posted on February 8, 2006 at 10:20 pm

bit of an up n down morning so far
anyway here i am
but not for too long
have some meetings to attend
gotta focus my mind
but the focus is broken
and the aperture is wide open
letting everything in once
how i envy those who can concentrate
those who can hunker down with some figures n stats
and ignore the galaxies spiralling round em
ignore the motes in the sunlight
those who can read the financial times
and shut off the imminent poems that keep
cascading into their mind
you get the picture…
my mind is useless at anything practical
want light bulbs tied
or shoe laces changed?
dont ask me
why couldn i have had
both lobes genii
im overdeveloped in the right
while my left is the size of a pistachio nut
(only the nut has more common sense)
i can spit prose poems out
till the rimbauds come home
but i cant fix a puncture
i can whip out tunes for eons
but i cant remember my ph number
and let me tell ya baybee
when yer broken down on the side
of the highway
in australia
miles from nowhere
hot summer day etc
you know what
a handy turn o phrase
and a way with a chord progression
will avail ye but little
thats when you wish youd been a carpenter
i knew a swedish guy
tho he had never built anything before..
he built a little house
this is far more incomprehensible to me
than painting the moaner leaser
or blew poles
(insert yer fav. masterwerk here)
my poor dad
tried so hard to teach me to tune up my car
but we were listening to the radio as we did it
and i was getting carried away with the songs i dug
and fuming against the garbagey ones
so i never learnt nuffink
he used to give me a sad look
now i think of it
he could tune cars
and play the piano
i cant do either
was i robbed?
i dont think my dad went in for poetry much..
but i dont think he ever was exposed to the good stuff
my mum bought me robert louis stevensons
a childs garden of verses
and i memorised loads of those
then i was in an eisteddford
(however the fuck you spell that welsh behemoth)
but i didnae win
(i was robbed)
i always had the sheer gall to get up
on a stage
and do my stoopid thing
i know bullies
football heros
tough guys
hoodlums and neer do wells
to whom
blood, jail, pain, violence
was nuthin’
put em on a stage however
they crumble and buckle and fall to bits
so i got bravery for one thing
but not for the other
its all about me
all the time
maybe tomorrow
im gonna bring you some snippets
from dutch pierres childhood
i mean
how confusing
youre dutch, right?
but you got a french name…
yer in australia
presumably pschycokis set in
at an early age
reducing his mental resistance
to such an extent
that he has actually been enjoying
the monotonous depressing row
that is the cruch
for over five hundred years now
go fucking figger fiendsss
ok ?
sk !

27 Responses to “spacious space available”

  1. avatar
    CeciliaGin | 8 February 2006 at 10:59 pm #

    Algo de mi niñez: los grillos me daban miedo…bueno aun me dan miedo!
    Poesía? Me encanta la poesía.

  2. avatar
    Anonymous | 8 February 2006 at 11:12 pm #

    Hey Mr Klibby,
    For a short one that was a good one.
    Love to send ya some snippets of my pschycotic adventures.
    Sometimes I for one feel guilty that ya give all this stuff here & touch peoples hearts and you don’t get that much back BUT it’s you’re blog & as well as bein a wordsmith, singer, musician, poet painter, fatha & lover u’ve made a roaring success out this bloggin.
    You’re a fucking dab hand at anything you bastard.
    Wot’s next … ” Dancing with the Stars” ?
    Hope u get ur jobs done today.

    Dutch Pierre

  3. avatar
    OTTOMT | 8 February 2006 at 11:22 pm #

    Time spent with your dad was the key, who cares if you didn’t learn how to tune the car as long as you were tuned into him.
    I can fix a puncture however; it would be nice to be a carpenter, as I need more shelves for my books!

    PS: can’t wait for those kid fears by Dutch Pierre

  4. avatar
    Anonymous | 8 February 2006 at 11:37 pm #

    Wonder what Mike & the Mechanics were like then at writing songs??



  5. avatar
    Anonymous | 8 February 2006 at 11:45 pm #

    You can go to a garage and get the car fixed, tyre changed. You cant buy song writing genius. Or get an apprenticeship as a song writer..


  6. avatar
    Anonymous | 9 February 2006 at 12:06 am #

    I had the privelage of getting to know Geordie from Killing Joke once upon a time. I flatted with some coke fiending record company execs’ here in Auckland in the mid 80’s and got to meet Geordie thru them. Geordie and his wild Italian girlfriend at the time stayed here for 2 months. I suggested they take the ferry to Great Barrier Island for a couple of days. They took the ferry, met a hippy enroute with a kleensack full of primo ganja heads, and stayed on the Barrier for 6 weeks!!!

    When I went to London, Geordie invited me to stay at his place in Shepps Bush (still with mad girlfriend) and he took me to a bar in Soho where Killing Spoke and mates The Cult had a tab going. Unfortunately The Cult were in Scotland, but their chicks were there. Then we went back to Geordie’s and did some vacuum cleaning with a straw.

    I saw some recent Killing Spoke footage on TV just weeks ago. Nothing seems to have changed. Geordie still looks youthful and like an SS Nazi, and that nutter Jazz Coleman like something out of the Taleban.

    Fuck fixing a puncture

    Rock n Roll



  7. avatar
    baby | 9 February 2006 at 12:14 am #

    do you like shelley?
    he drowned though
    i can’t imagine that would happen to the likes of you

    i can’t write in a checkbook.
    the squares are too small.

  8. avatar
    captainmission | 9 February 2006 at 12:20 am #

    mmm i suffer the same fate being left brained deficent. as soon as some one starts to talk about anything practical their voices merge into a ambient monotone blur, its a curse and a blessing. but i heard that the straight world is now investing in right brained peoples, football clubs hiring poets, car manufactures place artists on their management boards ect, i dunno if that’s good or bad thing.
    i’m very happy that you have this bent though, it’s allowed this planet to enjoy your art and music, the species needs a higher vibe cos most of it is just bland in these here contempory times.
    Uncommon Wisdom wins out over Commen sense everytime.

  9. avatar
    LittleSecret | 9 February 2006 at 12:34 am #

    I can’t reverse park and have no intentions to learn. Yet, I have a thirst to know anything.

  10. avatar
    Annie | 9 February 2006 at 12:43 am #

    Was thinking of this blog with you mentioning bohemia and our relentless sommer a few days ago when I came across a translation of a Rimbaud(and then you mention him in the blog today)

    “On the fine nights of summer,I will go on paths
    Pricked by the wheat,to tread on the slender grass;
    Dreamer,I will feel the freshness on my feet,
    And let the wind bathe my bare head.

    I will not speak,I will not think,
    But love will fill my heart,
    And i will go far,far away,bohemian
    By nature-happy as with a woman.”


  11. avatar
    Tim | 9 February 2006 at 1:22 am #

    At least your brain knows who you are. To have the right and left sides equal each other is a cursing and a curse. I can come up with riffs all day, but I also know that won’t pay my bills or give me health insurance so I force myself work a straight job that I hate for a company that I despise. Unfortunately, the left side (lizard part?) of my brain understands the incredible odds of the right side getting me anywhere.

  12. avatar
    Anonymous | 9 February 2006 at 1:36 am #

    I love you.

  13. avatar
    CSTCoach | 9 February 2006 at 1:36 am #


    “Australian Night”, P&R 3, beautiful. Taking your voice to new, softer ranges. Nostalgic, a total sense experience…


  14. avatar
    Laurie | 9 February 2006 at 2:33 am #

    TINKA TINKA is a lovley Hindu Indian song about building and growing higher and higher. I must confess my admiration for people with the full right brain left brain- not that I’ve met that many.

    It was one of the most rewarding things in my life to design some buildings for my dad when I was seventeen. I helped build them too. Still like to build. It was one of those fluky prodig*%$(&@)y things at that age I think. I’ve studied architecture since seven and I’m still making my days with it. All these years of studies and degrees, I still put fine art first.

    Here’s the part I’m up in the air about: I always say I’m an artist first and let people react to that. Usually kinda glib. Then I bring on the architorture….”WOW!!” etc etc. I’m depressed that it’s not the other way around.

  15. avatar
    mike | 9 February 2006 at 2:57 am #

    Brings back memories of working on the car with my dad when I was younger – he did all of the work and I brought him all of the tools, etc…. Always wondered where he learned how to be a mechanic?

  16. avatar
    Anonymous | 9 February 2006 at 5:37 am #

    yesterday i missed my Percy Cerutty breakfast (many different types of bran mixed with amaranth) and my daily dose of a-grade blogg as i was in the nation’s capital at great and needless cost to the Strine taxpayer, all of which left me feeling somewhat irregular. But imagine my delight when today i get a double-hit of honeyed prose poetry…and still my colleagues grow distracted by my clicks of admiration and occasional guffaws: how the fuck did he sneak an o-so-hilarious joke about viagara past the Electronic Gatekeeper, they’re thinking.

    and you know sk, not really wanting to bring the ‘s’ word back onto the scene after it caused so much angst a little while ago, at 5pm last night i was sitting in the canberry qantas “club” with all those bags’o’fruit (and well past it they were, fairly dripping with the putrid juices of their rotting flesh), i was watching the tarmacadam where bovine commuters were being swallowed whole by pitiless craft, i was reviewing the meeting of moinds i’d attended that day and i was thinking to myself: yeah, they might be str8s, but ye gods, they are as far from normal as a humanoid can get, & i’m talking about heavy shitters here.

    ergo, i dunno. does their incapacity to keep their captain quirks from view make them bohemians – certainly bloody not – but are they technically str8s? it’s hard to say if they believe that what it is they do makes even an infinitesimal difference to the universe. i myself am doing it for the money alone as thus far i’ve found no viable alternative source of income that will keep me and my girls flush with the things we love: including tickets to The Conch once a year….

    a sample of yesterday’s attendees (am i being a forum hog?):

    a severely wall-eyed facilitator whose orbs would spin like roulette balls at the slightest head movement

    a fellow in an A-line skirt (sooo 1993) with a lovely white blouse and a string of aqua-marine gems around his neck (and where, when faced with the linty hiking socks in his smalls drawer, did he find the strength to the draw the line at such modest mammaries?)

    ok, that’s it, i’m so sorry but your proximity just gets me all loquacious, speaking of which, am i allowed to slip an “i don’t give a fat baby’s dick” into a conversation without immediately attributing it you?

  17. avatar
    Anonymous | 9 February 2006 at 8:24 am #

    Hih. I don’t mind if you don’t mind that I recite a few lines from last weekends’ conversation like:

    “What are ya doin’ in that dress out in broad daylight at the hardware store? It looks like something I might like to wear…and those doc martins. Oh, the leg hair and beneath those lovely locks grows lamb chop facial hair! Honest ta gawd buddie, I thought you was a wo-man from across the store.”

  18. avatar
    Anonymous | 9 February 2006 at 10:50 am #

    My uncle was a neurosurgeon who diagnosed himself with Parkinson’s. He left work and his adult children left their various jobs and degree programs and came home to live with him for a while, and they built a stone house on their property that my uncle would live in while his disease progressed. They were so calm and rational about it, and the house is still there, a small, beautifully formed monument to their love and their talent. I wish I could build something like that, but I’d never have wanted to go through the accompanying agony.

  19. avatar
    Rubikon | 9 February 2006 at 1:26 pm #

    The left v right brain thing.

    I’m kind of lucky in that I can write music, lyrics and poetry, play guitar in a band, draw, paint and at the same time fix my car, renovate my house, fix my computer if it goes wrong and all those practical mundane things (they give me a headache sometimes but someone’s got to do it). But the thing is although I do everything quite well (a reasonably high IQ helps and a degree, blahdeblah etc) I’m not a genius at anything and I’ve never found anything I’m particularly brilliant at.

    You on the other hand Steve have always had a Genius for/with, words lyrics, poetry, Music and I’ve only ever seen/heard that once before and that was with a certain Mr Zimmerman (and he pretty much stopped in ’67). It was apparent to me the first time I ever heard you way back in ’82 with “Unguarded Moment”. You have a gift my friend and you use it well.

  20. avatar
    krissythegroupie | 9 February 2006 at 2:38 pm #

    Oh well, who cares about a stinky ol’ tire anyway! And as fer shoes, they have quite a few (for adults!) made with velcro nowadays : P Btw, I did this fer a school project <3!

  21. avatar
    matthew | 9 February 2006 at 2:52 pm #

    “he could tune cars
    and play the piano
    i cant do either”

    Have to disagree steve…. your playing on ‘afterimage’ makes it one of the most haunting, sad, beautiful things the church have done. That piece is a rare, timeless transcendence into our sphere. like a memory i never had, but which links achingly to a thousand i have.


  22. avatar
    aal | 9 February 2006 at 4:29 pm #

    Well, I guess that playing the bass guitar the way you play while singing the way you sing requires a lot of concentration… 🙂 or not?

    Love from Italy


  23. avatar
    Brad | 9 February 2006 at 8:36 pm #

    my dad couldn’t do anything tech. he might pretend to be fixing it, but taught frustration and cuss words instead. took us out fishing once and stuck his finger. in denial of his right brain in a left brain world? never thought of that till now. hmm. piano can be played like a machine. there are plenty of tech musicians.


  24. avatar
    spill the beans | 9 February 2006 at 10:43 pm #

    ok, i’ve got to know. Dutch Pierre, how does this epic, time expansive, cruch enjoying feat work exactly? In full detail please!

  25. avatar
    Anonymous | 9 February 2006 at 11:27 pm #

    Spill the beans,
    OK since u asked – the answer is :
    I dunno just unlucky I guess
    Got a bit out of it tho
    used to be just a mediocre singer but thanx largely in part to the old sea dog & his men I taught myself to play the geeta as Choich songs are great & most really easy to play in a simplistic form & that’s just the spur you need to become a little better – that’s positive isnt it?

    Dutch Pierre

  26. avatar
    baked beans | 10 February 2006 at 12:05 am #

    Ooooo – that is positive!
    Prerequisites and all.

  27. avatar
    Anonymous | 10 February 2006 at 10:41 am #

    you guys seen that cartoon when goofy turns into a demon behind the wheel? And that was, what, forty years ago or something. Road rage has been around for a while, that’s for sure. I wonder if there was ever penny farthing rage. two guys in bowler hats belting each other with umbrellas as they refused to give each other way down some otherwise peaceful garden path somewhere. all i know is that if i only had people’s behaviour on the roads (bullying, incredibly impatient, intimidating, frankly juvenile and overanxious) to judge humanity by, it would be a sad indictment on humanity. I mean, why the fuckin’ hurry? Gotta be home in time for neighbours. Just take a few deep breaths think back to those times it would take half a day to walk to the next freakin’ suburb, for christ’s sake. I believe in random acts of courtesy. I say courtesy rocks. I say we need to make courtesy cool again. I say we must all become COURTESY WARRIORS. This is war, my friends, a COURTESY WAR.

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