posted on April 27, 2012 at 5:28 pm
for that was long ago
bring us some peace and calm inside
let us wander in the blissful fields of your love
let us tarry next to your fountains which bring cool
send us a message of your good faith
today ends in lassitude
this desert is endless
show me a way out of these shifting sands
hunger and thirst for something parches the soul
i hunger for spirit
i thirst like a sea
time has come down around me
with all of its arms does surround me
the palms the stars
birds call
fly north fly north….!
gimme a peace of your mind then
my arrow falls short everytime
night is waiting for me out there
i must go out and drive around
i must go into darkness into light
i must go from beast to angel somehow
it has been promised
it has been guaranteed
Man, you sound like you´re completely lost and wasted. Find a way out soon!
yeah
Nothing has been guaranteed but death.
This is not too musty for something so musty… sounds like a lovely envelope to be in with palms and stars and your arrow doesn’t seem to have fallen short at all.
Raise the incense.
Gloria Kilbey, et Patri, et Filio, et Spiritui Sancto. Sicut erat in principio, et nunc et semper, et in saecula saeculorum. Amen. Alleluia.
May we be quenched.
This reminded me of something I wrote as a teenager in the 80s.
Today I looked up into the sky and saw the clouds and beyond them the stars
Then I walked along the beach and saw the rough oceon and the calm below and beside there was some one close.
These last few blogs and photographs have been out of this world sk,
thank you
In this photo ones flesh looks a tad green! lol
the flesh yearns to follow the ancestral call
Over the dunes, over the hills far far far
To another time,
another time
when the stars of the night sky
showed a different rune
And the drums by the campfire,
sounded a different tune
Where the aim was not so high
But to live for another moon………..
I wonder if you ever tell your readers to go away?. I wonder if you ever yearn for a cave and a different life where your musings were private and not known? If fate had played you a different hand, what would be Mr Kilbey?
Doubtless your art would continue,
Many don’t get to share their labours like you do!
I wonder what it is like to rely solely on ones art for ones supper?
I wish I could fly north too, my grandmothers funeral was today:(
shrek in the making?
Dunno about that man but that vesper out of that james bond film was some chick yes sir! & even better in the dreamers…
no words needed.
beautiful, Steve.
That picture is just so evocative and captivating. Best one yet. Love it. And bautiful words, too. While reading this blog, I was listening to After Image. Just perfect!
Should’ve said “Beautiful”. Aargh! Hate spelling errors. I’m a copywriter, goddammit!
And so shall it be.
Beautiful depiction of the spiritual yearning to connect with all that’s good.
the angel is still a beast, the beast is an angel.
Boriah, any suggestions? I am feeling the same way. Could be menopause! ewww! x
Always wondered Steve….what drew you guys to call the band ‘The Church’?
the inner divine mother
her arrows do not fall short of the target
so long as the target has been spotted
and the divine mother Kali invoked in that very moment
she is there waiting to be called upon
the female aspect of our being
we see Mary treading on the snake
we see hindu goddess Kali wielding weapons, beheading foes
the heads of her enemies hang around her neck
Her enemies are the negative inner selves of the mystic
she fights them within the person working to gain peace
we see the Aztec goddess Coatlicue
we see in Egypt, Sekhmet is the mother goddess Hathor in warrior form
we see in Buddhism she is Senge Dongma (Simhamukha in Sanskrit)
we see her in ancient Greece as Hecate and Persephone
She fights alongside the mystic and destroys their animalistic egos
the inner animal sacrifice to gain the light trapped within them
and pleasing to the gods
Missed this one in the wreck of the work week…oh, how I have felt this way. Of course not exactly; my ‘me’ is as mysterious as your ‘you’, as impenetrable as any of ‘us’ here, but your talent truly touches my soul.
LOVE.
The poet doesn’t invent. He listens. ~Jean Cocteau
God I Hate Paradox
He’s an ecstatic depressive
A tone-deaf musician
A hopeless romantic
A failed statistician
He’s an illiterate poet
An inarticulate spokesman
A profane divine
An honest politician
An unequivocal contradiction
He’s a song without music
A rhyme without form
A thought without meaning
An ugly beautician
He’s got heartless compassion
And purposeless direction
He’s truth
He is love
He is boundaryless interdiction