posted on August 27, 2008 at 5:42 am

wasted days
wasted nights
where would i be without my painkiller
the sun fizzles in the morning sky like a coward
the grey comes rolling in
a man playing a fender mustang with black eyes
a black man playing a fender with mustang eyes
the source of all music
the gap in reason from which music haemorrhages
the clown in me does his routine
i live it
i am
i am
i am
the mechanism is complicated
the results are unpredictable
i work down a little hole in the sidewalk
danger : poet at work
i get a job delivering babies
i just put my walkmen on and push em thru the letterboxes
i get a job flying plains
and after that
rolling hills
and i meet some woman who took me to her valley
kissed my eyes open in raw daylight
i was unfazed and unphased and undismayed
the people surrounded me
what are you they said
i said i’m the most in the least
i said i’m white hippy moses show me your red sea
why…he’s an old man spat out some arrogant youth
silence! …ordered their witch-chief..
i will interrogate this fool..
i was pushed into a foetid darkness
the witch-chief was inside waiting
lets see if this white man can sing the blues called the crowd
lets see if this white man can jump.. catcalled others
is it a crime to be an olde white man..? i screamed at them
and then i saw them clearly
the indians
the natives
the aborigines
the islanders
the lapps
the inuits
the aztecs
the inca
the mayans
the zulus
this was my audience
and all of them female
and all of them beautiful young fierce proud
you..! they silently thought
you……
sing us a song then …someone called deep in the auditorium
in my audience of opposites
what could i sing to you …i whispered in the microphone
which version of me is it i ? i thought to myself
but i caught sight of myself in the screens
and it was the olde tired me
whiter than white
older than olde
masculine in everyway
my lined and planed face
my bristling white beard
my thin wispy hair
my frowning eyebrows
my smirking mouth
my chipped olde teeth
my grey blue eyes like a dull afternoon
sing then…someone shouted
i need a guitar i said into the microphone
a roadie with dreadlocks scurried on
she handed me a plectrum
and scampered back off
i stepped up to the microphone
testing testing ha ha
i strummed the guitar
it was beautiful
it was delicate
it was loud
delicious echoes of violins trailed from its starburst
i strummed a few chords…but what to play
what song to play to my audience of opposites
young dark female
young…..?
i had been young once…but….
i had never regretted being so olde as now
here among the glorious flawless perfection of youth
youth youth that fleeing ungraspable shadow
that brief flash before the long lonely night of death
i searched my heart
for something youthful
but i found only ages strangely numbing contentment
i saw their brown and black and tawny and olive skins
their perfect flesh
not changing with freckles and sunburn and age
not green with envy or pale as a ghost
not redder then a beetroot
i felt bleached
i felt whited out
white through and through
i knew nothing of any others
they frightened me
their unexplained rituals and exuberances shocked me
trapped within my zeitgeist
i ate white bread
i drank white milk
i listened to white music
i had white walls
which had white ants
i loved white chocolate
and white women
my world was a one dimensional blizzard of white
and then thirdly female
yes
but surely
what….?
no
what do i know of childbirth
of the maternal longing rooted deep like brainwashing
monthly courses fucking me up with its malarkey
the brutality of men who save it for women
what do i know of the rapist
the drunken violent father
the murderous husband
the crazy jealous ex-lover
the jeers and whistles and insults
the pressure
the seductions and betrayals
of none of this can i sing
when will you sing demand the young women
he can only sing olde white manly songs they taunted
listen i said
and my voice reverberated around the hall
and i was aware of how olde how male how white it was
just like all the great villains of history
olde white men the lot of em
listen i said into the microphone
in my softest female voice
which was still a croaky thing
listen to me
inside myself
i am not white or olde or male
you are not young or black or woman
they sang in their one thousand languages
i am not guilty i sang
neither are you innocent sang their voices
i had been strumming a kind of g chord
leaving my forth and fifth fingers in place
i dropped the bass note down to an f#
the song felt as if it were sliding away from under us
just like the honeymoon they wait for you to score
i sang
just like the animals they leave outside the door
they girls sang back in all their dialects
just like a welcome mat you lay down on the floor
just like a law for the rich
and a prison for the poor
i was getting thru maybe
i started playing a t rex song
love you oh girl i do love you
it was 1970 on a long winters day
i come home from school and switch on the oil heater
mums gone to england
and dad wont be home from work for ages and ages
and the house seems dark and unfamiliar
i see myself so unsure and hesitant
everything was within me waiting to flower
but look at me here
slim indeed
a chestless bit of a kid
with a prince valiant hairdo
plus nascent side-burns and…
(i am suddenly interrupted)
muse : what about that audience of opposites
the audience of opposites…oh…ah…
… dressed in a flannelette shirt n white cord levis
someone
has left a record here by a group called spirit
the drummer is a real old totally bald guy
like peter garrett forty years ago
there is a song called i got a line on you
what does that mean
i puzzle in the darkness
i got a line on you?

12 Responses to “escape velocity”

  1. avatar
    Sunshine | 27 August 2008 at 8:25 am #

    Good afternoon, Msr. Killer,
    although it’s 3am in my part of the world. 🙂 I’m sorry I haven’t been around your blogosphere for a bit. It’s good to read you again. I continually recommend your stuff to friends I know who’d dig it.

    I’m loving today’s dream-sequence-like entry. Very colorful (no pun intended) and vibrant. I can hear the call and answer in my head.

    I also just read your rant(s) about Oasis, and although I recognize I’m two days late and three dollars short (almost a gallon of gas, don’tcha know), I have to say their arrogance is the main reason I don’t much care for them. Sure, there are other musicians I enjoy who have that Rock ‘n’ Roll, f**k you attitude, but they have talent and originality backing it up. That said, I don’t have much time for sensationalist media whores and that’s all I felt the Gallagher brothers have ever been.

    I guess they think they’re John Lennon re-incarnated (Liam always looks like he’s trying to channel him at the mic), but I’m sure ol’ Johnny has been rolling in his grave ever since they wonderwalled themselves into saccharine champaigne supernova existence.

    Sorry, I guess I thought this was -my- blog. Better wrap it up!

    Er… anyway, love to you and all your fiends,

    ~Sunshine

    PS – My mother-in-law’s name is Sallie. Not that you asked.

  2. avatar
    CAPTAIN BEYOND | 27 August 2008 at 10:44 am #

    it means our spirits have done more lines combined than any other beings here on earth, I wood like to think anyway, now that I think about it, I have probably snorted a million lines in my lifetime, sad but true…
    Hollywood

  3. avatar
    Jen Jewel Brown | 27 August 2008 at 12:49 pm #

    Hey old white man – you contain DNA from black African Eve, just like this old white woman. But it’s great you’re so sensitive to what we dames go through.

    xxxJ

  4. avatar
    Jen Jewel Brown | 27 August 2008 at 12:55 pm #

    I HATE Oasis they are insipid wankers moaning and wailing their c-grade Beatles copies. A whole generation grew up with Oasis and without The Kinks – an aural tragedy.

  5. avatar
    lily was here | 27 August 2008 at 2:22 pm #

    White on the outside / black on the inside

    Speaking of childbirth, 18 yrs ago today I was in first labour; the most joyful pain

    xxx

    ps Wolfe ~ Randy

  6. avatar
    fantasticandy | 27 August 2008 at 3:14 pm #

    randolph craig wolfe,
    stepson of ed cassidy…the old bald guy.
    pivotal members of one of the greatest bands ever.

    when i heard of randy’s death i was gutted….
    i still am.

  7. avatar
    Brien Comerford | 27 August 2008 at 3:18 pm #

    An amazing and surreal blog laden with an affinity for women, other races and a mention of Spirit(excellent California Band).

    Jen Jewel is so correct about the Kinks. One of the most supreme bands ever and their influence should be eternal. Ray and Dave Davies don’t get along that often. Chrissie Hynde had Ray’s baby and a few years later she had Simple Minds’ Jim Kerr’s baby. Stop Your Sobbing was penned by Ray Davies.

  8. avatar
    Polydora | 27 August 2008 at 5:45 pm #

    “I got a line on you”

    I think the Fates may have an answer to what this one means.

  9. avatar
    jax | 27 August 2008 at 10:11 pm #

    Let me take you baby
    Down to the river bed
    Got to tell you somethin
    Go right to your head..

    aww ‘lovely street spirit…

  10. avatar
    captain mission | 28 August 2008 at 2:36 am #

    i’m driving along and suddenly i feel an overwhelming urge to turn off my lou reed cd and tune into the radio and some music comes on, haunting and majestic, my head starts scanning its memories, it’s something very familiar, my heart starts filling with a warm honey like energy, i’m almost there, at the point where knowledge wisdom, memory and art connect, ‘what the fuck!’
    i think aloud, i do know this music. then this voice kicks in and all things reach their nexus. painkiller on the radio. they never announced who it was and i turned it off, back to ‘magic and loss’ and i thought wow, some moments are just perfect.

  11. avatar
    lily was here | 30 August 2008 at 1:06 pm #

    oh freddie fender bender, i cannot believe there has been a mere 10 comments to this intrigue .. I mean, even just this ….

    i work down a little hole in the sidewalk
    danger : poet at work
    i get a job delivering babies
    i just put my walkmen on and push em thru the letterboxes

    🙂

    Alas the tongues of geniuses are tied once again.. you must stop writing so well!

  12. avatar
    Suzanne | 27 October 2013 at 6:58 pm #

    Hey…. blast from a past post but fresh this Sunday. I clicked a link which brought me here. Thought you would like to know. Love this dream…. I have a black and white world to live in. Love you and your work. oyoy


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