ordinary life

drop kids at school
go swimming
do yoga
work on painting
painting of some woodland creatures cavorting in forest
very colourful
early night
have a horrible cold n cough
today i'm getting my blood tested for a load of things
might as well find out where i stand
vis a vis cholesterol diabetes cancer etc
so i'm getting everything tested
will let you know.....
had a long talk to my accountant davey r
who'll be happy to know
his name appears in the index of my biography
wow hes a really nice guy too
and we talked for a while
now today
i gotta ring the taxman or woman personally
and negotiate with em
they wanna talk to me.....!
ok well i'll let ya all know how that one goes
talk about 2 worlds colliding..
and before we start that whining carping idiot off again
(and sure enough it did...how predictable)
lemme say
i have been paying taxes since 1972
ive never missed a year until 2007
i believe in a socialist system
ie
try n look after everybody
free health etc
and ive always been happy to pay
and in my "good" years thats been a lot
ive paid a load of tax in my 54 years
anyway
as ya know
i got a cuppla big lump payments in 2006 2007
i neglected to put any tax aside
(unlike most of you i am not taxed at source)
and voila
i'm in a spot of bother
seeing i am now pretty broke
and due to the nature and irregularity of my payments
eg gigs records paintings
i cannot guarantee any real payment schedule
i dunno if i can pay 200 hundred bucks(for example) a week back
(and they want about 500 a week!!)
on top of every other thing
i dunno where thats gonna come from....
i mean
i want to pay off my fucking tax
i will eventually pay off my fucking tax
but at the moment
i cant say how long its gonna take
again
this is my own problem
i'm not being victimised or anything
i was just naive and procrastinating and foolish
an old accountant told me 29 years ago
when i got my first music biz cheque
he said
see half of it as yours
and the other half as the tax mans
and fucking put his half away NOW!
well i did alright for so long
then i lost the plot
and now i'm trying to get back on track
so
not the kinda interview i'm used to either
see how i go.....?!
on sunday appearing at another vegan expo
i havent been a terribly good vegan lately
im sure everyday i eat something with a little milk in it
ie chocky
but overall i am 95 per cent vegan
i do my lazy best i guess
and at 54
im as loose limbed and fit as i ever was at 24
i gotta load of energy
and i get most things done
i can run around onstage hefting my heavy bass
and sing out n not lose my breath
my hair is thinner n finer but not yet greying
(only my beard)
i can create the best music of my career
i can raise my kids
i can do twenty laps
i can walk 20 miles thru the bush
i can do a hour of yoga
i can keep my lovely wife happy
and i can come up with something on here everyday
things im not so good at : officialdom
correspondence
money matters
anger management
deadlines
modesty
humility
ok
am i honest enough for you?
are you getting your moneys worth?
had a 2 year subscription from runar in scandinavia
but he didnt give me a blog theme....
sure its a hokey idea
hey i'm full of em
i like to work given some guidelines...
i like doing peoples portraits too...
i just dont like ringing up the taxman that much
but today
i will
could be a blood shedding day all round
love on ya n over ya
sk

E A D G B E

yeah we played last nite at the vanguard in sydney
johnny howler aquitted himself real real well
in 10 000 miles he nailed it to the max
what a great guy
what great drummer
all with so very little rehearsal
the place was about half full
about a hundred n fifty
it was tuesday nite n short notice
every one made a few mistakes
marty cocked up buffalo on bass
and then afterwards had a long complicated reason why he did
sure sure.....save it for the judge...
he played every note in the book...and then some....
but never the right one....
he exonerated himself however
with some great guitar work
so....no hard feelings.....eh?
we sold absolutely no merch
not a postcard or anything
they say everyone there had everything already
my nasty cold prevented me from totally going gonzo
but i thoroughly enjoyed myself
and everyone said theyd like to do it again
great to see di n therese
great to see martin sync of moving parts fame
thank you for all yesterdays kind words n affirmations
reading my blog back afterwards it seemed a little "giddy"
voice in another room : tsk tsk...blowing yer own horn
yeah
on the drugs thing
yes
i realize i put some people thru some bad times
i dont think stephen cummings is one of them
i dont think he was "damaged" by me using the gear
i think he was bemused n irritated
but not damaged or hurt
i think him gratuitously mentioning me in the article
(go back n read it!)
is merely a bit of exploitation
not a man airing his deep damage
i dont know
i would imagine
that by reading my many posts about the gear days
that my shame
my guilt
my desolation would be apparent in my words
it was a thoroughly miserable ten years...oh yes my word
you know i deeply regret it on every level..oh yes i do
and im grateful for YET another chance...oh yes i am
on a karmic level maybe a chance i didnt deserve
on a talent level a chance a DID deserve in splades
cos i bin hitting this thing with integrity for a long while now
when radiohead n muse were still in the playground
i was bestriding the stages of this world n giving the people good rock
rock with intelligence n subtlety n mystery n blah blah blah
(and much handsomer in our hayday than any of them too!)
voice in another room : by a long shot...there all little short guys...
if you like my stuff
congratulate yerself
youre in the top percentile of discerning listeners
you are the very core of who i am
you are the chosen ones
you are the devoted few
i dedicate this to the dedicated
thank you for kind words
thank you for subscriptions
idiot in another room : oooh hes begging for money.....!
thank you for liking what i do
watch this space
its gonna get even better
you not gonna believe it
we actually gonna get better n better
ha ha
at this stage of the game
art for arts sake!
music words action
bang bang bang
just like that!
see ya later i guess
sk

blather

did not get tv gig
ah.........
(but they really liked it........!?)
next time....
voice in another tv show : sure....
the good reviews for u#23 continue to pour in
go read the one at blog critics
gee it seems our time has finally come
the world has moved on or back a notch
and suddenly the critics unnerstand us again
or has u#23 got some balance right....
some subtle but important balance.?...i dunno
i just persevere n see what happens
same with yoga
same with swimming
same with fatherhood
same with life
it is strange that at this late stage of the game
that we are knocking out energetic fresh strange stuff
when we should be playing some safe nostalgic rubbish
like all the other oldies
except leonard
neil
robyn hitchcock
robert forster
i loathe U2 but at least they keep trying to be new....
i mean artists get better as they grow older
why cant musicians?
the jazz cats did, didnt they....
theoretically you got all this more experience
(i been playing the bass nearly 40 years!!)
you should have picked up some tricks by now
you should know your way around la musica
you should know your way around life
the church are starting to approach excellence in rock music
we can never actually achieve it
but we can approach it constantly
ie are there better guitarists than pk n mwp still extant?
i mean in the genre in which we perform
are there better drummers than tp?
are there bands with higher or loftier ideals?
we are simultaneously classic and innovative
we incorporate traditional rock values with idiosyncratic genius
and we embrace the ever opening future
we are not a nostalgia act
we are 4 musicians engaged in an ongoing dialogue
the whole thing is still evolving
the church have taken their time
and go back and look at all our records
even the rotten ones
and you'll find our integrity almost always intact
we have never condescended towards our listeners
i never chuck off that second rate bullshit word jive
my lyrics are deliberately ambiguous
my lyrics contain love and spirit and
i am a man in love with language
no one can write or think like me
oh there are others out there who do a better show
there are younger n handsomer rockers
there are more intense and violent rockers
there are more popular rockers
but there aint no one like me or the church
the thinking mans band
before and after radiohead
ive made a million records n everyone of em
is dripping with innovation and multiple levels of meaning
i explore music
i explore words
i explore recording techniques
i explore collaboration
i explore all aspects of song
i expect 5 star reviews
i dont always get em but i expect em
you may or may not scoff
and some sad little idiot
the same sad little idiot
pestering me over n over on my comments
said the other day
that all my readers/listeners were poor
thats why they didnt pay me much
au contraire my fine feathered fucknuckle
many of my readers are tertiary educated
many hold "high" positions in the "straight" world
many are moguls doctors professors lawyers lecturers teachers
dentists pilots or whatever
some of them make very nice contributions on my paypal
i was once standing backstage in the u.s.
i was talking to a gynecologist an architect and a prof at local uni
i say howcome you guys listen to us
and these youngish richish educated dudes said
well who the fuck else are we gonna listen to...?
so there you go
one of the handful of thinking mans bands
i am comfortable with sweating and pounding my bass
or discussing da-da or dorian columns over a gin n tonic
i straddle all realms and by fuck i am good
and i will prevail
and you'll see in the end
after my meandering course
i will lock on
(i am locked on)
and i will pursue art n music all the way to their n my ends
so if you wanna insult me or my readers
you better do so constructively
coz i aint printing anymore tediously obnoxious comments
they lower the whole fucking tone of my hi-class blogge
meanwhile
a "monetize" button has appeared on my blog dashboard
this means i hit the button n ads will appear
they will figure out what i'm writing about
n stick in appropriate ads
(!?)
(the mind boggles what they would try n sell on here!)
anyway
instead of that
i am launching a may madness campaign
anyone contributing a two year subscription in may
will get to choose the topic n guidelines for one blog
ie recording such n such
touring such n such
such n such year
thoughts on such n such
memories of such n such
poem about such n such
why did you such n such
whats yer opinion of such n such etc etc etc
anyone who just made a largish contribution
and feels miffed that they have been disincluded
can feel free to join in too
when contributing
leave a message of yer proposed blog
and i'll do my best
i am way way behind in thanking my generous subscribers
who keep the ball rolling for me
so thank you!
times are hard
i appreciate your hard earned dough
i appreciate your honesty
(hey blogs dont grow on trees you know)
and really
if you dont like what i do
then why are you even still here n reading it?
for everyone else
loadsa love
me n mwp are doing the vanguard tonite
who knows how it'll all turn out
we'll be winging it!
the usa tour looms ahead
mwp is off there soon to set it up
our last chance for a bit of a spar
be good!
sk

superimposition

i remember waiting waiting waiting
in swedish graveyards
and in the cracks of the city
buying time
while i worked on the lyrics for kings
how white it looked on the black piano
how dark it looked against the stainless steel
marty said watch out!
as i swerved
the snowflakes were fluttering down in the headlights
i was hypnotized behind the wheel
driving all over the road and thru the dales and dells
in my room alone finally
it turned transparent and then swirling red
and then gone gone gone
up into heart and into my brains
a pleasant sickly swipe sideways
the phone rings
someone says something
the music is so loud
i dont hear anything
knock at the door
but this room doesnt have a door
i check my biography for the details
producing a record for some ingratiate
i pull a gun out of its box and overdub some shots
some woman sings something
but i'm already drifting away
grant comes over and gets out his guitar
the velvet in the case is plush and crimson
grant lights a cigarette and grimaces as he pulls in
he blows it out the side of his mouth
oh steven he says
a lift creaks and the doors swing open
sometimes its up to the rooftop pool
sometimes its room # 23
where jason n rhonda live
jason died so long ago
rhonda went so mad
she wrote down her name cos she couldnt remember it
rhonda goes upstairs to weigh up my half
jason sits downstairs smoking n watching tv
whats she fucking doing up there...i ask
take it easy mate ...he says....
we arrive at the gig
ive pawned my guitar so i just sing with my hands and voice
my voice coughs out elastic sentences
and my hands arrange it for music
theres hardly anyone here anyway
i clutch my little bag in my change pocket
it reassures me in a voice like snow
some people hear it and ask for more
i let my little snow voiced friend out
and we sing a croaky olde song together
someone applauds as a laugh
and i bow down while my friend curtseys
grant sits by the window sipping a red wine
i join him
the traffic drives up bourke street
i nibble at the peanuts
marty packs up his guitar and chats to the punters
in the desert its still snowing
we park by the sea
and the girls say
we want to have a walk
when they get out
i undo my package and i taste it with my eyes tongue
i apply it liberally to my aching muscles and troubled mind
the radio comes on of its own accord
and the years slip by like a night thru butter
im looking in my swedish dictionary for a word
keep your eye on the road says a voice in another room
i swerve narrowly avoiding a wide berth
i count the money i have left
i convert it into anxious kronor
marty says go on...here take this
he hands me the wheel and the deal
i'm working on the words for feel
i get locked in my apt so i cant get out
some spanish guy slings something thru the window
i push the kronor under the door
i'm standing there looking in the mirror
why this self obsession i ask myself
i watch as my flowers fade and my pupils shrink
i lie in the bath and twitch restlessly
my erstwhile friend ben the famous actor comes over
got anything? he asks
no...but come in... i say
he wrinkles up his nose
no thanks ...he says
the tv comes back on
i watch a space opera while i wait wait wait
anxiety sits down next to me
changing the channels rapidly
i see 2 guys driving along on a dark night
flying thru the outer suburbs of some northern town
one guy jumps out
and the other drives down to T -centralen
at the station i see a face i know
the face grins and nods at me
the face opens its mouth
and for a split second it reveals many small capsules
all wrapped in plastic
i push a thousand kronor into the faces hand
and it grins and spits 2 of the capsules into my glove
it must be narnia cos its always winter
i stagger down to the train
my apt is still dark when i get in
a slender figure is lying on the sofa
it gets up and turns on the light
a young swedish guy looking pale and miserable
did you find anything?
he smiles wanly as he chops out a line
with his rikesbanken card
he snorts it up his nose
and moistens his finger and dabs up the rest
putting it on his tongue
martin stuffs some snuff into his mouth
do you want to hear biosphere? he asks
i lie back in my phony euphoria
who can tell what the time is in all this darkness
in australia in surry hills its christmas day and its hot
a sorry bunch assembles to play cards and take smack
i stumble down the hot street to buy a pastry
my bank account is starving hungry
i shovel in a decent cheque
but the lemur on my shoulder is eating it all up
i go back to albion street
i look at the lights all twinkling in my studio
i see the dull gleam of my guitars
i listen to a playback of the same old song
people drop in
people go out
i remain stuck
stuck thru the heart on a sharp string
i call jason n rhonda
yeah mate...says jason...you wanna come on over?
down to their place just behind crown street
a sandstone terrace painted a nauseating light green
its a hot day
jason opens the door shirtless
the inevitable smoke in his mouth
their place is covered in cobwebs
all this old junk in the darkness of this old terrace
covered in cobwebs
jason sits in his big old chair watching tv in the darkness
what are ya after mate...he asks sleepily
as some old recoloured movie from the 40s plays
american kids in canoes with lanterns
a long way from surry hills 1993 or 94 or 91 or when was it..
i feel so lonely
everyones gone away in the end
i chuck six khaki 50s at him
jason yells out to the ceiling
hey rhon can you get a g for steve...?
i stare at the cobwebs and old pictures of rhonda
a long time ago in another life she went to school
she was an athlete and she had a mum n dad
the gear has changed her
a gear shift
methadone the great leveller
downers for the gaps
sweet food
stay inside
cant remember anything
not even my name
oh look i wrote it down on some paper
its.....nevets yeblik

totally on track

the reviews for u#23 pour in
behold : only 4 and 5 star reviews
ah the spirit of the age
a revolt into style
the church get the mix right (finally)
in our fifties (cept tim)
we are finally grande olde masters of rock
like da vinci if he played the fucking electric guitar
like van go go woulda played a drumkit
like andre breton woulda pumped a bass guitar
we have absorbed a thousand influences
each member bringing in his expertise n particular attributes
tim : technical, calm, powerful, deep, reasonable, unpredictable
pete : musical, knowledgeable, perfectionistic, traditional, fiery, exact
marty : intuition, passion, eclectic, wild, inspiring
i will refrain from assessing myself today
except to say
with out me these other wonderful ingredients will fail to cook
i am the alpha and the omega
i usually start things off
let them do their thing
and at the end
i move in and sing
more than ANY thing else in this world
i am a prime mover in the art of songwriting
i know how to get the ball rolling
i understand the processes of creation of art
and for excellence in this
i hail breton
i hail dali
i hail dylan thomas
i hail paul mc cartney
i hail brian willson
i hail peter walsh and gavin mckillop
i hail remedios varo
i hail frida k
i hail marko boleyn and david jones
i hail anais nin
i hail steve winwood
i hail johnny foxx
i hail martin kennedy
i hail robert anton wilson
i hail ricky miami
i hail brian ee-no
i hail arthur rackham
i hail cs lewis
i hail homer
i hail willy waggledagger
i hail neil young
i hail paul n tom verlaine
i hail jeff buckley who had buckleys chance
i hail n r dalton who is an amazing woman
i hail klimpt
i hail ern malley
i hail strindberg
i hail angela carter
i hail grant mclennan
i hail shayne p carter
i hail ali goldfrapp
i hail the black ryder
i hail italo calvino
i hail henry miller
i hail foxtrot and the lamb
i hail hawkwind and the pink fluid
i hail manuel on the isle of marvels
i hail dave mccomb
i hail a cab
i swim 20 laps
i do 2 sessions of yoga
i play bass n sing on tiares new record
(which is quite otherworldly and strange)
i walk back from bondi junction with eve kilbey
i love you eve i say
i love you too dad eve says
i laugh ha ha
no dad
she says
i really do.....

totally on track

on track

suffer the little slings n arrows
to come unto me
one step forwards
one step sideways
one step beyond
one thing goes right
on thing goes left behind
one thing goes haywire
publicity
fame
photo ops
slow mo
i see my name slandered n bandied about
i see my picture reproduced in some rag
i see the great unwashed public
who dont give a flying frig about me or what i do
i read the reviews.....hmmmmm...so this ones ok?
i keep knocking out stuff
more things incessantly
more more more
knock knock knock
knock it out
knock it off
a whirl of action
oh god i need a holiday
no time
no money
no possibility
must keep pressing ahead
trying to come up with something
cant rest on my laurel wreath
yes u23 is a masterpeace
but which way is the wind blowing today?
painkiller is wearing off
antarctica starts here
the ice melting down down down
the rain soaks into the earth
the music soaks into the ether
the people fade into oblivion
eventually everything is forgotten
the masterpeaces and the lumps of rubbish
the 'andsome kings and the hugly villains
the knuckleheads n the clever sods
pessimism falls down on me
i struggle against myself
i thrash around in anxiety
i anticipate the cold dread of worry
fear sours my stomach
i nervously apprehend time
i approach the future with great caution
someone deal me a king
someone deal me another
someone slip me a joker
someone send me a cheque
thank you my generous subscribers
thank you my kind donators
thank you my patrons and ladies
thank you my readers
thank you my good friends and well wishers
thank you my former lives which led up to now
i am beginning to see who i am
oh how hilarious it all is
8 a.m. on a saturday morning
its so nice out there
why do i sit in here n type type type?
dont wanna let you down
i know you wanted yer ttb
people rely on me to be there
n goddamm it
im gonna be there
a facta life you can count on
kilbey/inevitable
like the sun n moon
i will fucking prevail
i will overcome
i will turn it around
and somehow pay off my tax
and somehow sell some records
and somehow shake off the various pests
who still try to infest my head
the blackmailing failing
the poison pen that nauseates me
keeping on keeping on
like a tick or a flea
or a parasite in someone elses mind
so unnecessary
coward!
get over it!
get thee fucking behind me all you worms
gnawing at my confidence n peace of mind
i will prevail
i will endure
with or without
i will go on n i will create
and some people will understand
and some people will love it
and some people will hate it
and someone might even pay for it
and thats enough for today
i shower blessings down on your house
go forth and multiply
or just have a nice day
sk

seen it cumming

sitting at home yessaday
waiting for some news about a tv music submission
some music i was working on for a new show
would i get the gig?
the phone rings
its my soundtrack broker
he says
i havent got any news yet but i hope they dont read
todays sydney morning herald
i say
whys that?
he says oh boy
you better buy one have a look
then an email from sue c
the churchs nifty right hand woman
it says something like
oh something bad in paper but remember stephen loves you
i trot down to shops feeling anxious
has fucking stephen cummings
written more bad stuff about the badde olde days?
you betcha! an autobiography
but that aint the baddest thing
hes done a big interview with the smh
and
about a third of it focusses on me
and "cummo"s recollections of my drug use...
replete with tales of me nodding off at the mixing board
my syringes
my connections etc
ok ok
did that have to get printed today?
will i possibly lose my lucrative gig cozza this malarkey?
aint that bad timing
aint that unfair
why did that fucking blabbermouth have to implicate me
hes already used me (thinly veiled)
in a fictional book
we had all that heroin and dope delivery story then
i mean ok
it woulda been ok if it had remained in his autobiography
probably only a very few people would have ever noticed it
but the friggin smh
with a big half page article
that millions 'll read.....?
WHY LORD WHY?
and then you start thinking
what is fair n not fair in biography game
people do those tell all books
butlers who've rooted the royal family
chauffeurs who' ve snorted coke with keef
cummo spills the beans on the music biz
how are all those people gonna feel?
can you just co-opt someones life for yer book
( or blog for that matter)
where do ya draw the line?
he insults old michael gudinski (aust music biz tycoon)
then says
aw he can handle it hes got a sensa humour
(hope so for your sake cummo
but...whats that black car parked outside yer place?)
at least i come over as "straight-up" and a "nice guy"
well thanks stephe
but dont nice guys finish last?
and i think thats why i like roberts book
he didnt try n exploit me
he didnt try to glamourize or sordidize the drug bit
there it is
the years when i worked with stephen i am not proud of
it was 15 years ago
gee that seems like a long time
anyway
yes
i met him in my dressing gown
drinking custard and reading the bhagavad gita
i was living in surry hills
and i was using bigtime
yes i had people delivering dope day n night
including an old man
a youngish boy
a big fat lady who never got outta her car
and a tatooed shifty jailbird type
i guess cummo saw it all go down
cummo himself hooked on cigs n coffee
his autobiographers mind sucking in all the details
ooh cummo
dont forget olde sk tho
born on the same day as you my brother sept 13
thats why that song is called that
that song you sang real well too
anyway
dont forget i gotta autobiographers mind too
and you never know
when i do my own book
how you gonna appear
all the things i remember about you
(and mae moore come to think of it)
i dunno
i guess i thought that private stuff
would err...remain private
but i guess everybody is fair game for everyone elses biography
so next time before you
do anything at all
with somebody else (there)
make sure they sign an anti-autobiography clause
eg
i, joe schmoe, will not mention killer smoking this joint in my book
"joe schmoe remembers"...
yes they were dark days indeed
oh why did they have to come up now
WHEN I"M BEHAVING MYSELF
i see all good people turn their heads each day
so satisfied i'm on my way...
so
i can hardly wait to buy the book now
hey cummo
cant you send us a copy
or have i gotta wait till it hits the cut out bins....?
meanwhile in some rare good news
rolling stone in aust have given us a ***** review
yep the best you can get
and a glowing glowing one to boot
for one full minute afterwards i was satisfied.....
and then......
today marty n i rehearsing for sk vs mwp at the vanguard next tues
we gotta great drummer
johnny howler from leonardos bride n others
we got an eclectic set
voice in another room : they dont know what theyre playing yet...
so well
rock n roll
will fill you in if i get tv gig
if i dont
maybe i can chip in with gudinski
n get cummos kneecaps done
beware of falling singers
all knees must pass
ouch!
oh sorry.....

certainly no cheque attached

got my bio in the post yessaday
wow
nice work
i really enjoyed it
robert dean lurie has done a lovely job
hurrah
and great relief
i read it all in one go yesterday
it was like a novel i couldnt put down
then this
then that
uh oh
watch out for nick...oooh..i mean niC...ward
also previously known as nigel murray
he recounts the night he got kicked out
complete with splendid tales of punching the"pommy bastard"
and " his bitch had jumped on my back"
i threatened to "knock her out"
"i lifted my knee into his guts...i was amused at this"

hes talking about marty n lucy willson-piper here.....
later on he daydreams how hed like to thump everyone involved...
how very strange
you see
poor olde fella still thinks violence is the answer
he says in the book i had a smart mouth but nothing to back it up with...
ie i didnt like being constantly threatened by my own drummer
ie if you said hey nic(k) can you play like this....
you didnt have to back it up with with yer fists
poor old nic(k) nigel nee murray-ward
still back in lyneham high
permanently locked into some 1950s aussie mans mans world
like paul hogan having a really bad acid trip
no one will ever wonder again why he was kicked out
they will, however, wonder why he was let in....
but jesus
it had me laughing out loud
a lot of the book did
theres some funny stuff in there
you wont believe it
of course i dont actually get royalties for it myself
so this is a free advertisement
its been a long time coming down the line
and im very happy with it
it is an aspect of my story
its fun to read....believe it or not
i felt like i was reading about some other geezer
some other geezer i dreampt up when i was still in the public service
a goodlooking young guitar strumming lad
with some goodlooking pals
(some stunning pics of young pete n marty)
an interesting up n down story
so random
so stupid
so preordained
a life i was destined to lead
and nic(k) ward was right
a smart mouth that got me into trouble n ruined it for me
why didnt i just shuttup and play?
theres lotsa good bits about my nasty side
dave studdert gives a withering account of my time in "tactics"
and gee whiz...i really was a turkey wasnt i
voice in another book : you were a real fool....
the drugs....yep
the cover is really nice
the quality of the paper is a bit iffy
its that glossy cheap stuff
theres loadsa pics you probably never seen before
rob has understood the biography thing well
and hes done a pretty good job
you can imagine how i'd be railing against it if it was a stinker
he even gives me the last word
and it seems a little harsh
taken out of some context but not really
on the printed page it just seems more...errr...concrete
and final
certainly the people who preordered so long ago
will be very very happy with it
its a lot better than some ive read
also remember that my life wasnt so exciting
so its hard for my biography to be too wild...
theres some sad stuff
some really hilarious stuff
peter koppes remarks kept me in stitches
oh god
i'm glad the little redheaded bugger wrote this book
he says many many kind things about my work
he understands
he grokks it
he wrote me an email recently saying he was loving u#23
to me thats high praise indeed
after all this
i mean i consider him an expert on us now
he deserves a masters degree
and i was pleased to be the object and subject in his thesis
yeah
maybe the church'll be selling it on church murch
go on
buy it
read it
imagine you had led that life
oh god what a story
a ha ha ha

ruins ago

flattened out horizon
passing across the desert
constant beating of wings
man with one eye
the sun squints down
well with cool green water
sky with silent clouds bumping into each other
someone has painted the background
someone wanders thru their own creation lost
a car accelerates away
the 1960s are back and stumbling around
black n white trailers
marked perimeters
cactii swelling up black with too much water
we discover oil....again
shoot that scene in the leg
hobble about wobble and shout
stupid head wound
cobalt blueprint
one shot offer
sure fire think
let them go out into the future
blast away at the past
go last
go fast
go past
boot hill up
a deep and grave stone
lying beside us
vultures appear
widows are made
orphans sit bewildered
the dogs howl
the men start up their drinkin'
the women start up their cryin'
i start up my dyin'
already focussed
on my next big roll

noisy morning

outside my window
some fragile rainbow is stretched across a sky
that goes from the deepest blue to the palest dawn
the jackhammers up the road pound the pavement
the garbagemen do their thing
the buses stop and start with mechanical groans n shudders
the cars pull up with squeaks n squeals
motorcycles roar off in the distance
the regular birdies : tweet tweet tweet
the mynah birdies : clack scratch brrrrrrrrng!
the door knockers : bang bang bang
the wind : woooooooow n sssssssshhhhhhhhhh
the intermittent rain : tap tap tap
the workmen : shout talk argue
the radios : ad rubbish ad rubbish
the tvs : rubbish ad rubbish ad
the lizards : no sound at all
the cactii : no more frickin' rain
the downstairs neighbours : slam bang slam
the tinnitus : ring ring ring
the voices in my head : whisper whisper whisper
my stomach : gurgle gurgle
my heart : thumpetty thump thump
the clock : tick but never tock
the insects in the house : rustle nibble rustle
the memories in our heads : sigh sigh sigh
the regret in our hearts : oh oh oh
the compassion in our souls : ah ah ah
the megalomania extant : me me me
the poverty : brake breaking broke
youth : going going gone
time : i'm leaving you behind
sex : fuck !
drugs : zzzzzzzzz
petty ambitions n petty obstructions : ha!
the weather : burn freeze soak fry
the sea : crash roll crash
the traffic : roll crash roll
the planes : roar ROAR roar
the children : grow grow grow
i am alone in my body
same old me
whose seen today by the thousands
the nsw autumn days that hurl the storms about
the choppy ocean
the half deserted towns
one day my mother picks me up from school
on a day like this
at lunchtime
she arrives in our blue morris minor
i think shes very pretty
i'm always relieved when she arrives
i havent got any lunch if she forgets to come
i look at the picture of our young queen elizabeth
every morning we sing god save the queen
save her from what? i think.....death.....?
i love the happy n glorious n victorious bits tho
i guess the date is the 21st of april 1961
this day is always trying to reclaim me
my mother drives down the road and i sit beside her
my mother is a secretary for a guy called jim leadingham
i never met him but i heard about him plenty
same as my dad
his big boss was called george buckland
i never met him either
but they'd get mentioned at home a lot
my mother drives along the kembla grange
away from dapto and my school
towards wollongong and the lighthouse
we drive through unanderra
and all the houses n shops have significance for me
they all call out to me
i see their lives
i see their secrets
my mother keeps driving
we come to figtree
a turn off up there would take us to aunty mays
thru figtree
past the hospital where russell will be born
into wollongong
the 3rd biggest city in nsw we were told proudly
50 miles south of sydney
the steelworks
the milk bars
the weeds and the cigarette butts
lemonade delivered in crates on tuesdays by brough brothers
gee their cola had a great taste
mum likes to shop at anthony horderns
anthony horderns...what a great name for a shopping emporium
can you imagine an emporium called steven kilbeys?
we park by the lighthouse
outside a motel with sea shell window sills and frames
we sit on a bench
under a seagull sky
while the wind whips out our hair about
my mum is about 33
we have a strange relationship
i want to be her little boy
but somehow i'm already too old
already i'm too old in my shoes to be a boy
even though i'm only seven
somehow she keeps me at arms length
she loves me of course
but she doesnt really seem to like me
its ok
i'm beginning to accept the fact
that a lotta people dont really like me that much
i seem to have been born with this general dislikeability
just like some have a big nose or an aptitude for sports
i was born a bit hard to like
i kinda know why that is
even at seven
and i kinda secretly rejoice in it
i realize it is my strength n weakness kinda combined
and i immediately feel different
as soon as i could feel anything
the first thing i felt was different
and i wasnt justa kid
and i wasnt justa little boy
i was something less n more
women saw it in me
and the grown up ladies treated me strangely
never mind
i'm sitting under the lighthouse in wollongong
the fresh sea air
the sea gulls wheeling in the sky
we eat our sandwiches
the sun shines and is covered by cloud
the world seems so new
the world seems so shiny
the world seems so noisy
on mornings like that
in times like these
another noisy morning

milk tooth

i talk to my mother
my mother says
son where do you get all this stuff from
i say what stuff, mum
she says all the stuff you keep writing
she says i got untitled #23 and i cant stop playing it
she says ooh you really are a clever sod arent you
she says ooh your fathers family were all musical
she says your fathers mother was a great pianist
and all her brothers n sisters could play
she says steven, your piano teacher cried when she couldnt
get you to play march militaire
she said you were her most promising pupil ever...
in fact although i was ten and she was 21
we had a lotta erotic frission going on
and our piano lessons were charged with a certain...i dunno
plus
they had this system
where you read these numbers above the crotchets n quavers etc
the number was the number finger you put down
i wasnt reading the notes
i was reading the bloody numbers
the first time the numbers went...i was baffled
i was brilliant up till then
devouring the sodding piano
but when they took the numbers away...
like taking the floaties away at swimming lessons
man i sank to the bottom of the piano
how strange
it was snowing that day
we have it on film
it snowed in canberra deep n crisp n yes even
julie ann the piano teacher is there with me at our crumby cheap piano
an old banger for my dad to bang out his boogie woogie
the house seems so dark
distorted and enhanced by the old time film
the dog runs around in the snow with russell
a close up on russells red nose and his blank blue eyes
hes only about 3
hes a very spacey kid
a real dreamer
hes running around in the snow like a madman
and the dog chases after him pulling at a red scarf
the scarf is so scarlet against the snow
i have a kinda flat top crew cut
as i sit there
with this prim 1965 piano teacher from wagga or gundagai
trying to tame me to knuckle down n learn
cozza she knows "i got the music in me"
but i wanna do my own thing
march militaire is a fucking bore
i wanna play day tripper or something
i wanna play the organ where the sharp keys are white
i wanna explode cos i can feel it all in here
but it cant get out
cos i had to live
and i live and i learn
but believe me or not
i am the slowest learner
so i dont learn
i just make up my own thing
its painfully slow
why i only learnt to sing not so long ago
sing properly
why did it take so long?
cos im a slow learner
i told you that already
anyway my mother says
its a shame you never learnt to play properly son
i say mum i wrote the most friggin popular song for the last 1000 years
she says i know all that...
.....it just would be nice if youd learnt...properly...!
my old mummy 80 and not out
she inculcated a lotta stuff in me
that i cant get rid of with my own brood
for example my mother hated nay could not abide
bed clothes not neatly made
let alone strewn around a room
let alone the house
but the doodles walk around with sheets n pillows n quilts
the my mother in me freaks out
although "i" cant see why it drives me nuts
but shes bred this into me like a brainwashing
all her foibles and my fathers
watch out what you give yer kids...
we renting a little car for 5 days
and yesterday we end up
down at mrs macquaries chair on the harbour
a bit of the botanical garden thats opposite the oprah house
and the syddy hubba bidge
theres a lot of (especially asian) couples getting married there
theres this rather big bride
and a rather tiny skinny little groom
its beginning to rain
and the photographer wants em out on these slippery rocks
and the bride has got this huge heavy dress on
and tottering around on highest heels
that she has to mount n dismount
like a knight in the old days getting on a horse
the groom who is ultra nerdy with his gelled do
and his thick glasses which made his eyes swim behind them
hes trying constantly and awkwardly to assist his blushing bride
as they stumble and stagger up these rocks
and the tides coming in and splashing em
and the rains starting to get a bit heavier
and the photographers n family
call out instructions to em
and she keeps nearly slipping in the sea
and he keeps grabbing the wrong part of her body or voluminous dress
i mean the dress had enough material to win the americas cup
(eg as a sail)
and shes getting angrier with it all
and slapping him away as he fumbles about
saying the equivalent in his language of
yes dear sorry dear..
and then the photographer musta said kiss
cos they hang there
their lips suspended 2 inches apart
perpetually about to kiss
and looking at the camera
and smiling
and keeping balance on slippery rock n tide coming in
and rain falling down
and trying to look happy
its yer wedding day remember
and trying to ignore all the idiots sitting around
who are beginning to giggle at this unlikely scene
and i'm having a bit of a giggle myself
until the rain starts to bucket down
the big bride casts her littleman aside
and scrambles to the shore
with her slightly wet feet n dripping dress
immediately a swarm of rellies attend to her
one standing dutifully behind
lifting up the huge heavy curtain of a dress
and they all scuttle headlong
looking for shelter
my fambley n i run away
we get drenched
and scarlet wont walk cos her legs are "itchy"
its the rain on them thats doing that
so i'm running along in rainy
carrying this big stupid lump called scarlet kilbey
instant karma for my wedding giggles
but seriously
cannot see much joy in that marriage
if down by the rocks was anything to go by
wow!
shes already totally impatient with the little duffer
and they were both only about 21
jesus
do they know what theyve let themselves in for?
meanwhile we try to get to a starbucks for hot chockies all round
but can never get a parking spot n its raining too hard
we drive round pyrmont
and stop at another harbourside park
we see another side of the hubba bidge
the rain buckets down again
everyone has a wee wee at the toilet
pile into the corolla
and we're off down a tunnel
that spits us out back near bondi
gee whiz
how exciting...eh ...
what next?

fatalyst

there is a symmetry i must obey
at night
the hollow gradient of her face
a half moon imploded in cloud
the memory of pleasures
the faint smell of burning paper
always sand in the bed
we are up and on our way
flying over green pastures
and bolting over gates and grids
into the swedish indian canberran forest
i am all myselves at once
totally manifest across the realms
i spin words like a gossamer net
and i trap the meanings shooting by
and i fill my poem with meaning like a belly
and i paralyze the truth
and it hangs suspended in my mossy night
waiting to be gobbled up at another time
and i join up with you in the stars
where we all eventually join
where we all will shine like distant points
but not yet
not yet
no not yet
the night ruptures in raptures
the night opens up to reveal reality
the night slices away and peels back to show us
the night offers herself immodestly
the night shudders as we all enter her
the night then surrounds us and emits tiny noises
the night runs away with us
over gates and fences we scramble
i'm sprinting up a hill in the seaside night
i run and run getting faster and faster
my feet leave the ground
and i go crashing into the atmosphere
headlong into jeopardy
rolling and burning up and gliding in flames
the night will not hold me up
the night lets me fall
down and down and down
no one has ever fallen this far
my stomach full of butterflies
my hands swooning around
my cascading hair all around
i go starring thru the void
a vain inferno
a burst of intense and devouring red fire
yes i fell like lucifer
clawing at the dark which contained no purchase
into a pit so deep and black
so wondrously silent
the pit of the night
the night which had turned its back on me
that blasted night with her comets and moon
i fell falling into that nights slippery arms
awake i was widely awake
suddenly awoken from my former life
hitting the ground running up that hill
over gates and brambles
over stiles and crooked brick paths
running through the night still
trying to keep up with the shadows we cast
as we flee ourselves
me as all my selves
white beard
brown beard
golden beard
all the time
we race into the future
exercising our free will
charging up existence
hauling up the black corridor
until
inevitable morning

idiots guide to idiots by an idiot

there are many types of goose-balls
but this is outside the scope of this arti-kel
there are many types of trees
there are flying fish whose wings both swim n fly
there are cheetahs who can run at 70 mph
there are winged monkeys
there are mastodons of industry
there are the new collapsing buildings
there are men who breathe under air
there are 5 moons in the sky and a dark sun
how many words am i holding up?
what was the date of your 1st date?
i descend down into nonsense
somewhere in here is the new blogs thread
i wade through the one billion sentences my mind has ready
should i be in need of more nonsense
just lately
i been wondering about nonsense
when i started reading the bible again there
or am i an idiot?
gee i remember all those ranking idiots
i remember a kid at school called jeff hurst
could rank all the idiots in their correct order
cretin
moron
imbecile
idiot
actually idiot was at the top of the list
at school these words were freely bandied about
especially in card games:
you moron kilbey you could have used the king...!
hes not a moron hes a cretin!
much laughter
the morons and imbeciles seemed to have faded
the cretins are long gone
i called one of my kids a cretin recently
but they had to ask me what it meant
and then had a good chuckle
as i tried to remember the old lyneham high ranking
imbecile is such a great word
it was used freely in the three stooges by moe
WHY YOU IMBECILE .......I OUGHTTA .........!
followed by a two finger eye jab
which made a funny popping sound
at dapto primary the 2 finger eye jab caught on
but no one could get it to make that funny popping sound
even idiot has so many sub catty gories ie
the quite common "stupid idiot"
the old fashioned " bloody idiot"
the personal "you idiot!"
the exclaimed "whattan idiot!"
the ageist extremes "young idiot n old idiot"
the sizeist "little idiot n big idiot"
the rude "fucking idiot" which is
probably my favourite
and a way i think affectionately about myself
i sit here n eat some bread pudding
my mother made it for me
its like bread and dried fruit gone all cooked
crusty on outside
kinda moist n delicious on inside
not to be mistaken with bread n butter pudding
not to be mistaken for apple n rhubarb crumble
in america they have peach cobblers
(in uk cobblers is slang word for the testicles)
i remember first time someone asked me if i liked peach cobblers
me : huh?
anyway
i have met some "real idiots" in my day
and yes it really takes one to know one
i saw a haughty girl walk into a pole
i saw a proud man lose his pants
i saw children being spoiled by parents
i saw children being beaten by parents
i saw 1950s mutton dressed up as 1960s lamb
i saw man land on the moon
voice in a nother room : or did he land in a studio in california...
i saw vandals n widgies n sharpies n skins
i saw bullies n bitches n bastards n buffoons
i saw sods n fools n floozies n boozers
hey they still making some good idiots now
i havent caught up on them so much
but tv n radio personalities are up there
idiotically speaking
with any of the bozos n turkeys from "my" day
"total idiots"
youd put george bush in there wouldnt you?
he just has got all points covered
tho they say his iq is quite high
but so is mine
so theres 2 reasons to disbelieve in iq tests
but i must be an idiot to think bush is an idiot
actually hes a great guy
he really cared about us n so did his friend dick
they loved us the people
and they tried so hard to protect us from ourselves
and they tried to smoke out those terro-ist idiots
but theres just too much evil to clean up
what with war on drugs
war on terror
but no war on making levees for new orleans
no war on povery n complicated expensive legal n medical system
hey
we/you musta been idiots voting for him (twice!?)
well actually once
the second time
cos like the first time
some idiot manipulated some idiotic system
and the guy who got the most votes...er...lost...
now call me an idiot again...but aint that stupid?
no actually
i cant get over it
the way that all justice is so easily perverted
we must all be idiots really
we stand by
watch each new idiot get it wrong...
how hard can it be to not be an idiot?
anyway
rocknroll has loads of idiots too
almost anyone singing about satan or death n putrefaction
boy bands are generally required to be idiots
the olde geezer with the hat i consider quite an idiot
g n r seemed quite an assortment of them too
all those glam heavy bands
vince neil ..."classic idiot'
the guys in poison : idiots thru n thru
whitesnake iron maiden leppard sabbath
many an idiot amongst em
the sweet
mud
gary glitter
rick astley
limahl
duran duran
new romantics
boy george
milli vanilli
oh god
the liszt goes on n on non
us idiots
weve penetrated every echelon of society
idiot security guys
idiot air stewards
idiots coppers
idiot thieves
idiot husbands n wives
idiot neighbours
idiot weathermen
idiot drivers
idiot wind
and idiots anonymous
c'mon
are you an idiot?
be truthful now
theres a little idiot in all of us

and then...

the phone ringing in my head
hi is that kilbey
voice in another head : groan
kilbey picks up the phone
bring bring!
in a little car driving to newcastle
ooh nice hotel on the water
ooh nice cosy room
ooh nice little wife with me
have dinner with 2 accountants
indian
we talk n eat n laugh
we play at cambridge hotel
on before firekites
who are vaguely paradise motel-ish
n i highly recommend em
i a medium man in every way
do very mediumly
i am mediumly popular with the crowd
who speak at a medium level all night thru the music
it sure wasnt the factory gig
where i burst out of myself
and bestrode the stage like a mad king of yore
voice from another century : yore gotta be kidding
at newi
i was
adequate medium ok alright not too bad
i just couldnt get it to flow thru me
that delicious power that nowadays i can tap into
oh watch out americka
cos im channeling ambiguous
and you gonna need to interpret it...
we drove back this morning
after having brekky at beach cafe
i had soy porridge with stewed fruit
it was scrumptious
lovely drive homme
listen to ipod
listen to so love may find us
its a frickging masterpiece or what
fandorin n vlach
have written some rather scintillating reviews of #23
university level stuff....thoroughly enjoyed it
but vlachs musicology stuff is beyond me
i thought aeolian mode
was a setting on a greek air conditioner

anyway
blah blah blob
dob dob dob
good job

outage

i only got five mins to write this blog
no time to mention jehovah
or anyone else
blogger is closing down in 4 minutes
i'll just post this
so you know i'm still kicking
tonite i'm doing a gig up in newcastle
cambridge hotel
all my thousands n thousands of newi fans trying to get in
ha!
anyway
see ya soon
killa

iniquity

mad just like you like me
wordspinner
i pour out n out n out
my only gift
an ability to hold forth forever
on any subject known to man
except maths
science
geography
history
politics
etc
yesterday
i worked with jorden brebach again
at the orange room studio
a lovely attic room smack
in the middle of sydneys rag trade district
theres a lotta traffic birdies kiddies
so we open the window record all the ambience
put it backwards against itself
and then protools it
to fade up with these guitar swells
so the weird ambience sounds part of the guitar
we played around with music n words for my exhi in pitts
soon it will be finished
and youll be able to look at my controversial paintings
and hear their controversial sonic counterpoints
i provide the lot sweetheart
visual aural n verbal
one giant ego trip by me
cos i'm either fluent in the arts
or
a colossal wanker
voice in another room : guess which one i'm going for...
actually
i been thinking v.i.a.r.........bout time he had his own blog
muse : hes just another version of me....
ah shaddup then...both of ya
yes i am a colossal wanker
you dont think sali dali was too
you dont think mozart would have been a wanker
if he wrote his own fucking blogge?
v.i.a.r...tsk tsk...comparing yerself to the greats again
its frustrating
i'm not really "great" great
i'm merely great
i'm really just yer plain olde renaissance wanker
i sing like michaelangelo
n i paint like liszt
or is it liszt?
or is it lizst?
why couldnt he spell his name properly
did he really look like rog adultery..?
anyway
yeah there i was in surry hills
recording me stuff
i been swimming in the morning
to the pool with eve
who stopped swimming
when she saw some crabs at bottom of pool
GIRL 9 MAULED BY HERMIT CRABS IN SEA POOL!!!
i braved the crabbies and did mah laps
i emerged unscathed
when they failed to swim up 15 feet and nip my doo dahs
but who knows what jehovah might instructeth them to do today
"and He spake unto the crabs and said verily nip that bastard!
and lo the bastard was sorely nipped!" (CRABS,23)
v.i.a.r : bet yer former fan enjoyed that...
former fan : damn!
latter day saint : knickers!
muse : bollocks!
barry : woof woof!
maudlin git with wimpy voice : twee slop piano boof
death metal singer : satan enema prepuce stenchy cadaver gall bladder pig
country singer : i divorced my dog n ran over my husband
the israelites : look we just popped over for some milk n honey...
king david : bring me a thousand philistine foreskins
king david on drugs : bring me 4 philistine thousandskins
goliath : ow fuck!....you little bastard....
samson : leave it long at the back, thanks ...
delilah : mmm youd look good with a crew cut
jonah : had a whale of a time
gilgamesh : tell noah to gimme my flood back
gilgamesh : tell adam to gimme my garden o eden back
nick ward : this is a fuckin' yip blog
peter k : hasnt got a black pixel in its body
marty w-p : steve...did you ever read that email...?
tim bo : no...you play the fuckin' mellotron...
ploogy : this is my friend, chris planet....
banger pearson : killer...are ya ready to hit the frogntoad?
david neil : im dead tired
u#23 : im a frickin' masterpiece....aint i?
gaf : im a gaffe
starfish : i'm a crusty asian
crab: nip
cat : nip
tree ; sap
watts : up
good : bye

wherewithal

i have wandered thru this world
ive seen a lot yet most remains ineluctably hidden
ive had n lost money fame friends youth ambition
ive squandered my resistance for a pocket full of mumbles
such are promises....
ive rocked to the east
ive rocked to the west
i shot my mouth off
i blew my foot off
i blue my chances
ha! everyone knows my story....
what am i?
jack the lad, baby
and i got nine lives
dont ever say that its over for me
cos you might be surprised
true or false :
more westerners killed each year by falling coconuts than islamic extremists
i dare not reveal the true answer for fear of a war on coconuts
(was keith richards in the vanguard when he fell from tree ?)
this is a bizarre n random world
the world is run by older children, thats all
the religions that guide us are un-understood
or interpreted literally
i must be the only person i know
whose read the bible
i would wager my doo dahs that ive read more of the bible than
bush
or you(any of you)
or any other christian southern baptist type
you see
the bible is my type of book
you see
being a second rate poet n all
and a lover of myth
and searching for lyrics
and researching the "good" book
i actually stuck with it
and the koran
and many many volumes of hindu stuff
(sublime)
do i think that vishnu literally lies there
with his wife fanning him
while he literally sleeps
and literally throws out universes from his pores?
look
oh my dear fellows
we do not have the words or minds to understand vishnu as he is
this is a crude human attempt to describe things
this is really an ineffable concept
just as a prawn in the sea cannot discuss botticelli
we cannot really find the words to describe
an immense and beautiful creator
who effortlessly "dreams" up universes
(you think vishnu labours over this?)
surrounded by all beauty luxury n wealth
as symbolized by his wife
goddess of fortune
these are human terms dreampt up by human minds
there is no language to describe vishnu and his magnificence
and guess what?
you can call vishnu god if you like
all names and images and stories are human approximations
much of all religion is analogy
much of all religion is metaphor
i have personally studied and compared religions
i see myth and charisma at work in everything
i am not immune to it
i am very attracted by obamas charisma and his burgeoning myth
it is amazing to see it in action
youre not actually supposed to believe in everything tho
life is a document to be interpreted
i know that
thats what my songs represent
the interpretability of life
everything happ'ning on many levels
no hard n fast
that has been the wests biggest mistake
to only see that one dimension..the literal..in everything
and then
you see
armed with a literally interpreted "bible"
we went about doing great harm
ooooh
much much much more harm than islamic extremists
and it started with the crusades in the bad olde days
when we tried to get jerusalem back
and us
(christians, westerners, english etc)
we invaded and committed incredible atrocities
down in the middle east
and we been doing it a while now
this was why it was very un-PC
of mr bush to use the word "crusade" early on
because thats like
THE ENGLISH WORD FOR JIHAD
and it dont go down well anymore
(especially for the muzzies)
yes
we had a few goes at jerusalem
and were well known for our dirty tricks
and our wholesale slaughters
this is king dick the lionheart n co
and then of course
after the war 2
we just said
you know
hey this is our biblical israel again now
and appropriated it
and i guess you can see why the arab world is kinda pissed off
if we had always left em alone
it mighta been ok
but weve niggled at them for years n years n years
why?
how is it our right or bizness?
'i dont bloody know
but how could i
i am a washed up singer in a pop band
old and bitter n all the rest
of the things they say
which are probably true
but its not me trying to arraign bush for war crimes
(eg bombing civilians in baghdad)
its a multi-national group of lawyers n humanists
i was just saying they were trying to do it
and i hope they succeed
(is that my gay-ness showing then?)
furthermore
the "censorship" you talk of
is for the benefit of my other commenters
who were being attacked here
on my very own pages
my very own diary
my very own blog
please remember
this is my very own blog
and remember
you read mine
but i dont read yours
and guess what?
i decide what happens in my realm
if closing yer window on a horrible racket is censorship
than so be it
i'm a censor
i'm old (how can i deny it)
i' m bitter (its true but seeing i say so myself
anybody else saying it is irrelevant)
i'm poor (sigh aint it the truth)
please kind sirs
dont castigate me for these sins on my comments
comments reprimanding me for my poor old bitterness
will no longer be printed
ie censored
because they are tedious
comments accusing people of being gay (puhleese! )
will no longer be printed
(that is they will not be printed)
censorship
you betcha!
comments insulting my father also censored
so there you have it
please
jehovah n out

being as i am

the problem of evil
the problem of free will
the problem of free beer
the problem of a crazy world
where the aminals are all dying
whoops there goes the frogs
whoops there goes the bees
whoops there goes the fish
whoops there goes the penguins n whales
whats wrong with humanity
why did we have to go on until it got like this?
the cancer in our mothers side
there are no more guarantees
many species in their hundreds
many species in their tens
tigers will be gone by the time yer grandkids grow up
and tassie devils
and rhinos
never mind
we still got plenty of chickens n cows n pigs
lets get em into the amazon
lets get em into the forests n the steppes
lets get em onto our tables n into our guts
western civ......the feet of clay
western civ.....we come to you and give ya jehovah
have musket will travel
free s.t.d.s
free alcoholism
free slavery
free guilt
its all there in the bible
if you got god
you got the right
you got the missionaries
you do things for the savages own good
people in foreign countries need the bible
they need to know how enoch begot ezra n ezra begot ephraim
they need to know how theyre gonna burn for eternity
it'll sort em out
those crazy israelites
gee they had a ball
those other guys worshipping graven images...
they had it coming, right...?
and its easter
and i got my chocky bunny
and i got my laptop computer
and i got my mansuit on n it looks good
and i donated some money last year for something
and i'm reconciled to making amazing records n remaining obscure
and i'm reconciled to turning 55 and i never long for my lost youth
and i do vegan benefits so my conscience is so clear
and here are my major beefs
in no particular order
music in the eighties mostly sucked
eating meat is immoral unhealthy n disgusting
drugs should be medical not legal issue
war is criminal unless defence
bush is a war criminal n should be tried in the hague
priest = aura is a widescreen masterpiece
untitled#23 is quite brilliant as well
loads of less talented geezers than me make more money
i dont like perfume n makeup or gossip magazines
no one except jimmy little has ever done milky way any good
i dont like reality tv or crime tv or dancing shows
i dont like danny minogre
i dont like that maudlin git who sings in that wimpy voice
i dont like heavy metal or country
i dont like rap or grunge
i dont like boy bands
i dont like the wiggles
i dont like rich bitches in fucking lexuses blocking the street
i dont like idiots who speed up narrow bondi alleys
i dont like kyle hand-shandilands...what a podgy ugly pudding
i dont like reading about or seeing "jen"
her chin is a disgrace
i dont like plastic surgery or mutton done up as lamb
i dont like mobile phones or texting
or rude bastards having loud conversations on em in cars
i dont like women who fucking swear all the time
i dont like the sound of skateboards or mynah birds
i dont like weed whippers or leaf blowers(the ultimate in garden idiocy)
i dont like losing my stuff
i dont like boring stuff like watching football
i hate bars
i hate pubs
i dont like drunks n smokers
i dont like boors n bores
i dont like men who hit women
i dont like women who nag men
i dont like little boys who squeal like girls
i dont like elton john or george michael
or billy joel or axle rose
i dont like the long lists i make about things i dont like
i dont like cucumber or eggplant or capsicum
i dont like myself
i dont like my freckly skin n wispy hair
i dont like my wrinkles n sags
i dont like my vanity
i dont like my envy
i dont like my insincerity
i dont like my lies
i dont like my intolerance n cowardice
i dont like my self obsession
i dont like my cruelty n aloofness
i dont like my addictions n my weaknesses
i dont like my lusts n greeds n angers
i dont like my stupidity n my oafishness
i dont like my lacks of talent
i dont like my second rate attempts at greatness
i dont like my reliance on pot
i dont like how im often too busy for my family
and i dont like how they distract me from working
i dont like paying taxes tho i know i must and always have
i dont like my teeth falling apart n not affording to fix em
i dont like the constant ringing in my ears
its deafening me so i listen to more loud music to drown it out
i dont like not doing yoga
i dont like missing out on me swim
i dont like how europeans
propped up by the bible
went around this world n fucked em
in north america
in south america
in central america
in australia
in india
in africa
in the south sea islands
up in canada n lappland
we dealt out our deck of misery
i hate world war 1
it was a outrageous tragedy
and attempts to glorify it are pathetic
i hate stalin n adolf n bush
i hate all the stupid fucked up things tyrants n despots do
blah blah blah
does anyone out there correspond to everything i said?
thats my final easter spew
tomorrow we will be back to abnormal
no jehovah content
no jesus
no satanic milk
no talking u-serpents
no bono huge-sun
no bill bailey
no john gillis
no reggie dwight shrute
no burny terrapin
no world wore nothing
no world war untitled#23
no sturm n drang or even vlach
no midge urine
no steve smotherland
no carrere no emi
no byron ferrari
no peter bysshe shelley
no howard trafford
no ono sideboards
no regrets
no promises (if you should fall)
no reason to be sad
no reason to be glad
no explanation
no exit
no dice
no no no i must be on my way
no fixed abode
no go
no caroline no
no sense in waiting for more
no goodbye

waking early on a easter sunday....just before the cock...

jesus
i get up early
at the break of day
its warm and its drizzling
i pull on a mansuit from the wardrobe
i sit in my room
and i begin to type
god
the bible is such rubbish
who cares what the fucking chaldeans did?
this is the book that has guided western civ all this time?
a book of vengeance n tribalism n retribution
a vengeful jealous god who picks sides n changes his mind
a bunch of israelites running about
seizing this land n losing that
plenty of murder rape incest holocausts
gee jehovah
nice little world you created
no wonder countries go insane trying to follow it
the holy bible...wheres the holiness in killing everybody?
the book is complicated boring irrelevant ancient tripe
occasionally poetic
occasionally exciting
more than occasionally derivative (gilgamesh should sue!!)
occasionally inspiring
but mostly a catalog of the israelites triumphs n woes
some desert tribe a long time ago
doing n being done to...
yeah yeah
but somehow
when i was a child
and much more so
even before i was born
we were raised to believe that this was somehow OUR struggle
that the israelites really were gods chosen people
cos they put together some book of twaddle that tells us they are
WELL THEY CERTAINLY NEVER FUCKING ACT LIKE IT!!
proving to be as bloodthirsty n barbaric as all the rest
except they gotta new god who tells em its ok to do it
sometimes he orders the slaughters
men women children animals he says
n i'll sort em out
we saw movies about moses n company
which were frightening horrendous inexplicable bursts of violence
who could ever fucking understand jehovah?
n who'd want to....?
jehovah nags moses
and moses nags the israelites
and the israelites
merrily fuck up and get fucked n fuck over the locals
they just turn up n requisition all yer milk n honey
ya see its ok if jehovahs on yer side
and this thinking has been employed by us westerners
particularly those speaking english n spanish n portugese
we done done a lotta harm in ole jehovahs name
blah blah blah
anyway it was inculcated into us
that the israelites tent god was our god
and that the israelites book of tribal laws n murder
was our "good" book too
WHERES THE FRICKIN' GOODNESS IN IT???
go on pick it up
flick to any page other than the gospels n find some goodness
i dare ya!
but somehow we kinda believed that all this israelite stuff was important
and all their malarky had crept into our "culture"
with semi-holy connotations
eg some folksinger singing let my people go
or river jordan is chilly n wide ..hallelujah...
or by the rivers of babylon.....when we remember zion
etc etc
but what did it have to do with us?
and then
for a brief moment
the holy bible is illuminated by jesus
who does n says the very opposite of jehovah
whose s'posed to be his actual daddy
jehovah is wrathful n murderous
jesus is cool n kind
FORGIVE EM! he says
showing more fucking sense in his four gospels
than the rest of the bible all put together
but after the gospels
its back to fire n brimstone n apocalypso
when former murderer saul becomes paul
n takes up jesus' cause
(with himself as the star prosecutor!!)
finally johnny somebody goes to a greek island
has too much of good time
and has a "vision" in a cave
of the horrible awful burning screaming rotten end of the world
complete with dragons, giant whores and angels blowing trumpets
(how quaint!)
how very jehovah
to create a such a wonderful ending for us
we all burn
except the ones who "believed"
what the fuck does that mean?
and isnt that a flimsy premise to burn us forever?
cos we didnae "believe"?
anyway
even poor old jesus c had to die in a spectacular grisly way
(and that was the plan?!)
jesus its a sorry story
most kids today dont have a clue what its all about
and theyre better off
no one i knew at any of my schools understood christianity
they paid lipservice to it
but no one understood it
or researched it
or challenged it seriously
sure there were atheistic kids
but no one ever really wondered what this book
this book we swear on n live n die by is all about
you should have a look
it will astound you
the utterly irrelevant nonsense of the measurements of this n that..
cubits,anyone?
the nastiness n sheer imperialism of the izzies
the capriciousness n sheer stupidity of jehovah
the loveliness of christ
the barbaric world they all lived in
the superstitious bullshit
that the preachers tried to ram down our throats
its all there
the bits nicky cave re-appropriated
the bits that bobby dylan nicked
all the misery n backstabbing n psalms
theres even a brief erotic interlude
so king solomon can write some naughty verse for sheba
poking his key thru the hole in her door
(ooohh mr humphreys!!!)
go on
read this book
its got sex n lust n murder n mayhem
what a story
what a joke
what an albatross to hang round our fucking necks
for 2000 years
jehovah?
dont make me laugh!

easter parade

easter gets me all religious
my kids ask me
do you believe in jesus?
i start umming n ahing
i mean how can an intelligent man answer that one glibly
(voice from another room : or even you....)
i kinda imagine jesus with his les paul guitar
with his 30 tattoos of identity
with his black jaguar in the jungle
with his scarlet childe on his lap
with his lovely hands all damaged
with his beard shaped so right
jesus what a kind man
what a thoughtful man
people must have said back then
wow! what a lovely geezer.....
(in hebrew of course)
jesus he could pull any woman...but he never did
he had incredible cosmic powers at his fingertips
but he refrained from using them
he took the middle path like his old mate buddha
he says make it easy on your self
make it easy on yourself
he said
take it easy take it easy
dont let the sound of your own god drive you crazy..
he said im easy like a sunday morning
he said easy baby
you dont have to be so hard...
and sometimes if you got lost in the snow
jesus would be there with a barrel of brandy
but i dont understand this ransomed for our sins business...
do you?
it doesnt make any sense
maybe you did come back
maybe you didnt
i dont rule anything out
maybe you came back as someone else
but why not come back n show everybody
now that mighta had an effect
but its all so unlikely
and the bible is a dodgy document
and so are the priests who have made themselves fat n wealthy
by reinterpreting it in their own images for 2000 years
where does jesus tell us to build a vatican?
and all the other malarky carried on his name....
i reckon jesus would be a great singer....with that voice
and his lyrics would be simple n succinct
and charisma....c'mon
hes held this world in thrall for a long time
and we aint ever even seen his face
oh we know he must be handsome
like willy dafoe
or jeffrey hunter
or young max von sydow
they look out on off into the sky
taking it all on their narrow shoulders
all they ever did was help n heal n say nice things
now jesus gets crucified against a sky with racing clouds
on either side
theyve nailed the robber
theyve nailed the thief
jesus is only 33 years old
man thats way too young
i was touring with starf-ish then
but jesus is being put to death
in an incredibly cruel n barbarous manner
what did he do? whisper the onlookers
no one really seems to know
well he really put them pharisees big noses outta joint
but they talk the stupid romans into executing him
like a political prisoner
so no one is really taking the blame
the people stand by n watch it happen
voice from another century : dont we always...?
later on
much later on
some priest figured out
that christ died to redeem our souls for all our sins
but christ says nothing of this himself
nor do the gospels
this is a very troubling and extremely stupid doctrine
no one really knows how a deal like that is s'posed to work
its so fucking ludicrous
big ole Jehovah
he creates this world outta nothin'
with all its brilliant things
but the people
his crowning achievement
go wrong again n again
right from the start
THEY PERSIST IN DOING NAUGHTY THINGS!!!!
they eat fruit theyre told not to
they kill each other (alright if J tells em to)
they get up to all sorts of dirty tricks
J nukes sodom n gomorrah
then he tries to drown the whole world
but for one good guy
but alas evil lives on
that ole devil
one of Js former right hand men
now gone fucking bad
and sucking off souls from the earth
god helps the israelites for a while
but they go bad too
like all of em
why cant fucking old Jehovah takes some responsibility here?
i mean if i had 5 kids
n they were all bad wouldnt someone say
some of the blame must lay with him?
no olde J goes on looking for some way out
he decides to have a son with an earth woman
(no hanky panky...naturally)
(at least the greek gods would actually "ravish" their earthly bints)
so out comes jesus
half man half god...just like hercules a long time before
with all the fucking hassles n headtrips that must bring
and jesus walks around very modestly
laying nice trips on people
preaching
hey whoa take it fucking easy my brothers
not harming a fly
a few show offy things but not many considering
then
he gets nabbed
framed
banged up
and god says
ok
now i can forgive all these other sinners
(tho we still go to hell if we're naughty)
c'mon...is there any sense in it
Jehovah can do what he likes
why does he have to muck about with all the red tape
why not smite the romans n pharisees
like he smote sodom or jericho
or did He figure out those pre emptive strikes were un PC
i'm sorry
i love the hell outta jesus but the bible is silly
AND YEAH I READ IT!
most of it is a load of olde tripe about some dudes
in the middle east killing each other n doing nasty things
(bags full of philistine foreskins anyone?)
no the israelites are not my people
what the fuck do i care about them
anymore than the persians or medes or the assyrians?
everytime they DO get the upper hand they blow it any way
and how nice that the god THEY invented
makes them HIS chosen people
gee....thats kinda predictable, isnt it
and then along
out of all this old fashioned chauvinistic racist twaddle
comes a new testament
because the old one is OLD baby
and we got jesus
saying
be cool!
and that
is quite a revelation in a book
with bears tearing youths to pieces
and whales swallowing geezers
and talking snakes n angels with burning spears
finally
just a cat
n
he says
be cool
it was revolutionary for its time
(except if you lived in india)

passover

my back is cold
the wind comes in off the sea
the birds tweet tweet tweet
whatever theyre saying
everyone asleep
everyone in the world
everyone finds sleep eventually
the heroes and the villains
the leading lady and the best boy
the guys playing the roman soldiers
all having a cigarette in their togas
a disciple speaks furtively into a mobile phone
i am down in the garden set
i sit with my friends talking
i notice iscariot is missing
all things as they must be
we sit under the stars
a small chemical fire burns
we huddle round but it gives off no heat
the woman playing my mother mary forgets a line
and we do it over n over till its right
the romans arrive
banging at the gate
calling out my name
they burst in upon us
iscariot giggles as he points me out
theres your man!
the romans seize me
no peter no!
peter seizes a romans sword from its scabbard
he weilds it so gracefully in the moonlight
and he brings it down on its owners head
glancing off but taking the poor mans ear
i stoop down and pick it up
how strange it seems in my hand
almost transparent
i touch it to the romans head
and it reattaches
(we'll fix it in post)
the damn ear just reattaches
the startled man tugs on it
i admonish peter
dont you ever listen?
as one soldier binds my hands
another pays iscariot
27 28 29....30....ok?
iscariot snatches the money away
the director : cut!
we try again
could it have been any other way
even now i'm not so sure
i mouth the words about the bitter cup
pilate appears
a good pilate
a handsome pilate
pilates made a loada movies before this
pilate has his own plane
pilate has clean hands
the pharisees with their false beards n hooked noses
youre like a fancy grave with its rotten body ...i say to them
the roman soldiers
like cockney sergeant majors from world war two
they flog me without any rancour
nuffin' personal guv'nor
whispers the centurian
his breath smells vaguely of whisky
i am before pilate again
he begs me to do something anything to save myself
the pharisees entreat him to have me killed
they are the embodiment of wickedness
they point and hiss and boil in their malice
the roman soldiers stand there
theyve seen it all before
in gaul and macedonia n wherever this goddamn empire stretches
the empires got ya by the balls says one soldier
and youll wish that you never appeared says another
pilate decides to let the crowd decide
decide deicide
pilate will be retiring soon
his nice place in tuscany you know
funny both the actor n pilate have little places in tuscany
pilate doesnt want to get it wrong
he seems to like me
he keeps shrugging n rubbing his clean clean hands
they march me up to the market place
the crowd go crazy when they see me
wow all these extras dressed in period
old ladies done up as some judaen granny
arabic looking types in cloaks n capes n strange hats
they bellow for my blood
why i wonder?
who has whipped them up against me so?
pilate looks uncomfortable
you mean youd rather crucify this guy....this guy here...??!
he says pointing to me
he smiles so sadly
as they drag me away
people reach out and slap n punch me as im led past
hey take it easy i say to one over enthusiastic extra
hope you enjoy your easter says a kid trying to kick me
we break for lunch
the crown of thorns is too hard to get off
so they leave it on
i have lost my appetite
too soon it ends
and i'm struggling down the way of agony
dragging my balsa wood cross
which is still heavy
some teenage extra spits in my face
leave it! cautions the director
joseph of arithmetic or wherever appears
his kindly face
his empathetic eyes
he shoulders my burden
he takes up my cross and struggles
while the crowd bray n jeer n hurt us
i see my mother
i see mary the magdalene looking so pretty for the 1st century
with her make up n lipstick and her carefully applied tears
i see the disciples
peter big n oxlike
matthew pale and thin
thomas blustery and barrel chested
james slim and effeminate
john honest and handsome
we reach golgotha
the place of the skulls
all done up like a gothic horror set
the skulls grin and grin
sorry about this sunshine
whispers that cockney roman sergeant
with his whisky breath
and he gives me a wink n a small smile
bang bang bang
i sag down as i feel the nails go through my hands
i grimace trying to bear the terrible pain as they nail my feet
some technical problem
i hang from my cross
while someone has an argument with someone else in a trailer
they come back out
and we continue
the robber n the thief are already "up"
we'll have lunch in paradise together today i say
the soldiers gamble for my clothes
i hang there
the sky turns black even tho its 3 in the afternoon
i get given vinegar instead of wine
i get a spear in my side
and i slump
everything goes dark n silent
thats a wrap! says someone
and the lights come back on
jesus! someone says
and everyone laughs

violet brooks

she lives on monday street
its monday and she has monday-itis
all the birds sing backwards
listen....its a looking glass song...
violet brooks goes to school
shes neither here nor there
no one notices when she goes off on her daydreams
its cold in the classroom
the other children are already 100 years old
the teacher what a fool she thinks
as he marches around waving his calculus about
he scribbles things up on a board
he seems to pluck numbers out of the cold thin air
she cant follow this nonsense
"..knowing x cannot be the multiplier..." he blathers on
violet brooks ....
she cant bring her delicate mind to rest on such matters....
what day is this miss brooks ? he suddenly asks
why....its monday sir...its always monday sir...
yes miss brooks .....monday......
they stare at each other
he is in his fifties with his white beard
she still a child
mousy and drab
violet brooks says with her eyes
"oh dear teacher do leave me alone....!"
the teacher seems to read her
in the coldness of the monday winter classroom
he suddenly warms
and an unexpected smile appears upon his angular face
oh violet brooks ...he says
do you think juggling these numbers adds up to much for me..?
oh i would much rather describe the flight of a flying horse
the huge feathered wings beating against the blue sky
while its rider holds on for his life
and hastens into the wild beyond
or the sound of the mysteries being celebrated
or the taste of a naiads kiss
yes yes ! said violet brooks' eyes
tell us about these things
but....and the teacher sighed sadly
and the children wondered at his sudden melancholy
but...said the teacher
staring out the window
his grey eyes all unfocussed
but....he said a third time
and everything was silent in that room
in other rooms around them
in the playgrounds outside
in the halls n corridors
they could still hear the other children
but as if from a distance
the teacher gazed longingly out the window
it was beginning to snow
snow whispered the children so silently
the teacher watched the flakes swirling down
the year when you were 10
it was always monday...remember....?
a mouse could be heard scratching n quietly squeaking in the walls
the teacher turned and looked at violet brooks
outside... her eyes said to his...outside.....
the teacher snapped his fingers n beckoned the class
they took their coats from their pegs
and they walked out into the gentle snow
out of the school
they walked
down the street and out of the town
into the great forest that leads down to the sea
and they found a nice place
and they stopped
and took out their thermos flasks n their sandwiches
sat down under a great oak tree
dear students...the teacher began
look at this empiric world
test its realities
turn quickly to catch it out
get up early in the morning before it manifests itself
the numbers are important
somehow it all joins up somewhere
but no one knows exactly how or why...
violet brooks asked : but why is it always monday....?
ah miss brooks ....he said
monday represents the end of sunday
the day of rest
the day of peace
the day of sun
monday was ever the saddest day
monday monday cant trust that day
tell me why i dont like mondays
its monday......
oh monday morning
the snow fell outside the little clearing
where the pupils all were eating their lunches
the branches overhead were interwoven like a roof
violet brooks said
i dream of a sun drenched saturday
i'm down by the beach and the sea is turquoise
and all the bathing suits are crimson and mauve and leaf green
and the hair is all blonde and the tans are all golden
i dream of beach shacks filled with lava lamps n pineapple juice
i dream of long walks by the shore
i dream of the clouds in shapes of woodland creatures
i dream of a bucket of sand and my own little crab
i dream of looking in vivid rockpools
i dream of an ice block on a stick...
here she seemed to pause
imagine it....said one child
yes ...said a second....i do...
violet brooks began again
out in the real world its thursday
our teacher is writing this all down on a little machine
others read it on their machines
theoretical people
virtual people
all unknown to each other mainly
they turned to the teacher
is this true? they demanded
he looked down at the tangled roots and the fallen leaves
he saw a squirrel in a tree
he saw a mushroom quietly growing
a plane flew overhead
monday airport
monday flight
monday specials
monday motel
monday meetings
the world stretched out n on
he could never hope to encompass so many lives
he looked at the students
go
he said
i release you all
go to saturday
walk in the sun
return to golden times
he had no more but finished saying these words when
he looked around and
saw all the children gone
but violet brooks
i will stay in monday she said
until all the children here are free
she turned n walked away through the trees
the teacher waited for a while
watching her go and then
he turned n walked
in the opposite direction
towards the mighty crashing sea

noah veil

i stumble through life as usual
i dont know what i'm gonna do
i got no "plans"
i really have no clue
the morning arrives...not unexpectedly
the earth revolves
the sun sets
the living rooms
the breathing apparatus
the moving men
a thousand islands dressing
through driftwood waves and steal guitars
i see the days of my phantoms holiday
all spirit-tahiti
all flowers and a distant native song
i know paul gauguin
i say go go gauguin
i say go again gauguin
i got a beachcombers hut
i got a sky blue swimming pool
i got my soothing lagoon of memories
i swim thru them for you
some are so faded n threadbare
i realise how sad it is that all things will be forgotten
the things we said
the things we did
the things we created
the things we played with
all of it wiped away....where?
but i'm forgetting it already
as i trawl through the pools
and i dive deep but the blackness dismays me
i get up real early n trudge through the forest to the sea
i'm so mixed up
memories are superimposed on each other
memories all stored carelessly
the worms of forgetfulness have gnawed at their corners
they have been exposed to doubt
and have become pure white
oh my memories
i swim in the sea
the sea of memory
with all its terrible monsters
how i hate them coming up to taste me
monstrous memories of icthy-o-saurus
i can feel his needle teeth in my arm
i can feel the poison entering my blood
who am i now?
the sea is cloying and smothering
i am a little boy
and old ladies with viridian lipstick
and cigarette breath
all kiss me me and pinch my cheeks
i am scared stiff
the sea turns nasty
all choppy and the spray in yer eyes
a rainbow arcs above us with its roy g biv
i see it through the green glass of the water
i see it through the green grass of my idyll meadow
in english narnia during the good times
cavorting with those lovely woodland folk
i am just a boy with flowers in my hair n little goat feet
i whirl n i twirl n i never run outta breath
i leap from one thing to the next
i leap to my island home which is waiting on me
hand n foot
the island assumes its manifest human shape as princess lulutiti
she solemnly approaches me with all her bounty
no wait am i marlon brando all burnt n dying?
am i tyrone power and my heart is seizing up
right here on the set?
no wait am i jim cook having my last sandwich (no spear-mint!)?
am i marco boleyn having my last ride?
no
youre noah veil
says princess lulutiti
as she makes the palms sway
as she makes the hills undulate
as she pulls down the stars and sets them on her brow
as she straddles the horizon and rubs against its length
as she fixes up all my pains
as she takes away my ache my takeaway ache
as she unzips my olde mansuit so gently
oh noah she says
oh look how new you are underneath it all....!
my friend paul is there painting it all
go go gauguin i say
you make it look so easy man!
i had a lotta practice says paul
oh soft summer nights
oh naive and warm island people
oh kava kava
oh coconut milk and wild raspberries
and dark chocolate from holland
and opium from china
and perfumes from india
and crystal skulls from lemuria
whose cargo is all this...?
lulutiti smiles
noah you have come to the islands of the dead
this is your mind randomly flashing
these are the thoughts of the dying man
lulutiti is so big and now so old
she cradles me in her mountains and valleys
she rocks me in her warm earth
she soothes me to sleep
a million other men sleep beside me
a million other women and children
all sleeping somewhere safe
waiting for the right opportunity
dreaming it up
watching from a distance
yeah and
aloha