posted on February 6, 2012 at 8:11 pm

another meaningless caption


you who have wandered this world and sampled its wheres

i speak only silently you may not hear me

over the pounding of the sea in its vessels

the hawkers and sideshows

the taverns by the shore full of drinkers

beautiful women……?

ah just behind the door…..yes….

i implore you to take a moment…

the sun has dazzled your eyes

these balmy climes intoxicate us

it is easy to forget and drift away

in some garden on a hill

in some cenotaph in a lonely park

in some bed in a white room the sun found sleeping

in some ceremony we act out so solemnly behind masks

in some library a living god in a dead language

in some casual conversation with a friend someone overheard

the people by the coast lead such private lives

elephant ear ferns and cool courtyards with pools

the rich merchants dreaming through life after life

the doctors and men of the law

the opulence of their appointments given

the complexity of their arrangements made

the negligence of any doubts cast are cancelled by money

masterpieces casually hung in an emptiest of rooms

instruments hum on in deserted chambers

the nurseries bursting with blooming children and crying flowers

why even the beggars disdain gold on days like these…..!

the fat of our conquests the lean of our defeats

war ravaged lands move in and out of peaces

the kingly class on remote mountainsides

in sackcloth and ashes a procession to the sea

the panels of the university depicting pagan gods

they teach heresy and mutiny and gluttony and lust

this weather is not for everybody….

perhaps some mineral water containing some refreshing salt…?

perhaps a rest in the coolness of a doorway

in the arches of morning you stand weary and small

but in the arches of evening you will loom refreshed

and gigantic….



21 Responses to “byzantine plate”

  1. avatar
    princey | 6 February 2012 at 8:48 pm #

    ahhh, feeling so relaxed after reading that,
    thanks sk 🙂

  2. avatar
    brokentoysandheros | 6 February 2012 at 10:28 pm #

    Very nice….
    I hope u have a clear, clean, productive week.


  3. avatar
    . | 6 February 2012 at 10:38 pm #

    the land of the morning calm quietly knocks on my door
    and i’m reminded of that tiny restaurant by the shore
    where the sand is white and the the trees are sore
    from swaying in the heavy wind, back and forth
    aromatic smells float warmly above the linoleum floor
    condensation collects on an ice cold cup of barley water
    and i enjoy this time of reflection from a well traveled course
    scuffed shoes rest on the other side of the room, well-worn
    my satchel lays against them, full of books and spiritual discourse
    such a simple and humble memory leaves me wanting more
    when there were no politics, no debates, no corruption, no wars
    just a perfect moment that lasted for maybe two seconds…or four
    it’s funny how trivial things stay with you

    • avatar
      ticktockclarice | 7 February 2012 at 8:11 am #

      Ha ha, i love the notion of trees having DOMS (delayed onset muscle soreness) from swaying! You have some fantastic, left-of-centre ideas sometimes (a LOT of times) Dot and i hope that in your “regular” life (whatever that is) your smarts and poetry are appreciated as much as they are here. I love your stuff nearly as much as Steve’s and that’s saying something! As for today’s blog, i don’t get the sense of peace and “in-the-momentness” as some of the other readers. It reminds me of how humanity or empires always come a cropper when they get too greedy, lethargic and apathetic and crumble (much like is happening now of course) but leaves us with hope that they will be replaced by a kinder, more enlightened cicilization eventually. Nice one Steve. Happy day everyone!

      • avatar
        ticktockclarice | 7 February 2012 at 8:13 am #

        That would be CIVILIZATION of course.

      • avatar
        . | 7 February 2012 at 10:40 am #

        and you have a good day as well ticktockclarice

  4. avatar
    BROKEN TOYS AND HEROS | 6 February 2012 at 10:44 pm #

    Very nice…
    I hope you have a clear and productive week, I am beginning to compose my follow up to an instrumental I completed last year (Flowers No More)….
    This new one will be more aggressive , I intend to use my ‘pain’ as my muse.

    So, when do u officially move in to your new place?


  5. avatar
    colette | 7 February 2012 at 4:00 am #

    Your poem is like a cool courtyard or oasis before the madness starts again. Wealth seems to be a recurring theme and I guess for some there is a constancy of income and yet the deprivation gapes. That is not to be envied. That hollow seems bottomless and sometimes I feel drained trying to compensate for it in others and yet I should be grateful for being literally fed. Unfortunately, that’s not for everybody. I am grateful but still greedy for soul food in real life so I return to a courtyard or elevated park with reviving sea air, sometimes alone sometimes with kindred spirits.

  6. avatar
    sea worthy | 7 February 2012 at 7:42 am #

    privacy by the sea, good spirits, finding night friends.

  7. avatar
    andy | 7 February 2012 at 9:34 am #


  8. avatar
    Cocoamo | 7 February 2012 at 1:03 pm #

    If it’s not exactly true that might makes right, this little-known, powerful “Christian” group is convinced rich makes right. Familiar with “The Family”?

    Your Friend in Pennsylvania
    (Now in Cocoa Beach)

  9. avatar
    Anonymous | 7 February 2012 at 2:12 pm #

    there was a time
    when the softly spoken creek would strum for crowds of quailing silhouettes
    and its stones would belly-samba with the fragrant coffee ash and elms
    and the dams would sashay defiantly in shades of indigo quill
    and the dappled penguins would mime their strides on boulevards for the ides of march
    and the gravelled irish rodents would surf the tiamat swells
    there was a time when corpses were bathed in the crevices of dawn
    and the canopies cradled outcasts in the weeping hues of willow
    and the garments of twirling adornment were the currency of desire
    and the washes of flamingos sailed to soothe the petulant artisans
    and the wolverines trailed in paraffin shadows
    where you slither lithe in breath
    where revelry boasts under sleekest halo
    staged in rhythms, gone

  10. avatar
    Anonymous | 7 February 2012 at 5:47 pm #

    was it you who ordered the orchestra
    in the tree
    where leaves sneak their shelter from the bluster
    of stone flakes
    in stillness now, harsher with each pause
    the maelstrom waits
    wearied by the knell of its slain
    by screams from its branded game
    echoing into your mountain as it wakes
    i am here again now, strangely
    on that carcass of a day
    this past sunday, parched and bleeding
    licked again at the embers
    of your body, many bodies, that succumbed
    to a violence met unveiled
    those long conversations on the verandah
    now ashen in palings, as I stand here now
    a lone cicada invites a chorus to cry
    for you my friend
    who died, we can only know
    but hope, without great fear or pain

  11. avatar
    Anonymous | 7 February 2012 at 7:54 pm #

    Kilbey you are a wanker

  12. avatar
    hellbound heart | 7 February 2012 at 8:02 pm #

    lovely <3

  13. avatar
    jipsy | 8 February 2012 at 2:17 pm #

    can you talk me through sum of this yet

    • avatar
      BROKEN TOYS AND HEROS | 8 February 2012 at 10:07 pm #

      How can I or anyone help ya jipsy ….????

      Darrin JK

  14. avatar
    mr more | 9 February 2012 at 7:40 am #

    would be nice to slip into this world now and then in slow motion

  15. avatar
    Anonymous | 9 February 2012 at 9:44 pm #

    It’s spelled ‘wares’, isn’t it?

Leave a Reply

You must be logged in to post a comment.