healthy brekky
n a little bunch of native flowers
we will sit in the stillness of that future morning
listening to some droning future music
and i'll notice my death has turned up for me
looking just like jessica lange in all that jazz
smiling n beckoning me to follow
i'll waltz outta the door
suddenly young again
suddenly all spritely like i was at ...uh ..54
and i just disappear into the lovely ether
ok?
my brain tries to disentangle lyrics n bass lines
i play bass n e guitar n acc guitar
i sing one song without any instrument round my neck
we have a guest keyboardist craig
whoi is 21 n must be amused playing with these grandads
hes bloody good tho
and does his thing without much fuss
we're doing 5 new songs off untitled 23
ricky comes in with us
its his last day in australia n hes a bit sad i guess
we pick up the david neil album
wow its gonna be a big mastering job that one
its got a bit of a boomy sound
the songs sound good tho
very happy with the songs
david neil would definitely approve
just the sounds a bit murky
ricky n i play the disc over n over at the rehearsals during the break
the others musta got sick of that, right?
we have take away thai food for din-dins
i play it safe with a double order of tofu in pee-nut sauce
i drink one mother energy drink
i have a few coffees (my new vice...ooooohhh!)
the church revisit a few old songs
they sound better than they did then
i was a head of my thyme
wouldnt you say...?
we run thru the whole set once
uh huh....i'm across it
i know all my notes chords words n whatever
clever olde mee
drive home and say goodbye to our mr ricky
how sad
will we be seeing him sooner or later
hes promised me a little plot of land i can retire to
in no-cal
amongst the redwoods n the purple heads
my own little shed
i'll paint till my 99th birthday
each morning ricky will bring me my healthy brekky
n a little bunch of native flowers
we will sit in the stillness of that future morning
listening to some droning future music
and i'll notice my death has turned up for me
looking just like jessica lange in all that jazz
smiling n beckoning me to follow
i'll waltz outta the door
suddenly young again
suddenly all spritely like i was at ...uh ..54
and i just disappear into the lovely ether
ok?
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
my fathers birthday march 3
i hadda really good dad once
yeah sure i know you know
gee i was really lucky
cos i seen some other dads in action
violent little twerps
or
distant aloof patriachs
or
drunken stupid brutes
my dad was none of these
my dad was like realer than fucking real
when i cut my eye open
and the quack was stitching my head back up
when my dad arrived
and took my hand
it was suddenly alright
d'ya know what i mean
my dad walked in and it was ok
in his always slightly ill fitting clothes
and his cheerful cockerney accent
my dad was larger than life and everybody loved 'im
he shoulda had his own tv show
he had everyone laughing all the time
god i know i told you that
but its his birthday
and i aint seen him for 33 years now
and i wish he could put in an appearance
for a bit of guidance or whatever
he was always right
" watch those geezers...theyre gonna cheat ya!" (they did)
"dont drive like that..you'll crash!" (i did)
" if ya ever need something...i'm yer man!" (he was)
etc
he was pretty cheerful
and he rarely succumbed to the blues
he made do with what he had
and he didnt lust after fame or wealth or position
he was content with his lot and he worked six days a week
he did lots of stupid dopey things
especially when it came to anything to do with painting
eg housepainting or respraying yer car
my dad had a morris major which he re did in every colour
if a fly or spider was on the wall or car
they were permanently a part of it
my dad was a bit impatient
he didnt like instructions
he didnt like waiting for paint to dry
he didnt like my long hair or my noisy guitars
he did like ginger bakers drum solo on blind faith however
my dad loved piano drums n trumpets..just like the old days
my dad liked boogie woogie piano
my dad loved driving n driving
my dad didnt like exercise at all
my dad was hooked on cigs since he was a kid
he smoked benson n hedges n 20 rothmans please
my dad didnt like brown clothes
he liked white socks not black ones
my dad did not like healthy food
my dad liked to give gifts but not receive em
my dad loved christmas day
my dad always had a fresh woody old spicey smell
my dad only donged me a cuppla times..n i really deserved it
my dad tried to make people feel at home
my dad loved world championship wrestling
my dad didnt like yoko ono or germaine greer
my dad didnt like cowboy movies or john wayne
my dad liked german guys
n scottish guys whom he always called jock
he called welsh blokes taffy
n irish guys paddy
i wonder how they felt about that...or is it a war thing?
my dad fought in ww2
he didnt talk about it much
except that he played piano in the mess hall n at parties
i can fucking see 'im now
his marine cap on at a jaunty angle
the ever present fag dangling out his gob
a crooked grin
bad teeth
banging out something in f # my dads favourite n only key
a bit of a ladies man
a bit of a jack the lad
a bit of a bodgie
a bit of a softie
how lucky was i to have an old man like that?
one of the good guys
he could speak a bit of french
he was good with a camera n dark rooms
he could draw n paint n he loved music
"son...marry anyone...AS LONG AS SHE LOVES MUSIC!"
yeah my dad was a diamond geezer before they invented em
a good samaritan
a nice neighbour
a generous bloke
jesus he made me feel safe
nothing bad was gonna happen
cos my olde dad was here
yeah he drove us through bushfires in the fifties n sixties
fucking great trees flaming n crashing around us
but i lay in the back of our morris minor (before the major)
and felt that he must somehow know what he was doing
he just "flattened the bastard" "pedalling like the clappers"
and we zigzagged down those burning highways
cos we were english in a strange land
and dad wanted to get to bloody melbourne for christmas
dad didnt like snootiness or snobbishness
he ridiculed our rellies graces n airs
he kept you level headed
he was no social climber
he didnt give a toss about the classes
either you were a good bloke or you werent
he hated blokes who were "slow to get their bleedin' wallets out"
and he paid up for most people most times
jesus i guess hed be like 86 or 87 today
i dunno
i dont think he woulda liked old age that much
especially as he didnt keep fit
i often envy him
in a way
his sudden exit
no hospitals
no quacks
no dementia or cancer
bang
he just checked out quick
no regrets for him i guess
the good die young
what wozzie...52.. 53?
ok
thats enuff
everyone should worship their dad the way i worship mine
if theyre good fathers then youre set for life
its a huge gig
n most fall short of the mark
old les kilbey tho
he was one good daddy!
yeah sure i know you know
gee i was really lucky
cos i seen some other dads in action
violent little twerps
or
distant aloof patriachs
or
drunken stupid brutes
my dad was none of these
my dad was like realer than fucking real
when i cut my eye open
and the quack was stitching my head back up
when my dad arrived
and took my hand
it was suddenly alright
d'ya know what i mean
my dad walked in and it was ok
in his always slightly ill fitting clothes
and his cheerful cockerney accent
my dad was larger than life and everybody loved 'im
he shoulda had his own tv show
he had everyone laughing all the time
god i know i told you that
but its his birthday
and i aint seen him for 33 years now
and i wish he could put in an appearance
for a bit of guidance or whatever
he was always right
" watch those geezers...theyre gonna cheat ya!" (they did)
"dont drive like that..you'll crash!" (i did)
" if ya ever need something...i'm yer man!" (he was)
etc
he was pretty cheerful
and he rarely succumbed to the blues
he made do with what he had
and he didnt lust after fame or wealth or position
he was content with his lot and he worked six days a week
he did lots of stupid dopey things
especially when it came to anything to do with painting
eg housepainting or respraying yer car
my dad had a morris major which he re did in every colour
if a fly or spider was on the wall or car
they were permanently a part of it
my dad was a bit impatient
he didnt like instructions
he didnt like waiting for paint to dry
he didnt like my long hair or my noisy guitars
he did like ginger bakers drum solo on blind faith however
my dad loved piano drums n trumpets..just like the old days
my dad liked boogie woogie piano
my dad loved driving n driving
my dad didnt like exercise at all
my dad was hooked on cigs since he was a kid
he smoked benson n hedges n 20 rothmans please
my dad didnt like brown clothes
he liked white socks not black ones
my dad did not like healthy food
my dad liked to give gifts but not receive em
my dad loved christmas day
my dad always had a fresh woody old spicey smell
my dad only donged me a cuppla times..n i really deserved it
my dad tried to make people feel at home
my dad loved world championship wrestling
my dad didnt like yoko ono or germaine greer
my dad didnt like cowboy movies or john wayne
my dad liked german guys
n scottish guys whom he always called jock
he called welsh blokes taffy
n irish guys paddy
i wonder how they felt about that...or is it a war thing?
my dad fought in ww2
he didnt talk about it much
except that he played piano in the mess hall n at parties
i can fucking see 'im now
his marine cap on at a jaunty angle
the ever present fag dangling out his gob
a crooked grin
bad teeth
banging out something in f # my dads favourite n only key
a bit of a ladies man
a bit of a jack the lad
a bit of a bodgie
a bit of a softie
how lucky was i to have an old man like that?
one of the good guys
he could speak a bit of french
he was good with a camera n dark rooms
he could draw n paint n he loved music
"son...marry anyone...AS LONG AS SHE LOVES MUSIC!"
yeah my dad was a diamond geezer before they invented em
a good samaritan
a nice neighbour
a generous bloke
jesus he made me feel safe
nothing bad was gonna happen
cos my olde dad was here
yeah he drove us through bushfires in the fifties n sixties
fucking great trees flaming n crashing around us
but i lay in the back of our morris minor (before the major)
and felt that he must somehow know what he was doing
he just "flattened the bastard" "pedalling like the clappers"
and we zigzagged down those burning highways
cos we were english in a strange land
and dad wanted to get to bloody melbourne for christmas
dad didnt like snootiness or snobbishness
he ridiculed our rellies graces n airs
he kept you level headed
he was no social climber
he didnt give a toss about the classes
either you were a good bloke or you werent
he hated blokes who were "slow to get their bleedin' wallets out"
and he paid up for most people most times
jesus i guess hed be like 86 or 87 today
i dunno
i dont think he woulda liked old age that much
especially as he didnt keep fit
i often envy him
in a way
his sudden exit
no hospitals
no quacks
no dementia or cancer
bang
he just checked out quick
no regrets for him i guess
the good die young
what wozzie...52.. 53?
ok
thats enuff
everyone should worship their dad the way i worship mine
if theyre good fathers then youre set for life
its a huge gig
n most fall short of the mark
old les kilbey tho
he was one good daddy!
Monday, March 02, 2009
scenes from my life
i dont feel any different
the substances have no effect
i'm surprised to learn i'm not perfect
i'm surprised to see that i was only jokin'
i walk to school in my uniform and my nice hair
i do my lessons and i slowly grow up
i always nice to peoples mothers and sew polite
i wash up my plate and i in bed early like a good un
at age 13 i discover i can astral travel and i go mad
at age 14 i pick up the bass guitar
at age 15 i discover a new continent in my back garden
at age 16 i start to pronounce "schedule" the wrong way
at age 17 i write a good little song
at age 18 i.....oh its so long ago
the colours were different then
everybody was so nice afterwards
that little book of tips came in handy
mr pierce from over the road was never home
i didnt like oblongs
in the future i would change my mind
the wheels had more of a circle then, you know
i was chosen to walk off the moon
my registration was uneven
my real name was slim shandy
my homework ate my doggerel
i collected and restored geiger counters
i went to a cafe
i looked at the men you
i went from zero to hundred in one mexican minute
i checked into the hotel california
i was hummin' n strummin' all over gods earth
a book came out about the different types of lava
the vase looked simply wonderful where mother had put it
uncle hugo made us laugh for hours with his little puppet
tosca richards felt queasy on the ferris wheel
mrs pritchard didnt care for chutney
the audience didnt seem to be clapping anymore
my room had a stale feeling
a piano fell on someone and we laughed
peter and i missed our plain
ricky rolled a joint
sometimes it rained for a while
the phone rang and i answered it
someone had a party but i couldnt go
the doctor listened to my mind
on the way out his receptionist smiled sadly
a car was waiting but not for me
my brother said oh stop it, will ya?
my daughters were fighting
i went next door for a while
there was a strange sound coming from somewhere
i had a piss in the darkness
that summer ...boy ..it was hot
they got a new guy at the shop
i scratched my head
the thorns caught in my leg and my blood was crimson
i woke up and felt sick
dad was looking troubled
i sat in a car for miles
i walked down a street
i knocked at a door
i go inside a place
i sit down n watch telly
i drink me milky tea
i eat me chocky biscuit
i fall asleep eventually
boy
what a wild ride!
the substances have no effect
i'm surprised to learn i'm not perfect
i'm surprised to see that i was only jokin'
i walk to school in my uniform and my nice hair
i do my lessons and i slowly grow up
i always nice to peoples mothers and sew polite
i wash up my plate and i in bed early like a good un
at age 13 i discover i can astral travel and i go mad
at age 14 i pick up the bass guitar
at age 15 i discover a new continent in my back garden
at age 16 i start to pronounce "schedule" the wrong way
at age 17 i write a good little song
at age 18 i.....oh its so long ago
the colours were different then
everybody was so nice afterwards
that little book of tips came in handy
mr pierce from over the road was never home
i didnt like oblongs
in the future i would change my mind
the wheels had more of a circle then, you know
i was chosen to walk off the moon
my registration was uneven
my real name was slim shandy
my homework ate my doggerel
i collected and restored geiger counters
i went to a cafe
i looked at the men you
i went from zero to hundred in one mexican minute
i checked into the hotel california
i was hummin' n strummin' all over gods earth
a book came out about the different types of lava
the vase looked simply wonderful where mother had put it
uncle hugo made us laugh for hours with his little puppet
tosca richards felt queasy on the ferris wheel
mrs pritchard didnt care for chutney
the audience didnt seem to be clapping anymore
my room had a stale feeling
a piano fell on someone and we laughed
peter and i missed our plain
ricky rolled a joint
sometimes it rained for a while
the phone rang and i answered it
someone had a party but i couldnt go
the doctor listened to my mind
on the way out his receptionist smiled sadly
a car was waiting but not for me
my brother said oh stop it, will ya?
my daughters were fighting
i went next door for a while
there was a strange sound coming from somewhere
i had a piss in the darkness
that summer ...boy ..it was hot
they got a new guy at the shop
i scratched my head
the thorns caught in my leg and my blood was crimson
i woke up and felt sick
dad was looking troubled
i sat in a car for miles
i walked down a street
i knocked at a door
i go inside a place
i sit down n watch telly
i drink me milky tea
i eat me chocky biscuit
i fall asleep eventually
boy
what a wild ride!
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