posted on July 17, 2017 at 7:42 pm

slim biosis

my flat is freezing

its winter in all my dreams here

its winter in and out

tricked n fooled n frozen n burnt

my old skin stretched taut by the coldness of the sea pool

and the dry electric poison heat from the fire 

its very quiet

i am quite alone with myself

dark corridors flung open within my brilliant mind

and the inky blacknesses spill out and i withdraw

down in the fainting whirl oblivion at the other end

in the darkest darkness where its so still

there i lie awhile

everywhere and nowhere

i travelled out and above the city

i flew up against the softly spitting cold rain

i moved like a jealous thought thru the greenish light

elementals are following me

the word cackling comes to mind although they are making no sound

oh there is so much going on you really wouldnt believe it

i saw everything

now i know everything

everything i never wanted to know but there you go

i want to fade away to rippling white

my mind thinks too much i cant switch it off

i am trapped in here with all these thoughts

it feels unbearable from second to long second

and yet i still endure it

this machine needs to be switched off now

its burning out against itself

i lose chunks of my self ripped off by friction

in my bed i groan no doubt but no one to hear me

i lie shivering in my new black sheets

curled up like a broken eel in a black creek

i twitch and i talk as slumber in the umbrae

all my little baby girls are in pain

i gotta fix everything again

its impossible but i gotta make everything right

even sisyphus would  laugh

a hundred people are shaking me

steve steve steve steve

i am drowning under all the emails

im winning the lottery inheriting fortunes

one thousand i phones are about to be delivered

russian women are willing to marry me now!

as smart as i am i’m as stupid as fuck

and i lead in with my pretty face getting smashed by time

and i bleed all over the floor sending the blue carpet purple

suddenly without the fix of an audience everynight i am  deflated tired

i dont blame all you idiots i only blame myself

and i flog me forward towards tomorrow like a penitent monk

my blood curdles my heart pumps that sludge into my fingers

my toes like ice my burning ears hear your bitching

the worms in the earth turn

the birds in the skeletal tree clack click clack

lonesome whistle of a far off train

in miladys bedroom on the third floor where i should have alighted

in her mirrors i caught sight of myself so furtive and deluded

is that really me looking like that in the impenetrable gloom

through bottles of lickers and bitterest tastes

the sting the bite the claw the talon the jaw the unholy strength

the creatures who appear in my room by just arriving smile

lie down little steven they think

then im seven again and theyre opening up my back

taking something out

putting something in

no no no no no

it hurts so much i cant feel a thing

i scream for mum and dad but theyre on another earth

the smiles  follow me when i run away in my mind

they chase me down wherever i turn

and they always will find me now forever

this is my sorrow but also my joy

i fear the night i fear the silence of this room

i fear the shapes that slide down my walls

i fear to sleep i fear to be awake

so i lie curled up with one eye open

listening to a stuck record of regrets

and waiting patiently for the astral dawn to arrive


20 Responses to “downtime”

  1. avatar
    Beatle#9 | 17 July 2017 at 8:01 pm #

    Hi Steve, Enjoyed yr poem. I’m a highly strung , artistic type & have discovered Reishi Mushrooms (capsule form) It’s really calmed me down.

  2. etta
    etta | 17 July 2017 at 9:14 pm #

    Did you elope with Penelope? Thanks for the pitstop! (No need to be down at thith time, Carloth!)

    • avatar
      thetimebeing | 18 July 2017 at 5:12 pm #


      • etta
        etta | 18 July 2017 at 5:54 pm #

        You know? Penelope Pitstop/Thunderbird puppet. M’lord? Not to overexplain the ‘joke’ but wouldn’t the name Carlos be funny in Whacky Races? Well I actually read this after feeling refreshed from downtime. But before the downtime and now I can in many ways see how one may feel down. And yet a warped sense of humour or any humour for that matter can distract and amuse oneself at least. I have to ease myself back into belly laughing after bronchitis. My airways are irritable. That’s some of it in a Brazil nutshell.

        • etta
          etta | 20 July 2017 at 8:33 am #

          Can I please take this opportunity to say RIP Simon Holmes and reiterate how much fun I had listening,watching and dancing to the Cure Tribute? Thank you! :'( <3

  3. avatar
    anniemc | 18 July 2017 at 12:08 pm #

    So melancholy, hope that you are ok…

  4. avatar
    caitbrid | 18 July 2017 at 3:30 pm #

    I wish you warmth and restful sleep. “You shall not fear the dark of night nor the arrow that flies by day.” I don’t know why that came to mind but it’s my favorite Biblical verse and always comforts me. And I can’t think of anything more intelligent or creative to say. Thank you for everything. I pray for you every day!

    XOXO Kathleen (Warren) in Philly

  5. avatar
    ninigretboston2017 | 19 July 2017 at 7:00 am #

    “The elementals are following me”…..nice, I like that sentence especially.
    Recently saw The Church in Pawling, NY in the states – fantastic show, please keep it up! You guys
    sounded fantastic.

  6. avatar
    Ingrid | 19 July 2017 at 1:58 pm #

    Flannelette sheets and rescue remedy might be good? No doubt hard getting back from your whirlwind tour.
    Things will feel better soon xxx

  7. avatar
    Chris | 19 July 2017 at 2:31 pm #

    In my experience, few people understand the particular kind of melancholic madness that comes with great artistic sensitivity, as well as the attention, appreciation and fame. These aspects are the yin and yang of this gift…the blessing and the curse. No sensitivity…no pain…no deep feelings…then no art of substance. I have found that it is all a constant quest for balance, while allowing oneself to feel the intensity of the troughs and peeks. A psychiatrist once told me that a lot of his artist patients produced some of their best work when in the midst of melancholia. ‘Constant bliss’…fake world that doesn’t exist. ‘Complex painful beautiful world’…music and poetry and art of Steve Kilbey. Nil desperandum maestro. Superb intense evocative poem today….see?

    I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love,

    For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith

    But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.

    Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:

    So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.

    Whisper of running streams, and winter lightning.

    The wild thyme unseen and the wild strawberry,

    The laughter in the garden, echoed ecstasy

    Not lost, but requiring, pointing to the agony

    Of death and birth.

    T. S. Eliot, East Coker

    • avatar
      Beatle#9 | 19 July 2017 at 10:01 pm #

      I agree, it’s even worse when you have the artistic sensitivity…and NO fame ! Melancholy is good, makes you appreciate the happy.

  8. avatar
    andy | 19 July 2017 at 6:13 pm #

    ah, post-tour melancholia strikes again!
    soon off to the new world again though eh?
    the girls really do miss their daddio when he’s busy rocking the states i’m sure.

  9. avatar
    Wayno | 19 July 2017 at 10:41 pm #

    Wishing you some winter warmth and sound slumber.

  10. avatar
    Cath | 20 July 2017 at 12:49 pm #

    Brilliant Steve 😪🙏💕
    I hear you
    From the depths of pain
    Even time will not refrain
    It demands more of us
    More than we have to give
    Sometimes steals the will to live
    If only a heartcatcher
    would hear the cry
    The deepest black would open wide
    The chasm in the soul crack open
    Another there to feel what’s spoken.

    Thank you for sharing from your depths..bought a sad smile of knowing as i dwell in the same no mans land. Looking forward to seeing you at the Corner. Winter hugs, get a wheat or barley heat pack just like an ole water bottle works a treat. At least it’s not as cold as Melbourne. May the muses bring beauty again soon xx Cath

  11. avatar
    cwinters | 23 July 2017 at 11:30 am #

    ah, the equator, or in this case the equalizer. we finally have an ocean warm enough to run toward and yell out in unison “let’s go to Nineveh it isn’t that far” before we dive in. and if your daughters are coming to you with their problems, you are one step ahead of most fathers. enjoy it while it lasts. love and best wishes, always.

  12. avatar
    Beatle#9 | 23 July 2017 at 8:16 pm #

    “It’s the same for all of us, we all experience the same things”. john Lennon.

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