posted on March 6, 2008 at 1:47 am

the room turns whiter than white
the creams fly to white
the whites become silver
the silver becomes light
the light becomes me
and i
i become.
the mayans
the lemurians
the civilizations lost in jungles
their geometry
the mathematics
their endogenic plants
their exogenic knowledge
downloading rapidly
calculations
numbers revolve
the beautiful rivers of singing fish
the jaguars
the snakes
the knowledge of natural things
sweet balance
respect
gentleness
the healing arts
the visions
the prophecies
objects wrought from what…and how?
magic
deep magic
the faint chatter of living dna
against the background of wind and birds
all things in communication
everything changing by thought alone
the shadowy world of men as illusion
the bright light fills my body
i am truly ecstatic
oh gift from gods
speak to us in million ways
yoga
childbirth
the sky
the heavenly bodies
the magic plants
through chance
through chants
through the physical acts of love
through meditation
through the chi/prana
through the creatures
through architecture
through sacrifice
through discipline
through courage
through desperation
blue becomes neon turquoise
green becomes ultramarine
black becomes liquid void
spacemen and ancestors
gnawing my ear off
whispering at hi-speed download
the sound of a mental internet connection
the power suddenly fills me with fear
i remember to breathe breathe breathe
the swedish word for breath and spirit is the same
what will death be like?
what was life like?
different for us all
the materialist will go kicking and screaming
the yogi will blissfully attain emancipation
the rest of us in some hospital
thinking
can this really be it?
that day
that day i knew was coming
that day i have watched steadly approaching
only as is natural, though….
george harrison sang about the art of dying
is there an art?
is it letting go?
is all art a letting go
and is all letting go an art?
the power senses my resistance
i concentrate
i breath out
i let go
as much as an uptight egotistical silly old hippy can
ah
the power takes me
come then it says
what had frightened me before
now swirls around me
my body which was ice
is now a warm potent fire
my blood floods my hands n feet n face n cock
a wave of delicious erotic thoughts
women before my eyes and other females
of some indeterminate origin
space ladies with electric fingers
still the computations go on and on
the power sizes me up
and it reckons and relays
alien aztec-like women
kiss me
straddle my mind
the machines continue to operate
the seeming of organic structure
the alien strumpets are repulsively non human
but deliciously obscene
they writhe and giggle and swoop and disappear
an incredible excited calm falls over me
i see processions
i see markets
i see ceremonies
oh south america
oh peru
oh brazil
oh ecuador
how did i end up so far away?
oh lemuria
this cold and distant future is hurting hurting hurting me
this mad world
but my sorrow is detached
an ache i can feel but which no longer has any hold
like my broken arm
like my broken heart
like my broken promises
the power says
yes you are a fool
while i bathe in its silvery heat
while i float bouyed by the power of some other world
vishnu appears on the steps of another gods temple
not in india but here here here
in south america
jesus too
i see him
dressed in colourful clothes
tripping in the jungle
caressing the snakes
walking with the panthers
out of his mind on love
the love of it all
before this could be dreamed up at all
the sheer love
my mind has separated from my body
my spirit has separated from my mind
my past has come out of my spirits tongue
it whispers it to my mind
and my body trembles in awe
my body relaxed beyond earth and fire and water and air
my body heavy clumsy temporary
my mind rigid ignorant under-utilized
but trying and crying
my spirit
ineffable
the same spirit
everywhere nowhere
cant see it cant cut it cant burn it
my spirit
that great actor
animating flesh through will and love
pretending to be forgetful
it raves to my mind
my mind agitates my body
i pick up my pastels
i pick up my bass guitar
the spirits gossip
turns itself into ideas
which travel electrically
through mysterious meridians
and at some faraway place
kilbey writes a painting
or paints a song

28 Responses to “500 times the amount of love”

  1. avatar
    mike | 6 March 2008 at 2:54 am #

    Beautiful one Steve-how can one not like a poetic verse about South America and Peru!!

  2. avatar
    William | 6 March 2008 at 3:26 am #

    Hmmm. Your post today reads the way “Film” from P=A sounds to me. If that makes any sense.

    Great stuff.

    –william

  3. avatar
    Anonymous | 6 March 2008 at 4:26 am #

    puranida vida gueray.

    adyo,
    r

  4. avatar
    Brien Comerford | 6 March 2008 at 5:22 am #

    Vishnu and Jesus (The preservers of life). Our spirit/souls are eternal rather than ephemeral. I concur ! Peace, Hope, Faith, Love, Incorporated.

    I watched a documentary on Amsterdan tonight. Vegetarians, nonviolence and weed thrive. I must concede I saw a place with vibes conducive for Kilbey!

  5. avatar
    Anonymous | 6 March 2008 at 5:33 am #

    a great one today. love it.

  6. avatar
    issakimani | 6 March 2008 at 6:01 am #

    Love it Steve!!!
    You write paintings
    You paint songs
    Your words seep into my subconscious
    Very vivid dreams lately
    Hope to dream of Machu Picchu and the Nazca Lines.

    One Love,
    Kari

  7. avatar
    fantasticandy | 6 March 2008 at 8:43 am #

    ‘deliciously obscene’?
    what a wonderful turn of phrase!
    peace,
    andy L.

  8. avatar
    Anonymous | 6 March 2008 at 8:58 am #

    HAVE A GREAT TIME TOMORROW, STEVE. IF POSSIBLE, TURN ME INTO A LITTLE BEE AND TAKE ME TO THERE.

    LOVE

  9. avatar
    princey | 6 March 2008 at 9:01 am #

    “my body tembles in awe” after reading this sk, a real buzzzzzzzzz from top to toe.
    Love
    Amanda

  10. avatar
    Anonymous | 6 March 2008 at 9:36 am #

    Ahh, Kilbey,

    Sometimes I hate you,
    Sometimes I love you,
    Sometimes I want to say something spiteful and clever just to feel good (but ultimately bad) about myself,
    Sometimes I just want to throw my arms around you and weep.
    Sometimes I think you hold all the answers,
    Sometimes I think you don’t have a clue.
    Sometimes I think maybe artists should express themselves only through their work,
    Sometimes I think I’m priveleged to be given this insight.
    Sometimes I think “what the fuck?”
    Sometimes I think, “Yeah, he holds all the answers.”
    Most of the time I think, here’s a guy who’s music and lyrics I’ve loved since God knows when and he drives a shitty falcon when he probably should be in a limo.

    And that, sir, makes you human. And that, sir, is why I thank you.

  11. avatar
    Hellbound Heart | 6 March 2008 at 10:57 am #

    ….oh….my….god….
    love always…

  12. avatar
    Anonymous | 6 March 2008 at 12:50 pm #

    The breath+spirit semantic association is an ancient religious idea. In Scandinavia+Siberia It was common belief that in death the spirit leaves the body through the top of the head.

    I once fainted in an almost lethal fever, and sort of experienced it. I was standing up and suddenly I heard this whooshing sound and I felt a wavelike rush from my ankles to my head. It really felt like my soul rocketing thorugh me. It all happened within two seconds and I actually felt this insane euphoria. It was as if my spirit went through my body and I knew I’d pass out. I found myself on the floor later.

    I don’t know if this is normal to fainting or just a feverish delusion, but it was quite interesting. Passing out can be fun, it seems ; )

    – Lebrinho

  13. avatar
    isolde | 6 March 2008 at 1:16 pm #

    lovely

    lee bul does great alien strumpets

    http://www.saatchi-gallery.co.uk/blogon/2007/03/lee_bul_aseptia_at_domus_artiu_1.php

    http://www.artesmundi.org/artistProfiles/artistProfileBul.php

  14. avatar
    lily was here | 6 March 2008 at 1:25 pm #

    And heres to your quest to master the art of living!

    love Sue
    xxx

    ps id love to hear of any near-death experiences from anyone. The topic fascinates me.

  15. avatar
    Thomas Thomsen, Denmark | 6 March 2008 at 5:20 pm #

    “but my sorrow is detached
    an ache i can feel but which no longer has any hold”

  16. avatar
    davem | 6 March 2008 at 6:52 pm #

    Killer.
    A wondrous read after a wasted day in the life….
    Where you’re on form there’s no-one to match you.
    An intelligent, questioning, passionate, spiritual and articulate man who has devoted his life to transporting us with his use of language……and it shows.
    Masterful stuff, my hero.
    Love you more,

    Dave
    x

  17. avatar
    Anonymous | 6 March 2008 at 7:45 pm #

    Lenin had a way with words too, but I like yours better…

    mime

  18. avatar
    fantasticandy | 6 March 2008 at 7:58 pm #

    so did lord haw-haw!
    but your kind of propaganda…..
    …is rather inspiring.

  19. avatar
    General Catz | 6 March 2008 at 8:09 pm #

    “what will death be like?
    what was life like?”

    Very nicely said.

    Miss Grove

  20. avatar
    verdelay | 6 March 2008 at 9:41 pm #

    Modern?

    This post has been removed by the author.

  21. avatar
    Brien Comerford | 6 March 2008 at 10:21 pm #

    Saw a war against drugs documentary on Showtime late last night. I was shocked and infuriated. During the Bill Clinton years he and his drug czar incarcerated hundreds of thousands of nonviolent pot smokers in prisons to keep the prison industry’s economy thriving in America. Also learned that the drug free America campaign is financed by the nicotine and booze industries. Having nonviolent peoples’ lives destroyed in prison is good for America’s corporate greedheads. Mortifying!!!

  22. avatar
    Anonymous | 6 March 2008 at 11:14 pm #

    “the faint chatter of living dna against the background of wind and birds”

    beautifully painted words

    if I pay attention, sometimes I swear I can hear it

    Love
    Lady Di

  23. avatar
    linjo | 7 March 2008 at 2:05 am #

    Brien
    You frequently refer to your burgeoning waistline, addiction to alcohol and mental health issues serious enough to warrant anti-psychotics. To top it off you advocate the free use of pot. Geez baby somethings gotta give. Strap on that ipod and walk walk walk, eat high protein (vege of course). I have just done 10 k’s, came home and had a ciggie. Tonight i’ll prob have a few Tooheys extra drys being a Friday. Moderation is the key.
    Linda X

  24. avatar
    JJ | 7 March 2008 at 3:16 am #

    the faint chatter of living dna
    against the background of wind and birds
    all things in communication

    Wonderful lines….where does this stuff come from? Seems to be a bottomless well, a perpetual motion font of verbal springwater delicious and sweet.

    JJ

  25. avatar
    eek | 7 March 2008 at 3:33 am #

    SK in a SMH article today about the Night Words performance tonight. I think the writer was a little low on the number of daily TTB readers though. 🙂

    Click here

    Block and The Neverness Hoax recited by SK — oh I would love to be able to hear that.

  26. avatar
    Brien Comerford | 7 March 2008 at 6:20 pm #

    Linda:

    I would not wish my illness on you anyday. The medication causes weight gain. If you go off the medication you become insane. Count your blessings.

  27. avatar
    Anonymous | 8 March 2008 at 8:22 pm #

    O fcandy, it wasn’t a historical reference., I was just thinking of a song:

    “Lenin, he was a good man
    he had a way with words:
    “All power to the soviets,
    less power to the church”

    (Well, let’s forget that last line).

    Don’t remember who sang it (Department S?).

    mime

  28. avatar
    Anonymous | 18 March 2008 at 5:05 am #

    Finally a poem that reads like the man named Steven Kilbey. It can be hard making up something great every every single day, huh?? An Autumnly Preraphaelite man if there ever was such one? Selling spices and trading with the gypsies…..valentinevictorian (me)as she’s gathering black roses for her heavy spilling hair, some for inky tendrils, some for gently pressing, the rest is for the faire….any doe-eyed romantics wanna email me try spiderlace@rock.com


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