The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

its sunday
ah….
and joining me
the doodles
goodmorningdoodles
both :goodmorningdad! (plus 2 kisses)
any dreams doodles?
both :nope
aurora : we had dreams but we cant remember
evie have you ever dreamed
eve: only nitemares
aurora what are you drawing
a; chipmunks, beavers squirrels n rabbits
all the animals that i like…
do you realise theyre all rodents?
a: yeah
e: what are rodents?
i explain rodents
are you guys happy?
both :yep
would you tell me if you were unhappy?
both : yeah
its funny aurora but you remind me of a rabbit…
a: you told me that about a thousand times
buts its true
a: i know iknow i know
i tell the doodles theyre getting chubby cheeks
a”: maybe we should skip dessert for 2 weeks
e : no ice creams
why do you guys like ice cream so much
e : theyre yummy
a : i dunno
what are you drawing eve?
e; a girl
a : i think her pants look nice
tell me about drawing n colouring eve
e ; its fun
eves become self conscious
a ; i learnt drawing from eve. at first they were people
with big round heads
and legs stickin’ out all over the place…
i dont think eve knows why she can draw so well
e: i dont
a: well i know why i can draw these animals so well
squirrels, beavers, rabbits n chipmunks
e : beavers…you dont draw beavers
a (looking down at her drawing) well i do now
the reason is…
what?
a : theyre so cute!
hmmm..the doodles seemed determined to not say anything profound
ok lets try something thought provoking…
e : daddy look
she proffers a drawing of a girl in metallic boardshorts
its pretty good for a 7 year old
thats great!
e : thanks
if you had to be an animal what would you be
a (quick as a flash) a rabbit
i have to stop and laugh
with her big white front teeth
her tawny skin
when she has her hair in pigtails
she looks like a huge floppy eared female bugs bunny
why would like to be a rabbit aurora?
e : youd get shot!
a : (moaning) no!
why then?
a : living underground
why would you like living underground?
a : id have noisy neighbours….
what?
a : up there…on top of the ground
thatd be a bad thing about living underground
a : yeah the good thing would be if theres thorns n bushes up top
you could just go underground and itd be good if it rained
e : the water would rain down yer hole
a : itd be like a swimming pool….
oh yeah cold rainwater filling up yer burrow
a : dad!
e : i wanna be a horse
why?
e : gallop around everywhere
a : yeah but youd probably get caught…
if you had to be someone else..who would it be?
a :besides me?
e ; a rabbit for god sake…!
a : me!
thats not someone else
a : i dunno what ya mean dad
if you were someone else
a : i dont wanna be someone else
e : why dja wanna be a rabbit then
a : i’d still be me!
aurora shows me her drawing
its a buncha rodents
each one with a letter from her name above it
whats with you and all these rodents?
a : I DUNNO!
doodles begin squabbling over pencils
aurora holding about 20 in her hands
n eve trying to drag em outta her hands
they start screaming and struggling
shuttup doodles its 7 30 sunday morning
it suddenly abates
aurora flings one last pencil at eve and its over
peace returns immediately
e : dad i know something about jigsaws
yeah?
e : when you see a corner one
you know its a corner one
cos its ..you know.. a corner
a : im going back to bed!
the end

this is the future, ok?
too late to say no anyhow
choice is illusory
your course is fixed
(handsignal)
set to go
gonna get some where
far away and watch you explode
gonna plot your arc in the night sky
watch your sparks fall to earth
racing on n on
towards the receding dawn
(initiate)
when you falling n shaking
coming down around my ears
when the mirror crashes into itself
and everything from the otherside set free
when the whirlpool and tornado combine
when the fire that burns underwater turns green
and the great dragon who stole your heart
scorches me with its breath
falling asleep you relinquish the wheel
waking into your otherlife
walking out of a hangar in the english summertime
hey dad is that a spitty or a hurricane?
its a spitfire son and he shot down a load of enemies….
just look at all those symbols on his fuselage!
in a wood nearby lives an english wizard
people call him the being
attended by five daughters
living next to a crystal stream
as his iniation
the wizard was submerged in ice cold water
just his nostrils out
and weighted down
with a huge rock upon his chest
and shut into darkness
but given a subject
for a suite of songs
in the morning the druid
steps out of the abyss
and picks up his axe
and lays down 200 new songs
when he was 25
the wizard had been captured by the “straights”
and paraded thru the big end of town
captive and bound
the “straight” emperor
asks for a private interview with the wizard
we can imagine this scene
as it was n will be again
thousands of years thence n hence
emperor: they say you know magic!
wizard: they say you know nothing
emperor: lets see what you can do
wizard: make a fist
emperor clenches his hand
wizard just smiles
emperor: wheres the magic in this…….
wizard smiling curiously
and staring into emperors eyes
emperor begins to struggle a little
his hand refuses to unclench itself
as he tries harder n harder
his own fingernails begin to bite into the palm
and the wizard smiles
and smiles
and holds his gaze
enough cries the emperor
his face sweating n strained
the wizard looks away
the hand is unclenched
the emperor sobs with relief
take him away and release him, he orders
but its too late
hes seen into the beings mind
now the empire might start to crumble
dad we should go in there with spitfires….
easy slim, theyll have to train the pilots first
dad imagine their surprise
when the english turn up with our spitties!
see how they like that…
the english are always the good guys
arent they dad?
of course they are
its our side innit?
dont be silly son
anyway
aint this the future now?
and we’re living on the edge of time
dropping out of the race
one by one
as we go
into the good night
heatseeker
in a cold tomb

scarlet kilbey walks into a bar
gimme a shotta milk n make it snappy she says
no that isnt right
the doodles walk into a bar
give us 2 shots of milk they say
wait a minute that isnt right
elli n minna walk into a bar
give us 2 identical shots of……
now what would they order…?
while im waiting to figure this out
tim wolpes walks into a bar
2 other guys waiting for him
one extremely tall
the other has long dark hair tangled in grey
wolpes chatters excitedly
as a unicum slides down the long bar
well the killers finally lost it…ha ha!
the long haired guy says what now lads,eh?
wolpes sinks his unicum
and signals for another
the 3 men stare morosely at the carpet
all around people are playing the poker machines
chatting afterwork
hes stark raving over the cuckoos nest boys im telling you
jesus!
just when we had that tour of the baltic states lined up
fuck it! theres some good record shops in riga…
yeah i hear ho-day is selling real well in latvia….
uh huh we probably gotta buncha a fanss there
but i mean…couldnt we just get a bass player in….?
not like its that hard to play a bloody bass….or what?
sound of laughter
and we’ll just sing em ourselves,eh?
who knows the words to “bubble and squeak?”
duh, ya can gettem off the internet
oh yeah anyway….im jus gonna make em up
yeah the “kids” in latvia wont know the difference will they?
nah, and we can send killer some money…yeah?
the sound of the poker machines and the bars chit chat
outside its raining
a dark cold afternoon
in the parking lot
a long dark shape pulls up
inside sits a dishevelled figure clutching the wheel
he stares at himself in the mirror
i am the killer he says to himself as a mantra
i am the killer as he slams shut the door
and strides to the entrance
bada bing says the sign
no that cant be right
he stumbles into the bar
as hes standing there
tony soprano takes him by the sleeve and pulls him
down a corridor
into a black office
soprano puts his face close to the killers
i thought i fuckin’ told you to lay low the crime boss barks
killer says but but but
didja take care of that little matter for me like i asked ya?
killer shakes himself loose
wait a minute…i thought you were managin’ me?
yesh i am says soprano …after you do that little job…
then youll get me outta my music sales contract
asked the killer, his face brightening
no problem winked soprano
suddenly nate from six feet under burst in
hey it isnt fair that youre the only hbo tv show
mentioned on killers blog…
hey nate aint you fuckin…you know…uh dead asked soprano
nah it was justa dream you know before the next season..
at least in my show they stay dead said soprano
..except for adriana n steve buscemi says the killer
will ya listen to this guy breaking balls said soprano
glaring at the killer
nate laughed… we reap what we sow, tony
aw shuttup nate…i saw ya in that silly wife swapping movie
said the killer under his breath
suddenly sir denniss hogforth-boare
the head of amalgamated records burst in
howdja like to all sing unguarded moment at
the commonwealth games…the olde version…!?
with the riffs an’ everything…? yeah count me in! said soprano
killer began ..cant we do the..
but a single frown from the mafia chief made him button his lip
yeah ok that sounds uh great he stammered
hey said tony
can we change that line to horses heads in beds?
the killer nodded
why not he smirked

i dont have any answers my lovelies
own-lee questions questions questions
questions on toppa questions
but not one
not one miserable excuse for an answer
f’rinstance yessaday
i was standing in a queue
it could have been a line
except it was between 2 “straight” points
i decided to measure the various radii
of vicious circles
and had enlisted the aid of a man from the cycleshoppe
he made rolls
he made me so angry
people i was confused by my pi and source
my little pigs you know im no good with somes
have i told you about my numerical blindspot
its between 1 and 100
cant see those nombres approaching hombres
im so mixed up with arithmetic and algae bra
it sure doesnt make me want to multiply baybee
slam those digits together olde sk
whats a few thousand here or there my sun
take it out on me mama
soon i was into a long division
down n down i went
a vulgar fraction of my former selves
entering the sub atomic kingdoms
a micronaut
hold me closer tiny sailor
on each electron there whirls planets
each planet peopled by civilisations
rising and falling like my true loves breast
in the morning
each of their microns peopled by teeming universes
and down and down and down
i ve been a criminal in a million sub-cosmos
smaller than a bees dick
shrinkman shrink
on minute world# 131313
i met a manne
a meta-man you could say
i was certain he had an answer on him
or at least a vague guarantee
he said
everything is indeed relative
we are all hewn from starflesh
that kind of thing
the sky in this world was rapscallion purple
illuminated by rapid pinks
underscored by reluctant blue
the meta-man gestured heavenwards n proclaimed
the accident was planned
the plan has gone awry
one little part of the scheme is off the beam
it would seem
hey wiseman dont sling me no jive i sneered
ive come here for some answers
you see way up there in the big world
well people are floundering in a sea of nescience
drowning in uncertainty
the gossip mags the fluoro lites
the sirloin stakes thru their hearts
their veins clogged with thickening muck
the residue of the beasts fear
how can they hope to know….?
war pestilence famine death
same old same old but suddenly new
what can you do?
what can i do?
here the meta-man paused
and his 3rd eye was fixed on my soul
you, like dante
have journeyed deep into the abysm
you have fallen small among us
and then
a trapdoor in the pavement opened up
and a hand handed him a note
the note said
please tell steven kilbey
he left home today without his lunch!
i was filled with dread
sitting in the darkish classroom while a storm raged outside
with all the other kids
i could smell that banana-ey lunch box smell
as the kids took out their sandwiches
mm jam sandwiches said wendy fuller
i groped the little buckles on my satchel
but my heart dropped as i found it devoid of lunch
suddenly my dad appeared
in his suit
framed in the doorway of the classroom
looking oh ever so handsome
steven kilbey! calls out mrs mcginnis
and im so happy that my dad is here with my lunch..
but dad takes me out into the empty corridor
we hear the rain tap tap tap on the iron roof
the windows awash with water reveal a stormy afternoon
listen says dad
im not really yer dad
im that meta-man sent here
to fetch you
cos youve drifted off on a tangent
take my hand…..
no i like it here i cried and backed away down the corridor
you cant stay here said the meta-man
its 1960…..
i went n sat back down with the other kids
but everything was silent
there werent any kids
only their shadows
the rain had stopped
the lights faded down
alone
again
naturally

oh impressions of life
how improbable it all is
i still have to remind myself
a multi-multi-levelled happening
being how lucky you are
you are a lucky being and how
like rusty always says
the luck of the devil
ive been lucky to have those 2 guys for mina broder
well it coulda been a lot worse
i coulda gotta nother pair of mes….
still fascinated by memory
i experiment with my minds library
drugs and yoga can dislodge whole obscure chunks
hitherto given up as “cant remember anymore”
i am stranger within my own brain
stranger than you can imagine
but what is it that contains the other memories
the ones i shall not see
occaisionally
i catch a glimpse of something so inviting
and something so awful
and sometimes i cant tell them apart
all i can tell you is theres a lotta material there
a lot of files to peruse
a lotta data to examine
who set it up this way o muse?
nevets youd go crazy if you knew all that stuff
they release it to you in tiny drops
lifetime over lifetime
incarnation on incarnation
who writes these words o muse?
you do nevets
but who am i?
who am i?
who am i?
you are you are you
timebeing in space
mortal man
must i feel so alone then
muse i feel like the water in my bath has gone cold
muse i feel like the candles have suddenly extinguished themselves
and next doors box of kittens have turned into crows
yes yes
calm down
little poppet
poor nevets
you child-man
how can they let you run about like that?
a bitter vah disgrace
making this all up
whos talking now?
are we alone here?
where?
down here
down here in this black box
driving in this fog
the object of the game remains unknown
no object
no game
then what?
forget yourself
then what ?
youre not able to know it
whats down there in those memories?
only you
then let me have them
i do, all the time
but
yes?
but i want more faster
i bet you do
give me memory
oh nevets
please
not mine to give
this memory mine …
but still contained within
nevets you always looking for a guarantee
from the moment you get up
to the moment you lay down
but never never
a leap of faith
you hear so much about faith
but you gotta believe in something
so why not faith?
what is faith?
hoping something improbable is true
knowing inside in unexplainable terms
diving into black water
walking around blindfolded in the dark
hearing possibilities
faith is different
faith can not be pinned down with definition
yeah ok
whatever you say
isnt it strange that the very thing youre hoping for
the very thing in a nutshell
the most important thing
the most confidential information
it remains…..elusive

good lord
it amuses me that people read my blogge
looking for logic or reason or even-handedness
expecting me not to be bitter or repeat myself
after all im an olde drug casualty
im a flippin’ rock musician
im a bloody pop lyricist
yet you tune in to my rave
expecting something everyday
that i aint ever gonna dish up
you gotta see the jokes on you
especially if ya want kilbey not to be kilbey
dudes im a bitchy gossipy cruel stupid angry prick
did i ever tell you that?
i hereby declare myself bitter
so from hereoninits pointless to write in
and besmirch my comments with this tiresome comment
of course im bitter…about some things, arent you?
isnt everybody?
if you say no youre a liar baby
cmon
if you read this blogge
you only gonna get the most bitter slanderous libellous bile
hey have you ever read paris spleen by baudelaire?
pure vitriol, pure bile
but you see
baudelaire contained other qualities as well
which he comingled with the bile
and that made him baudelaire
my bitterness makes me kilbey
along with a whole buncha otherstuff
so my patrons dont mind a bitter bitterness
as long as they get the poetry n history n humour
and they get to share my grief my worries my hopes n fears
ya see unlike most others
im also giving ya honesty
i say whatever i like
and i dont care whos reading
not my mother
my wife
my friends
enemies
guys in band
no
not even you sunshine
im nearly 53
i dont care anymore
dontcha see
(and i said all this before)
the act is gone
the mask has fallen
im the time being sweetheart
i aint no saint
i aint no journalist
i aint no reliable source of anything
im an opinionated pot smoking hippy bastard
im a socialist
im a almost-vegan
im a peace-nik
im a surrealist
im a funny n cranky olde sod
im a loving father
im a happily married
im a washed up rocker who still makes good records
i try n i try n i try so hard
i dig into my brain so deep to bring you the things i do
they may not be good
but i never condescend to you
i never just dish up bland blah
i never miss a day on my blogge
cos i couldnt think of anything “p c ” to say
i let ya have what im thinking both barrels
as if you were here with me now
as if you were sitting in my kitchen
with brian eno playing on my ipodbox
and im drinkin’ soy milk n goji juice
and soon i’ll take the doodles to school
and then i’ll swim a kilometre
and then im gonna post a copy of my book
to steffy fandorin cos he knows why
and then im gonna do chi gong
pay some bills
im gonna buy my mrs a coffee on the way home
im gonna come home re read this stupid entry
see if any body has commented
im gonna do a little this n that
and if i like it a bit more
oh ive gone off at a tangent
thats something else i do
cos im you know following my train of thought
you gotta roll with the punchbowls my friends
i can just imagine that i wrote something about genghis khan
in my style, natch
along the lines of
that genghis khan is a nassty little bugger
not content with totally fucking up ye olde china
the crazy tartar bastard went fer india
(isnt tartar something yer dog has round its teeth?)
any way olde ghengy boy wassa total bloodthirsty maniacal mofo
etc etc
and then
anonymous at 515 writes
ghengis khan was a good guy
youre only jealous n bitter you didnt invade europe like he did!

anonymous at 612 writes
get over it and lighten up
im tired of you bashing historical figures!

anonymous at 7 15
ghengis khan may have killed millions
but at least he didnt smoke cannabis!

anonymous at 8 15
you might be able to write songs
but you know nothing about history
those countries asked to be invaded!

anonymous at 942
what about heyday?

anonymous at 9 43
thats it!
kilbey = hitler
im never ever reading his blog again
i promise!

anonymous at 956
genghis khan!
kilbey khan’t!

anonymous at 10 32
i didnt read todays blog
hows matt davison?

anonymous at 10 37
grow up killer
the mongolian constitution guaranteed G K
the right to bear arms
and the right to bare arms
which was quite attractive given his triceps

anonymous at 10 38
hi great blog
i was wondering
would any of you like to buy some tupperware?
millystupperware.com

anyway
i just cant let anything go by can i?
you know im not perfect
look
im just another ratbag rabbitting away in cyber space
nothing on here is real
theres no real truth
none of it matters to the sea or the sky
you know they say that serpents lie in the deep black waters
the domain of hideous viperfish
some fish carry tiny lights to illuminate the inkiness
down there way down there
they dont care about what i write
its justa bit of fun to start the day
like meeting a half crazy old hermit
you gotta sift the tripe with the treasure
go ahead jump ship
i hear theres a lotta other guys
just like me out there
writing blogs pretty much like this one
i mean personally
if i was a reader n not a writer
i’d be reading the smacked bottom gurls blogge
but thats just me
im not really interested in the stoned ravings
of silly olde rockers
but im sure glad that you lot are
other wise
id be raving to myself
and theyd cart me away then
for sure

so much to say
but so lazy to type it all out
hey rusty
can we do a talking blogg or not?
rusty’ll know
trust rusty!
rusty never sleeps
god all the stuff you probably wanna hear
fills me with inertia
like the new church double album of singles
i got one in the post
i tried to listen but i conked out after tear it all away
i did the single version of she never said
(only because its got a few little things the album doesnt)
i couldnt bear to hear unguarded whatsy
i listened to too fast for you…nice drumming ploogy!
then tear it all away….yeah that shoulda been a hit
its a million times better than unguarded thingy
then when fucking its no reason came on
i hit the ole eject button….fast!
i dont wanna hear all these songs in a row
come to think of it
i find it hard to listen to any of this stuff anymore
i wonder who in hell will buy it?
havent there already been a cuppla singles collexions?
did ya need another?
dont look at me
its nothing to do with me
im a forward looking guy
i dont revere this olde rubbish
i’d rather hear block once…or telepath
than all this olde singly malarkey
(blocks on the collection too, actually!)
and i tell ya one thing
the sk from 1981 woulda liked block better too
thats what i was trying to write
unguarded ding dong was just a accidental by product
in my searches to write a good song
and true to form
the public lapped up
that most melodramatic silly song cos it was “catchy”
everyone loved it from the word go
but i never did
i like how we do it now
relaxed n easy
but that olde version makes me cringe
especially when we keep getting offers
can you come on and do unguarded doo dah the olde way?
no sir, we can fucking not
but why why why
cos we dont wanna!
then you cant come on the blah blah show….
GOOD!
philistines everywhere
i wish theyd get their country back n piss off (a joke)
philistines trying to get ya to do something cheesy
hey check this:
im an artist
i dont fucking like speeches n awards
thats the stuff “straights” organise
when they wanna fit into our world
and thats what the idiots came up with
awards nights
so they can tame rocknroll by giving out their phoney useless awards
i won a few…i never picked em up
but i gottem
and then i sold the lot when i was on le gear
they were 1st thing to go
i dont need a”straight” awarding me a little statue
(unimaginative cheap plastic bullshit things..
youd feel stupid putting it up in yer house)
the same olde boozy pricks handing out their condescending nothing
the best album…how would they fucking know?
theres no best album…its all in individuals minds
theres a best selling album….(to the “straights” that IS the best)
the “straights” oh man i gotta laugh
you could put all the big wigs in the music biz
in a room
they couldnt come up with a simple tune between em
they cant play and they cant sing
and most of em are bloated grey haired wrecks
with all that red wine and meat showing on their red cheeks n jowls
all those boozy lunches they have
patting emselves on their pudgy backs
getting fat off musicians money
can you imagine that the top guys in medicine couldnt operate?
or the top guy in the airforce couldnt fly a plane?
or the head of the bakers guild couldnt put cream in a tart?
ha
but these guys
they are useless
opportunistic is the kindest thing you could say
im talking about all of em
everywhere
i met em
how embarrassing
meeting some tosser from blah blah blah records in new york
some hugely important exec
who has all the charm n eloquence of a pig farmer
bullying loudmouth idiot
or having dinner with rudy
the head of xyz records in germany
some olde fogey with a beautiful girlfriend about 50 years younger
gee i was really impressed..
what did she do, rudy…tuck you in at night?
im glad the record companies are going under
by the time they go under
therell probably all have merged into one
and the heaviness of that conglomerate of turkeys
will take em down down down
goodbye emi
goodbye cbs
goodbye carrere who never fucking paid us
goodbye stun records in new zealand who never fucking paid us
goodbye a-wrister…maybe olde whatsername’ll can save yer ass
goodbye warners n mercury n capitol n all the rest
gee we’re all broken up out here
as yer profits plunge
we’re crying our eyes out
the more d.i.y. the church can become
the better i like it
i dont have to be embarrassed meeting em ever
nothing worse than youve finished a gig
and you gotta come off and meet some awful oaf from arista
hey steve this is lenny kaputnickstein from radio marketing..
hey steve this laura binglebanks from a and r in l.a.
hey steve this bobby krupptink the ceo of the canteen
on starfish tour
i had to meet em n meet em n meet em
o i was an obnoxious sod
playing on all their insecurities
making em feel i was in on some enormous joke that was on them
i was a total ratbag
and i despise myself for all the games i was playing back then
i mean humiliating some dope from a record company
aint gonna getcha into any heavens anywhere
but
they were the enemy to me
they were trying so hard to swallow me up
and contain my creativity and redirect it
where they thought fit
i had to fight em tooth n claw
well actually i fought em with
sarcasm
in -jokes
sulking
disappearing
not showing up
spreading rancour
talking about things they couldnt understand
(like history or poetry or religion)
can you really imagine the characters
who peopled the u.s. music biz back then…?
thank god i dont have to see anybody anymore
whoever the mediocre lot who put out our latest records out were
they didnt bother ever bothering us backstage
and thats just fine by me…
its funny
now im as olde as i am
occaisionally i do meet some of these rascals
and they assume ive mellowed with age
but i aint
im still looking at em with disdain
yeah yeah yeah
you really made it
yer the vice president of phucknuckle productions
and you pull down 500 k a year (you bastard!)
but you still cant play an instrument
your wifes only with you for the money
and your friends are all pricks like you
so i know you feel sorry for me
playing this half empty little theatre
but i feel sorry for you too
so its same as it ever was
i guess
i just get so angry that these guys are doing so well
parasites on musicians
swelling up with their ill gotten gains
it’ll be a relief to see the end of em
soon
real soon!

daylife savings are over
life saviours pack their things and exit
in a forest somewhere old man winter leans
towards the southern hemisphere
i wake up this morning to a white world
the sky outside
my sleeping wife wth her mauve eyelids
my american wife with her own joys n sorrows
my wife n i drinking riccadonna wine + ! + ?
oh watching the black rain fall from our sunroom
my wife likes her riccadonna with red cordial n ice in it
oh thats it
be a nice wife, nk…
mmmm
from chapterhouse
“blind angel, move thru me
dangerous vacuous bliss”
yes dangerous vacuous bliss
but bliss is bliss
the hours of the night melt away
the black rain continues
we drift around the house
like in a waking dream
oh come over here baby
the outside has completely vanished
within
inside a reduced world
where i forget myself
i get out of step with it all
i go off in tangents
i drift n i drift
then i hurl down the barrel into sharp focus
where a halo of light pounds
time becomes quite meaningless
its out there passing in the real world
but in my skull the minutes linger
music bounces off my ears
everything is sensitive
a taxi pulls up in the street outside
but it might as well be another world
the brake lights glow in the black rainy night
someone jumps in our out
i cant tell
i see things
but i cant decipher any order
i cant see any point
our candles illuminate the darkness
i quaff down wine like water
nothing has any effect on me sometimes
her prettiness makes me angry somewhere inside
i feel like a very nasty cat looking at a little birdie
oh baby youre so pretty…..ggrrrrrrr
oh you mangey panther
oh you cruel little boy
who are you now time being
just a man
just a man
in darkness
in sweet oblivion
lost my head
lost my mind
falling over n over
amen

the multiverse
everything moving at once
all history a simultaneous fiction
all going on together
this is the beings gift and his punishment
i cant stop it
i cant stop it happening
i cant stop it happening to me
as the waves unfold themselves across this lake
i see the patterns
i see the connection
i cant tell you what it is
there are no words for it
sometimes you see trees moving in the wind
the leaves are pixels away from a totally pointilistic scramble
look at the rooftops
i can see the prana coiling there
rising like a heat haze
i feel the words all lined up in my mind
huge chunks of prose appear in my mind fully formed
my muse keeps sending me stuff
i do more and more yoga
my muse becomes clearer and clearer
she says do something perfect
she says bye bye baby come back soon
anytime anyhow anywhere
and i type type type
choosing the symbols n spaces
trying to turn you on so hard
writing about writing
this flood of disinformation
nothing is real n nothing matters
but then howcome it hurts?
everything so so simple
its so easy
ah six deep easy breaths
somedays i feel so lucky
living this life like this
i see my daughters
the line of their necks n jaws
their straight backs
their melodious voices
this is real success
the warm weather holds me
a delicious breeze wafts thru the house
from sunroom to kitchen cool fingers of air
theres a tibetan guy next door and each morning n evening
he burns such lovely incense in his garden
his lovely garden with its white flowers and elephant gods n buddhas
birdies go tweet tweet tweet
i swim n i do some work
but this work aint work
and i feel lucky
and i appreciate my freedom
and i do wish it could be like this for you too
because sitting in an office
under those ‘orrible lights
staring at a computer for hours n hours
is not what this earth n life are for
someone telling ya what to do
bring me this file
reconcile these books
deliver these sprockets
stack those cans
fetch those tiles
finish your report
report to the main entrance
dig that hole
cook that soup
drive that cab (hi glenny n georgie)
bang in that nail
polish those nails
check out that client
stay back late
come in early
better do some work on saturday too
like my dadd-o
always worked till 3 on saturday
but something must be wrong with me
i say to myself very early on
steven….this..uh..work thing…its not good for us
i say to myself
yes i concur ;must avoid this thing called work
and then i was always disappointed
when my mum n dad
and my numerous uncles n aunties
couldnt understand that my incipient geniushood
meant to me at least
i should be spared from working
but all these post war pommies
they were all obsessed by work
talk about protestant work ethic
the best thing you could say about some geezer
was that he was a hard worker
you never heard em say that someone was a great poet
or that he had prose dripping from his fingers day n night
you never heard em say
well that little steven hes lazy but hes loaded with charisma
or
i bet he’ll grow up n chart the empty places with music
the fifties were slim pickings for us proto hippies
my auntie lou didnt fucking care about rimbaud or dylan thomas
she wanted you to wash behind yer ears
take yer shoes off
and
BEHAVE!
which actually meant
being some kinda thing i was never meant to be
and all my nascent utterings were deemed cheeky
people seemed angry with me right from the word go
and i can understand it
i wanted to get away from myself the moment i could think
(hence the gear)
i was just too much
i was all over the shop
a smartarse little freckle faced spoilt brat
believe it or not…
(t.t.b. subscribers : oh we can believe it !)
but then my auntie may treated me differently
i know i told ya about her
she treated me the way i thought i deserved to be treated
i mean she didnt let me get away with any old malarkey
she wasnt a pushover by any means
but she talked to me
and she listened to me
and she listened to my questions
and she tried to explain
oh i thought she was so glamourous
with her jet black hair n bright red lipstick
to me she was so hollywood
and she told me she was 21
but she was probably nearer to my age now
her husband norm was a carpenter
and they lived in a commission house
but to me aunty may was the bees knees
a dreamy lady
a lady who loved films n musicals
and she took me seriously
she could see me as i am now i swear
oh how the man ached
trapped inside the boy
aunty may was always swallowing these powders
for her “headaches”
and then having a “lie down”
this was usually every day
i have sinced learned that these powders
vincents a.p.c i think they may have been called
contained heavy barbituates and/or opioids
and were totally n viciously addictive
although the ladies who took em didnt probably understand
what was happoening to em…
i mean
it was cheap n legal
you could buy these things at the local shop
and she ripped open a packet
there was like 10 in a box
and there was this white powder
and shed lift it up
n swallow it down
followed by a glass of water
and id say doesnt it taste ‘orrible
and shed say yeah
but also a slight kinda satisfied smile too
and there you go
is that why aunty may was so dreamy
and she had her laydowns in her cool green darkened bedroom
and she had a dolly on her bed too
aunty may had 2 grown up sons of her own
but she made me feel like her no. 3
and i slept next to her every afternoon
and then we’d get up
while she made dinner
and we waited for les n joyce to come n pick me up afterwork
my favourite was tomato soup with buttered bread
as a child i was always looking for those adults who could understand
but in those days it wasnt like now
they werent encouraging individuality back then
believe me
anyway

i got my shipment of fruit machine
essays on rock
my new book
its only short
28 pages or so
im gonna be selling it on cherch murch
and at a show near you soon
graham nunn
the head of the sk poetry steering committee
was the prime mover behind this one
and we do must humbly thank him
for having caused it to happen
its basically a 28 page stream o sub-consciousness
my ramblings on rocknroll
in which i seem to target such unlikely villains
as elo
and guys with keith richards hair-dos
anyway
its written a la this very blogge
which has now given me a dependable n recognizable device
to hide behind
so from no on
i can bang stuff out
with no punctuation
no paragraphs
etc
and go
well thats what i do!
still i reckon you’ll enjoy fruit machine
itll probably be a text book in years to come
how many rockers do ya know
who can write about rock as well
there aint that many
ian hunters book…
oooh you should find that
thats a great book
diary of a rocknroll star…wow!
you read that and youve almost done it yerself
even before i almost did do it myself
i felt that by reading ians book
i understood what it was like
touring the states
not all beer n skittles
refreshingly candid
go on
get one on amazon
david bowies in it n everything
so i gotta go now
gotta enjoy my saturday
if i can….

barry mundi
dreamhusband
his wife kisses his back
youve been such a good boy
oh baby oh baby oh baby
she crouches over him kissing his back
and whispering things
the air flows through their room like silk
and the air evaporates the moisture on them
and they feel so cool so cool
oh you saint of a man barry mundi
oh how your sweet wife adores thee
kiss you so softly
her blonde hair dangles on your shoulders
her kisses traverse your back
insinuating themselves into your spine and chakras
oh i love you baby
she says against your skin so only god can hear
delightful woman breathes summer into your skin
as you lie there
as you lie there today in the autumnal sun
as you lie face down on your bed
and your little wife kiss kiss caress caress
drift now drift
your wife opens your flesh
and you slip out at once
and fly out of the room
somewhere indefinable
if you could define this place
you would be the greatest of all poets
and the master of all mathematicians
music is there for the taking
and art
oh if you could bring one picture back
sentient colour implodes in divine symmetry
reds becoming purple becoming black becoming white
ah but theres the rub
so hard to bring it all back home
try now try
try to steal these treasures
suddenly its all gone
and youre back in youre room
and shes still kissing your back
and you can remember the impressions
but not the particulars
you hear the wonder of the music
but not any of the notes
empty-handed
poor dreamhusband
barry mundi