posted on December 11, 2009 at 5:25 am

stumble home from high school
along the old road by the quarry and
through the bush beside the beach
roaming among the rockpools
full of green starfish
and little bearded lizards scuttle around on the stones
yeah the beach shack is cool and still
hidden in the palms and the great oaks
take off my clothes
i lay down in the warm afternoon
i put harvest on
on the little record player
neil youngs lonesome old voice
the wide prairie spaces in the music
the melancholy simplicity of the rhythm :
think i’ll pack it in n buy a pick up
move it down to L A…..
a fly drones on in the shack
possums scratch scratch scratch
the cicadas sing outside like the summers tinnitus
a constant deafening ring
but the sounds all melt in with neil
a tractor miles away purrs along like an organ
the parakeets overhead a brief twittering fanfare
the faraway traffic like swelling cymbals
the surf pounds like a drum on the skin of the beach
then in wormholes in my mind that connect me
to the cosmic all
i hear the rush of the planets
i hear the moaning moon bound to this green blue earth
i hear the thoughts of the citizens in their hondas n jaguars
i hear the songs of memorial drive
i hear music from biblical times
oh i tell you it was a fierce and wonderful racket
i hear gilgamesh turn on the radio in his spacecraft
he tunes in fm 69.69
a blast of incandescent sound
behind it all i hear neils weary trembling falsetto
i hear the clash of great empires in the orchestra luna
i hear those fucking egyptians scream as the red sea engulfs them
i come down from my mountain where i have talked to a god
i am in an asylum in france
antonin artaud has smuggled in some ‘ash’ish
look theres van go go
look theres freddy nietzche
look theres poor old willy reich
and all of em talking in my ears
i shake my head in disbelief
i wander out in the back yard for a piss
ants rush at me
black heads n abdomens
scarlet thoraxes
ok ok
i back off elsewhere
on the line hangs a wetsuit
theres a fishing rod n a couple of broken surfboards
neils voice fills the surrounding bush
and goes floating through the leaves
and the pedal steel gets caught in the blue sky
its perpetually the day before christmas dec 24
the day before jesus is to be born
agAin
the day you get the house to yourself
mum n dad n brothers n sisters are going to grans do
but you borrowed a car and made your own way across
the burning sands
and now youre here
where you always wanted to be
and ok
youre alone
but at least youre here
and you know what it means
and you know what you mean to say
but instead you singalong with neil
live alone in a paradise that makes me think of 2
while youre out there
you see a car pull up n theres 2 girls from school
theyre friends of someones in town
theres the pretty one n the other pretty one
gee uh yeah come in ….you say
as you open the gate
oh hi says the pretty one and gives you an unenthusiastic hug
yeah says the other pretty one
popping her cassette out of the car stereo
we were listening to credence she explains
oh ..?..you say….but can think of nothing more..
the girls come in and sit cross legged on the floor
we smoke some bongs of potent east shore pot
the smoke curls up the rays of light like serpents
the girls have a stoned conversation
that brendas such a bitch….
such a bloody scrag…..
shes a little bloody slut
yeah n so’s her friend diane
diane moody…?
no…diane percival!
mick percivals sister?
yeah…..of course….
i was going out with his mate tony crooks…
yeah you told me…
oh did i…?
yeah…a few times….
i tune out their conversation
i exist in multiple locations simultaneously
i’m a dim receiver but receiving nonetheless
receiving and returning what i receive
this is how my travel begins
i stretch out on the floor in shivasana
my body fills at once with golden light
i begin to inwardly shudder n vibrate
next thing i’m out there somewhere
flying the walls n aircraft hangars n factories n mansions
music leaks from other universes
worlds adjacent to ours in the strangest of ways
where we invisibly lock into each other
leaving no trace of our existence in our opposites reality
i scavenge around
at the secret corners n edges for their old hits
i beam in great chunks of fantastical music
youve never heard the like
like the trumpets of phoenicia
and the shrieking madwomen of madagascar
and the sighing strings of sumer summer
and the hanging gardens and the quaint back yards
back in the shack
where its always 24th of dec
the day before every hero is unleashed to die
die for you n me
because the hero will always return
burn
then
return
and in australia its summer
its the day before christmas
the girls drink their cans of coke n rum
they smoke alpine cigarettes
neil young sings on obliviously
it doesnt matter
none of it
its all crazy n sad n mixed up
but it doesnt matter
and
it never ends

26 Responses to “warm breeze”

  1. avatar
    cazziem | 11 December 2009 at 8:08 am #

    What an awesome piece you've provided today SK. Even those that sometimes struggle to picture things in their minds couldn't fail to see this one, or hear the sounds you so powerfully describe. I think the line ‘the cicadas sing outside like the summers tinnitus’ is brilliant.

    Cliché I know but, oh to be young again and know what I know now. Life would certainly be different, that's for sure! Oh, and please stop teasing us Brits with your wonderful summer; we rarely get that kind of weather here, even during the summer months!!!!

  2. avatar
    fantasticandy | 11 December 2009 at 8:34 am #

    a piece like that totally puts that pestering anon twat in his/her place…..
    we DO love ya kilbs,
    god knows with works like this youv'e earned it.

  3. avatar
    fantasticandy | 11 December 2009 at 8:37 am #

    p.s.
    the 'band' i mentioned yesterday
    are the only ones.
    the gig just won't be the same without dave's 'big smiley face'.
    sorry youv'e had a rough week mate…..do hope you can make it!

  4. avatar
    Hellbound Heart | 11 December 2009 at 9:03 am #

    i like the idea of worlds being adjacet to ours…..ever read the dark tower series of books, or the talisman per chance?

    love always…..

  5. avatar
    Darkgrace | 11 December 2009 at 9:41 am #

    Steve,

    Wonderful show last night. I haven't enjoyed myself so much in a while…and I was all alone.

    The venue was superb, the sound was crisp and beautiful….and the on stage banter was hilarious.

    Thanks for the photo op in front of the venue. A memento I'll treasure.
    Apologies for the sickly hero worship demeanour that overcame me as I noticed you were standing next to me….I tried so hard to shake it but you know how it is…don't you?

    Who were your heroes? Did you ever meet Marc Bolan / Brian Wilson / Bowie et al?

    All the best for the show tonight.

    All the very best,
    Glen

  6. avatar
    Anonymous | 11 December 2009 at 11:39 am #

    yes

  7. avatar
    davem | 11 December 2009 at 12:13 pm #

    Thanks!
    Great blog today.
    Transporting…takes you to the same places as The Chrunch!

  8. avatar
    davem | 11 December 2009 at 12:15 pm #

    Apologies SK..

    Andy – I will see you there all being well! But pressies mate??? I'll settle for buying you a beer!!
    x

  9. avatar
    Freddie | 11 December 2009 at 2:19 pm #

    Enjoyed reading today's blog.
    You're in another place altogether
    and I love it when you take us there.

  10. avatar
    Brien Comerford | 11 December 2009 at 3:05 pm #

    Another Kilbey classic replete with dynamic imagery and nature references. I used to read Antonin Artaud before my existential dispair breakdown. His writing about Van Gogh being suicided by society was awesome.

    Now I read books about Abe Lincoln liking animals. He loved cats, dogs, turtles, horses, turkeys and goats. He was the President that began the tradition of pardoning turkeys on Thanksgiving (the annual American turkey genocide ). He told people to respect ants. This humane and compassionate man was in the Repuiblican party of Bush, Cheney and Palin. He would be appalled by them all.

  11. avatar
    gavgams | 11 December 2009 at 3:28 pm #

    There's something about Neil Young and SK does a great job about putting his finger on it.

    Lovely writing.. loose, fluid… imaginative… perceptive plus.. a little of the time traveller.. a little philosophical..

    I like this lovely writing.

  12. avatar
    CSTCoach | 11 December 2009 at 3:58 pm #

    great blog again today.

    love images like this: "the surf pounds like a drum on the skin of the beach"

  13. avatar
    pennybridge | 11 December 2009 at 5:14 pm #

    Gee, if only I could see you guys perform live …

    All my respect to geniuses like Bolan, Harrison, Wilson, Bowie et.c

    But face it man, they are bloody old! (you´re not)
    Here´s my tip of the day: The Mary Onettes
    A great band, the anglos probably call em melancholic, Swedish indie or something … Kind of flirting with the 80`s, and I mean that in a good way. Check em out on You tube!

    But still i´m waiting for Skogstomten and Staffan Stalledräng himself (MWP & SK)

    Jag går i vinter-ide så länge.
    God jul och gott nytt år!
    (Grått nytt hår?)

  14. avatar
    Ellen | 11 December 2009 at 6:19 pm #

    Mmmmm… heavy and deep blog post today.

    Darkgrace, it's perfectly understandable why you would suddenly fall star struck standing next to "the killa." 🙂

  15. avatar
    princey | 11 December 2009 at 10:41 pm #

    You're a beauty in every way sk.
    I loved that Neil Young song "Words" you played at the acoustic show last Sunday, oh I wish you were back here again, I can never get enough of The Church:(
    Have a great night in your home town tonight, I can feel it in my bones that it's going to be killer!
    Love always,
    Amanda
    P.S. Gavgams, sorry I misunderstood you, next time come and stand up the front where I always am, it may not be the best sound, but you can see & hear all the magic happening up close and personal and NO distractions from other punters!….pleeeease come back sk!!

  16. avatar
    melissa | 11 December 2009 at 10:48 pm #

    I really, really love 'Words' in the acoustic setlist … i can't get it out of my head now!

    Hope last night was good… Wednesday's show was great, lovely old theatre/venue, I'm glad I bought my glasses now so I could see you guys from the balcony, lol.

    No blokes shouting out that they love you though.. shame! Only in Melbourne 'eh?????!!

    Can't wait for tonight 😀

    xx

  17. avatar
    Hellbound Heart | 11 December 2009 at 11:20 pm #

    steve, you wrote about a lusciously cool breeze a few days ago, thank CHRIST it's finally made it to my part of the world….

    andy…while you're buying a beer howsabout a pint of your best? i'll buy the next round….

    darkgrace, know what you mean…when he squeezed my hand during the gig at byron i swore that i'd never wash that hand again…..hygiene be damned….

    love always…..

  18. avatar
    Anonymous | 12 December 2009 at 4:31 am #

    Said it before but I'm saying it again. I love your writing.

  19. avatar
    linjo | 12 December 2009 at 10:21 am #

    I got lost in that one Steve and for a moment there thought I was reading a Tim Winton book. Yes Davem, transporting….as he does xxx

  20. avatar
    matthew | 12 December 2009 at 2:33 pm #

    Steve! Hope the gig @ The Factory was great… sincerely wish I could have been there. Fighting a few annoying legal battles here so I remain in this trench.

  21. avatar
    John Garratt | 12 December 2009 at 4:17 pm #

    I am alone this weekend.

    Everyone, come on over and let's listen to #23 together.

    When does that new EP come out?

  22. avatar
    Mr. Argent | 12 December 2009 at 6:49 pm #

    Mixed up–per chance. Sad–only contextually. Relentless–inevitably. Perpetual–of course 😉

    The meaning of our worlds is validated skillfully with your detailed beauty; it does matter to all of us keenly sensitive folk.

    The pounding surf is the code. The sirens know the infinite melody.

  23. avatar
    Anonymous | 12 December 2009 at 8:12 pm #

    "we invisibly lock into each other
    leaving no trace of our existence in our opposites"

    wow

    Are you going to cull the best of your blog and put it into print? I sometimes save entries in word documents. It would be nice to have a blog/poetry/short story book.

  24. avatar
    K.P.BUK | 12 December 2009 at 11:37 pm #

    ere
    i am…

    …broken
    as i am

    i know nothing
    everything
    still the same

    silent
    motionless
    i am

    anything
    everyone
    no never…

    …mind

  25. avatar
    Anonymous | 12 December 2009 at 11:45 pm #

    "There are 10 types of people in this world. Those who understand binary and those who don't."

  26. avatar
    princey | 13 December 2009 at 12:15 am #

    Hi again sk, you probably had a big, late night last night, so I guess we won't be hearing from you for a while:((((

    Hope everyone had a blast at The Factory, I was thinking about you!
    love Amanda


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