posted on March 5, 2012 at 6:53 pm

no caption

the sombre drum

the incessant thud

the trees with bowed boughs

the dogs in the street slink away

the snow is filthy

the river is black

the night cold and dry

skin winces on contact

still the morning flinches from itself

a single bird in the sky

rain in dismal sheets

a chasm yawns

a child wakes in fear

the whispering festering corridors of some hospital

the smell of the healing herbs

red blood on silver metal

the emptiness of an old room

black foul smoke

the quacks nervous caution

the heat of white light

the moon outside pulsates a titanium disc

the door opens to an inner passage

the light then dims

drift away drift away

there is no swan song

a deep silence falls upon the world

and an absence is felt immediately

37 Responses to “la mort d’excelon”

  1. avatar
    BROKEN TOYS AND HEROS | 5 March 2012 at 7:14 pm #

    Very dark and consuming work, I as the reader was looking for ‘ a light at the end of the…poem’
    but there was none to be found, very profound- forever in darkening gloom.
    I love it !!!!!

    Getn a bit worried at my postoffice and your post, I’m surprised you haven’t received something yet, I totally suck at surprises…my family makes fun of me about that at every birthday or other gift exchange holiday. I just get excited like a child with the prospect of gifts, and especially gift giving.,

    Now, I’m starting to get concerned…

    Dazza

    • avatar
      BROKEN TOYS AND HEROS | 5 March 2012 at 7:25 pm #

      OOoPPpppSsssss….
      Just received confirmation the parcel
      is on Bondi soil…

      Hope you enjoy !!!!

      AzAwayz,
      Dazza

    • avatar
      thetimebeing | 6 March 2012 at 6:12 am #

      i know where the parcel is n i will be getting it today dazzman

      • avatar
        BROKEN TOYS AND HEROS | 6 March 2012 at 10:10 am #

        Oh..I do hope u like it so…
        A home should smell warm and inviting…
        We use ours everyday….
        I guessed on the sizes for E,A, and S …
        So they get to market my fair city and look hip
        at the same time, its no big deal…
        And u my friend, I always think of “peace”
        How appropriate is that …

        If you really marveled at its
        cleverness and disguise…
        U can tap online at their site…
        For so many other goodies….
        I love BananaNutBread…(included in ur box)
        You’ll know what I mean.

        Happy House Warming
        from the Kelly clan to the…
        Kilbey tribe…

        It took its flipping time to get there.

        Alwayz,
        Dazza

        I recently came down with this years flu/ stomach bug-
        its been a roughv3 weeks and they just moved up my 2d
        neck injection to Monday the 12th ( nervous again, unsure)
        Life and the many way it trips when it spins.

  2. avatar
    danny | 5 March 2012 at 7:18 pm #

    One day I will awake to find
    The journal from my Grandma
    About hard life, hard living.
    Blackeye living. Last one in the
    Bathtub living. No hot water living.
    Having to kill a horse living. Three
    Sons, two daughters, no husband
    Living. Mice in the hallway living.
    Pick yourself up off uneven floors
    Living. Warm rain on the face living.
    Picking asparagus living. Having to
    Walk into a burning building to
    Cool off living. Arched maples over
    Hanging dust dirt roads living. The path
    To garden under bent grass living. Tulips in
    August open as suitcases living. Vineyards
    Glowing in the dusk living. Swinging from
    A burnt tire over the river living. Praying
    For those on Sunday worse off than you
    Yet still open, open to living.

  3. avatar
    matthew | 5 March 2012 at 7:21 pm #

    That was beautifully composed, written like a painting.

  4. avatar
    eekie | 5 March 2012 at 7:26 pm #

    Vivid and very unsettling.

    Love the photo…come to think of it, it’s vivid and a bit unsettling, too.

  5. avatar
    Tammy Elizabeth Karpan | 5 March 2012 at 7:54 pm #

    when can you guys pick me up forever?

  6. avatar
    hellbound heart | 5 March 2012 at 8:18 pm #

    I’ve been reading your poetry but alas, it’s been too long, too long since I’ve written anything in reply…..
    such a contrast of the earthy and carnal as opposed to the austere and spiritual, a glut of excesses one time and a rumination on the ending of things the next……
    woman, how powerful, capable of nurturing and nourishing life with her body, strong and yielding when needed, a nexus of home and family, but where would she be without her Other?
    the love of another is surely the thing that allows woman to flower and give all of those gifts of which you write with such profound beauty………
    love always……

  7. avatar
    colette | 5 March 2012 at 9:49 pm #

    Thanks for the reminder. I have an appointment tomorrow I’m not looking forward to. But it is only a precautionary thing (I hope)…so, remembering those who are in need or want of actual cures. In any deep dark silence may peace be found and light shine once again.

  8. avatar
    Boriah | 5 March 2012 at 10:18 pm #

    Clear to see that:

    Excelon = Peter Koppes
    Rampion = Tim Powles

    • avatar
      thetimebeing | 6 March 2012 at 6:10 am #

      boriah =turkey

      • avatar
        Michel | 6 March 2012 at 9:18 am #

        …and Priest = Aura !
        20th birthday soon…
        Praise Priest = Aura, hurrah !

        http://groups.google.com/group/seance-list/browse_thread/thread/42750097c9c327ed

        • avatar
          thetimebeing | 6 March 2012 at 10:33 am #

          i read this …its very interesting
          yes p=a is one of the best ever n’est-ce-pas?

          • avatar
            Anonymous | 6 March 2012 at 4:34 pm #

            p=a is like nothing else — hypnotic, fluid, effortlessly elegant… wickedly dark but not depressing — oddly it seems to possess antidysphoric properties — i wonder if the level of saturation with opiates was so high the sound itself would anesthetize when taken aurally?

          • avatar
            thetimebeing | 6 March 2012 at 6:49 pm #

            i wonder…….

      • avatar
        Boriah | 7 March 2012 at 9:00 am #

        Brilliant example of a slip of the tongue.

        XD

        PD: anytime, anyplace…

  9. avatar
    Wilfred Paradise | 5 March 2012 at 10:39 pm #

    SK:

    Come join us in the States this summer. Bring your bandmates. We want to hear Isadore, and the David Neil songs, all played live. Maybe some solo. Maybe some Church. WP

  10. avatar
    Estelle M | 5 March 2012 at 11:17 pm #

    This has made me remember the times my father took me along with him when he was on call at the hospital he worked at.
    I remember being terrified of the wards.
    The nurses, the stark white walls and bright unforgiving lights and the strong smell of disinfectant.
    But completely at home and safe in the underground mechanics of it all amongst all the pipes and boilers and assorted gadgets… (my father is an Engineer).
    This took me right back there.
    Thank you.

  11. avatar
    . | 6 March 2012 at 1:52 am #

    my, my…how death sometimes enters
    it’s not with a bang, but with a whisper
    as the clouds converge and the crows shiver,
    silenced by the passing of another being delivered
    into those mystical places we hope for and consider
    as we pursue our lives upon this telestial sliver
    of existence, we taste the sweet and the bitter
    and yearn for those magical days that glittered
    like those spring days that brightened our lonely winters

  12. avatar
    hippy | 6 March 2012 at 4:23 am #

    Gloomy. Just how I’ve been feeling lately.

  13. avatar
    danny | 6 March 2012 at 10:03 am #

    Mexican border patrols
    The streets glisten like snakes
    The trees bend in the breeze
    Children jump thru sprinklers
    I know her
    I have seen her before
    I have been with her
    Walking past empty pools
    Taking in modern limits
    Her hair a fountain of brownstone
    Her eyes old stars
    And deadly echoes
    She darts in a burning building
    She tempts me with shade
    She trades skin for secrets
    I know I have sinned
    I know I am weak
    Her lips Amsterdam red
    She bows her head like a swan
    I can taste the dust
    Feel the long knives of gravel
    Scorpions roaming my back
    Thunder roaring in my bad ear
    Is this death I see or
    A cacoon web of deceit?
    Is there a future in these curves
    Or am I a victim of greed?
    We dance in the armpits
    Of warm rain pelting our face
    She carries my child
    A goddess of light and life
    Blossoming in twilight
    Like a brown bag of peaches
    Busy as bees who blossom
    As I blossom upon thee

  14. avatar
    danny | 6 March 2012 at 11:28 am #

    Nectar is upon us
    Hidden in overcoats
    Cracks in the streets
    Lord take my faults
    Give me the strength
    Of albino nights
    African war paint
    On unknown graves
    Showers of burning rock
    Scorching the blades
    Tiger sharks above
    Crowns of coral
    Dunes like elephants
    Under the tents
    Not sleeping for days
    The space between
    Our cigarette stained teeth
    Yellow under the lamps
    The distant tick of an
    Uncalibrated clock
    Time is futile
    Roads intertwine
    Magnolias sprout forth
    The undertaker takes inventory
    Bats leave their caves
    Silence in the shadows
    Night comes with wind
    Rain an irritating trumpet
    Thunder an autistic child
    Speaking in deerprint pain
    I know of this land
    These seeds of breath
    Of wisdom of peril
    Of shores abandoned
    Of doors unlocked
    Of love lost in the corners
    Yearning to reconcile
    Like buckshot in the tibula
    Or a car crash fibula

  15. avatar
    Narelle | 6 March 2012 at 11:44 am #

    looking a tad green Steve…who was that famous sage is depicted as a bit greenish…?Naropa…they say he drank bucket loads of nettle tea…
    very much enjoyed the Exelon and Lord Rampion tale…a big thank you for sharing!!!

  16. avatar
    danny | 6 March 2012 at 1:08 pm #

    The breath of angels
    Sweet and moist
    Like honeydew
    Love comes in angles
    Like light thru painted glass
    I can touch the ripples
    I can feel the bombast
    The colt stumbles to walk
    The hay yawns a goodbye
    The barn slopes to one side
    The regret in hangover eyes
    Life becomes drudgery
    Pain equals lost fear
    An earthquake among us
    Brings golden paper tears
    The smell of purple lilacs
    The comfort of oriental rugs
    The strength of split wood
    An axe divides the two of us
    The blade dull as wolves
    We hunger for excitement
    We revel in curls of joy
    Waves of false prophets
    Nights of bleeding tongues
    The skin of a Whale
    Polar bears with
    Red lipstick faces
    Taunting the locals
    Defiant in stance
    An igloo a cathedral
    In hospital white
    A wedding gown
    Waiting to be returned
    Lights flicker from cottages
    The fjords have made mistakes
    I love you like no other
    I take you again and again
    I thrust to meet you
    In some clean heaven
    Where dust is no longer welcome
    Deerprints our only relatives
    Dry walrus carcass
    Our destiny god bless

  17. avatar
    Lady Di | 6 March 2012 at 2:58 pm #

    Loved that. Got me thinking and feeling.

    Heard you on 2ue last weekend. I thought I was hearing things.
    One never knows when sk will pop up. Nice surprise.

    Love Di

  18. avatar
    Galamor the Wizard | 6 March 2012 at 5:51 pm #

    Totally unrelated…but anyway…
    Really enjoying another buried Illawarra reference in the new Isidore.
    I’ve written many songs in Wollongong but not too many of them made me sad.

    • avatar
      thetimebeing | 6 March 2012 at 6:49 pm #

      ah the kembla grange……?

      • avatar
        Galamor the Wizard | 7 March 2012 at 4:51 pm #

        That would be the one.
        It’s interesting, as you get older(I include myself here) how the past, present (and sometimes) the future can coexist in the one space.

  19. avatar
    surrealeakimoboy | 6 March 2012 at 6:45 pm #

    Wait… What? There’s no swan song? Damn.


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