The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

*and then spat it back out….

bondi nsw australia 21 11 06

a hideous black n white monster
with green headings
today gorged itself on the beachside suburb of bondi
police n firemen say they were powerless
against the beasts adjectival phrases n hipster spellings
the blogge was believed to aided n abetted by a number
of commenters as it continued its rampage thru the streets
men in suits n middleclass old bits of mutton dressed up as lamb
were particularly at risk
the blogge seemingly deliberately targetting a bank manager
getting out of his bmw 4 wheel drive
who was sucked in, briefcase, financial times n all
and then regurgitated wearing a paisley kaftan
clutching a brian eno record and a copy of journey to the east
the former bank manager said
its great….could you burn me a copy of popul vuh?
only moments later
a hoity toity anorexic but with flabby bits rich wifey
was trowelling on her pancake and applying her cover-up
in her ensuite bathroom with rare narwhal fittings
when without knocking
the blogge burst in, swallowing her immediately
she was later seen at a hare krishna restaurant
serving the poor and proclaiming
the time being is my main man…
a teenage girl in a merc her (sugar) daddy had given her
sitting at the lights listening to craig obey versus the church
listening to the god awful doof doof doof and thinkin’
gee this is good
was suddenly sucked from her car by the blogge
and thrown up clutching a flexi single of unsubstantiated
and a dog eared copies of the female eunuch n das kapital
however
police here report
the strangest thing being
was a fifty 2 year old man in his blue grey falcon wagon
described as scruffy bohemian bricklayer type
holding acetates of hawkwind demos n manuscript
for shakespeares missing play
was vomited forth
as snappy cappytalist
auctioning off artworks for huge sums
trying to persuade folks to pay for his ramblings
and trying altogether to recast himself
as some kinda sagacious avuncular niceguy
(btw, the timebeing had ‘is hare cut last nite!!)
peddling his own brand of a cobbled together
hodge podge
of hedonistic hippy dribble
half digested chunks of eastern philosophy
and semi-automatic tripe
which he produced in a cannabis fog
as easily as most people yawn
and lo
he fucking prevailed
and the good sound of space rock was heard!
police describe the man they are looking for
as 5 feet eleven inches of cork-asian appearance
he had brown fine hair and a white beard
he also had buns o steel
he spoke with an anglo-austro accent
and prone to using words like vermillion
or
anathema
he had freckles
he wore rayban sunnies n blunnies
he wore black shorts and had tanned muscular calves
he wore a popul vuh for pope tshirt
and a hat which said vote vishnu
with him were his quintuplets
born from different mothers
their names were
calliope, frigga, autumn-rain, bubbles and lu-lu
all his daughters were girls
in one hand he clutched the green five sided leaf
in another a carob fruit n nut bar
in another hand was a chai soy latte with aloe vera chewy bits
yet another hand held a treatise on cosmic fire by todd rundgren
when questioned the man admitted he was the time being
a fugitive from mediocrity n maudlin gossipbags
hed been on the lamm but never the lamb!
hed meet n greet but no meat!
wheel me deal but dont break no legs
bake me a cake but dont break no eggs!
the man had evaded capture by a series of yoga poses
ie posing as a yogi (bare?)
he had assumed the dog position on priest equals oarer
yeah
its all gone silly again…!
so what sunshine?
whatcha gonna do about it?
wanna fight me?
wanna bet me?
wanna take on my heavy karma baybee?
my poverty is my riches
my oldness makes me so young
im such a he-man
but regularly in touch
with my (yuck!) feminine side
my homo-side
im spouting prose poetry
but i swear like a fucking trooper
and i rant on about the rotten politicians
ruining this holy earth
and then i contra-dicked myself
took the cash
(15 cents)
absconded with a burn of elmomento2
and a brown paper packet containing
the remnants of glennys hydgey
ha ha
youll never take me aloof he screamed
as he plummetted into well heeled obscurity
would you like to write like the time being?
send 15 cents to this address
the time being
livin it large towers
13 prosperity street
(next door to jet n benny fanning)
tinseltown, $9999
remember
each purchase
will get you
for a limited time being only
a special offer
a free non-sequitur
OR
an anatomically correct tb doll
(w/ real steel buns n cobalt balls)
look i can write anything i like
look!
bebrvbir rtiueh vtgverf o 754678&^%*O b
pure genius
pure dirt
naughty being naughty
read about me
reed about me
king midas has asses ears
and ears on his ass
i wish he’d tune my muffler n fender jazz
its chris masse
deck the eeks with bits of holly
look im quite mad you know
i mean its quite voyeuristic of ya
to witness the ravings of an insane man
ive gone like artaud or neeeszche
you know
how all us olde genii go fucking loopy in our senility
you used to love me cos i was pretty n fey
now you really love me cos im pretty frayed
all the ladies want a beard like mine
just ask em
ladies?
yes.
would you like a beerd-like myne?
yes!
ah, there you go!
doubting thomases the lot of ya!
why i can do whatever i like here
this blogge is mine
you hear me
MINE!
DONT TELL ME TO CHILL OUT!!!
I AM THE TIME BEING!!!
EXTERMINATE!!!
EXTERMINATE!!
SUBSCRIBE!!
SUBSCRIBE!!

oh my silly fiends
have yerselfs a nice little day
or a cosy little northern hemi-sfeer nite
yours
as never
nevets nhoj yeblik the 2nd n a half, eskquire

xmas decorations everywhere
it gets earlier every year
shops open n close
cafes come n go
the tourists flock to bondi every weekend
the carparks fill n overflow
families from europe turn up
escaping the winter
yobbos from the western suburbs
who carry their yobbettes down
and throw em in the sea in a macho display
the regulars jog up in down in the sand
suntanned to the point of cremation
gay guys with unbelievably toned bodies
muscle men working out on the grass
lifesaving pageants and fruit juice sellers
cellulite, boob-jobs, g-strings, boogie boards
kids dig holes n sandcastles
lovers squirming around on their towels
lonely people read the newspaper
pizzas n cups of coffee
the calippo salesmen with their little cold boxes
brazilian guys practicing that dancing self defence jive
pommies getting sunburnt
italians looking cool
irish backpackers with beer
everywhere people drivin’ round
looking for a precious parking spot
come monday morning
bondi is deserted again
just the schoolkids n the locals
hurrying on their way
surf shops n bureau de changes
indian take-aways n the swiss grande
the ubiquitous tramps n bag ladies
the nice ones, the nasty ones, the nutty ones
fat rich bastards in their gas guzzler bmw suvs
poor old nobodies in their thousand buck falcons
the famous n the infamous
the known n the unknown
jostling at bondi markets
pushing thru the crowds of dopey teenage girls
gossiping, sulking, trying, buying
whaddya want?
a little skirt?
a hammock?
some old trinkets?
a bar of soap?
picture frames or mirrors?
an ‘orrible sausage sizzle (disgustin’!!)
a black sabbaff tshirt?
everyone looking for a bargain
everyone cram into bondi sunday afternoon
everyone leave at the same time
traffic locks up
the streets empty out
everyone gone home again
thats it
till next week
when it all starts again
and thats it from me
till tomorrow
tomorrow!

xx

sk

sunday morning
that most sacred day
our day of rest
new day dawns
the lonely tb
sitting up on his ownsome
reading the comments from yessaday
tb thinks what can i give my flock today
oh i want to spoil you all
pull out my sunday best
eve n aurora get up
“why didnt you wake us up for the meteor shower”
they angrily demand
eve standing there with arms folded like a jilted lover
aurora gets up in my face
“d-a-a-a-d???”
rejecting my explanation that 2 am in the morning
is not a good time for little doodles to be watching
meteors shower…
(besides doesnt the meteor wants some privacy
when it takes the shower…?)
(you might see its asteroids)
anyhow the doodles stomp off back to bed
well n truly pissed off with moi
who just doesnt understand NOTHING sometimes
its funny being this olde, fiendss
i dont feel like i got anymore time behind me
than say, when i was 5 or 10 or 15
it always seemed life stretched back forever
until a kinda blurry barricade that yer memory could not pierce
its sad to think that all the fun we have with baby bumper
she’ll never remember
my mum n dad seemed to have an exciting life before i came along
on certain nights of the year
when all the rellies n english friends ‘d get together
the kids ‘d all petition the grownups for ghost stories
my dad had 2 beauties
which he did complete with sound effects
like doors slowly creaking open
and footsteps down a hall
he swore both the stories were true
and i never knew whether to believe ‘im
there was the one about the 2 friends in the r.a.f.
they were both spitfire pilots
and in love w/ the same engish rose
the lady finally declares her intention to marry one
the other knobbles his rival plane
who goes missing in action
mr nasty bastard marries the girlie after being her consoler
the war ends
but
one year after the war ends….
a spitfire lands on the airstrip
its the guy returning
they rush up to the plane
slide back the cockpit
and …
its a skellington flying the plane!!!!!!!
the other story
was my mumndad
broke down on motorbike
on the moors
dark foggy night
find little hotel unexpectedly
check in
old old couple working there
lovely rooms
next morning
sun shines
find bike
n ride on to worried friends
anxiously waiting
les n joyce where you been last night..?
oh we stopped at a little hotel
hotel?
theres no hotel round here…
but…
sure enuff
they go back to try n find it
but never can….
oohhh i thought that was creepy
anyway
i was thinking about my early life
i wasnt an easy kid to like i guess
i was kinda cheeky in a way which shocked my auntie lou
who was my dads sister, 10 years older
“leslie you should chastise that childe!” i remember she’d say
i used to say i “hated” food n stuff like that
all the rellies seemed vaguely pissed off with me
i guess it was the nascent bohemian
lined up against all them fifties “straights”
there were a few bohos amongst em
my uncle dennis, a cat from bristol
my dads corporal in the marines
he wasnt really my uncle
it was impolite to call adults by their 1st names in those days
everyone was uncle n auntie to me…
anyway dennis always had the latest weirdest stuff n theories
i only realise now what a huge influence he musta weided over me
he came out with the wildest stuff
“a carfull of bloody jehovahs witnesses broke down out the front
they came n asked me if i could get it going..
i told em ask sodding jehovah to fix yer bloody car!”
i mean ididnt hear a lotta that kinda stuff in those days
he always had the latest beatles record
n he took me n my dad step by step thru the paul is dead scam
playing the records backwards n everything
he had a spare room upstairs where i sometimes found myself
there was the first playboys i ever saw
back in like 1961 -2
man
oh god i can still see it now
i mean
i couldnt believe it…..
i still cant….
and not only that
but a couple of years later
although it was totally banned in australia
a copy of lady chatterlys lover
i mean to a 10 year old
theres some sizzling erotica in that book
jesus christ it put some ideas in my head
and still sometimes
if im in a bookshop
i’ll go n read those pages…
go lady chat!!!!
is that why ploogy became a gardener in the end?
after that i become a bit of an avid young reader of erotica
consuming sexus n tropic of cancer by henry miller
the story of o
the story of the eye
anais nins delta of venus n little birds
the kama sutra n the perfumed garden
wherein i dutifully learned of the yoni n lingam
i certainly had all the theory down early, you could say..
not that this has much to do with anything
by the way
seems ive left uncle dennis off in the distance
such is my rambling restless mind…
dennis had a dark side too
he told me his mother used to lock him in the cupboard
when he played up
he was a vehement atheist and he fuckin’ blasphemed
in front of all the old ducks
one imagines he had been quite a soldier during the war
my dad n he idolised each other
he was there the day my dad suddenly died…just like that
after all the stuff thrown at em during the war
his old mate just fell off a ladder while painting a wall
and he was gone
the humour, the memories
our kind old dad
extinguished like a flame
dead men dont know theyre dead said dennis
in his bristol accent
and somehow i took some comfort
in that bleak consolation
that day was thirty years ago in early dec
my mum had to sell the little house my dad just bought
(thats why he was painting it)
to pay “death duties”
so theres a little irony for ya
he worked his whole life to get a holiday house
and a couple of weeks later
he died
and the govt took it back off us…
i reckon that was fuckin’ rude
i hear theyve done away with that tax in some places..
did they need the money so bad to do that to us?
anyway dennis is still going tho
on one lung only
hes still feisty n bohemian too
no ones gonna take him in with loada olde bullshit
i guess going thru ww2 can do that to ya
“dont think the allies didnt commit atrocities” he warned me once
and a look in his eyes told me he had seen some dark stuff
its funny the war made him harder
and it made my father softer
my father always approached life with great reverence
while to dennis it seemed maybe more temporary
i dunno
i do thank my lucky starrs
ive never had to try kill anyone
or had anyone trying to kill me
my biggest worries have been bullshit like
i gotta bad review
or
the chocolate soy milk failed to materialise
i feel kinda spoilt sometimes
ive had it good
real good
im thankful
i really am
my life has been sheltered n safe
in a turbulent world
anyway
its sunday
go out and celebrate
love your life a little
have an icecream
take a walk on the boardwalk
watch all those people go past
listen to all those voices
thats all you can do on a day like today
take it easy baybee
take it real slow
sk

dear people
i am delighted n overwhelmed by yer response
of course
as usual
there is a huge silent majority
i mean 6 7 hundred of ya
who read n read n dont say nothing
and that is fine by me
the readers job is not necessarily to interact with writer
although this medium makes it possible..
there have been some very pithy n flattering comments
a few pertinent questions
and i guess this is the book keeping side of this blogge
to take care of this kinda thing
(or if ya like
i could be a loof
and never aknowledge nothin’
…if ya like…)
anyway im just gonna fire off things at random
probably get it all wrong
and i cant be bothered flipping back n forth
between things
to get all ya names right
and quotes exact
so keep yer knickers on if things arent quite as is
1st of all
my dear reader mr p savant
oh savant
i did so much like your image better
with the longer hair n sunglasses
it seems youve left your “pop” image behind
and now something in a more mature style
(a la lennon plastic ono era)
i do enjoy your comments you cynical lil shiny-bum
and yes dear bouy
there will be more exposees on the dept of primary industry
circa early seventies, canberra a.c. fucking t.
the waste, the card games, the greasy suited bigwig gooseballs
the tea bloody breaks, the flexi-time, the late mornings in
n early afternoons out
the taxpayer funded avos at gusses
smoking pot in my car in the carpark
flicking straightened out paperclips with thick rubber bands
(i was deadly accurate and it hurt!!)
drawing cartoons of the bosses
wait a minute….!
i just told it!!!
nah theres heapsmore if ya wannit
i must also talk to the person
who says that i do make more than a clerk
druid
lets wager
i will wager ya a thousand dollars that i am on the poverty line
if you put yer money up
i will too
say a disinterested party on here
theres a few ya could trust
(and a few ya couldnt)
i’ll fax ya my tax return
you check it out
find out what yer basic clerk gets here in aust
if i aint fucking below that
ya keep my thousand
if i am
i keep yours
now
facts about the music biz
you may not be aware of
1 most musicians other than the real biggies
are broke
you say we have 190 titles registered with bmi
i bought a 190 tickets in the lottery too
so what?
most of our records are deleted or unobtainable
we will never receive any moneys from arista
because we were in such a huge hole with tour support
videos n studio
not only that
but we will never find out how much we owe
until we stop oweing
you know about my rotten publishing deal
and their scams to keep me parted from my money
when we tour we usually break even
i mean we aint playin the fucking megadome…
anyway you got recording costs, agents, managers
flights, accom,taxis, rentalcars,roadcrew,advertising,
blah blah blah
i tell ya the average guy ya see playin’
at the place down the road..
he aint raking in any big dough
yeah he got the “glamour”
but hes usually getting less than the roadies
(the church always were/do!)
i had a couple of biggish advances a long long time ago
but as i said
i was a junky ten years
i moved countries 3 times
and then took some real bad investment advice
n lost the lot
arrive back in aust 02 virtually penniless
(tears, wailing, gnashing of teeth)
a lot of it i did to myself
so ya cant really feel sorry for me…
anyway your comment was doubly stupid
because as paulc pointed out
any book record film picture photo ballet sculpture tv show
is
basically
you paying for someone elses thoughts, sunshine
and a blogge is just a new way of presenting thoughts
i was in melbourne sometimes this year
and i met my dear n handsome friend donald b
n he says ya know nevets
yer music n al the rest is ok
but what yer really good at
what you were born to do is blogge..!
and then he waited
maybe slightly apprehensive that
i may have taken some offence to this obsyvation
but no
it was true
i am born to blogge
if only if only if only
this medium had been around all those years ago
i mean its like being a bass guitarist
but only finding yer first bass at age 51…
i only been at it a year
im learning..
im actually sorry
n embarrassed that i hadda ask ya for some moolah here
i wanted to do it fer nothing
i didnt know itd take so much time….
but the blogge comes from wherever the songs come from
and i dont really see the difference
yer happy to pay for songs aint ya?
anyway
as i said
if you think im livin’ it fuckin’ large
in a mansion on the hill
and just greedily trying to rake in some extra gravy
to pay off nks beemer suv
and the new summer house…… HA!
but i tell ya what too
n i promise ya all this
if
if, i doo
get an unexpected windfall
i’ll immediately take the paypal away
********************************
i didnt envisage donators being mentioned anywhere
nor did i envisage free cds, or cash going to po boxes
it ll be a paypal
if ya cant do it
ok
if ya can thanks
if ya dont wanna
just read it then with my blessings
maybe another way
is to pay after you read a good blogge you liked
you could reward me with a 15 cents deposit
for my efforts to amuse you
i will however be starting to post some pics
AND
a spoken blogg may be a possibility
so i will be thinking of ways
to make our blogge grow n evolve
until you get complete satisfaction
(but never)
complete repayment of yer 15 cents..
so there ya go..
thats the being for 2day
im gonna take em to “paddateen” market as evie calls it
im gonna have a swimmy n take yon doodles too
im gonna do poached pears fer brekky
im gonna complete dakini in bondi
im gonna think of the other 2 hundred things
im sposed/promised to do
im gonna smoke a bone n strike pose
im gonna reflect on the kind things mr b bon
that lover of the box n silence
said about me
and the guy who said all that stuff but said i had a fool too
druid, ya think i dont already know that?
but the other stuff was nice and thanks
all of ya who pledged yer belief
im very relieved by yer pozzitif responses
ya coulda all said no
and thanks
for bothering
to comfort
this
olde
white bearded
washed up n broke
pot addicted
scruffy
hopeless
confused
rocker
i’ll be back tomorrow with ‘tude
killa!

the sun burst forth
through the dappled art-deco glass
it separated into slightly moving motes
that played up n down the wall
ooh mr sleep
a purple vase held some small red flowers
the dust moved in the still room
the sky pressed against his windows
and clouds rolled restlessly thru his day
entirely free now
the moon still out there shining
a smile of complicity
a nod of the head
ooh mr sleep
dishevelled crumpled rumpled warm
deep breaths n stillness
a remote realm the back of beyond
some movements but slowly slowly
photographs of the deities with gaily painted frames
childrens paintings of mermaids n merpigs
a solemn line of ants
clothes strewn carelessly
ooh mr sleep
yesterday something was noticed missing
who dares steal sleeps thunder?
the moaning n bitching wind?
the groaning n pitching floorboards were still
in the air floated music
a song was playing in sleeps house
it was called forget your amnesia
no one there had ever heard it before
mrs sleep cries softly, eyes closed n quietly now
in the tears are reflected the shadow n the mirror
the bulging wardrobe full of secrets
no one must ever find
a sticker of a blue guitar
emblazoned with the house of sleep
the almost sound of sliding
suddenly everything is paused
the film burns
the tape is stretched
the moment never passes
the children would be horrified at all this
the room shrinks
its alright, little sleeps
theyre at a slumber party at the nods
the temperature has fallen
its unusually ordinary
a reprieve has been obtained
and a gift from olde father sleep
who can no longer visit them
a hat, upside down, full of empty heads
rubber skin and plastic apparatus
a holeless colander
knives with no edge
leftover teabreaks
kneeling big breasted elephant headed girl statuette
telephone rings but the number is silent
a calendar from an unused year
buddha descended in flames thru 3 frames
a white square filled with a blue circle on black wood
an occult diary
blurred margin of difference
mention of africa
memories from childhoods
green glass n the cruel death of a tiny grey frog
basket weaving, the smell of that wet cane
christmas when everyone was happy or sad
someone you loved a little once n then
cosy biscuit box memories
wrapped up in your hanky memories
brownpaperbag n rainyday memories
little lane ran away from our school
the birds attacked you on your bike
a train station but nobody alighting
a little shop with grimeremover n stainkiller
feel things turn nasty
the weather for a start
why cant things just stay like this?
thats what father sleep had said
now im beginning
to ask myself
the same question

northern bondi
i’ll let you in on my thoughts
took miss aurora to orthodontist
he xrays her
he puts ice on her tooth
still cant decide says ye olde tooth-quack
could go either way
come back in 2 months
150 bucks thank you
bye
still in the dark with the tooth
we practise healing visualisation every nite
after a couple of pages of the silver chair
(we have to be gay exclaims the marshwiggle
..it was written in the 50s..
WHAT?! ask the doodles)
after that we try n imagine
how happy auroras tooth is back in its gum
i dunno if itll work fer sure
but it sure cant hurt..
*
i dunno if im sposed to preempt this record
the chreurch are working on
i dunno
someone might be angry if leaked it..
but
what the hell
in response to pubic demand
we are doing el momento the second
but thats all im saying
look for it in the new year
it aint finished yet anyway
some of the stuff ll surprise ya
including a version of a beautiful australian song
from about 1984
yeah…..
*
in the interests of those who like to
witness my inner tussle
heres some stuff about the blogg and 2211
there is a good case to close it down
leave em wanting more someone wrote
itd be neat abrupt artistic and achingly final
we’d all miss what goes on here
our community would be fractured
but so what…?
nothing lasts for eva
on the other hand
there have been some serious calls for an extension
a postponement of the inevitable
but thats life anyway, baybee
and ya see
i aint ever gonna dry up on ya
im just getting better n better
cmon aint it the truth….?
(he says in all modesty!)
my life is guaranteed to generate “blogge-fodder”
just think
the twillies arrive in less than a month
then theres the pretenders
the wineries
more new records
my new play (a-ha!)
the day to day blah blah of life chez kilbey
so it aint like you even seen the best
a mooted tour of eastern bloc
fuck imagine the stories im gonna beam into
yer homes from transylvania..
maybe i’ll bump into peter murphy there…ha ha
look the good stuff could keep coming
and now
we get
to
the
really
sordid
bit
and i aint gonna pull any pinches
i never never xpected
or could have fourseen
what this blogge is today
(insert your own idea of what it is here)
but its turned into something
all with your help
i wouldnt write this tripe if no one read it, would i
anyhow
i work on it 1-2 hours a day
and i thought
after a years free trial offer
i would accept voluntary contributions
for a trial six month period
to see if can earn enuff filthy lucre
off this thing
to keep my greed n avarice satisfied
although we do not have an extravagant lifestyle
what with my bad publishing deals
and silly mistakes
and my former addiction
and moving here n there
i earn less than yer average clerk
and its an uncertain n precarious thing
so im thinkin i could put a paypal on here
i could suggest a voluntary contribution of 1 dollar a week
you could pay in advance (or at anytime you like)
26 aust buck
(if you want, if you think its worth 15 cents a day)
but if you think thats a capitalist move
undermining my preachy bohemian baloney
then you can
a) keep reading fer free
b) fuck off
c) start yer own bloody blogge
some important things to remember
the blogge must be daily
that is an intrinsic necessity
for someone of my temperament
if i have a choice of not doing something
i will usually choose not to do it
ie i must swim every day
if i give myself leeway
i’ll never go down the pool
so dont write in and say
dear nevets
just blogge when ya feel up to it
you olde man of the sea
but ya see
i will never feel up to it!
its daily mandatorily!
this blog is no chore for me
i put so much love into it for you
and i feel like i know you…almost
and some of you i do know
i think its reasonable
to make it possible
that
if for some odd and strange reason
you would like to see this blogge continue
and grow n prosper
if ya dig shakespeare n hawkwind
if ya think jesus is just alright
and ya kinda dig lord vishnu
if ya like cranky olde hippy dribble
stoned deeply meaningless rambles
prose poems, poetic prose
war stories
dissection of music biz
personal stuff
explosively inspired purple prose
sad olde man lonely n poignant
optimism
pessimism
inside the murky wurkings of my groop
tributes n trashings
character assassinations
and fawning glowing gushing praise
then you can contribute
or not
i m not gonna see who is and aint
after six months i’ll see how i fell
is that may 22 007 little darling?
thats what im thinking of doing…
suggestions please…
by all means anonymously
if you wanna say yes or no
and not be derided by our more
“enthusiastick” comrades
so there ya go
a rough show of e hands
it dont mean yer committing to nothing
im just curious
and even if ya say yay or nay
i may
still do the oppozite
ok
lemme hear ya now…
come on
down the back
whaddya want ta happen?
time john yeblick erskine neumann

put it all together n whaddya got?
i dunno
life continues…..
old maps come to light
journeys into darkness
and if the morning never arrives…?
oh, it always does…
eventually…
spring
the burst potential of our earth
abundant n green
its all been worked out for you
a self regulator
its been wound up
now it just goes n goes
dont ask me what forever means
i dont think we’ll be around to find out
not like this
not in these beggars rags
and uncomprehending grins
all things in time, being
you cant read the end 1st
itll make no sense
till you learn
unlearn
i believe in a certain ok-ness of things
im certain uncertainty will get me
a particular vagueness
a softly deafening racket
the drowning air
the freezing fire
the moving ground
under the black soil
seeds push
life renews again n again
whatever you throw at it
however you deal with it
you cant defeat it with money
or
pleasure
it cant be extinguished by a flame
life, always was, always will be
life comes from life
nothing comes from nothing
think about it
even longer
its 707 in the morning
everyone sleeping
resting for the day ahead
the children growing imperceptibly
before my very eyes
life forces them up
even against their will
they grow
they gotta learn
we gotta learn
some of the old ways we must abandon
we gave war a chance….didnt we?
cant we try another approach?
or is that the only song on our list
kill em
men women children animals planet
the misery of meat
cutting down the precious trees
make more stuff
the latest stuff
gimme gimme gimme
me too
im just as bad
i take n take n take
where is it all coming from?
who cares?
by the time it runs out
i’ll be long-gone, john
unless…
unless….
ah forget it
im happy
i got all my stuff
a thousand dollar gas-guzzlah
im making my own pollution now
and gulpin’ down that sweet petrol
burp!
excuse me
i’ll just help myself ….aye?
i mean
aint that what its all here for?
is this a fault in my thinking?
is life a deliberately structured
series of paradoxes n dilemmas
you gotta negotiate
or try again n again nagain…?
how did nevets do this life then?
oh…maybe a C plus
if we dont take blah blah blah
into consideration
nevets has been naughty
but nevets didnt know
he was only hurting himself
and its funny
how
even when ya sometimes know the right way
you still take the wrong one
isnt that stupid?
anyway
its a warm day
is that global warming
or just late spring?
ah…..thatll do for today
you get the picture, dontcha?
more pearls o’ wishdom tomorra then
love from killbey

hard workin’ man
slavin’ over a hot studio
sing a song, being
sing a song of space
the time wont pay no mind
look at your watch..
we are talking in space….not time
neuro-voyager
crystal discharges power
notes pile up on notes
word upon word
beat over beat
section within section
why have you suddenly connected, being?
what is the force that animates thee?
music, sex, music, sex
travelling towards the beginning
the start of our journey
i create
music
daughters
blogges
restless mangey olde panther
weilding yer confused powers
thc prophet
too much on yer plate
it all coming out
god help me
ive tapped in
my ancestors tellin’ me
go go go time being being
fill the void with yer stuff
do it soon, do it soon
my thoughts are too big for my head
i dont have the technique
to achieve my innervision
throwing music at a canvas
laying down the words with strings n pastels
complete stories unravel
who can i turn to?
who will understand?
where is the switch?
my fingers w/ new flexibility
my eyes getting worse
n my ears ringing…
can you believe i dont care…?
my five daughters
my four guitars
my three compadres
my two hands
my one life
my thousand dollar falcon
i cruise the darkened streets of sydney
after recording
listening to kraut rock
pulsing thru my decent stereo
time being in a capsule of sound
hot stormy night
air rushes in windows
my hair floats about
the trees go past
so happy in my anonymity
no one knows
no one cares
music
always music
from the very beginning
once more from the top
a tap dripping
rhythmic breath
in
out
in
out
my wife
a white planet in the dark night
the children
sweet childlike dreams
god protect n preserve my sweet hearts
elli n minna arrive less than a month
one man vs 6 women
my foolish female flock
poor olde daddy man
swamped in filial confusion
here daddy
here daddy
over here daddy
no here daddy
dadda dadda dadda
steven steven steven
how can i keep em all happy
busy being busy being
busy doing nothing
always took candy from strangers
never wanna learn me no trade
never wanna be like papa
workin for the boss every night n day..
i need a love to keep me happy
baby
baby keep me happy
baby
baby keep me happy

still life with motion….
the pool
the yoga mat
walking appreciating
internal dialogues
huge breakthrus
tiny steps
im excited
im raw
im living it in the present
up close n fer real
vivid
xxxx
visceral n cerebral
my fingers over necks n bodies
my breath filling a microphone with sound
my chest resonates
the words slide from my mind to my throat
1 2 3 4
and….rolling
its all mixed up
its a wrapped up
its a take
print it!
save it!
throw it in the back of the falcon!
daddy come back..
time daddy being….
must find out
must get this n that
always more for daddy to do
daddy neverstop
farther farther farther
further n further
yonder the beyond
not too far
now
keep it up
thats it!
ah!

working working working
gettin ‘ sore fingers
gettin’ a sore throat
(awww….!)
oh my “pitta” is outtacontrol
im on a roll
ive gone manic
im throwing out songs/ballets/architecture
ive designed a new earth and filled it with kilb-bots
ive thrown caution before swine
and pearls to the wind
i mean i got words accumulating in my shoes
i can write the blues during a black out
im rockin’
and
reelin’
im plucking the bass
and now there aint any more feathers
im drinkin’ unicorns with pink bulls
i say to others
hold me down boys
up up up i go
i mean im crazy
or is it just me
one hand playing
one hand painting
one hand on the 12
second hand close
ooh ohh nice crotchet, baybee
im quavering in perspective
i got 8 types of ambiguity
and a half eaten red herring
ive singlehandedly defeated punctuation
im saving you commas n capitals by the truckload
oh be serious, time bee, you say
yer cryptick jive ennervates
baby i aint no knobtwiddler
im a master fader
i have backwards reverb with my lunch
i stand up n say
?gnineppah stahw
space?
i m not talking to it…
ive gone marine…
ive gone out
then i went
im fucking across it baybee
and im across you
bathing in your estuaries
gazing at your lagoon
im diving deep beneath the surface
i can hold my breath for weeks
idiots begone
idiots begone
idiots begone
im daddy spearfisher
you gonna wriggle n shudder
you gonna attract sharks
the rip is sucking you out
down to the bed you go
down deep where monsters lie
barbs n shaft
hook n line
wrecks n debris
slowly now slowly
spinning out of sight
warm warm warm
blue n green
you flood
i pour
over

ok ok ok
so uh
yessaday
you unnerstand fiends
im in the studio
im a strumming my geetar n singing
when the young n rather naive engineer
motions to me to come into the controlroom
“ah steve theres someone outside to see ya!”
who is it, sunshine? i ask
“some olde guy” says the ‘neer
n then he looks up n has a good deco
at my white n bristly beardie
“…i mean, even older than thyself” he mumbles
i stand there puzzled?
who do i know whos older than me?
joycie bennett….gee there arent that many others..
“hes american” offers the young engineer helpfully
american? oh wow
this is interesting..
“..hes got straight silver hair…” he says
tom verlaine!!!!
oh wow its tom verlaine
suddenly a large figure strides into the control room
gee tom has put on weight…a real lot
but his hair is real nice now….
hang on…waiddaminnit..jus’ lemme c
that aint tommy milfigur vermont
its …
no it couldnt be
its…
“steve? im donald! call me donny r!”
no way
i mean
not the ex minister for war n death…?
what the hell…?
“lemme explain mahself”
said donny r in a brandy n cigar voice
and he sat down heavily
clutching his geetar case
“ya see i lost mah fucking job last week
and i look in the mirror
an i say donny yer still a fine lookin’ guy
yer silver hair looks pretty good
a lot fuckin’ better than eltons rug transplant
all that boyish hair on top of that silly old face
an billy joel …..ha!
and you know
i got the contacts
wanna play turkemenistan, boys…?
an’ you know
i aint just a gunslinger
im a geetar slinger too
and my motto?
make love and war baybee..
so ok you square cats
lets boogie woogie…!”
but donny i said very confused
whatcha doing here in botany with the chrunch?
“ah ha ya see i been thinkin bout a change in direction
for a while now”
donny confided in his big important voice
“and theres 3 things i know about rocknroll:
there are those who rock
there are those who do not rock
there are those who might rock
and then
there are those who rock
but neither we or them know it!”
but donny thats 4 things i said
“any way….”
says donny , giving me a furious glance
“i been looking for a band i could join
and i kinda hoped that after i had keith pushed outta his tree
i might get the job of rhythm guitar in the greatest rocknroll band
in the world…but the little bugger recovered
so i need to join a band where the guitarists have gone awol..”
but pete n marty aint gone ……awol….
suddenly i swallowed
the awful truth was dawning somewhere in my heart of hearts
“no, aint they?” smiled donny r with a twinkle in his rheumy eye
then i remembered
id gone round to get mwp in paddo that morning
a fucking no show
then out to the airport waiting for pk to get off his plane
nada, nothing
no luggage
not a trace
tim n i tried to ring em
we got a weird message from both their mobiles
a kinda white noise n some machine clicking..
but why the fuck didja choose us.i asked almost in tears
well i just googled mah name n the phrase space rock
and ya came up from yesterdays blog
and w
said as a last favour take the prez jet down under
and visit the boys
n
see what y’all can work out
and then w says
my little pal howard the coward
says theyre gonna be changing to a republic soon
and under the milky way gonna be a shoe-in
for national anthem
so yer in on a good thing donny!!
….anyway here i am
and im ready to fucking rock!”
the silverhaired warmongering old space rocker
pulled out a black les paul with gold fittings
plugged it into a marshall amp
he dipped his hand in his pocket
and pulled out a bloodred geetar pick
the donny r logo emblazed in silver like his hair
“a present from the boys at halliburton”
he chuckled to himself
then quickly tuned up the guitar
“check this out, boys”
he launched into a scorching riff
a macine-gunnin’, divebombin’, napalmhurlin howl of pain
tp and i looked at each other
youre in
i said
donny looked up from his fretboard
“you wont regret it” he grinned
he picked up a joint from the ashtray
n sparked it up
“and boys…?” he said in that deep croaky voice
“I fuckin’ inhale…!!!!”