posted on March 28, 2007 at 8:53 pm

i dont have any answers my lovelies
own-lee questions questions questions
questions on toppa questions
but not one
not one miserable excuse for an answer
f’rinstance yessaday
i was standing in a queue
it could have been a line
except it was between 2 “straight” points
i decided to measure the various radii
of vicious circles
and had enlisted the aid of a man from the cycleshoppe
he made rolls
he made me so angry
people i was confused by my pi and source
my little pigs you know im no good with somes
have i told you about my numerical blindspot
its between 1 and 100
cant see those nombres approaching hombres
im so mixed up with arithmetic and algae bra
it sure doesnt make me want to multiply baybee
slam those digits together olde sk
whats a few thousand here or there my sun
take it out on me mama
soon i was into a long division
down n down i went
a vulgar fraction of my former selves
entering the sub atomic kingdoms
a micronaut
hold me closer tiny sailor
on each electron there whirls planets
each planet peopled by civilisations
rising and falling like my true loves breast
in the morning
each of their microns peopled by teeming universes
and down and down and down
i ve been a criminal in a million sub-cosmos
smaller than a bees dick
shrinkman shrink
on minute world# 131313
i met a manne
a meta-man you could say
i was certain he had an answer on him
or at least a vague guarantee
he said
everything is indeed relative
we are all hewn from starflesh
that kind of thing
the sky in this world was rapscallion purple
illuminated by rapid pinks
underscored by reluctant blue
the meta-man gestured heavenwards n proclaimed
the accident was planned
the plan has gone awry
one little part of the scheme is off the beam
it would seem
hey wiseman dont sling me no jive i sneered
ive come here for some answers
you see way up there in the big world
well people are floundering in a sea of nescience
drowning in uncertainty
the gossip mags the fluoro lites
the sirloin stakes thru their hearts
their veins clogged with thickening muck
the residue of the beasts fear
how can they hope to know….?
war pestilence famine death
same old same old but suddenly new
what can you do?
what can i do?
here the meta-man paused
and his 3rd eye was fixed on my soul
you, like dante
have journeyed deep into the abysm
you have fallen small among us
and then
a trapdoor in the pavement opened up
and a hand handed him a note
the note said
please tell steven kilbey
he left home today without his lunch!
i was filled with dread
sitting in the darkish classroom while a storm raged outside
with all the other kids
i could smell that banana-ey lunch box smell
as the kids took out their sandwiches
mm jam sandwiches said wendy fuller
i groped the little buckles on my satchel
but my heart dropped as i found it devoid of lunch
suddenly my dad appeared
in his suit
framed in the doorway of the classroom
looking oh ever so handsome
steven kilbey! calls out mrs mcginnis
and im so happy that my dad is here with my lunch..
but dad takes me out into the empty corridor
we hear the rain tap tap tap on the iron roof
the windows awash with water reveal a stormy afternoon
listen says dad
im not really yer dad
im that meta-man sent here
to fetch you
cos youve drifted off on a tangent
take my hand…..
no i like it here i cried and backed away down the corridor
you cant stay here said the meta-man
its 1960…..
i went n sat back down with the other kids
but everything was silent
there werent any kids
only their shadows
the rain had stopped
the lights faded down
alone
again
naturally

48 Responses to “dont look here….the jokes in your hand”

  1. avatar
    mattdavison | 28 March 2007 at 10:32 pm #

    sk ‘goodmorning
    Tell us whats happining with the church. The other guy’s?? How is marty and the boy’s. What’s the plan for the next few years.

    I would love to see the band release the next single live on a podcast around the world..It’s a great way to grab big exposure before a tour or around a new album release.

    Are you gonna do another isidore with jc?? caus man it is truely u-believeable.

    Just thought I would ask some questions for once…If I e-mailed ya, ya might leave me waiting a while. How about some exclusives over here at the TB.
    m

  2. avatar
    damien | 28 March 2007 at 10:32 pm #

    Wow! Quite a moving piece today, Mr K.

    I was never any good at maths either! 😉

  3. avatar
    Anonymous | 28 March 2007 at 10:33 pm #

    you mentioned something about ‘starflesh’ perhaps you could just tell some stories about ‘ starfish ‘ boring

  4. avatar
    Daberhasher | 28 March 2007 at 10:35 pm #

    wicked wicked wicked you clever little bugger, and gilberto oh sully van to boot… what a treat… and who doesn’t remember that pervasive and elementary lunch box smell?
    we’re all alone….

    love,
    ee

  5. avatar
    Centuryhouse | 28 March 2007 at 10:37 pm #

    No real comment other than to say I liked it 🙂

  6. avatar
    Chela | 28 March 2007 at 10:46 pm #

    You just so completely freaked me out!

  7. avatar
    Anonymous | 28 March 2007 at 10:51 pm #

    ps* I did read the blog, and quite captivating…What less could you expect eh!
    I was forteen years away from this world in 1960. but somehow just ended up there.

    mattdavison

  8. avatar
    Anonymous | 28 March 2007 at 10:53 pm #

    Nostalgic pbj

  9. avatar
    the dean | 28 March 2007 at 10:55 pm #

    before and after science(class)

  10. avatar
    stealthblue | 28 March 2007 at 11:00 pm #

    That was…spookishly cool. Liked the banana-ey smelling lunch box bit! I remember that well, except, I seem to remember a lot of peanutbutter-ey smelling days from the constant PB&Js on good old plain white bread…with the crusts cut off. (I still love them though, go figure, except now I dig the crusts too, and on whole wheat!

  11. avatar
    CAPTAIN BEYOND | 28 March 2007 at 11:01 pm #

    alone again naturally, sounds scary to me, me am sick of being alone me esskay, me am sick of all YOU’ALLS’ tricks…
    mjnjr

  12. avatar
    captainmission | 28 March 2007 at 11:04 pm #

    ah yes that was a poetic journey, along such paths and labrynths and then a little melencholy ocean and to a strange island we all recognised. lovely, safe travels.

  13. avatar
    kat | 28 March 2007 at 11:09 pm #

    wierd in a great way! hold me closer tiny sailor.. heh

    ;]=~~

  14. avatar
    veleska1970 | 28 March 2007 at 11:19 pm #

    math was always my waterloo. i excelled at everything but that one. **bleh**

    interesting reference to the four horsemen of the apocalypse. are we in the end times? indeed.

  15. avatar
    JJ | 28 March 2007 at 11:22 pm #

    I can remember those school daze, and mind-travel back there on occasion. Indelible memories.

    Questions/Answers….I like that bit in the Fabs anthology where Lennon went up first in Sexy Sadie’s Rishikesh helicopter ’cause he thought Maharishi would “slip him the answer.”

  16. avatar
    knot helping | 28 March 2007 at 11:32 pm #

    Holden: You’re in a desert, walking along when –
    Leon: What one?
    Holden: What?
    Leon: What desert?
    Holden: Doesn’t matter what desert it is, it’s completely hypothetical.
    Leon: Well, how come I’d be there?
    Holden: Maybe you’re fed up. Maybe you just wanted to get away from it all. Anyway. You’re in a desert, walking along when you look down and you see a tortoise, Leon. It’s crawling toward you.
    Leon: What’s a tortoise?
    Holden: You know what a turtle is?
    Leon: ‘Course!
    Holden: Same thing. So you reach down and flip the tortoise over on its back, Leon.
    Leon: Do you make up these questions, Mr. Holden? Or do they write ’em down for you?
    Holden: The tortoise lays on its back, its belly baking in the hot sun, beating its legs trying to turn itself over but it can’t. Not without your help. But you’re not helping.
    Leon: WHAT DO YOU MEAN, I’M NOT HELPING?
    Holden: I mean you’re not helping, Leon.

  17. avatar
    Anonymous | 28 March 2007 at 11:40 pm #

    1960, I wonder if that was the year the photo of you and skippy was taken (from Freaky Conclusions), I always think of that photo when you write about yourself as a little boy. You look so cute but SO cheeky, I’d love to know what you were whispering to that poor roo, the look on it’s face says it all..ha ha!

    Love always,
    Amanda

  18. avatar
    Leelinau | 28 March 2007 at 11:52 pm #

    Those vicious circles will
    getcha everytime.

  19. avatar
    mr nobody | 29 March 2007 at 12:09 am #

    in your hands
    in your head
    in your heart
    in the sky or a blog
    i was everywhere you’ve looked
    and nowhere where you thought
    you were ever going to find ‘me’

  20. avatar
    PAGEY | 29 March 2007 at 12:15 am #

    your story reminds me of something that happened to me yesterday which involved my father coming to rescue me. LOL. Really.

    I was over in North Vancouver about 30 clicks from where I live, the day before payday. I had cut up my credit cards 2 months ago and had only 10 bucks in my wallet.

    So me and a friend were going for a bite to eat. I parked the car and popped the trunk for my friend wanted to store his bag. Car running we jumped out of the metal beast, the focus and not thinking i locked the keys in the car with the car still running.

    No money for a tow truck rescue i had to call my Dad who had the spare set of keys. My car sat there idleing for about an hour as Dad raced across the city to save me, yet again….thanks Dad

  21. avatar
    ~ | 29 March 2007 at 12:20 am #

    velvet pinks
    ocean blues
    ultra violets
    infra reds
    all true colours
    also
    dull yellows
    sour greens
    muddy crimson

    sarcasm to friends
    bout bbqs
    yes I have been off and on but have been off for long time
    my partner won’t
    compromises I never should have made
    like
    ads for outlaws dealership
    I stuck up to them when they offered the lexi
    drive a subaru
    always happy to piss them off
    they made me hate a Hawaiian vacay
    two weeks of misery in paradise
    I caved about the photography tho
    never said I was perfect
    said only was perfect for you

    my father has been killing himself
    for as long as I remember
    with booze and painkillers
    some folks are ugly on the outside
    some folks are ugly on the inside
    I was beautiful inside and out
    once and again
    for a long spell
    lost and alone
    I tried to make myself ugly
    to have a reason
    to feel as miserable as I did
    because I shoulda been happy in the land of milk n honey
    but I was not
    I lived in da nile
    losing myself day by day
    constantly in a fog of pot
    eating things to kill myself
    yes I feel lucky
    cause mister I’d never survive
    smack
    you can put down the bong
    you can put down that disgusting hamburger
    but synthetic rapture
    that smart intuition told me
    would have killed me
    never to rise from the ashes again
    I admire your strength for that
    Most don’t make it out of that wilderness because of poppies ability to give you great pleasure while your in her arms
    then she leaves you dry when you are no longer high
    unable to sleep feel or care
    you did take a leap of faith
    on that cold floor
    straight into the atmosphere

    I have coughed all that black grief
    out of me
    I feel like myself again
    for the first time in a long time
    everything looks beautiful again
    and time flows like water flows from my tongue
    it was not planned
    it could not have been
    I had a dream you were in my basement
    I know my own keys
    to that weird map
    I’ve been there for thousands of years
    so I ask you
    please
    have faith
    ask your intuition for the truth
    don’t trust your eyes
    or your ears
    but how you feel
    and it is okay
    I’m not bitter or mad or hiding
    as I shed old skin over n over
    I believe
    we needed to see the same rainbow

    ~

  22. avatar
    MEM | 29 March 2007 at 12:20 am #


    meta-here, meta-there, meta-in r’underware…xxxo

  23. avatar
    Anonymous | 29 March 2007 at 12:22 am #

    how many vertices does a human have? circles just go round and round…hmmm…good job Mr. Kilbey, nice work. Here’s a ticket for your on-task efforts. The Homunculus lives!! Viva tiny hombre!! D ~*~ atx.

  24. avatar
    Anonymous | 29 March 2007 at 12:30 am #

    Just below the surface of our everyday world lie riches

    PV

  25. avatar
    Anonymous | 29 March 2007 at 12:30 am #

    Just below the surface of our everyday world lie riches

    PV

  26. avatar
    Celticat | 29 March 2007 at 12:36 am #

    Morning Killa,

    back on the board now after been in Cronulla for cupladays business.

    Din’t see you LOL!

    have bin missinmafix!

    Love to you and yours

  27. avatar
    Anonymous | 29 March 2007 at 12:59 am #

    numbers? G.W.Bush was being briefed on the weeks military debarcles…….We have 10 new shiney tanks,Iraq is going just great,sir…..oh….but 2 braillian soldiers were killed in an ambush……G.W./how many is a brazillian…..genxe

  28. avatar
    Anonymous | 29 March 2007 at 1:36 am #

    Me gets the feeling The Time Being is shifting onto a new level after today’s entry…eerie, an arm reaching deep into the subconscious…when I look at the early blogs and reread today’s, is extraordinary how you’ve developed as a writer, Killer.

  29. avatar
    Anonymous | 29 March 2007 at 1:56 am #

    It is blogs like this that make me wish this were an audio blog.
    Love to hear smooth SK rapping this one.

    Can there be a pic of the view from your writing/painting space?

  30. avatar
    gengen@optusnet.com | 29 March 2007 at 2:47 am #

    yes ……vocalize …..please?my program sounds like Mr.hawkimgs.Whilst this is v. cool,the prefered lashing,would be better served draught……never the less,a mathemusical hypnotist…….take me to your dealer xxxx

  31. avatar
    Melquiades | 29 March 2007 at 3:58 am #

    Holden: Describe in single words only the good things that come into your mind about… your mother.
    Leon: My mother?
    Holden: Yeah.
    Leon: Let me tell you about my mother.
    [Shoots him]

  32. avatar
    Symon | 29 March 2007 at 5:51 am #

    very coooool imagery sk…vaguely blackholish but then again…i’m no boffin or egg head on these matters.

    i wonder whether it is possible to find more answers by imploding into our very being……maybe that’s what death is…..the ultimate realisation of many many many unanswered questions.

  33. avatar
    Anonymous | 29 March 2007 at 6:03 am #

    Hi, I’m a new reader/listener. I just got one of your albums called ‘Heyday’. It sounds a bit different to some of the newer stuff I’ve also heard. I notice that there is a differnt drummer playing. Have you had many different players in the group?
    Is there anything that you tell me about the making of the Heyday record (I have a downloaded version and it has no details).
    Thanks a new fan from Latvia.

  34. avatar
    verdelay | 29 March 2007 at 6:27 am #

    What happens to all the memory?

    When we step out of our flesh and it is no longer necessary, who sweeps up the mess?
    Are there beings who feed on it?
    Is there a trade in the fragments?
    Who sells? Who buys? At what price?

    Who knows?

    I’d like to think that in the moments before we shuck them off, we can stride down the halls of memory at will, a sudden master of our lifelong domain, fading in and out of our own moments to experience it all in a thematic, non-linear fashion; examining ourselves and others, intervening on occassion, testing and challenging, but without the free will to change the content of our days that charactersised our living lives; only now, here at the edge of our dying life we find we have the free will to take in any moment of it at once, a losslesss compression

    I’d like to think that’s what’s happening every time I experience a sense of deja vu and I look around for myself, to see what form I’ve taken.

    I’m always just behind my own eyes, out of sight.

  35. avatar
    Sunshine | 29 March 2007 at 6:33 am #

    “one little part of the scheme is off the beam
    it would seem
    hey wiseman dont sling me no jive i sneered
    ive come here for some answers”

    I loved that bit! The lunchbox bit reminded me of a funny little dialogue that someone shared with me between a mom and her quite sharp 2-year-old who’d just discovered the wonders of candy.

    Mom: “What do you want for breakfast?”

    Little tyke: “Candy!”

    Mom: “You can’t have candy until after lunch. So, what would you like for breakfast?”

    Little tyke: “Lunch!”

    Kids…

    ~Sunshine

  36. avatar
    malcolm arkey | 29 March 2007 at 6:44 am #

    Night in the Galactic Lunchbox
    ——————————

    And then Mrs McGinnis’ shrill bird-like voice once again pierced the darkness,

    “Steven ! You’ve been levitating in class again !! How many times have I told you…”

    (sound of other children laughing)

    “Now,” she continued in her best lecturing tone, “we all know that you’re no good at long-division…”

    (sound of other children snickering)

    “…so we shall see if you have any knowledge of the Queen’s grammar.”

    Steven sat there agog. But today there was to be no escape from this maternal ibis-looking woman,

    “Now Steven, answer me this –
    what is the plural of ‘sub-cosmos’ ?
    Is it:
    a) ‘sub-cosmoses’ or is it
    b) ‘sub-cosmii’ or maybe
    c) ‘sub-cosmos’ or lastly
    d) ‘none of the above’ ?????

    The class stared at Steven. The silence was deafening. A pin dropped. Fatty Smith farted in the corner.

    But all the while little Steven could say nothing. He just sat there non-plussed, minus his dignity, his sympathies divided, but a fraction of his former seraphic self.

  37. avatar
    Anonymous | 29 March 2007 at 8:29 am #

    Id a given you some of my sandwich……g/xxx

  38. avatar
    fantasticandy | 29 March 2007 at 9:39 am #

    i can relate to this one big style.
    yeah,
    dad was just the best wasn’t he.
    bit shaken by this one steve,
    taken a while for me to get it together enough to reply.
    i feel

    nah, that’ll do for today.
    andy L.

  39. avatar
    restaurant mark | 29 March 2007 at 12:11 pm #

    well that was kind of trippy…

  40. avatar
    Anonymous | 29 March 2007 at 12:11 pm #

    the only math i know, is the one i can figure out between my fingers and toes

    r.mch.

  41. avatar
    Anonymous | 29 March 2007 at 12:15 pm #

    sk,
    what about the shriek soundtrack? will it ever see light of day?

    richard mchealthy

  42. avatar
    John Garratt | 29 March 2007 at 2:23 pm #

    “my little pigs you know im no good with somes”

    Oink.

    John

  43. avatar
    Anonymous | 29 March 2007 at 5:27 pm #

    nephish

    basar

    hadom

  44. avatar
    Anonymous | 29 March 2007 at 5:51 pm #

    kilbee hears a hoo???

  45. avatar
    davem | 29 March 2007 at 6:08 pm #

    Greetings oh much adored one.
    How can you claim number blindness between numbers 1 – 100?
    You’re always moaning about slipping to 71 or something on the old Top of the Blogs chart, despite our fiendish best endeavours.

  46. avatar
    John Garratt | 29 March 2007 at 7:12 pm #

    Actually, this all reminds me of how my brother will, once in a while, send me snipets of Church lyrics that tangle with, you guessed it, numbers.

    John

  47. avatar
    Anonymous | 29 March 2007 at 8:09 pm #

    oh oh oh oh I am soooo pleased! I got me a husband after all these years… we are headed for europe to see the church, celebrate & be romantic. yes we’ve seen em 40 times but who can get enough??? SK- how grateful I am that you didn’t die… like Jeff Buckley or even worse… like Elliott Smith. There is still a great band to see live. to exist at the same time with you people (all of you!!!)… I’m happyhigh.
    Oh the masturbation fantasies.
    ‘Goodnite Eyeore’ my daughter states with a 103 fever… Hi SHagman!!! See you Saturday! (we’re bringin cooties)

  48. avatar
    Brien Comerford | 29 March 2007 at 9:03 pm #

    Mr. Kilbey is correct about slaughtered animals being terrified and their toxins and traumatized karma entering the food-chain. Meat is murder.


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