posted on October 4, 2010 at 9:10 pm

purple patch

rhapsodic evening

gentle rain n everything

words flow into my mind like lava sliding down a hill

in crowded rooms i have lost myself

in this midnight mist i exist in any direction

sometimes life goes easy like honey

music blossoms on the minds hills

people warm up to you

sitting in huge palatial suites

or in the exquisite gardens

you photographed around a pool hugging someone

no i must be getting confused because i’m sleepy

the light in here is warm purpled and dim flickering 1950s

i follow my thoughts through the arcadian fields and the e mysteries

i jump out of bed and stride around giving orders

i can be a bit of a bastard you know

my childhood was uneventful however

so i filled it with the grimms and the hymns

i sit on a bus to rozelle in 1990 balmain schoolgirls going home

i’m composing a song in my head and anything could have gotten in

you can do anything you like with poetry cant you?

its like a lie, isnt it

you given me licence to lie

so i imagine i’m this old singer on this planet called terra nausea

look i got a white beard n everything

the planet travels its sickening ellipse

we’re hurtling outta control through space cake and velocity v

we have co-ordinates but they are rumours hearsay and abstract chatter

down at the bar the geniuses are all getting drunk

the universe shudders and somewhere a light goes out

suddenly alone within my mind i wander its labyrinthian chambers

rotten hollows full of bad memories

some mental treatment plant grinds the black sludge of old pain

i stand knocking at some door early one morning

bang bang bang i dont know why nobody answers

opportunity is elusive do you know what i mean

and life is dreamy on a few mondays  sometimes some places

a morning comes finds me exhausted

instead i am summoned past lives and lives

you go where the good memories are dont you

you go stumbling through me chucking stuff this way n that

a mortal man a portable spirit

spirit take me now

i remember the various memories naturally

how could it be otherwise

well except that some memories are anticipated

that gives them some negative weight or wait i suppose

or boggled down in reminiscences two a penny

i rented a chalet for a while in my beloved alps

i drove a silent car along an alpine drive

i had a suit it was perfectly black

my hair was blond you know as i sped through a mountain

my skin it was tanned in that nordic way

i changed gears and accelerated away

that night i paid 500 euros for some phoney hook

who cares because i was loaded at this point

my hands trembled as i flew through my dreamtime being

a human ocelot tore my arms apart i thought you were my pet

my music soothes only some beasts i’m afraid

i cant placate your monsters and mirages

the new time heralds another limbo

memory once memory twice

hey whos making up all this cool poetry it isnt me

my car is parked outside a cafe in the gloomy hinterlands

my head is heavy like in an underwater stone on summer night

never mind all this what do you want to say ? i ask no one in charge

bondi beach is black as black at night

the air ravishes you as you sleep on the sand

the lights blur on the edges of some tears

in my mind i’m already shivering

i pull on my swiss german overcoat

the snow is finally falling and i promised austria

i was a suave count at your court

now i am this hermit in my tower

concocting fleeting marvels on the anvil n crucible

forked tongued lightning aiding my strike

in a gloomy passage on a cold crisp night

or lolling on my banana bed in hawaii

sleepier and sleepier

i return unto bed

16 Responses to “the longing weekend”

  1. avatar
    eekie | 4 October 2010 at 9:29 pm #

    “hey whos making up all this cool poetry it isnt me”

    Ok, ok. The jig is up, it’s really me. I know it’s a shock, but I had to make sure you all never guessed it who it was. After all I am a very humble soul. But now the word is out, the secret is secret no more. So commence your worship of me me me me me!

    • avatar
      Lara | 5 October 2010 at 11:07 pm #

      ha ha, (sk)eek! I knew it all along.

  2. avatar
    Kristine | 4 October 2010 at 9:57 pm #

    Everything you write is so timely. I sit studying in my lavender room while you write about your warm purpled light. I go to Vienna this year when the snow falls too of course. What better place to be? A beautifully surreal blog you’ve written, as always.

  3. avatar
    evilren | 4 October 2010 at 10:21 pm #

    a real haunting piece here Steve, it just feels so real. Thanks.

    Ren

  4. avatar
    . | 4 October 2010 at 10:22 pm #

    Where have they gone?
    The faint whispers of travelers past
    In my mind, in my soul, to the very bone
    Melt with the imagery, let this journey last

    Once upon a Wednesday
    Villagers shopping without rest
    The market place alive and renewed
    The bustle of life, a symphony of footsteps

    The bright colored fruits shine
    A perfect smell, scrumptious to taste
    And it seems so very real, too good to deny
    Let me stay a short while, this time don’t waste

    Then it’s over, time has passed
    I recollect details as best as I can
    A renewal of this body, I cannot complain
    This astral journey aboard the midnight train

  5. avatar
    Ryan McKay | 4 October 2010 at 10:40 pm #

    washing words, sounds, founds,
    ’till one is afar, perceiving th’ mound,
    grand, or sand in th’ hand ?
    the eternal search to expand.
    personally lovin’ it.

  6. avatar
    BROKEN TOYS AND HEROS | 4 October 2010 at 11:08 pm #

    I spend many a night walking the floors, hoping i will find sleep around any/every corner. i wander and wander lost, in my own dwelling. sleep is so hard to come by, goes by to fast, and is impossible to get enough of, or find it again when its gone-sorta like love.
    Loved todays entry- i can easily relate.
    AsAlways,
    BrokenToysAndHeros

  7. avatar
    dwellingwell | 4 October 2010 at 11:18 pm #

    I really feel honored to be able to post on the blog of a real Poet. This is not “Obseek-we-ating” (made up word) I really mean it. I feel less alone in the world knowing that someone like Steve Kilbey is out there being swept up by the poetic.Some super bits in that last one

  8. avatar
    Lara | 5 October 2010 at 12:01 am #

    Brilliant!

  9. avatar
    bionicanna | 5 October 2010 at 6:35 am #

    “a human ocelot tore my arms apart i thought you were my pet
    my music soothes only some beasts i’m afraid
    i cant placate your monsters and mirages”

    but something does every time.  
    bad humocelot wanted less bass and more singing.

  10. avatar
    Karen | 5 October 2010 at 11:25 am #

    I like purple, when ever I say I like purple, fifty trillion other ppls say they do too…
    I dont wear purple I just like the colour
    My cats sitting next to me she loves sitting near me when Im on the puter…hope she doent turn into an ocelot or some human hyena and rip me to shreds whilst laughing hysterically… reminds me of a non sk song “what makes such a sweet guy turn so mean ” well Ive gone right off the beaten track havent I
    great post sk

    • avatar
      BROKEN TOYS AND HEROS | 5 October 2010 at 11:17 pm #

      Wow…Karen, i like purple too !!!!

      BrokenToysAndHeros
      Darrin K.

      thats 50 trillion + 1

  11. avatar
    dwellingwell | 5 October 2010 at 12:42 pm #

    That was a good one eekie. You are funny

  12. avatar
    Lady Di | 5 October 2010 at 3:03 pm #

    A banana bed in Hawaii sounds good to me.
    Hey sk I saw your look-alike on the weekend in Canberra at Floriade, at the mushroom demo stand of all places. I turned around expecting to see nk and the girls, had a closer look then realised it wasn’t you. Aren’t you relieved it wasn’t?

    Nice dreamy blog to come home to.

    Love Di

  13. avatar
    hellbound heart | 5 October 2010 at 6:46 pm #

    some mental treatment plant grinds out the black sludge of old pain….the mind has a habit of doing that, doesn’t it…….keeps throwing the shit at you rather than the roses…..

    love always…..

  14. avatar
    lily was here | 6 October 2010 at 12:48 am #

    Your poetic licence will never expire. But what were you longing for?


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