posted on April 8, 2014 at 9:49 pm

sprook it boyo

a few years back i had my second art show in pittsburgh USA

the thing was that were paintings and there was a little poem for each one

although many are not little poems as i have rambled on and on

i reached into each fucking painting and i wrenched the poem right out it

and then i recited or chanted them or half sung them to a bunch of ambient tracks

until now these tracks were only available as a box set containing post card sized prints

the boxes were individually handmade by our own holly

if you have a box set look after it they are now scarce

i dont even have one myself anymore

i wonder where it is..?

anyway we decided to make the poems available as a 20 dollar download

with 19 tracks bursting with wonderful poetry thats good value you poetry fiends

poems rambling and roaming all over my psyche like a herd of phantom buffalo

daydreaming out loud this is automatic and manual labour of love

this stuff here is like me whispering all this stuff in yer ear

as if i was actually here

the words are divinely inspired a little tired

divinely insipid hellishly tepid

the words fall out of your sky

but you hear them first hear

a must for all fans of all ages and all errors

poetry that will have zebras changing their stripes

leopards in tight spots will cheat a bit

the poetry written by stars and jaguars recited by the rain

poetry for every time and place

the grapevine rag

a wags guide to words

my poetry streams out around me like tendrils in ethers

it will fly to you across the internet

a column will change somewhere

and then the poetry unleashed flying out from me here

to you there it wings its way with winged words

juicy austerity i juggle the paradox of our lives

i decide which poem live and die

i in my poem coming through the wires to tell you something

poetry on tap got poetry if you really want it

sexy sad poems about tigers in cities away in a jungle

yes theres buddha theres daddy theres lou lou theres tiger

lonely city where are you with a love so rare and true?

forget the old testament

this is the brand new testimonial

my own arc of the cover-note

see me free the music from my bass and hear me declaim it hear

poems for the future or poems of the colourfast past

dream poem reverie severing real life

beneath the thin veneer of poet i am a peruvian which doctor

and the thousand eyes of the night are fluttering and bugging out

my poems now come to you of their own accord

breeding poetic thoughts in your fertile feverish mind

here as a true poet

here is a true poet hear

hymn to old school new school

the travelling poems of paintings themselves in cognito ergo sum

poetry to baffle you and hassle you and ignore you when you want it

poetry you could have waited for and never heard before

you will love it you will want it you will have to have it!

why why why are you way way way waiting

hot poetry going so cheap i wonder how they can write em for just over a dollar each

wow poetry so good and well made

the beauty and all that stuff will probably never fade

poetry get it now here hear!


posted on March 27, 2014 at 8:11 pm
           who profits

who profits

i dont like the old testament it frightened me as a child

a vicious old bishop promising a 7 year old hellfire

a jehovahs witness selling armageddon rags at the door

the israelites a problematical bunch

i mean i started out wanting to cheer them on

but i find them a barbaric brutal slippery stupid crowd

if they are the chosen people i dont want to be chosen

if thats the best old jehovah could come up with

a whinging whining bunch like all the others

why should i be happy when jericho falls down?

or the philistines get their dicks cut off (J asked for this!)

whats it got to do with me these garbled old fables?

its not that i mind them so much in themselves

but silly people interpreting this stuff literally has been a bane to this earth

the popes and bishops have used this tripe to murder you and me

this ugly old hopeless myth of big old nasty jehovah the jealous geezer

has been used to kill and tax and torture and molest us common people

since the day this malarkey was first adopted by the first ever pope

and…have they ever apologised for the murder and mayhem?

no they just go on pretending theyre holier than thou when the truth is in front of your nose

jehovah is a tent god invented by a middle eastern tribe millenia ago in a brutal past

i ask you is this character consistent with your vision of this world and its beauty?

how can a holy book contain such a load of superstitious mumbo jumbo and violent claptrap?

and how can people living in the 21st century give any credence to these myths?

the silly stories and borrowed bits…half of it nicked from other is beyond belief

the dopey idiotic episodes one calamity after another

everything jehovah touches turns to death and destruction and plagues and warts

look what he does to job? does anyone here condone that?

fuck youd be better off under lucifer another imaginary cat

these 2 fictional constructions straight out of a badly written sci fi cheapie

battling it out for our souls…gimme a break!

and you go to hell unless you “believe” in Jehovah the jealous geeza

unless you “believe” in him you will go to hell

well that makes perfect sense doesnt it?

do you “believe” in him?

you better or you’ll jolly well go to hell, forever!

and thats a long time, my little pigs.

And dont go blaming Jehovah for this mess

its all that cunning Lucifer that rascally angel

I mean Jehovah made him and all and knew itd all end in tears

i mean Jehovah could presumably squash old Lucy pretty easy one would imagine

and let the rest of us off the hook

why wait till judgement day…?

on judgement day Jehovah will call my name

or i expect one of the helper angels will:

steven john kilbey eh? tell me. did you believe in me?

um, errr no sorry Jehovah but if…

Sorry son its off to hell with you even though you werent very naughty really


the whole damn thing is so incredibly silly

it really doesnt warrant me wasting anymore time demolishing a cobbled up book of old tent stories

not very good or interesting stories that dont seem to have much morality or anything

i come away disliking jehovah and his chosen people equally and contemptuously

bollocks! i say

the real god is the opposite of all this

he contains every single desirable quality and attribute

this stupid bible has put people off the real god

these stupid buildings with their stained glass miseries

these corrupt and lecherous popes and priests

the disgusting destruction and pillaging of the new world

all sanctioned by this twisted misunderstanding of a load of old stories

this is not god

it is man at his worst

christ was a cool cat and everyone here knows i dig him

why do you have to gild the lily and make him more than that?

its all accretion written after the fact.

made up by a pack of blokes in silly gowns who wanted to control you and me

and they have wreaked havoc on this world with this ludicrous book

good book..?

what good has it ever done anyone?




posted on March 26, 2014 at 6:07 pm
              bye jove

bye jove

i am the mad poet created from the.saurus and DMT

my mind is a bookshop

all the pages missing

only the titles and pictures remain

oh magical realism the tree boughs

i am a useless genius borderlining stupidity and saga-city

my concentration is shot put there by god

my own sweet private god

god of flowers god of rivers

god of beasts god of peace

eden penetrated by that old snake

i wont make that same mistake

in the formlessnesses  before today

i dreamed i was a man in a forest

i talk with great spirit pervading every single thing

you and i and you and i and you and i and

i walk in glimmering groves for everything is sacred

nothing is disincluded

i am primitive man amped up on future now

i simmer and pop in the glades where aya whispers

i coca leaf and indica and treacly oozing poppy

i working class war locked wizard nowaday powerless

the absence of god makes me cry although god is already there

in the heart of every little fish

in the heart of every little stone

your world is sin phoney and out of alignment

your holy books are full of hate i laugh in their general direction

we are all chosen people but chosen for what?

we chose it all ourselves

god is very kind he says

go ahead be steve kilbey

go ahead be john h citizen

go ahead be a fucking water buffalo or a black cat

god give me what i ask for

in a secret place

where i cannot myself hear

what it is i ask of my god

god has no pope presiding over torture and cruelty

he has no truck with missionaries spreading stupid stories

everyone has their own story

my story is my forest and my god and someone i was a long time ago

when i moved through these trees i see before me in a reverie glow

my head outlined in the fires shadow

my feet hundred miles below







posted on March 22, 2014 at 8:30 pm
 the poet lionised

the poet lionised

i fell such a long way to be with you

my night was a slide

something on the billowing pillows made me drown

my gambit becomes my sacrifice

i lose the game

i renounce the crown

i drove through the rain

i ascend to my chamber hands and head full

the photograph of a magical naughty boy in a field of nude women

wow my clock is beating slow

the thunder was a relief grumbling over the sea

sleep trampled blackness as i go down into the waiting dream

theyre all there waiting for me

i can never rest wherever i am

i run through a jungle night

this is all taking too long

all the drugs have surely burned my brain

why do i run?

who do i fear?

but i’m working working working in my dream

running around fixing everything that starts to break all over again

envisaging mars i trip over pluto

thirsty and tired i am so persecuted invisibly

i meet a lovely woman although she is just a dream

sweet woman take me in please take me in

yes she is a foreigner and she beckons aloofly

i cant get a fix the smoke will not come

i’m so busy my legs are so aching

i run and i go nowhere at all

i struggle and moan caught in an unseen chain

the nectar boils over

the sweet honey love maker has gone

i know a word to say to get me out of this room

i try to remember the word and i try many others

i can never capitulate

anxiety pursues me with its nameless shadows

the numbers come up

the credits omit my names

the centuries roll on burying us under them

everything i said was true or coming true

look no further

everything you see in front of you

is me




posted on March 20, 2014 at 3:12 pm
mesquite roulade

mesquite roulade

gazelle i can tell youre sad

the world has been bad to you

it clipped your delicate speed

my steed indeed

wandering west minstrel

the falcon at your behest now astride your breast

the herald of arms

your plume calms the entire empire

columbine supine i speak of jesus at the well

i could not tell his hands were so like my own

the nail the finger the palm overhead

plunging snake neckline like magdalena obscura

hemmed in by horizons and sea bed

great god who moves within everything

great god who moves outside everything

a storm blowing through the tatters on the line

a feeble fist beating on solid iron seam

here where the nimbus salt falls in crystal rain

the whirling fires lift up into the sky

a lion roars on main street

there is a whisper curdling in your phone

in the static you will decipher the cypher of the drone

god is speaking everywhere at once

his voices drown out the silences an ounce

…before the bounce






posted on March 17, 2014 at 9:12 pm
across my desk

across my desk

when the unthinkable happens and the earth flies off its course

we go careening through space taking our bad atmosphere with us

cities spin round on whirling tectonic plates

great criminals escape their madhouses killing every path in their one

the dislocation of the oceans and Miami and Odessa collide

we the lamb-killers pray for mercy but the sky is upside down

we who slaughtered the trees find no shade

we who mined the deep dirt find no hole will swallow us

your bible and your jehovah have remained mute for 2000 years

but you used these stories to justify the killing of things

i am ezekiel now and i predict a torment without end

fear and anxiety and  great upheaval

in my head i saw a vision

a man with a thousand tongues spewing blasphemies

each curse uttered shattering the stars themselves

he strides through this land offering you deceit

come he cries we must make a great war

only through war can mankind be purged

our enemies are endless

their plots are manifold

we must strike and strike and strike

we will bring a civilisation to these brutes

unchain the hyaenas on them

unleash a flood of misery

bring on fire that burns and does not stop

the giants hands rummaged around in buildings

flinging the screaming occupants to the buckling roads

vicious winged lizards filled the air and made vision impossible

no sweet child or lovely thing could be saved

drunk on the underground oil of the nations

the rancid breath of the slaughterhouse clogs earth’s lungs

we shalt have more jails

for all our new prisoners

we shalt have hooks and knives and harpoons

we will probe the inside of the mind and discover new crimes against man

in humanity’s name this jungle shalt die

all its animals will burn

all its secrets will be revealed and dissected

and then the hideous one cast his single bird eye towards me

there was no hiding from its penetrating gaze

and it pulled out all my dreams and memories and cackled in delight

in its mocking scorn and its wicked trespasses

but what did i do ? i whispered as it devoured me

swallowing my life and nullify all hope

what did i do?

and its voice came from very far away

and now it was soft and sad

and it said


you did nothing








posted on March 2, 2014 at 3:15 pm


a seer with impaired visions

a corrupt trumpet of half truth

an anterior temple hidden in the rain

the dripping trees the ripening grapes

the murmuring clowns waiting in the garden

the machine like chirp of the birds outside said verlaine

the hieroglyph inflicted on the pond water skin is in Gentian blue

the stain of the pattering rain is pierced through the hide inside the water

the undulating curve of the sunken arc submerged in shallow pool

the arrows of the deluge infused with confusion and disinclusion

the spears and lances who took your advances for retreat

in afternoons of salted caramel sanded rock and road

the drizzle of autumns second day swallowed up everything

and we sleep

posted on February 26, 2014 at 7:03 pm


the mystical deepening evening

thought appears out of mind

i wander around but a hard rain comes down

stranded on the beach i hide in a green moss lined cave

for weeks i survive on fresh water and fruits of the angels

alone except for the ever wheeling stars and birds of the air

alone except for schools of bright fish who dart in the rivulets

the rainbow pools a glowing world

meditating on christ meditating on buddha

feeling of sudden warmth

outside the trickling of water over rocks

meditating on ahimsa with my DMT gland

once a great healer playing himself over and over

sometimes his strength is his weakness

incarnation over and over playing himself every time

the rolling rumbling thunder rolls away and away

lightning so white so electric white sharp on grey

billowing shifting waves

graves of brave sailors

damascus turn around

the old low down

trembling lamb

i am i am




posted on February 16, 2014 at 9:57 pm
music from your forgotten dream

music from your forgotten dream

in some fevered forgetful state i record snippets of music

after all logic can do anything and so can i

but mostly i’m leaning towards music from an ancient world here

stories from harsh and glorious times transmitted to me

through the haze of my present incarnation

music is ready to be created

you can be focussed or you can just go with it

music and logic are just toys to me

in some dream i plug in and i record music buried in amnesia

stoned crazy dream music from my deep past bubbles to the top

visions anchored in a pool of vague memory

its 2014 and i am everyman on the edge of everytown

this gadget that creates music i come to it and i fool around

i just start anywhere i like

and sometimes its happy and sometimes its sad

and sometimes its so full of conflicted feelings

music and words are always there

they fall out of the sky whenever i want whenever i dont want

music from ancient civilisations baby as well as cute pop songs

music from the dim remote interior locked up from us

but nevertheless trickling out

music oozing out of the atmosphere from other places

foundering its way into logic and then unlocked by me

miscellaneous sparks from miscellaneous fires

every style no style

vienna parades by

and then Alexandria in her former glory

i compose those stories written as music

i start and i stop and i leave off

and i rediscover

religious order gives way into chaos

the centuries roll on

the guitars scream oh i dont know

its just kilbey in his bedroom and hes got some new music

hes trying for that biblical sound

the sound of some phoenician blues band

music songs words fragments of a vase

music from the morning of the earth

some stuff we just made up

alices poison became  bittersweet in strings and spades

find the pathos in anything boy i tell you

and then i believe it all myself

i knock out music and i do

music knock me out sock it to my jawbone song

swing on lightly by

music from the moon

kilbey in his room again

knocking out a song or two

half finished half forgotten

ssshh its late at night he works in the light of logic

working playing singing but not saying

it doesnt matter

miscellanaea swirls around my fingers on the keys and frets

whatever all these instruments are in the banks of sounds

i dont know what i’m doing

its glimpses of something

its bits and pieces of all my lives here and there

some words too but much more music

music which aims to be mostly strange to provoke some thought

which will someday mean something

even if not now

from the rich eventful past of sound trumpets fanfare in suite garden song form

thanks to all the people who bought MISCELLANAEA

and made it my fastest selling record to date







posted on February 11, 2014 at 8:00 am
bad to the bone

bad to the bone


The ruins of cities lie in ashes or sunken in lakes

A glacial fault opens up the tundra and wonder…Byzantine judders!

A ship goes down on razor teeth reefs beyond belief

The staring crowd in white pancake quite the face ache

Theyre looking for someone to cut off their head it is said

The greedy villains and dogs of disdain again… oh the pain!

Cheering on the dumb hero who slays knights and days

War comes to Africa through Egypts back door

The vultures crooked cat and claw

Telambi was singing her million songs writing any wrongs

Jungle creeps around sleeping sickness the thickness of stone

Which doctor will it be … the hyaena man or silent tree?

And everything unravelling unseemingly

We just lay here in the subconscious realm no one at the helm

We falter senselessly

We sense falteringly

Something out there bearing down

Tearing down this pageant of tents

A defense of magic

We are born again and again and again

Moving upstream through a river of men