posted on October 1, 2018 at 9:36 am

64 not out

here I am baby you know where to find me

im back in the USA yeah you gotta be across all that

im in a holiday inn in Long Beach how rocknroll is that?

im playing a rock festival in a few hours oh boy

so old still leading this childish life

hummin’ n a’strummin’ all over gods world

and I like it I like it I like it I like it

here we go o rockin’ all over the world

fuckin’ rock n roll baby hail hail hail

me and my bass yeah

im a dumb ass old rocker going deaf and laying down a riff

starfish the album in its ENTIRE fucking TY

Ploog n Marty long gone I say oh my n a boo hoo

but we got Tim n Haugy n Caino boy those cats sure know how to rock

they make it look easy

thirty years just slipped by in the twinkling of an eye

all that stuff disappeared into times maw

im still here baby rockin n rollin

not yet in ashes or in jail or in some lonely place

still quaffing the applause and drinking limelight juice

still twinkling around that old stagey stage ha ha listen to me

some pale ole Cassius clay spruiking his fading star into the ether

still fuck you’ll miss me when im fucking gone

when I’ve sung UTMW for the final gig n they lay me down in my cheap box

when my voice of ripped velvet is silent

when my nimble fingers are stiff and cold

ha ha ha

no more starfish then

‘less they get a replacement n fuckin carry on with it

good luck to em

and that idiot whoever ever it is replaceth me

good luck old son rock hard and remember to lunge

suffer the slings n arrows of outrageous fortune you ninny

cos being a rocker is the best gig in the world

bar nun


your humble handsome scribe Long Beach cali 30th sept 2018


posted on August 19, 2018 at 10:12 pm


no alcohol beyond this joint

no curtain to blow

no zephyrs to stack

i chase to the cut

what the fuck is that

kero whack

i’m had a drink

i’m a million feet tall

i’m all over town down at town hall

faster than speed faster than bridges

faster than vista faster than slower

my giddy mind of a whorl

i’m a little girl with a grudge

i’m lower case no punk dew australasian

you don’t know what i don’t know

love in gestation above a stationary moon

the womans voice outside the skin of the night

she calling Steef

Steef are you in there tonight

Steef can I have some water

this sea is too salty to drink I think I oughta go

minerva please stay i’m talking to stone here

she say i’d rather play my song on my own here

I stick on music I tear off some art

I run over a number when 12 oclock start

I feel everything too right down to the darkening

deeper than dna the visitors harkening

my dreaming

steef steef wake up i’m leafing

the starz are freezing steef

yes space is for keeping

yet here you are sleeping

we can see ourselves out

its such a long way home but we get there so quick steef

we get there like magic

we get there by stealth

steef we just disappear here and turn up somewhere else

steef I love you and

look we took something

but we gave something too

you’ll find out one day

thats the least we could do









posted on August 11, 2018 at 9:04 pm


after the fire had died down and the ashes cease to glow

Sandbar beach is black against a black sea

the horizon cannot be seen there is no moon in the sky

the shells all jostling in the glassy tide

the trees gently wave along the tiny path

I step behind you blindly in the inky air

in the warm night

the silken thread of a dream

your ghostly back in a one piece navy bathing suit

your spine illuminated from some vague internal luminescence

your chakras zinging

the blood moving around inside you red and blue

you unzip the jungle we arrive at your caravan

you never lock the door

you say there is never anyone here

inside you sit at the table

I sprawl on the bed

the trees gently scratch the roof

its so warm so quiet except for the sound of the sea

you drink from a green bottle of cider

its all so quintessentially Australian its almost unbearable

Kathy, you and I, here in this Australia…

this new Australia

you make a cup of tea on the little stove

the billy whistles

liquorice root and honey

two mugs and some ginger biscuits

you sit down on the bed and give me my cup

we sit there in the silence

a comet rushes overhead making no sound

a creature stirs in the bush some nocturnal marsupial climbing a tree

the blood worms corkscrew in the sand

the trees to the tips of their leaves are all conscious

your face so like my own face

your fading tired face Kathy oh how I love it

the years  have adorned it with lovely lines

and the colour in your eyes has lightened to a soulful pale

you lie behind me kissing my neck

you call this ‘the soothes’

do you want ‘the soothes’ ..?  you’d say

my poor man oh boy he’s had a long day…you’d say…

my poor boy oh man…

you lie behind me whispering things I can’t really hear

the way you’d whisper to a cat or a baby or the way you’d whisper a prayer

the way you’d whisper the names of the devil

or the way you used to whisper the answers during a test in class

the way you’d whisper I love you the first time

the way you’d whisper goodbye the last time

the way our parents whispered when they didn’t want us to hear

Steven are you still awake..?

you were whispering

Kathy i’m here i’m still listening… I say

you talk about the fire on the beach

how those flames roared in the wind..!

how the fire devoured the driftwood and roared for more

armies were marching in the fire on the beach..!

a dog barked miles away in the camping ground

and the wind carried its faint echo to our ears

miles out at sea black whales were moving south seeking cold water

is it too warm for a blanket?

you slipped off your swimsuit and

youre holding me still faintly damp n cool

I’m still fucking tripping..! you said as you wriggled around

me too..! I say and I shudder a little

I’m worn out and I want to go to sleep

we ate and we swam and we fucked on the beach in the black night

we found the wood and we lit the fire

we smoked and we drank and we laughed and we cried

we frightened each other and we begged the other to stop

I kissed her in the darkness and there was nothing to see

her mouth was a portal to some place warm where I felt safe

we sat crosslegged in our bathers as the fire raged in the Australian night

there was no one for miles

the salt had dried on our skins

I could not remember my name

my heart glowed within my chest

where we touched there was an electric blue line

you giggled gleefully like a naughty child as the flames danced and disappeared

and then reappeared from the blackness with a rip

as the fire sank low you lay across my lap and dug your brown fingers into the white sand

there was a splash in the lagoon

a white thin bird arose from its nest with a mournful cry

and we could hear its wings beating in the wild night

out to sea there…a boat..!

no its gone again…

I carry your towel

oh well you are just too kind…you say

yeah sure ha ha

we both laugh

not gonna chuck in the fucking towel just yet…

more ha ha-ing

frogs and insects all start up somewhere out there

the night is alive

our love is deep

the world is enormous yet contained for all of that


you say

one day tell me what happened with those tiny white scars on your back…


I say

quite dreamily

one day

I will











posted on August 8, 2018 at 9:27 pm

king n Eye

in the depths of this dank bar

where the morning never comes

the unimpressionist with my insta memories

knockin’ back a stiff fucken drink

love to hear that ice tinkling against the glass

love to see those dice rolling across years

love to all those people I left behind back there…

little Stella from the tiki lounge

come over here we just gonna get something together

she both exorbitant and free oh boy she looking at me

I reach into my wallet oh no how quick those euros fly

you know me I got friends in all the low places with brutal faces

my city fly by

my universal card admit one free

my smart ticket reduces waiting around

my crumpled white shirt the collars always hurt my soft tan neck

my boots scuffed and scarred

I hit the pavement hard

the ocean has sucked out low

the green moss in the moonlight an iridescent lime

I walk Neptune Street for awhile and then I knock at a door

I go inside and I hand over the cash and I argue with some prick there

he goes away and comes back with it and chucks it at me

we get in Tonys car and drive for awhile

cemeteries and liquor barns and pines and palms

and girls with blonde blonde hair

hey I love this song playing there

Tony is laughing and shrugging

wasn’t that singer the guy Loreen was fucking…?

everybody laughs as we jump out at Tonys flat

Tonys latest flame opens the door and she’s burning hot alright

I sift thru his album collection watching her out the corner of your eye

she’s gliding around the evening like an insolent cygnet on troubled waters

I choose a record by Johnny Consort its as rare as buggery

the songs sound like they’re being played sideways

another smoke another drink another groan

I nearly swoon when I check the messages on my phone

the police found the Golden Fleece and about three keys

I was running a book but they took it with em and had a look

now that they know all the names of the games  its a shame to blame myself

Tonys got nice furniture with its real wooden arms

his fishing rods and his tool kit in the hall

you could envy him this domesticity

his girlfriend and his goldfish

a fridge full of exotic booze

an ashtray from a Melbourne casino and some unusual tongs

his computers screen saver is a still from that film we saw

its the aliens and the earth and the only gun that can kill em

my green drink swims before my eyes in between gulps

I get out the stuff and we all make a dive

little Stella is pretty greedy as she takes it all in at once

tonys more experienced and careful

his gaze never wavers as he figures it all out

the other 2 whose names I don’t know show up

and Tony lets em in and they got gossip and vicodin

the guy used to play guitar on a stage

the woman was lovely before age froze her down to her toes

she used to strip n play bongoes

in the long ago

I step outside into the garden for a breather

either you can hear the sea from here

or that shell im holding to my ear is well ringing

someone inside is singing that song again as little Stella cried

Tony comes outside

and says give us a hand

he shook his head n said the internet just died

I sit there staring at the grass pushing up through the sand

a block of land for sale next door

nah not me mate i’m too fucken poor

still it’d be nice to live next to Tony down by the shore…

his girlfriend comes out and lights up a cig

in the glow of the mosquito coils her nose looks kinda big

she says tonys crashed out for the night do ya wanna bet

and she changes the for sale sign


to let 








posted on August 6, 2018 at 1:46 pm

I coulda been a rhythm guitarist (sigh!)

true believers will already know

ramp speed 25


precious little

and precious little


baby grande

and baby grande

just begat an album out soon on ho-zac records

an American company specialising in stuff like this

whatever baby grande actually is

well its me singing n writing all the songs

Peter Koppes is on some of these tracks but not all

I sometimes play a bit of guitar n synth

but mainly I just sing…although thats using the word sing rather loosely

I imitate a load of other singers in my outta tune flat manner

the lyrics are a fucking giggle

ie the very inexperienced me singing about things I knew very little about

ie drugs women touring show biz dominatrices money stardom scandal booze life

for christ sake I still have never visited a dominatrix in all these years

(although I had one living in my house with the studio in Surry Hills in the nineties)

all delivered in a glam affected sneery silly manner

the guitars chug along and solo like fuck

look theres one good thing about this record

hats off to the geeza who did the mastering job

cos these songs come from a bunch of cassettes from 1974 75 76

different sessions some in big studios

some in Canberra in a 4 track home made jobby studio

and it lo, sounds ok

you’ll find glimpses of yer future humble hero

in songs like as

As Above So Below

god never looked so lovely

on such a moonlit day

all milky incandescence 

all girlish gaunt and grey

other lyrics will have you squirming with embarrassment

the inanity is not hard to find

I didn’t turn into myself until 1977 when I got the 4 track

at my leisure and playing everything then…

you can hear some fragments that remain of my 77 to 80 period

it was the diametric opposite of baby grande

more like an Eno early solo album or something

here I turned into me

some of this music is available on artefacts 

and freaky conclusions and even bits on unearthed

meanwhile someone out there is gonna fuckin’ love baby grande

some wag will pronounce it my finest work

and look it certainly rocks in its own relentless thrust

you know ya gonna have to buy it now ha ha

a true completist gotta have this

its hilarious its stupid its wilfully stupid in fact

its that awful must -have you simply must have

I did write one good song for baby grande

bel air

Peter suggested we do it when we put the church together

we also played around with as above so below

anyway coming soon

whether you want it

baby grande

and yes I give this record my blessing

I think you’ll get a kick out of it

ha ha ha





posted on August 2, 2018 at 9:43 pm


how stupid I look at 4 am when the light comes on in my dream

a hand touches my eyes to stop me seeing

a winged creature seems to leave the room

disapproving mirror swirling like a silvered sea

how abruptly and subtly it confronts me

a shunt for my girls spines

and all the uncollected fines

signs of earlier civilisations lately vanished

crooked wicked blinded deafened

struggle to recognise the eyes misprinted in typeface

ink pours outta a printers mouth

my brushes and my crayons

lay on a lushes ray on a ruin

the Demi gods tower: lemme get back t’ya in an hour

the marble hall of Jupiter: loop it a bit better

make it wetter

better get a sweater

Juno she is Hera

accepts anything as an offering



posted on August 1, 2018 at 7:37 pm


within the hour

upon your return

I have fallen asleep

in some kinda hypnagogue

colder than fire

the stories of your earth

the many meanings of each word you ever uttered

the singing of the spear through my ears

the trident in the sea

my brown arms on your white sands

a shadow blots out a sun

a minute becomes a day

a fortune turns into a debt

a night in each life

a life in each night

star fragments

the illusion of the universe in a dirty puddle

the memory of another mind

the taste of another tongue

another god to worship

another slave to admonish

I walk through brilliant nights and stupid days

too good for this hell


too bad for that heaven

you never get used to the black sea and the black sky

wherever it is they meet I wish I now was

they will meet me there

surely to be waiting for me

nothing left to take

nothing left on offer

and when you’ve suffered sufficiently

and when you’re largely forgotten

and your flowers wash into the pool

then spirit  I will envy you




posted on July 27, 2018 at 10:22 pm

the underworld

sing now muses

sing of forever but sing now

sing of Persephone and her time in the gloom

Look Zeus

is taking the sky

Poseidon the sea

but everything else comes down underground

Hades to thee

Pluto with his gold in the coldest room

there is no breath no life

the king of shades took his wife from a billowing earth

he took her down black corridors

showed her exactly what she was worth

grim son of a titan him

with all this wealth you sat there with her beside you

and winter wracked our dreams

and soot blackened our hands as we put things back

the treasure you will never now spend

trinkets from some Etruscans tomb

the skull of a deer dipped in silver

basalt vases of dead flowers by the still black marble pool

a spear from Abyssinia  feathered and lethal

the dead need no armour

we shadows can never be cut

in a place with no morning

we fade into nothing






posted on July 22, 2018 at 7:08 pm

spirit = breath

penumbral music oozing from a cracked day

the frogs and the crickets

wade through my life as a marsh

the cranes and egrets

lost by the sea me as a boy

oh its getting so dark so quickly

oh my sinking spirits

the emptiness at my very heart

from where the night seems to spring forth along with little stars

someone has to take it all away

they call you in for dinner somewhere

but you aint there

the islands against the evening

the glittering ships out to sea full of wild eyed sailors

the silver jets flown through the Sydney skies in some stratosphere

their suave pilots who navigate the thin air

I have heard its so cold up there without their suits

still I am lost on this wild cliff and I can’t get home

still I don’t seem to understand any of it at all

because it all seemed mad right from the very start

the whole history of everything

one stupid blunder after another

the villains prosper and the good guys strung out and wired

my god I am tired and lost in this dismal fog

oh I bet they must wonder where I am tonight

and yet sadly I think they might not wonder at all

a voice next to me says: no wonder at all

when I walk out of the trees on a strange avenue I never saw before

the lamplight in the wind blowing about the light

my cold hands in icy pockets and cool rays emanating from the moon

the cars are all so indistinguishable just black blurs in my blind spot

the numbers are all mixed up on the darkened houses

the vegetation all writhing in the blue light of my eyes

the voice beside me: you’re lost ha..!

all the terrible things I have done have surely caused this I reason

all of it led me here to this street with its undulating weeds

and the bats overhead chattering their fucking heads off oblivious to my peril

im just another stupid boy lost on Sunday night on some oceanic boulevard

yeah the palms and the pines that line our fair streets stretch on into distance

the gates are all locked the windows are all barred

no one is home in all the world

they’re all lost out there

I inhale my night back into my lungs

revealing a vivid soft tender morning so new and unintimidated

and a new song which was home

for awhile








posted on July 21, 2018 at 10:44 pm

you are my sunshine

I was colonel light

baptised in a rushing sea

the fish beneath me

the clouds above me

the silver shells that lose their shine in the air

the aquatics that populate colder southern waters

the marine creatures I had imagined would be there

I could breathe under that water

and I spoke to eels and the snakes

as I raced towards the surface my gills bursting with air

the sails were filled and we skimmed

the watery drops sang in my earrings

my fingers caught in their own webbing

and I went smashing across the waves

as the sea poured into my throat

and the salt entered my eyes

a delicious dimness then filled me

numb and alone

I saw a grey bird fly overhead

up in a sky that was stretched canvas across a horizon

the fishermen and the rocks

then something has hooked me and im being pulled along

you struggle against the hurt but the barb in your mouth

they let me run then they jerk me back

im being played on my own line

I land in the sand at the foot of the bed

the rain is inside and I sit up laughing

the watercolours are running down the wall

words are leaping out of the typewriter

the bass guitar is vibrating in its case angrily

a plane flies right over Coogee in the darkness

in my drowning dream where I struggle against the torrent

the backlash of a dam

the northwind tore the songs from my hand and cast them swirling away

a net contains me

I cannot save the whole world from sinking

they try to make me but I cannot go on

thats enough then they say

let him wake up they say

I look in the mirror but you never do

you never really wake up

you never really want to

I shrug my shoulders down on earth

I pull on an old coat like a ripple at a jetty

I see almost eternity in the dawn of another night

in the stones by the pools

in the song of the seal

in the memory of a lock

in the clutch of flowers

in some other language

some other sunday

where men wonder

and there is no release