The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

good morning you rascals
whats cooking?
nut cutlets and cardboard sauce?
how are you anyway?
i was talking about the connection
between everything
but i know
sometimes its so hard to see it
why cant i feel it
everything like pearls on a string
everything part of everything
you just gotta apply the principles
took me almost 50 years to even start
seeing that there were principles
let alone what they are
and how to apply em
but they exist
if you can manipulate them with your will
anything is possible
yes baby
thats right
anything
you can alter maya
or you could just be able to throw out
an amazing poptune whenever ya wanted
(just like that guy ya know….)
crowley said there are but 2 paths fiendss
to the left we have magic
to the right we have yoga
now this aint magic
in its tawdry or even fairy tale sense
this a magick that sees the universe conforming to your will
the healers
the witches
the wise women
the forest hermits
people who can weild their wills
charge stones or wood with energy
to be discharged at their will
israel regardie proposes a sytem for adepts
in which they set themselves a little task
(say…not to say the word “the” all day)
if you transgress yer rule
you whip out a penknife
and cut yer arm till you remember
painful gruesome
but an effective way of acheiving self discipline
the main prerequisite
you cant re order the very fabric of “reality”
if you aint gotta grip on yerself
harry houdini
would lie underwater in a bath of ice
hold his breath for 5 minutes
he had complete control of himself and the situation

and of course the yoga im talking of
isnt just a buncha people stretching
in yonder community hall
this is union
union with what?
well, whaddya got?
yerself
(will)
outside yerself
(god)
take any path says krishna
i’ll be there to meet ya

so yoga and magic
the sciences of the great unseen connection
the big machine, the multiverse
whatever
dont get lost on them terms
i did
i could define 6 different nirvanas
but i had no clue at all
as to their “real” natures
still dont
but im not trying to define em anymore
as i said these principles are art and music intrinsically
you catch fleeting glimpses of em
in the real goode stuff
when you hear or see
something so obviously goode
you slap yerself and say
why didnt i do that?
you know that feeling
someones put those elusive principles to work
the up and down pressure on a flowing brush
a gentle slur on a fretboard
tiny things
that must be observed closely
executed with delicate love
but boldly and with will
will
will
will
have you got will
have you got a will
will you have will
i dunno
get a fucking grip on yerself
i say this to me
and to you
dont kill anything
dont eat the carcasses of wretched miserable beasts
it will come down on you
hard
how could it not??
dont appeal to me baybee
for clemency
it aint in my hands
if you gonna eat that fowl thing
if you gonna pick thru that cows cadaver
you gonna have to take on all that
adrenaline
uric acid
already decaying flesh
bad bad karma
all the drugs the ‘FARMER’ pumped it up with
all the fear and anxiety that permeated its whole life and death
well my friend
if you got big enuff shoulders
help yerselves to yer meat
but its gonna hold you down
like a heavy lump of death in yer guts
cos thats what it is
i dont fucking care who i offended here
no correspondense will be entered into
and
PLEASE..
dont bother writin in with that load of olde utter tripe
about the screaming carrots
use yer head or get thyself fucked
all the rest
i love you as usual
love
me

whats going on?
somehow
on the tip of my mind
i can see that there is
one theory that will tie everything together
look at nature
listen to beautiful music
observe the forms
see the similarities in language and dance
water
see its changing shapes
its layers of light
the ripples like cascading guitars
its tide like the bass
underwater, hear the rocks and bed
rocking down there
like percussion

i cant stay long today
i have a million things to do
i love you
i miss you
behave yourselves
sk

goode mourning my friendss
your humble scribe feeling sad and reflective
today
monday monday
first yessaday
when i was young
and when i shoulda been bloogging to ya
i laying lazily around chez kilbey
eating poached pears and reading the sunday rags
i notice headline australian man suicide american plane
i start to read article
oh no i know this guy
very very well
his name was gerry georgettis
he was a greek version of rambo
he was our front of house mixer and tour manager
back in about 85, 86
a more level headed and serious dude
you could not meet
i remember one night in perth
we were parked outside some gig
theres a bloke furiously trying to puncture all the tires
on our van
gerry just stands behind guy
silently
letting the little monkey do his thing
till he gets a feeling hes being watched
he turns around
gerry standin’ there
built like a brickshithouse
gerry says very quietly, very calmly
good day mate..
the guy falls apart
gerry lifts him up gently
and carries him away
like a mother cat
carrying a mouse
another time we driving back from newcastle
a load of people in the car
screaming laughing taking drugs
fighting drinking and carrying on
gerrys at the wheel
were going really fast
suddenly a cop appears
his siren penetrating the murky din of the van
we gonna go down for sure
the cops got us red handed
we pull over
cop pulls over
does all his cop ritual thing
comes over
gerry rolls down window
the fumes of neils purple heads
and alcohol
permeate the crisp night air
the cop looks at gerry
(say this next line in a kath and kim aussie accent)
sir, you were doing over 130 kilometres an hour….
do you have any good reason for travelling at this speed?
gerry looks at the cop
he narrows his eyes
its been a long day
and im in a hurry to get home
the cop asseses the sitch
he gives gerry a quick fine
and pisses off
and we’re off
it was in gerrys look you see
he had this it aint worth fucking w/ me look
gg rip

and talking of the olde days
1981
i remember another guy
a pop star roadie
as they used to call em
man this guy was a legend
a truly wild man
tho im sure he mixed us awfully bad
but people used to talk about rock stars
living lives outside the law…
ha
this guy
he was big and strong
he took all drugs and drink all the time
we had a week off in perth once
he and his offsider lay in their beds
having room service
watching telly
and snorting cocaine
for a solid week!
no i dont appaud that behaviour particularly
but i cannot but wonder at the stamina
and singlemindedness
this guy was a wild womaniser
he liked mothers and daughters
identical twins
other mens wives
you know what i mean
he carried weapons and drugs everywhere
he had that dont fuck w/ me look too i guess
anyway
this is a strange story yall
we wos in tasmania
which is strange in itself
and we were backstage before the gig
and this guy bursts in
some tasmanian punter
and his opening salvo is
ah here ya are ya bastards
i wanted to have a fuckin’ talk to ya..
our big nasty roadie says it just once
but he was serious
get out mate
mr tasmania misjudges the moment
he says
ah dont be a cunt….
before anybody knows whats happnin’
roadie goes boof
punches guy in his ample beer gut
just like in the movies the guy grunts
and doubles over
the roadie delivers coup de grace
an uppercut
which connects directly with tas-dudes eye
WHACK!
oh how i remember and hate
that peculiar particular sound
of knuckle connecting with eye
in the lexicon of fighting
it has its own place
just like the sound of a broken nose
or the sound of a fist connecting with a brick wall
all of these and more have i heard
from the trenches and frontlines of bully high
any how the roadie slugs this guy in the eye
and throws him outta the dressing room
(i did not approve of this behaviour)
any way
the chruch hit the stage
the guys stand right in front of me
all night
looking at me
with his black eye
and hes crying
that can ruin yer gig
let me tell you

and you thought it was all dancing on clouds
but it aint
its waiting around
sodding about
and dealing with things like that
one serious idiot can ruin a gig of thousands
a guy called jesus
not the famous one
but another
a famous english hippy
back in 70s and 80s
he turned up at our first ever english show
it was at the venue in victoria, london
we had 2000 people
we couldnt believe it
dave gilmore from pink fluid was there
the crowd went crazy as soon as we walked on
hang on
they dont do that in sydnee or mell-bin
certainly not in tasmania or wagga wagga
or wollongong or maroochydore
nor in ooodnadatta
but here in london
they clapping
they screaming
you know
just like a real audience does,
in the movies…
i keep turning around
there must be somone else up here
surely theyre not screaming for us??!!
remember
this is our 1st gig ever outside
orstralia
the aussie pub crowd
dont go in for clapping
or screaming
unless theyre screaming for ya blood!!
any way
this be olde sks dream
to be vindicated in the mother country
to make it in ingland
so im really enjoying this
we do
you took
our tour de force
the crowd going bah na nahs
we get down to really quiet bit
me and ploogy lock eyes
we get it simmering
we gonna build these pommies up
to a fuckin orgasm baybee
but whats this
jesus is approachin the stage
all kaftan and wild hair
hes comin down to the front
so everyone there
could see that
he was giving his regal bohemian blessing
to these paisley ozzie space wokkers
but whats this??
oh no
he has a tambourine
and hes banging it round outta time
in ploogys earshot
ploogys eyes register panic
just before he falls off the beat
and the whole band slides into a bizarre
black hole
where there is no time
ONLY JESUS AND HIS CRAZY TAMBOURINE

i love you my darlings
sk

what a strange day saturday is…
and shouldnt it be that
you work for 2 days
and get 5 off
consider the beasts who toil not
but are amply provided for
all they have
all the want
all they need
just providence
why are we working?
they all get the same stuff
the basic essentials
its all laid on
sometimes its a bit of a struggle i guess
but
i feel most critters
would rather spend 5 hungry cold winters
and being free
than
slavin’ up in a factory
but well fed
have you ever thought of a word
and rolled that word around on yer minds tongue
until it begins to seem completely ridiculous
say steven kilbey
a hundred times over and over
then say
memo akmibo aloha ma
there
does that feel any better?

well im sorry
the sun is shining
the ghosts having fled
i sitting down in yonder cafe
and lo ; he blogged
and he blogged that all readers everywhere
would stop by each day
spend a mexican minute
to squint thru my load o olde nonsense
to amuse ya for the sake of it
no ulterior motives
except to remind you
if you buy all 5 of my new ballet dvds
kh are throwin in one sk sculpture replica
all made from recycled ivory
and gnarwhales teeth
so the phones are ready now….

ha
maybe i should move into ballet
surely they need some one like me
to shakem all up
i could choreo
main male lead prancing ninny
do music
do backdrop
record it
direct it
its a goldmine
a velvet goldmine
seriously tho my friends
sculpture for your humble egomaniac
thats not so absurd
i love to subtract
ah subtractive processes really turn me on
you have a big slab of sound
or paint
its just a big pig of a mess
then you start to take stuff away
its turning into its self
grab those screaming guitars that are goin all the time
now just punctuate with em
real quick but let their reverb
hang about disproportionately
that drum thing
take half of em out
let the bass throb
instead of pump
so you got a block
you start to chisel
but unlike rocknroll
you gotta be real careful
cos ya cant undo this
youre stuck with whatever ya do
but you cant think about that
you put that chisel
and yer hand hits just so hard
youre aligned with a vein in the marble
too hard this is gonna split
wow
i bet rodin would have dug me
ok
ok
im just joshin’ ya
but
(he still might have..)
anyway
youll be please to know
or maybe not
that i working on my 1st ever
abstract painting
its a lot more fun
than trying to paint something
if only i’d thought to paint
a long time ago
jesus we had a weird art teacher at bully high
it was 1967 baybee
the summer of love
she was the first real hippy woman
i ever saw or met in my life
in the flesh i mean
sure id seen em on the telly
on docos bout s.f.
etc
but here one was
long blonde hair
strong underarm odour
(i guess thats optional
i presumed it signified eathiness)
flowing colourful clothes
and a kind of laissez faire attitude
about teaching
that was a lot different from the dickensian idiots
across the storm water drain at bully primary
she didnt think i was much chop
and she hated me and my immature cronies
but some of the more grown up girls in our year
probably used to go round her house
drink cappucinos and read henry miller
im sure she smoked dope
i only remember one thing she said to me
kilbey….shut up!
most of my teachers were quite tired of me
almost immediately
but theres a difference to watching a film
and being in it
we can now look back on this and say
as we watch the screen
go little steven
kick against the pricks
you’ll grow up and write under the milky fucking way
but back then
in the real bullyneham high
i was just a skinny little bastard
with a lotta lip and prince valiant hair
they didnt know i’d turn out alright
thats why you gotta treat all kids nicely…
so in case they become famous
you end up in their memoirs
as an object of ridicule

im meeting the film man in half an our
wonder what malarkey he gonna try
and lay on my weary shoulders
i do not feel all that poh-lite to day
i hope its at least not absurd
bearing this in mind
i must nip this episode reasonably short
yeah
i guess
oh
i’ll be seeing you…..
sk

i flailed like a swimmer thru the summer heat

good morning readers
you can stop reading now if
a you eat meat
b vote republican liberal or even fuckin vote at all
c (and the most tedious) you wish
i was more like i was in
a 1953
b 1988
c yesterday when i was young
if,you,heavens forbid answered yes
to ALL the above
go mime blood money while eating yer blt
in frontof the starz n white stripes
i dont care
but plague me not
if yer thinkin of giving up meat fascism or carping
then do it now
be more like me
thats what my world needs
more mes
if ya wanna give me a late christmas pressie
cut me some slack
but
do you really wanna be my devotee
you may as well be baybee
whos left
ian mc cullough…..
i guess he’s out there some where
the short sighted git
bono?
cmon…
this is me
you see
dont tell me to remain mysterious boyo
on my own blogg
dont tell me that andre breton
or arthur rimbaud
or baudelaire
or even the great billy milkshakespearmint
would not be blogging their genius brainds out
who wants to wait months for publication
i can rave straight to ya here and now
its fresh my little numbat
thats what yer (dont) pay for
you think i gonna come down here
pull on my mysterious identity
and pull your leg an hour a day
you see
as i told ya before
i charge for that malarkey
this set up
however
is
im yer friend
i talk to ya
you can talk to me
take it or leave it
if ya want something else
BE IT YERSELF
its simplimento, amore
anyhow
nevermind all that
i admit i gotta bad attitude
feel all pumped up and male
its not my fault
after all am i not a manne?
sometimes i just feel like fighting someone
luckily for me
this feeling is not so frequent
yes
im a cranky aggressive sod
ive had road rage
and ive frightened a certain cowardly mo fo
who cut me off in a roundabout
and then wannted to stop
and ‘ave some argy bargy about it
i got my whole fam in a lil rent a car
his big old four wheel drive
(thats never seen mud in its life)
has got blah blah blah interior decorating
the guy jumps out
a little skinny dude about 30
suddenly hes sees bricklayer from hell
descending on him
he doesnt realize i’s an ex foppish glam rocker
he minces back in vanny and ske daddles
i feeling i gonna strangle him
nk and kids v. quiet when i get back in car
what is this?
it was like i was possesed
i was prepared to kill this man
wow
you learn something new
bout yerself every day
even when yer getting pretty olde
like yer humble senile scribe
this happened a few years back
i had it a few times since
very frightening
you see
we are half animal/half angel
you gotta get that balance right baby
some times the animal gets unleashed
sometimes yer all seraphim
thats me mostly
a bit of a saint
but even jesus got angry
with them ” straight” money lenders
he rained on there little fuckin parade
imagine having the son of jehovah and the prince of peace
chuck a wobbler at you
at the office…
so im sorry if i antagonize you ever
friends sometimes accidentally do that
but i write this cos i like you
i dont wanna tell you how to be
try to understand
i sit here
give you my thoughts
that i tell to no other
i do it gladly
i do it completely for the love
of communicating with ya
i wanna blog
its my destiny
dont take mah blogg off me mama
you may see a nasty side
olde capt’n paisley
ive swum great rivers
fought dangerous aquatic beasts
endured the smoke of marijuana forests
just to write ya this today
like me or lump me my friend
but you aint gonna find another like me
switch off
i dare ya
ya never know what i could write tomorrow
who knows?
could be something goode….
dont get yer knickers in a knot
it aint worth it
ha!
i should know…

see yer round
me

bit of an up n down morning so far
happy
angry
late
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
or
(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
jesus
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…
and
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
HUH?
go fucking figger fiendsss
ok ?
sk !

i am oscillating between
incredulity and apathy
this world is spinning
and its got me spinning
on my axis
(of evil)
attracted by one pole
repulsed by the other
i go round
and
round
strangled by desires that proliferate
in the darkness of (this) mans mind
like that little gadget joycies got
one black side
one white side
put it in the sun and it
goes round
and
round
i am drinking a bottle of water
its called oxygenizer
it claims to reoxygenise ya
i oscillate between believing this
followed by disdain for my own naivety
that i would believe that codswallop
followed by belief again
etc etc
etc
then i realise im revolving on thousands of these axes
(is that the plural of axis?)
belief
non belief
like
dislike
love
hate
man
woman
life
death
infinity
i meet a guy on the street
offers me a part in a film
hes got an accent and a card with his name
and a camera
who will i be playing i ask
ha ha ha the film man
and the guy who introduced us laugh
youll find out man…
cant tell you here….
ha ha
youre perfect for this role…
see ya tomorrow…i;ll tell ya then
ok
ok
so im oscillating wildly now
all over the place
you see this principle, folks?
its a wonder i get anything done
such is the whirlpool of my mind
i saw a show on oj simpson
he did it
he got off
cmon
just like gw rigged the election
down in florydah
cmon you think theres a shred o doubt?
its like bobby dylan says
steal a little and they throw you in jail
steal a lot and they make ya a king

audacity
dont underestimate the power of audacity
my daughter evies got it in spades
she believes she can do anything she wants
so she does
this has enormous pluses and minuses
for her
and everybody else
she could walk when she was 7 months old
aurora her twin who has very little audacity
didnt walk till nearly 4 months later
so audacity is an inherent quality
you can turn it to goode
(i will climb yonder mountain)
or to badde
(sod democracy, i was born to rule)
i realise now that although not as supercharged with audacity
as evie
i must have a bit myself
a stubborn belief
when you hit a wall
its the walls fault
in the early days of the chruch
i was audaciously rude
to radio types
journos
fat record execs with bentleys and botox flesh mistress
anyone in a suit or tie
the other guys in the group
men
women
small children
and several breeds of dogs
i didnae wanna be rude per se
i just thought it was something young geniuses did
talking of journalists
there was an english guy
he wrote for nme or somethin’
i think he may still even be around
his name was mat snow
wow
mat snow
what a great name
i sure wish i was called mat snow
instead of stevie k
any how
he always give us Badde reviews
comparing us unfavourably always with rem
so i really in awe of this dude
i imagine hes like nick kent
legendary 70s writer with rockstar looks
and connexions
so imagine in 1984
i in london
i get to do interview with mat snow
i very nervous to meet this groover
who has ridiculed my records
and fucked my chances in olde blighty
i and gurlie from carrere records in pub
i imagining guys gonna come in
cross between keef richards and paul simenon
gurlie from carrere goes
oh hi mat
this is steve
i look up to meet my critic
a short bald fat little bastard
who scoffed down eggs and sausages and bake beans
and got it all over his shirt and tie
and was really excited by the fact
that he could ‘ave as many bevvies
as ‘e liked
FER FREE !!
in person he wasnt up for much of an argument either
when i aimed my outraged ascerbic egos tongue
at his greasy little self
so mat ah tell me again why seance is so fucking awful
but he was too busy wiv ‘is sausages and beer to ansa

is he still around, boydie?
i dunno why im venting my spleen on that dude
imagine wot he fuckin’ well looks like now
he looked and acted like 50 when he was 25
but what really pissed me off was that
it was always him that reviewd our records
year after year
same as steve suvverland
another pommy git
and a personal coward when i challenged him
manne to worm
to an argument
as to why everything we had ever done was 2nd rate
and the cat had his tongue
but alone with his typewriter
he was the adjectival king
aint he still around too, boydie?
those 2 guys
singlehandedly
(well doublehandedly actually
prevented me from being a english sooper starr
so fuck em

i love ya
me

i dont know where to begin
today
a dark stormy day here
water deep and warm and green
i lose myself in it
the wind blows droplets away from me
like spirits leaving my body
no one at the pool
cept me and my brother
the shore is deserted
thunderheads heading towards us from
out there at sea
sydney crouches around the coast
going about its sleazy business
copsnrobbers
lawyers n judges
convenience store owners
dazzled in their fluorescent lights
travel agents and junkies
bell boys and rent boys
men working on the roads
bigshots in their penthouse suite
(dripping smug dollars and aftershave)
on days like this
baby birds disappear from nests
lizards scurry in the weeds
ants mobilise
children huddle in classrooms
while the south wind bangs on the roof
screaming and moaning
to be let inside
babies shudder in their sleep
dreaming of their last life
instruments detune
and the air passing over my guitars
makes all the strings resonate weirdly
faces appear at windows in empty houses
frail thin old ladies evaporate
i walk along my street
after i have written this
papers fly and whirl
lifting off from these bleak streets
i long to rise with them
fly out of this whole thing
earthbound
i trudge along
flowers fall off trees
metal comes down on metal
dogs go mad and attack their owners
lines come down
people tune in to strange shows
“manuel on the isle of marvels”
a strange boy finds a door in a tree
some giant birds hound him
he wakes up in an impossible room
its geometry is all wrong
its all in black and white
terrible omens are sighted
keep a low profile
on the run from the fucking philistines
no
i will never accept their feeble tripe
i will not watch their music
or eat their art
i dont wanna fill my available space
w/ gossip n war n fame n pschological bullshit
i am not a number
I AM A FREE MAN
im hiding from myself
even tho
i am beside myself
i dont recognise myself
its 11 08
its the last day ever
until tomorrow
the last blogg ever
till the next one
my last chance ever
unless you give me another
i forgot how to speak english
ive become a pillar of salt
i fuckin well packed it all in
smashed up my bass
poured scorn all over my paintings
and set em on fire
i bought a suit
i got a job
i joined the army
i got promoted
i invaded tir na nog
im trapped here forever
see ya round
sk

im sorry
i cant be with you everyday
my family are getting suspicious
i say im going out for half an hour
but im scoring blogg
staggering home overloaded
with all yalls lovely comments
drunk on my ego
and supercilious cleverness
im trying to be everything to everybody here
christ you know it aint easy
i wanna write the best blog
i wanna heal the lame
and bring back the dead
i wanna make all the idiots
disappear
i want fete de LA musique on everycorner
everyday
i want the mumsndadsnkids to understand
i want more shakespeare , less copsnrobbers
i want more jeff buckleys
lord, why did you take that lovely manne from us?
hopefully he’s singin’ out there somewhere
i want those leaf blowers to stop workin’
and people go back to rakes
(or leave the fuckin’ leaves where they are)
i want ultc to bee number 1
on every chart in every country
and i’ll give all the money
back to the poor
i wanna dismantle the weapons baby
war huh what is it good for?
i wanna spend the defence budget on
guitars
recreational drugs
gamblin’
buying postcards of krishna
getting my be bop deluxe collection complete
i wanna bathe my feet in the silver heat
i , personally, wanna sack the generals
the arms (and legs) dealers
the fuckin spies…
what good does all that malarkey do you and me?
get those fat pale useless olde politicians
and make em take surfing lessons
give em a mushroom and send em down the tube
every imbecile who wants to kill some one
on some gods behalf
will be made
to read sidhartha and listen to a donovan cd
until they understand
(somewhere in washington
a little rat who is
assembling a file on me
has just smiled triumphantly..
“now i got ya sk..
spending defence budget on drugs…!)
its an absurd world…
yes!
we should drop joints instead of bombs
we should plant ibogaine instead of mines
cmon get angry with me…
ya cant drop joints on people….its unamerican
it is indeed an absurd world
eves got curly hair
she wants straight
auroras got straight
she wants curly
people setting fire to people cos of a cartoon
cmon
did anyone responsible put one seconds thought into that..?
as david blowie says
we’re just older children…thats all
now i;ll probably have to cut
the thin white juke in on all my blog ad revenue
they offered me a million bux a week
to advertise some music bizz rubbish on my site
tycoons flyin’ down here trying to persuade me
takin me out on their yachts and flashing cash
i told em
my readers are a sophisticated bunch
they aint gonna stand for commoicials
they love me,
nay,
revere me
for my integrity
for my honest dealings
for my forthrightness
they know olde sk calls a spade flush a spade flush
they know
im riding shotgun on their shopping trolley
the bohemians friend
st steven, martyred for marijuana
what a shame mary jane had a pain at the party
so thats it
no ads on my blogge, baybee
no ads for james blunce new aftershave
no spruikin the veronicas autobiography
sorry that wont wash here mister
these readers want their sk fixx pure
so there you glow
im alive
im well
in fact im valve bouncing
ive shifted up a gear
im realizing more and more
all the time
im getting it together for ya all
ya probly gunna see mee reel soon
when ya least expect it
ripples of my influence
little moments ive engineered for ya
astral strings ive pulled on yer behalf
problems ive taken care of for ya pleasure
you know how it is
i cant tell you any more than that
theyre listening
nevermind
see ya later
all my best
sk

im trapped in this dream
in the dream i cant breathe
i try everything
but my nose is blocked
my throat is closed
i cant get any air down to my lungs
i feel like im dying
the other characters in my dream go about
their mundane dreamlives
unaware that im dying
the world whirled …again
my reality became a vortex
a vortex in deed appears
unleashed by the crash
im starting to be picked up by the vortex
bit by bit
im whirling around
as it goes down
thru the dark earth
towards king death

i wake up
im lying face down in my pillow
i could hardly breathe
i stagger to open window
suck in oxygen
still uncomprehending
i pull on my clothes
leave the house
its a dark warm overcast morning
there is a ceiling on the world
nimbus roof protecting us
the most tiny drops of rain
alight on my skin
as i stride away from home
everything moves into sharp focus
frangipani flowers
luxurious gifts from vishnu
beautiful trees full of beautiful birds
gardens roses glorious weeds
snails amble along
masterpieces in design and engineering
everything is close
i feel like im in a big room
in my Fathers mansion
so quiet
so hushed
the scene set for me
no cars
no other people
nothing
saturday morning 7 am feb 2006
to fix a co ordinate on it
i pass the cafes
toast cooking somewhere
i walking along boardwalk
pacific ocean baybee
cmon i still excited by it
foreboding breakers roll in
the ocean conceals its monsters well
but you remember theyre still out there
people fizz past me
im in my interior world
my whole life falls out of my head
unsequentially
i lived it all for you
i realise that now
my life was a play
you always know the ending
i acted it out
and i was the audience
filming it
recording it
photographing it
slice by slice
frame over frame
i took it all down for you
because i knew one day
youd want to know what it was
so i was , like, the protaganist
in my own life
with all the confidence
and frustration
of the actor who has played his part before
and is anxious to get to the good bits
the bits with the good lines
and the heroic moments
how i sat thru the tedium of the fifties
for ya
playing a little boy i was
ha ha
sometimes i dropped out of character
i came out with profound and profane stuff
eager to try out lines that would be coming later
now
then the sixties
i started filming in colour sometime in 1966
some of those sixties things
are brighter clearer and more alive
than much of the nineties
thats all thru a very dark filter
its all mixed up
i guess the eighties are in good nick
though a little burnt in places
where i saturated my camera
anyway
im still walking by the ocean
joggers
surfers
mumsndadsnkids
i hit the sea pool
im painting a picture of
ziggy in the sea pool
i imagine he crashed here in 2006
instead of lundon 1972
the water is green
cool viscous bouyant
i do only 18 laps
my laziness conquers my determination
i go into the sauna
i watch the ocean
those amazing surfers out there already
on a day like this
in their black suits
riding the wild fucking sea, mister
a russian guy i know comes in
a serious sauna fiend
he chucks a bucket of water over the rocks
despite sign:
do not splash hot rocks
the room fills with scalding steam
its almost worse than the interview at m w ps
i go red all over
the steam wallops me like a jealous lover
it slaps my face
and kicks me in the balls
want some more comrade?
yeah sure…uh…oh….yeah
i emerge stuffed and cooked
i do my chi gong
(chinese breathing exercises)
i get dressed
i leave
i come here
i write this
i love you
sk