posted on August 8, 2018 at 9:27 pm

king n Eye

in the depths of this dank bar

where the morning never comes

the unimpressionist with my insta memories

knockin’ back a stiff fucken drink

love to hear that ice tinkling against the glass

love to see those dice rolling across years

love to all those people I left behind back there…

little Stella from the tiki lounge

come over here we just gonna get something together

she both exorbitant and free oh boy she looking at me

I reach into my wallet oh no how quick those euros fly

you know me I got friends in all the low places with brutal faces

my city fly by

my universal card admit one free

my smart ticket reduces waiting around

my crumpled white shirt the collars always hurt my soft tan neck

my boots scuffed and scarred

I hit the pavement hard

the ocean has sucked out low

the green moss in the moonlight an iridescent lime

I walk Neptune Street for awhile and then I knock at a door

I go inside and I hand over the cash and I argue with some prick there

he goes away and comes back with it and chucks it at me

we get in Tonys car and drive for awhile

cemeteries and liquor barns and pines and palms

and girls with blonde blonde hair

hey I love this song playing there

Tony is laughing and shrugging

wasn’t that singer the guy Loreen was fucking…?

everybody laughs as we jump out at Tonys flat

Tonys latest flame opens the door and she’s burning hot alright

I sift thru his album collection watching her out the corner of your eye

she’s gliding around the evening like an insolent cygnet on troubled waters

I choose a record by Johnny Consort its as rare as buggery

the songs sound like they’re being played sideways

another smoke another drink another groan

I nearly swoon when I check the messages on my phone

the police found the Golden Fleece and about three keys

I was running a book but they took it with em and had a look

now that they know all the names of the games  its a shame to blame myself

Tonys got nice furniture with its real wooden arms

his fishing rods and his tool kit in the hall

you could envy him this domesticity

his girlfriend and his goldfish

a fridge full of exotic booze

an ashtray from a Melbourne casino and some unusual tongs

his computers screen saver is a still from that film we saw

its the aliens and the earth and the only gun that can kill em

my green drink swims before my eyes in between gulps

I get out the stuff and we all make a dive

little Stella is pretty greedy as she takes it all in at once

tonys more experienced and careful

his gaze never wavers as he figures it all out

the other 2 whose names I don’t know show up

and Tony lets em in and they got gossip and vicodin

the guy used to play guitar on a stage

the woman was lovely before age froze her down to her toes

she used to strip n play bongoes

in the long ago

I step outside into the garden for a breather

either you can hear the sea from here

or that shell im holding to my ear is well ringing

someone inside is singing that song again as little Stella cried

Tony comes outside

and says give us a hand

he shook his head n said the internet just died

I sit there staring at the grass pushing up through the sand

a block of land for sale next door

nah not me mate i’m too fucken poor

still it’d be nice to live next to Tony down by the shore…

his girlfriend comes out and lights up a cig

in the glow of the mosquito coils her nose looks kinda big

she says tonys crashed out for the night do ya wanna bet

and she changes the for sale sign

to

to let 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One Response to “the unimpressionist”

  1. kevinbreton
    kevinbreton | 13 August 2018 at 12:15 pm #

    Hey there Steve! My bagpipes play around this pittsburgh town called Dormont. I heard you once played a show here ages ago. I’m quite virtuosic on my Spanish bagpipe in C Ionian (major….. What have you). Listening fondly to the Church and your lovely solo material (slow crack era). Always lifts me from the depths… Hades…. Whatever it is. I sense you’ve been there and that’s how you can show a man the way out just by being the musico you are. We all love you me and my mom. I showed a picture of you and your mom to my lovely grandma Carol this evening. Back when you gave us VIP tickets to St. Louis. Did you ever get to read “magnetic fields” by Andre Breton 1919? I was fond of it. “Always for the first time. Hardly do I know you by sight. You return at some hour at an angle to my window….. By my leaning over the precipice of your presence and your absence is hopeless fusion. I once again find the secret of loving you….always for the first time” ~Breton. In St. Louis I found the gravestone of the couple named “Doerr” whose wedding ring I wear. He died in 1905 the gravestone was basically illegible but the ring is perfect from 1867. 18k gold and a unique design. I miss my ric660/12string fireglo but what can ya do ya know. I like piping the espanol bagpipes all across the hills. Some folks love it. I mean I’ve mastered it. I’ll fly thru some 16th notes and then play “Scotland the brave”. Improvise an allegro or andante. I can play a tiny bit in Lydian. Then ill do an aire. Sometimes improv- sometimes “Skye boat song”. Just bought a cheap marching snare for my awesome friend from Bolivia to play with me. Knows 6 languages. He’s a missionary. Unbelievable friend. Bagpipes poetry. YouTube I suppose. Air conditioning. You’re a true inspiration Kilbey. I really mean that you handsome, talented, unique individual. Keep being you. We love you. My beautiful friend Rachel and I were strumming under the Milky Way and singing it the other day. Much love to you Steve. Your 31-yr old friend Kevyn Masyn


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