posted on November 24, 2015 at 7:22 pm


the numb still contain pain

man i am so fucking sick and its weird here

bad thoughts assail vivid reveries of worlds gone wrong

my guitar done come to life and its throbbing in my hands

all my songs sound like they are coming from the whirlwind

i go in a door like a dream

but the dream also has a door

baby its the path to ruin

the air full with unholy vibration

snapping flash a camera records the deep bass

my dissolving eyes like being underwater

women with children swim by

yeah i’m walking down bream street breathing with my new gills

in an uber on a way to a gig booked one million years ago

one minute the blackest alleys

then noise and colour explodes as we are born into a room of  creatures

someone pushes you forward to meet the queen of all rocknroll

but when you open your eyes…look at you up on that stage..!

here are the guys in another band

a deer a horse a mouse and a crafty fox

octopus manager with a tentacle in every deal

no fuck it but the drums have started up

boom boom bompitty boom boom crash wallop thump boom boom

the wrangler who is the ghost of a girl in a painting

yeah youre on

she smiles and points to the wings and beyond that the dull red lights of the stage

the orchestra hit their stride and the strings give out the smell of sweeping late spring

the thought splinters into inklings running parallel to each other

all outcomes play simultaneously yes its quite maddening

still you take the mic and sing some distant meaningless words that enchant the evening

but its all sucked through times funnel elongating and accelerating into past

i’m slapping an old friend on the back

outside in the carpark daylight threatens to be rubbed back to night

in black drips the twilight paint comes running down a sky

the show is over i been standing here forever feeling sick

a cold thrill travels along inside my spine

my aching axe will not go into its case

i start trying to force it in

and it starts fighting back

oh but where was i..?

doing an interview on a phone

i listen to myself raving on and i plan a revolution

the white screen irradiates its silent scream

i sneeze and i sneeze

and i sneeze up fucked up universes

i dream and out of my pores flows globes of dismal worlds

today all my possibilities are cancelled or put on hold

i have no ins and hardly any outs

temples burning with fever

shadows moving of their own accord





posted on November 8, 2015 at 5:31 pm


i wrote a stupid jokey thing about TOTB some time ago

i dont pretend to know a real lot about tarot really

its out there on the outer edges of my vision alongside astrology

but i believe the cards are getting some good results with people

the cards represent archetypes and/ or symbolise certain attributes

they are always totally interpretable

the man behind this project( is he MEM or the little sighted KP Buk?)

has conceived this deck from a position of real love and enthusiasm

the cards are my paintings and lyrics to go with each card

plus commentary by MEM/Buk

the cards are totally free from avaricious stain

they are purely the wonderful brainchild of MEM

who has judiciously reassembled bits of my stuff

in a way i never would have foreseen

the cards and the lyrics and the commentary

are potentiate signifiers of unconscious or subconscious events

you can possibly probably use them to communicate with the deep you

as well as skilfully applying the symbology to negotiate the universe

the cards are what you make them

if you have faith

if you use them often

if you believe in them and yourself

and you take it all in

i think there will be some very good insight for you

although i myself do not read tarot cards

i enjoy having a deck of them even if just to gawk at some nice objets d’art

you can get a feel

you can learn to jam with the deck

you can play them any old way

like a guitar they can be approached from many angles

individual interpretation is encouraged

there is no right or wrong

MEM has invented many of his own cards

which will not be found in a regular tarot deck

and he has reached back through 35 years of lyrics and hundreds of paintings

and he has felt it out that this is how it would be

his commentary is the binding article that puts it together

some of the meanings of various cards are obvious

others are buried in obscure esoterica

abstract paintings with abstract snatches of lyrics

there is humour too

this is no jumped up high falutin’ be all and end all of tarot

it is an individualistic deck for individualist individuals…

being attracted to it at all is a sign that it would be of use to you

if you just like my work with painting and lyrics

then it is an instant kilbey fix i would have thought

you can dive into that world on a grey day at your desk

or sitting in a park in autumn feeling somethings coming

or on an aeroplane wondering about your destination

pull a card and see what you think

somehow there may be a connection

somehow through a system unbeknownst to me at least

you can figure stuff out that has/is/might be happening

but you gotta put something in

TOTB aint gonna wallop you round with meaning and facts

its gonna insinuate the answers perhaps in your heart of hearts you already know

and so in doing help you actualise the present and future

by giving you confidence in your most secret but judicious decisions

the world works on many levels

i’m in a business where with the aid of wood wires skins and metal

we create music from man made instruments that draw music from the air

it therefore is perfectly coherent to me

that tarot decks can hint of many possibilities to the skilled practitioner

or the maverick geniuses who perceive poetic truths with a little stimulation

for the empath who feels this world thru a thin skin

these cards may speak

to the curious whose ears have been pricked up by this blog

check this stuff out perhaps you have a leaning towards this kind of thing

the deck is constantly evolving and mutating

just like a song changes over a course of performances

the latest deck now contains one of my favourite paintings

which is now recontextualized as the star

it actually is a painting commissioned by ernst kok

and is a painting of neuman from my poetry book earthed

yes neuman is a kind of blond young germanic me

he is holding his syllable gun (whatever the fuck that is)

so you get this card

if you already have the old deck and desire this card

contact MEM and he’ll fix you up with one

so there you kind of have it

its pretty damn special and its very very well done

MEM has paid for and produced the final item himself

an act of faith and putting his money where his mouth is

we split proceedings 50/50

this deck has my blessing 100%

there is no right or wrong here

just an infinite realm of probabilities for you to explore

so it really is whatever you wanna make of it

groove on groovers!






posted on November 3, 2015 at 1:05 pm
trip toe thru the tudors

trip toe thru the tudors

in total darkness shadows hover on the bay road

air conditioners  groaning like trapped female spirits

they seem to me  to hum and scream through the metal meat thin strips

they seem to come alive in our head and above in the trees

whispering please dont go away so urgently

yeah our heart breaks and mends as the road bends to the sea

old white and green sports cars flash past

their dashboard glow a sheen on some rich man show

come on you cant be serious this is obviously a dream..!

says a voice in another room

although our hair is full of salt spray and sand

we followed the laneways down to the ocean

under palms and great pines we sit divining the time

where the beautiful shells groan in the tides

and the great silver mackerel on the breakers he rides

in the darkness the sharks smell us even in our dreams

underwater we flounder  around but on dry dream ground

we are only walking along in a dark night thats all

the traffic lights blurred as though in a cyclone

the rain drop tears hit our lenses like a kiss

a stranger then is at the rail as i stand before the greatest ocean

the deepest the bluest most roiling green and boiling sea

hello you say are you a man or a woman?

well we cant tell we say because i think i am blind

but we sense certain that softness before they step into the lamplit beam

in milky incandescence the effervescing sea sways incessantly

against the sides of our dream

come on follow me it will be too late tomorrow

but we cant even see the moon as it ascends over west endings

a hand in our hand tho down an aromatic path to the cliff tops

a gate leads to the dunes and then the open water

there are rockpools and caves and vague shapes in the waves

here here as you slip into the brine

deliciously cold we are rolled and flung with the surf

later near the trees we light a fire and dry off by a river

traffic slurs over the bridge the red and white lights piercing me

the sultry night begins again to ooze tears of rain

that streak across some thoughtless thoughts we have thought

and your brown limbs grow just a like a tree like a lebanon cedar from distant history

and the stars echo and murmur in the effulgence around your aura

a weird stabbing pain in the head which will come to fill us with dread

mercurial planets hurl themselves around our worlds

when we kiss the dirty feet of the eel we reeled in

pressed against your burning un-human skin

we feel a vibration in the air above begin

the whisky taste of a fiery tongue lightning peels back the sky

my empty pockets are full of the phone numbers of forests

oh baby! we all said as the thunder boom a tremolo doom

its only you and me… we said at the same time

struggling to see yet perceiving still

i will my eyes open

hopelessly unable to filter the dazzling luminescence

back on Patmos… somebody mutters

in an atmosphere of sudden quiescence


what message crackles down the lines overhead..?
















posted on October 26, 2015 at 9:04 pm
kilbey kilbey

kilbey kilbey

theatres casinos clubs and bars and vast open fields

the magical the miracle the molecule the minuscule

music for the warm hearted friends all left behind

springtime a blustery wind unwinds your door

blows you to a parlour where you sulk in your splendour

and pallor

where you soak in the sheets between torn midnight blackening

in the skin of elfin kid soft

hidden in a shell


posted on October 19, 2015 at 8:56 pm
the song righter wrong

the song righter wrong

oh the sea was so warm in the afternoon

drifting in my deckchair i follow all kinds of thoughts

the ideas swimming vanishing appearing whispering names

names of the dead i need to remember sung in a song

swooning in the spring sun a white light has begun

awake in a dream midships  a trireme upon the seas of africa

in the viridian light behind my eyes a field is blooming day and night

scrambled in the rambling ambling time and heather brae billowing hills

i saunter through meadows of milky carnation and emerald clover like green carpet

the mossy tinged basalt cracks like a giantess in stone

the lovely dells air hung with spells

well october is there in the gurgling brooks and all the feathered nests

the jangling seabreeze blowing through old forks and spoons

the washed up nets and sinkers stranded with bottle and cork

the blanched star of bethlehem burning bright in your room of jars

the bladders of wine and the clear flasks of italian water

awaken to the sound of strange birds in the unkept garden

where the twisted sculpture sags nagged down by century rust

where the old ladies dressed in black mourn some martyrs death

the music fills the resurgent thrust of love in wee small hours

then the candle glimmering in sandalwood smoke soaks up the air

and things you will forget when you are gone



posted on October 13, 2015 at 4:01 pm
wide anglo

wide anglo

churning mind teeming with unseemly characters

rummaging in the lives of your acquaintances for warmer temperatures

in cafes and bars along the glittering sea where you are seen

outside the queens arms holding forth passionately in a beer garden

unamazed by burgeoning spring and the romanian girls dangling from your knee

in a fog of despair you go open misere

that is losing everything you feel you must lose even more

hubris you fool maybe the rules are there for a reason

in tropico nights the red lights of a carnival of soul singers

in the pit with the flutes and lutes the cutest honey drones her viola

in the sand with a sandwich you manage to charm poor Venezuela

a stiff drink and a soft bed but a hard head always splitting hairs

you buy em lunch following a hunch of some distant reward

i am floored

soon must come

the bolt

the disc

the mace

or the sword

(hope youre insured)





posted on October 7, 2015 at 11:42 pm
poet moet

poet moet

wandering troupe the players diverse

squeeze into yonder carriage transporting them off

the midgets in their tiny sighs

the giant against the mightiest oak

the lovely ladies of the stages with their graces and cares

the gentlemen of perpetual blues down in the purple seats

in the countryside inn we begin to play ourselves as dinner begins

the clowns who also sing like larks played by a choir of beautiful boys

the darkened voices of the angels murmur then in wonder at some men

the grecian 500 BC play as if fresh from yesterday

before the common era a glory they say more corporeal than today

the chorus tells of the most flimsy wondrous things

like glints of gold in seawater on a fading summer afternoon

the tragedians who stalk the wings dressed in yore costume

the cloak the spur the mace the hound the black swayed boots

lord anybody singing through the forlorn shell of evenings now gone

and thats every evening that there ever was they croon as if from a distant pontoon

and some dying party you once attended down the coast and across the lagoon

dreamer you said come with me there is something that i want you to see and soon

but as the gang fly away we leave it all behind for another day

now everytime i hit the turps and times i find it dilutes my colours grey

lost in a terrible forest during a great storm

a lightning strike which fell down the spine

aligned within the well of stars mars full of black water smiles

a spooky reversal divested of our scripts and songs the floor belongs to no one

hammer oh rain on our heads absolving us of everything

in thund’rous applause the appalling squall descended an unending shriek

in stark gothic limelight the moaning trees creak into the rushing river

the swollen falling water creaming the banks and the flanks of  weeping willows

the devil appears in the shape of white hot heat anxiety nightly between the pillows

surely this is the end of our run

the critics who jeered when learning of our disappearance will hear

the tempest in their headphones implanted in bone

the next day however we awoke to the cheerful chirping of strange birds

absurdly a lovely child has found us

and they come and lead us to their town their somewhere elses realm

so in marvellous old theatres with mirrors and velvet

the tragic story of icarus and his daddy daedalus

oh i do hate to fall down, down even in a dream

the voices all singing incessantly

like a fragment of the great work

a cathedral of sound drowned in echo rebound

your earthquake cold stare at the audience in confidence

we all sing in solemn candlelight throwing shadow the anthem

taking a bow retiring to my quarters

sipping a refreshing cordial setting aside my lyre

and regarding the bouquet from an admirer

among my papers a summons for the players before the monster child king

as the ruling hand among the lands of those who dont or cannot understand

we must obey him

the arduous task to perform the masque he has asked us to do

made up as poseidon astride an elephantine seal

i must deal with zeus deucedly hard in the delicate cadences of zeal

in my card boarded castle just off centre stage

nervously holding the words in my rightly slightly shaky hands

beyond the outside cage of the age

we act out the manifest unrest of a universe from a page








posted on September 17, 2015 at 9:57 pm


an imaginary life superimposition on fabric de la realitie

solemn pillar of smoke rises from our heros joint

seeing things as they are who can trust their eyes

a wasp materialises in my room and climbs inside a solid glass bulb

whispers near my ears in an electronic voice presence

with my rainy tower in the basement

where i type tippity type

in an instant chocolate black magic womens singing

spring has blown open its shoots and out come storms

thrashed and flush with failure successfully endlessly

champion of the downtrodden mountain king Magnus

i am screaming out i am not me

sometimes you cannot move a muscle although you are awake

some say you sleep on in the heart of the land

the traps i set for myself are full and glutted with shreds

ding dong dell pussy’s in the well

little boy blue come blow up your horn

no maybe this has all happened before but still i wont believe it

the ladies in the gallery are all sighing unrequited silences

no violent brute from the future or raving caveman

craving no anonymity however i am given no name

but strong spirits in bottles bubbling to cause their trouble

a little manikin half mortal at the portal to usher blushing panic in

quite candidly i’d pander to you but you’d slander me

in my horrific fucking dreams where you sometimes hide trying to ride it out

in the sentient night which closes in roses thorns and leaves uncertain

curtained against city sky light the shadow of fallow morning

in lovely rooms like the cool tombs beneath a burning desert

we wander i become fonder of my freedom seldom despondent

my hands full of sand and random shells oh well it sells well

the aqua marine drive

neptune street up to dolphin ave

red brick three floors yellow lights  one bedroom windows

no vacancy monsieur

we have rejected this application

we never received any lovely attachment

somehow it was lost

never to be found








posted on September 9, 2015 at 9:09 am
las vegas

las vegas dressing room time:now!

after a million miles on the bus

after the all the bumps and curves and shaking

groaning down the moonlit highway with a trailer full of gear

the music ringing on in my ears forever

i can hear virtually nothing but the ringing

day and sizzling night

my poor shot out ears

i guess its all worth it one day

i guess when i’m home again doing the washing up

i guess when my suitcase expires and all the socks escape

the tour winds around the usa

the deserts the giant redwoods the uninhabited spaces behind my eyes

the whirlwind plunges and lunges forwards

we pull up in some deserted coastal town

where the fuck was that oregon or california

a mexican restaurant and that was it

trudging through nevada 105 degree heat

boutique towns that look like movie sets

the quarries and the cornfields of the flat lands

alluvial plains and bridges and ditches and telegraph poles

the audiences cheer and clap they file in and out of the theatres and gigs

the guitars go back in the cases

the bass waits silently in the darkness

the lights are yet dimmed

the stage lays in black unrealised

the notes and words  all potential

we hit seattle and denver and somewhere else, didn’t we..?

we grab our meals

we slosh down our drinks

we light up a smoke outside in the quiet

we lose ourselves in some song

dislocated by the road

i march into your life and back out again

my voice is uncertain and frail in the small hours

and the distance is always beckoning on somewhere else

i lose contact with the world

i live within this strange waking dream

miles and miles and miles later

ordering a coffee

they ask me for a name

and i look around for what seems like hours

waiting for my name to appear on my lips

waiting for the tour to slow its way to an end

i don’t know anymore




posted on August 30, 2015 at 5:31 am


the tour winds through all these cities

the camaraderie the discussions

get on n off the bus

where can i do yoga?

where can i get a veggie soup?

yeah take pictures with blokes and their wives

yeah sign stuff

yeah do soundchecks

we play in missouri in a big woodchipped yard

we play in urbana in a parking lot

we play in beautiful theatres and huge beer barns

the P.Furs are wonderful and we have meshed together nicely

you gotta love richard butler he’s a classic

i don’t get tired of hearing em either

and sometimes the furs stand there listening to us

richard is quite taken with the disillusionist apparently

they are extremely cool people and we are digging this tour

me, i go out onstage and i just rock out

i have fun doing all those stupid rock poses i do

and i love the elasticity that my constant yoga practice brings

i.e. my knees and back don’t give out as i ponce about lugging the bass

the band are all playing great and we have a great crew

i can’t complain

the long drives are arduous but i sleep

there are some damn nice fans out there who cheer me up everyday

the jazz is good n easy to find

i have one small gin and tonic before i go on and thats it

me n tim try to walk about n get exercise

we are a great band

we still have a lot of good music in us

tonight our own show a sold out theatre in chicago

we doing blurred crusade plus show as per australia

there is still so much left to do and play

still vibed

and feeling hungry for more music

love from the bus parked in a rainy chicago leafy street

bye bye