posted on January 2, 2015 at 11:14 pm
life and death

life and death

valdaree valdarah man

i love to go a’wandering

the aether always beckoning

in darkness and solitude a white hot night

sitting here sweating it out in moonburn

all of that led up to this

every fucking struggle left me here in quiet black humidity

my summer smashes me about

at mina wylies the snails glow silver under the sea

a black bird with a snakelike neck shoots beneath me

jellyfish suspended in the cosmos of the pool

will my burdens be washed away in this holy cold water..?

my kitchen feels like africa with its sultriness and fruit flies

the bathroom is a dull fawn colour in the dim light

what else can i do except type type type..?

the cream living room walls like the 1950s

a calico drop protects the carpet from the flakes of the pastels

chintzy curtains are still; there is no breeze whatsoever

the heat is full of desire and disgust

typically i am fascinated and repulsed by it

i feel like sponge picking up on all of sydneys sins

in furtive deals i am blown shot fucked and murdered

i crash cars drunkenly laughing as i go down

some womans husband beats me up but it was years ago

nursing a black eye and broken arm i stole a yacht

which sank in the harbour as i leapt to safety on a handy gangplank

playing cards with the boys the deck is marked the game is rigged

a stripper has turned up with the stuff and is waiting in reception

the lies i wrote down and sent out to my people

i invented a god who was angry with everybody except my little stupid crowd

we went around in the suburbs burning the witches and the promoters

as i sit here alone and still i hear the shrill cry of the gulls

i am some englishman transplanted

my thin freckled skin admits everything

i perceive the brief reprieve of evil against love

i should know good but i’m no good at should

i pick up the villains guffaw before it is deplored

the candy and cash i keep for the inevitable crash

a roll of green hundreds gets me everything else

a roll of khaki fifties to pay for the taxis and sundries

my horse comes in somewhere a hundred to one

i put my hand through a thousand doors and jimmy the latch

stolen guitars untraceable through my fence

i poach protected species and fly to asia

i do jobs and i go on sprees and take part in capers

i make the headlines in the papers

its all floating out there

and the conduits are pulling stuff in

then i go for a spin in my new red jam jar

ha ha!

 

17 Responses to “twenty one 5”

  1. avatar
    Cath | 3 January 2015 at 8:53 am #

    Happy new year S.k

    quite a canvas…..not much left out…accept maybe a happier ending than a jam jar? Why on earth a jam jar, so so totally random even for you?

    Have an abundant year…creatively, life all that jazz <3

  2. avatar
    Anonymous | 3 January 2015 at 9:29 am #

    Ever considered we might be the people Enoch speaks of: that this is our lot – one might as well make one happy & find the joy that union & children bring for their is no real future…

    I do, often

    What stops me from falling into the trap of beleiving this..

    The constant reminder from the one I hold fast to who holds me safe in the palm of his hands, the little reminders of who I belong to, the little tidbits of events that link to reveal a bigger picture, the memories of the past….

    • avatar
      thetimebeing | 3 January 2015 at 10:54 am #

      enoch should teach you how to spell believe
      i am really tired of your sanctimonious old testament blather

  3. avatar
    Anonymous | 3 January 2015 at 10:35 am #

    Y don’t u do a run into town & use yr hands to feed me some of that beautiful fresh fruit from the kiosk in the Pitt St mall under the myer centre. Never fails to pleasure. They always seem to have the best & right mix in their fruit salads. Or is it by chance that I just seem to visit at the right when they have the pick of the seasonal fruit.

  4. avatar
    always@meetsdeadlines | 3 January 2015 at 1:49 pm #

    What could be that bad in OZ? After all it’s not Chicago. Could it ever be. Is that your worry.

    They don’t fight. The kids shoot anybody and everybody for pleasure or for nothing. Then some sorry lot goes out and marches to some place in protest, or something, but nobody cares. There are no gang leaders to keep them in line, just 10 or 15 year old monsters, wild. The younger the more dangerous. I don’t take visiting friends down to the city much anymore. Not like I used to at all hours, without a care.

    The wealthy suburbs are filled with the hush of overdosed teens, it’s an epidemic actually – just not something to discuss out loud you know, where they have polo ponies, they don’t have love.

    OZ is still a dream place to me.

    • avatar
      Rich | 3 January 2015 at 8:13 pm #

      Always meets deadlines. Move to oz soon or at least
      take a long holiday here. We have our own problems tho….grass
      is always greener?

  5. avatar
    Rich | 3 January 2015 at 2:16 pm #

    Steve, you must be looking fwd to the upcoming us tour. I hope if you get time
    on the road, you will continue to fill us in with some prose.

  6. avatar
    tearle | 3 January 2015 at 3:18 pm #

    i before e except after c… & im dyslexic & this blog has spellcheck, this is hilarious sometimes & other times; ivory tower in the new forest with the ponies has solidified. thanks for putting my feelings of sod this heat, the game & this crap town into better words!

  7. avatar
    Rich | 3 January 2015 at 8:04 pm #

    Steve, not really related to your poem, but I bought a copy
    of operetta today and on my voyage of discovery of the church
    catalogue discovered a gem of a track called moon hangs in black. I
    dont know what it is about that song but it invokes some sort of nostalgic
    feeling in me. Maybe some feeling I had long ago.

  8. Jmb066
    Jmb066 | 4 January 2015 at 12:01 am #

    Enjoy that heat, soon you will be in the U.S and the cold will be here in the Midwest to greet you. Looking forward to the tour, will see you in Cleveland for sure and maybe Chicago since no Detroit stop is on the cards. Excited to hear Further/Deeper live. Happy New Year to you and your family.

    Jason

  9. avatar
    wotan | 4 January 2015 at 10:38 am #

    Ha, ha, ha – Paul Krassner, you`re a funny man. Your random quote about him taking his first acid trip and telling his mother. Much how I did it. Took my first acid trip in 1970 and it was a revelation, like turning on the light in a dark room, like coming home. In hindsight I felt like the Prodigal son returning to the Source. Didn`t tell my mother though. After that I indulged in pot, hashish and lots of mind expanding drugs. And today? Still imprisoned in this body and mind personality, I guess. But a bit more light headed. Lighting the way is Advaita Vedanta, music, art and poetry. Why am I even here commenting on this? Well, mostly because your music with the Church strikes a chord of recognition. In your best moments you seem to convey some of that feeling of returning to the Source. So keep on the good work. You are on to something……. And as your last random quote says: We`re all in this together.
    There is no turning back now…..

  10. etta
    etta | 4 January 2015 at 3:31 pm #

    Dunlop diploma six ninety nine

  11. avatar
    Bec | 4 January 2015 at 8:00 pm #

    well done, sir…..
    xx


Leave a Reply

You must be logged in to post a comment.