The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

blogger.fuckingcom has gone crazy
they demand this stupid word verification carry-on
and now the dopey thing has outguessed itself
it chucks my precious blogges in a loop
of me typing out these underwater looking letters again
but even when i get em right
it chucks me back in its dreary cycle
which means yesterday i somehow managed to lose stuff
and the title…
(unless you thought that innovative..in which case i planned it!)
anyway here i am at yer disposable as per usual
and its me
stevie k here
no time beings yebliks or alternate psyches
just the real thing
the originalest
rather uneek
(drum roll)
ME!
to tell ya the truth i feel vaguely angry and stupid
just a load of niggly things
personal
familial
bizness
spiritual
physical
all conspire to get my eye off the ball
im not the self assured prick
i seem to be on here
i get 25 nice comments
i get one comment
about sucking and trying harder
and i feel washed up n defeated
you see
say what you like
and no tirades off abuse to negative commenters please
my people my people
we gotta let the nay sayers say their nay!
lettem say
sk + blogge = hitler
lettem say
“this is boring narcissistic redundant swill”
“read better blogges by an ant”
“kilbey is a fraud, a bully, an impostor!”
“tear your eyes out rather than read kilbeys shemozzle”
etc
insert yer own nasty comment here *
any way
if you written 500 blogges
if youve played an instrument for 1000 years
if you can see the wee folk
and if you trapped the tooth fairy n pulled her wings off
if youve played concerts across antarctica
if youve astral travelled just to see girls in showers
if youve sculpted n danced n succumbed n overcome
if youve written national anthems before breakfast
if youve swam across the ocean n defeated slimy monsters
if youve reincarnated as a renaissance lamp in a dark age
if youve been beamed down here for light relief
if you prefer trees to treachery
if you gotta bee in yer cheek n a tongue in yer bonnet
yeah
then
i dunno
a box of new zealand edition of trivial pursuit
has exploded in our street
we read each other questions as we walk along
now i know piggy muldoons boyhood whatnot
and a loada other totally useless info
i mean n.z.s got matt davison i know
(space for a sigh …or a groan)
and i guess lil timmy poles is a wellington boy
but ….
(new zealand rant deleted by author)
anyway
its sunday
if i hadnt noticed
ive finished a portrait of a woman i been doing
for a commission
and its kinda van go go goghey
and aint it funny that van go only sold one painting in his lifetime?
and sad
and it tells ya something about this world
cos now if they discovered a scribble on an olde bit of paper
that vinny had done
itd be auctioning off for gazillions
yet the geezer died an unknown n penniless
talking of doodles
theyre up n hanging about
theyre colouring the bottom of the marker box
so they can see where each colour goes
a dopey conversation ensues
eve : im doing purple
aurora : then we do…
both : the greeen!
aurora : thats right
eve : i know
aurora :there
eve : no there
aurora : i dont wanna do it no more
eve : but aurora you can do the other green
aurora : i dont care
eve : then i’ll do it mahself
aurora : i said i dont care
etc etc
eventually they start sticking skewers down into the stuff
containing the ink and making a mess n ruining the markers
big time daddy intervenes
whatchoo 2 bloody doing there..aurora dont do that!
the doodles have been sprung being turkeys n theyre embarrassed
they try to retreat to their room
whattabout all this bloody mess?
dont leave it there!
the doodles sorta kinda clean up their mess
and then retreat to bedroom
eve cocks her ear to my brian eno ambient music
its the same thing over n over she says
and closes her bedroom door
the morning is warm n overcast
sunday morning
look out the worlds behind you!
sunday morning coming down
and sunday afternoon
lazy sunday afternoon
the inevitability of school or work tomorrow
it leaves its shadow even on us who dont “work”
(in the traditional sense)
sunday bloody sunday
how long
how long will i write this blog
how loa loa loa loa long?
last night had veggie taquitos
next to a raining deserted bondi beach
we walked along the boardwalk in the light rain
bumper takes each tiny drop personally
she swats at the rain and gives off a series of oohs
as they hit her
later it rains harder
i pick her up
and put her on my shoulders
she sits there
miserably oohing as the rain comes down on us
she holds up her hands to ward it off
but she hasnt figured out what it actually is yet
ie just water!
today is the harbour bridges 75th birthday
theyre gonna close it down n ya can walk over it
and tonite is fireworks on bridge
which i can see from my kitchen window
there were some fireworks there a few weeks back
bumper watched them
going
oh wow
OH WOW! to the big explosions
and then for a few nights after
everytime she looked out that window at night
she would still be saying oh wow
expecting to see the fireworks again…
(or maybe she was still seeing em)
bumper is a very very demanding little girl
and she likes things done by the book
and she doesnt wanna be left out
and everythings fine
as long as its going her way
but…..
well bumper has a bit to learn about manners
sometimes shes unpredictably violent n bad tempered
screaming n dancing up n down like rumpelstiltskin
she reminds me of a little creature i call a woofle
now everyone here calls bumper the woofle too
wheres the woofle etc?
she really is like a little forest creature
the bumper fairy
too chubby for her wings
she cant fly
she just bounces along
them doodles n woofles
keep a man real real busy

nevets yeblik walks into a bar
no that cant be right
nevets yeblik never walks into a bar
he walks into mirrors
he walks into a mirror in a bar
he is standing there
drinking lemon lime n bitters
hes come to see a play hes written
oh yes nevets yeblik the playwright
maybe in that universe
but never in this one
the play is called
“will act for beer”
its about to begin
theres about 60- 70 people in here
in this pub
in this bar
in this micro-cosmic moment
nevets rubs his eyes
wow the lead actor looks just like me he thinks
um im sorry ladies n gentlemen
says the actor with the white beard n suntan
uh noah turner hasnt shown up and we’re gonna cancel tonite
much restless sighing from the crowd
bullshit! ventures a wag
the actor
(handsome olde devil thinks nevets)
seems embarrassed
he starts arguing with the crowd about refunds when
some other actor
(but not noah turner)
shambles onstage menacingly
why its sebastian goldspink
the actor who played jerry in zoo story
that play nevets was in
but sebastian seems to have mutated into a permanent “jerry”
he tells everybody to shut the fuck up
1st actor : im sorry the play is cancelled…
2nd : not now baybee…(he laughs)
some of the crowd cheer
1st : excuse me but…
2 : why …whatdidjado..?
a bit of sniggering from the crowd
2 : listen robert de niro…i know my part, ok
1 : you know your part?
2 : and yours….wanna hear some?
1 : ha! as if you would know my part…
2 : yeah as if…..ok
he declaims a large chunk of dialogue
1st actor really seems embarrassed now
the crowd calls out to let jerry act
1 : you want me to do it with….him?
the crowd roar out a huge yes
1 : but i mean…..cmon…he doesnt..
crowd start to heckle
2 : cmon gimme a chance
1 : let me ask tony who manages this place….
from the back of the crowd comes a “sallright wimme!”
2 : do you know your part?
1 : me?
2 : yeah you..youre acting like a man who dont want
this play to go on
1 : thats ridiculous, i assure you that….
2 : well are you ready?
1 : are you?
2 : ive started already havent i?
1 : i know you, dont i?
2 : maybe…but i doubt it
1 : no you shouldve said yes
2 : no i shoulda said maybe
1 : i was asking the real you
2 : oh the real me huh?
1 ; yes ..as opposed to the you in the play
2 : but i am this role….i am actor 2 personified
1 : but jerry…
2 : dont call me jerry mister…jerrys dead
1 : i ..uh..
2 : dont mention that name round here no more
1 : but this is extraordinary..i mean
2 : ok i guess we need some kinda explanation about here
1 : arent you supposed to….?
2 : do that other bit with the chair? nah…im skipping it
1 : dont you ever stick to the script?
2 : nope…so dont expect it…ok?
1 : so definitely not gonna stand on the chair?
2 : if you really want me to…just for you
1 : its not for me…its for them
(melodramatically gestures to audience)
the audience shuffle about awkwardly
2 : do you lot really want the chair?
1 : how would they know…they havent seen the play yet
2 : well its just that i get up on this chair…
1 : its not just….its the most important thing in the beginning
2 :except for you
1 : except for me…yes…ha ha
2 : anyway while im up on the chair..
1 : do we even have the chair here…
audience calls for the chair
tony the manager brings a chair up on stage
1 : ha ha …go on…!
2 : im not getting up on that chair there
1 : well we cant do the play then..
audience cry out in anger n frustration
2 : you know damn well thats not the right kinda chair
1 : then maybe you arent the right kind of actor for this play
2 : and maybe i could method act a punch on the nose for ya
he menaces 1, weaving and ducking
1 : im not in this to get punched
someone in the crowd screams “hit ‘im!!”
2 : i oughtta knock yer lines into ya!
1 : im sorry…did i forget that bit where…?
2 : yes you did and now we’re in the wrong place
suddenly a big lady in the audience calls out
(who is an actor planted)
lady : get on with it!
1 and 2 : what?
lady : you bloody heard me! GET ON WITH IT!
1 : excuse me madam but…
2 : how about a nice bit of shut the fuck up!
lady : get on with it you mugs
1 : madam…this is it!
2 : well almost…
1 : its almost it…!
lady : its bullshit swhat it is!

yeah whatever baybee
oscillating between poetry n anti-war “sarcasm”
nevets, are you being “sarcastic” to those belligerent warmongers
nevets, are you being rude to those blood thirsty animal eaters
nevets , did you tell all the aggressive philistines to fuck off
ooohh nevets youre worse than hitler!
a storm in a tea cup
still the wars rage on
still the prisoners remain bound
still all the rest
what can ya do?
try to make small changes
try being nice
go on
why not?

im painting n working on music
i dive deeper and find theres constantly more
another plane of colour
another unexplained sound wash
be careful
dont rush it
consider
take it easy
if it aint easy its too hard
see how the masters achieve their effect
do it with love
dedicate it to the hell of it
make it marvellous
try for impossibility
leave space
grow up
remain child like
focus n detach
let your mind wander as you work
the first things are the best things
get some distance
try new things
respect the rules
and then break em
expect the best from yerself
but never be too hard on yerself
make the music like a painting
and vice versa
follow yer train of thought
trust your heart
listen to yer muse
dont blow it
dont get angry
if its fucked up dont persevere
start again
pull stuff outta the thin air
put opposites together
make it intellectual and sexy and divine and nice
stay away from dissonance until you know what yer doing
imitate and innovate
see if you can do it properly before you do it lazily
lazy aint easy
listen to what yer friends say then ignore em
if you know its brilliant , sod their criticism
if you know its baloney, sod their praise
presentation is important
dont be too humble when letting em hear/see
dont tell em too much about it
be modest and realistic
except if you are a genius
then behave like one
try different things
when you paint make sure you got the right music on
talk about art n music all the time
think about it
youll be surprised how answers come to you unbidden
practise
everyday
love it

lifes a gas
i hope its gonna last
have to laugh at geezer from yesterdays comments
who says i dont understand
who says im steve naive
cos i dont understand the torture
cos i write in my blogge
“does it have to be this way?”
is davey hicks such a bad guy
does he so threaten the “civilized” world
that hes treated worse than a dog for 5 years?
see the geezer from the comments
he doesnt understand either
and he doesnt know why
it just makes him feel comfortable to think
that someone must know what theyre doing
with all the war n torture
leave it to the experts…eh?
whatta joke thatta stupid songwriter
could know anything about it, eh?
for godsake let the songwriters write songs
and let the torturers torture
thats what we got em for…
ordinary people like kilbey cant understand
war and torture
the balance of power
detente n brinkmanship
jesus, kilbey
go write yer stupid song
leave torture alone!
what do you know?
tell us about the heyday shirts!
sheesh! enough with the torture
as if a songwriting potsmoking turkey
like you
could understand the brilliant strategies
of the the torturers n their bosses
just like vietnam
i spose kilbey didnt want vietnam neither
and then where would we be?
imagine if we hadnt had vietnam?
ha!
no freedom
no liberty
does he think all those young soldiers died for nothing?
god imagine if they let kilbeys type run the world…
fucking useless
we’d have chaos!
hed let our enemies walk all over us!
wed all be speaking iraqi by now
and riding camels to work
and i feel much better now soddem hussein is hung
he deserved it! the barbarian
he sat back in the comfort of his palace
and killed innocent people
and invaded other countries
that were nothing to do with him
he had the massive destructive weapons
(or he wished he did!)
and damn! im glad weve gottem ourselves
cos we know when to use em
and he didnt
so we had him n his sons executed
to show the world what we think of murderers!
how could kilbey understand this shit?
obviously….he couldnt!

yeah just like the witch trials and inquisition
and the crusades
and that lovely hundred years war
why why why?
its the same type
doing it over n over n over
us ordinary folks
we stand back n feel lucky if it isnt us
keep yer eyes down n maybe they wont notice ya
see sir roger ride off to jerusalem
and stick it to the turks
those heathens…we’ll show em
call that an atrocity…?
this is an ATROCITY!
the christians used to dig up plague ridden corpses
and catapult em into moslem cities under siege
or
promise to spare the citizens if they surrender
and then kill every last man woman n child of em
you see
they were barbarians these moslems
the christians were the good guys
they needed jerusalem back
and whatever it took, ya know…..
im sure olde richard the lionheart
had a good line in rhetoric
and im sure a load of the boys along
on the crusade thought it was a good cause
or they were soldiers just doing their gig
getting paid
killing people
same as it ever was
cut off a childs head?
sure…if its a heathen
i mean the crusaders got god on their side, right?
the proper god you know jehovah n his son jesus
jesus woulda wanted it this way
im sure
i mean you cant say all those people died for nothing
why our leaders wouldnt do that?!
not our king!
he understands ruling!
he wouldnt get us mixed up in a bloodthirsty ruinous shambles
that would continue to fuck up the world
for centuries!
i mean a crusade is a good thing
its the english word for jihad, right?
it means we re doing it for the one true god
and decency n civilisation
and just like yesterday
the paradox remains
sometimes you gotta beat a bit
of fucking civilization into these bastards!
oh and the paisley shirts….?
each floral blip represented a million foreigners
murdered by western white imperialistic christian idiots!

there are no absolutes
you go one direction
after a while you notice you going the opposite way
you start out with freedom
but after a while you notice
you gotta guard yer freedom
and you gotta keep some out people of yer freedom
and you end up with more rules n regulations
more people in jail
bigger n nastier armies
and busting down some peoples doors
in case they threaten yer freedom
and taking away other peoples freedoms
first
just in case they might take yours
i mean freedom n liberty
are lovely words
you can arrest and punish a lotta riif raff in their name
and god
you gotta know gods on the side of freedom
so watch out
this is a righteous freedom
now to keep things nice and free
a few foreigners may have to go
one way or another
and maybe things gotta be a bit tighter
a tighter freedom
and some cats out there
why theyre so anti-freedom…
they hate freedom in fact
so maybe we’ll detain em a little
see how they like fucking freedom then
and theres other guys out there
theyre so bad
well they deserve to die
and whatever it takes
theyre so bad that its worth a few joe schoes dying with em
too bad if they live too close to mr bad
and bring em in dead or alive
believe me
i bet theyd do it to us
so dont give em a chance
hell we need more executions
executions have always been good for civilization
and now theyre humane so what more could you want
and we need to examine ourselves more closely
look at each other….hmmmm
could that person be threatening my freedom
freedom needs protection
i need something big to protect myself with
i need to be able to nail any anti-liberty geezers right
fast
so they dont know whats hit em
and if the bad guys have got evil geniuses
we’ll get them n punish em, right?
hell no, we’ll get em working for us
they could come in handy
dreaming up new diseases and bombs
we could maybe use that against their own former side
you cant muck about where freedom concerned
actually freedom needs some tough guys to administrate it
to make sure a load of people arent ruining it
traditionally these sort of people have ruined freedom:
foreigners, intellectuals, drug users, the poor,
the heathens n barbarians, criminals, homosexuals
messiahs, peace-niks n beatniks, bohemians
activists, gypsies, homeless, hippies
ratbags, mutants etc etc
you get the picture dont ya?
these types dont appreciate liberty
and
thats that
in fact eventually
liberty n freedoms patience become strained
and liberty says to freedom
fuck it!
the other guys are playing dirty
so we should to..
torture em
kidnap em
chain em up
tie em down
make those bastards confess
this end does justify the means
these are violent times
we gotta be worse than them to defeat em
we gotta be badder than the bad guys to win
its a paradox to be sure
but whats a paradox to freedom
god wants us to be free
thats why we win almost all the wars
isnt it?
and things are great here in freeland aint they?
things are being looked after…
well not everything
fighting for freedom takes a lotta energy
so somethings gonna take some time to fix up
you never know what the weather might do
and whats that gotta do with freedom
the hospitals n schools can wait a little longer
and the poor….?
we’ll sort em out later
besides they wouldnt know freedom from a bar of soap
ha
they wouldnt know a bar of soap from a bar of soap
we just gonna have to do whats good for freedom
even if it means nothings free anymore
theres another paradox for ya
so what?
didja know that carrots scream when theyre murdered
ha ha ha

today my head is filled with justabout everything
its a dark overcast morning here in nth bondi
a thousand shades of grey fill the torn sky
i can see the harbour bridge off in the distance
popul vuhs agape percolates on the machine
my feet are cold
but they usually are
i cant believe its 2007 and i have 5 daughters
i cant believe im sitting in this kitchen typing this out to you
i cant believe that i am a biped breathing gases on a chunk of rock
i cant believe that below this ordinary veneer of reality
there are a million alternative versions
i cant believe how lucky/old/whatever i am
a blue sky and a rainbow have come to dissipate the grey
the red orange and purple roofed houses
a rainbow casting its weird light
half the sky bright
half the sky still dark
the rainbow is the threshold where the blue meets grey
surely this is a sign
an omen
the sky swallows the rainbow
smothers it in photons
the rainbow becomes a crooked column of colour
as it drifts towards the heads
white flowers ….oh their divine aroma
weeds gone mad and nodding palms
and the feeling the seas not far away
everything in here still still
hyper-still
the females all still sleep
my family slumber in early autumnal shadows
unaware of the time being in the penumbra of the kitchen
the clock makes its rounds
clicking off each second
a second that brings me closer to….?
i stagger to think
i guzzle fiji water
everything seems a long way off
as if im on some peak
looking down at the past n the future
equidistant now
this is the wonder of dawn
the clear truthful time
a time for owning up
a time when the facades can crumble
i hear your questions
why why why
whispering and demanding
singing different words to the same song
coming in on different sides
with your own takes
i attract trouble
i change horses in midstream
i look at my reflection in dawns mirror
and i see nothing much
the bamboo grows in its white pot
my bonsai is already dead
but i cant bear to throw it away
the summer sun blasted it
and my neglect let it wither
morning comes whether you wanted it or not
a sad little piano piece
the water in canals is ruffled
i take leave of my body; poets can do that
up i go and my gaze stretches out
looking down thru the racing clouds
into peoples houses and hearts
gleaming kitchens and dreaming children
gardens sandpits swings and bikes
dolls houses and fish tanks
old engine bits waiting in the garage
puddles that reflect the sky flash and change
trains rushing headlong who knows where or why
faces in windows in carriages show pale concern
hearses pull up outside graveyards filled with stone angels
the grieving wander the dismal paths finding little hope
willows weep and bridges sigh
in the country the earth silently asks for rain
but the clouds go sailing by
letters uncollected in letterboxes
sad communications and bills
sheep nibble yellow grass in the dust
the oil evaporates in the motor
and rust subtly explores all the openings
the newspapers got it all in black and white
the road peters out
a sandy track goes nowhere
bearded lizards scamper away
thorns
barbed wire
keep out
old empty beer bottles
and signs of a fire
horseflies
a few drops of rain
spiteful thistles
a crescent of blood
a locked gate
ochre rubble
ants bite
a shack
damp dark
full stop

i want everything
the little doors in trees that lead to the underground
the soft clouds oozing between my toes
the neverending saturday afternoon goldentone blur
the morningside liftoff into crimson blue
the dancing child with her leopard suit
the perpetual emphases of youth
moving mountains
rolling hills
babylon brooks and ceramic buildings inlaid with jet
silvertopped peak smothered in snowy cream
mornings in my silk gown scoffing down an old poison
outlook: encoded in temperatures the real story
warning : trespassers will be forgiven
timeline : jehovah made earth on 22nd april at 2 34 in the afternoon
application received
commission deducted
subscription appreciated
equipment depreciated
lifespeed accelerated
places closed down
more than anything i wish to heal
the feeling that i could
the feeling that i could
the feeling that i could if only i knew how
ah kilbey youre so mixed up
yeah i know
i admit to it
somethings coming at me too fast
somethings too slow
who are you man?
i dunno
the day before yesterday i was me you know
and then
and then
what are you trying to say
here?
are you trying to sell em yer uncertainty now?
are you joking?
are you listening to me?
do you remember that time
long long ago
long before deep black time
before you noticed the warmth
and stretched out your limbs
where you floating inside adventure
where you kick back and let the stream take you
where you dissolve
where you surrender
i need it i need it
you witness a struggle for a soul
a sole operator possessed by many voices
pull out all the stops
let me drown then in you
sinking into life
slowing down and getting heavy
attraction crash
rejection smash
collisions inavoidable
i dont care if they charge me a fortune
i gotta do it one more time
one more teensy time
then youll be done
then i’ll be through
then youll be finished
then i’ll be satisfied
then youll be satisfied?
yes me
yes i want i want and i want
i want this
i want that and that
thats a lotta wanting
the more i want the more i want
it gets worse the more i get
getting worse and getter even worse
the more i get the worse it gets
and still i get more
than i want
youre not seeing the big picture
then describe it for me
i cant its too big
ha!
then what
what what what is the point
no point
what i do is pointless
but we hoped for a point
whos we?
me and the others out there
you dont know them any more than me
yes i do im sks everyman
thats bullshit they dont even know what they want
they wanted a point
a point is a very western way of looking at things
am i a “straight”?
impossible!
youre cracking up
into constituent parts
what do your subscribers think of trash like this?
it aint trash its a glimpse inside my mind..
big deal
muse :its bullshit!
stay outta this
kilbey is mine
i will speak through him
no no
its my turn now kilbey will become everyman
muse : a revoltin’ development
ha ha
kilbey is submerging
everyman for himself
anywhere anywhy anymore
i want the machine equivalent of love
i want the grande old emperor of showbiz humbled
i want the drunken cads punished
i want the reliable poetry of plus and minus
and deep long division
i want the mosaic version of events reset
i want to colour you in differently
i want music for breakfast served in a little silver platter
i want autonomous help and hands on freedom
i want the happy endings you cant find in a book
i want a blogge
that rates #1
and puts the textured vegetable protein on the table everynight
everyman
everyday
everytime!

sunday
progress
the lord in heaven rests so lightly
as men appear on earth
revolving and evolving
ages pass
ziggurats gardens temples
by the rivers of babylon
mistress of the earth
gold coins
drugs and brothels
secret initiation
whip those slaves
burn that sacrifice
conquer this world
daniel
in the lions den
mangy leonine hunger
the great cat growls
and gets up
its mate snarls
as they approach the man
white light emanating
the holy spirit enters the lions hearts
instead of this filthy hole
africa before their eyes
the great plains filled with zebra and buffalo
drinking from the green rivers
in the midday shade
before the hunters found their pride
and the cubs were taken from them
and peace fills their simple hearts
and the man strokes their great tawny faces
and touches their huge salty tears

good morning fiendss
7 01 here in nth bondi
lassanite hadda strange time
i was asked by matt from lovetones
to be special guest for show in oxford st “the spectrum”
so i turned up at 7 30 after dropping in on mwp
and discussing another “show biz” offer we keep getting
oh my fiendss
not all publicity IS good publicity
i tried so hard to steer my band clear of schmaltz
n bullshit n award ceremonies n quiz fucking shows
you know last time i checked
renaissance men werent doing quiz shows
aint it funny how they always wanna getcha down to their level
ok the chirch maybe the most spectacularly unsuccessful band
in the history of music
no doubt largely due to my hopeless songs
my squeaky voice
and my ugliness
and now my ridicul;ous olde age
but one thing about los chirchos hombres
we got integrity
we put the gritty into integrity actually
we have tried so so hard not to be part of something silly
something that negated every lyric i ever wrote
something controlled by a buncha people
who are the antithesis made flesh
of every note i ever plucked n let go into eternity
and now
and now
we get these offers
i cant say what they are
you can use yer imagination cant ya?
and so many say
looky looky nevets yeblik
do ya wanna kick a big goal and jus’ do this, please
and nevets is saying
uh um im not so certain..but…errr…hang on…wait there
so every time ya see me do something really cheezy
just remember the other 9 i said no to
besides i dont think being a knight
(i am english after all)
i dont think being a knight n playing the bass are mutually exclusive
do you?
anyway
i end up doing a soundcheck
and then drifting round oxford street
which is the gay area
and you see lotsa fellas holding hands
aw how sweet they must be real good friends
cmon!
and theres yoga studios
sex shoppes
2 dollar shops
cd shops (almost empty)
a million cafes n restys
gaybars
pubs for working class oiks like me
and a loada other boutiquey bullshitty things
i end up in the park quietly smokin my pot
when 2 coppers come riding along
on pushbikes shining torches
as luck wood have it
ive just finished said number
so i just drops it down the drain
the coppers bike up
and sniff the air suspiciously
but seeing theyre both about 21
and im about 52
i mean it just must be embarrassing to arrest some old ‘ippy
for blowing a bone in le parc
its about as dangerous n threatening
as a cornered snail
so the cops after a little tut tutting
ride off to catch some real baddies
(and theyre out there, baybee!)
so i go off to la gig
i chat to matt outside
a nice cat
i get up to do my gig
there aint too many people here really
maybe 40 or 50
anyway i start playing
and
my 12 string sounds nice
i start with neverness hoax
i enjoy hearing my deep voice reverberate round the room
“have i told ya bout the neverness hoax?”
and i can feel the spell out there
taking over me
doin’ all the work
the words flowin down to my throat
you can hear the experience in my voice now
you can hear the wear n tear off my life
but my voice also says
these songs are sung with love n care
because i can insinuate things with my voice
with my phrasing
with inflections n vibrato n whispering n falsetto
i can tell more stories than one
in one song
and the lyrics to this song are kinda interesting
it aint fuckin’ bouy meats gurl thats for sure
anyway i get started
and blow me down
if there aint a large dark haired lady
carrying on a conversation
at screaming pitch
like unbeleavably loud
shes ….screaming
anyway
suddenly before i know it
nevets stops the songy
and spits the dummy
and accosts the “lady” in a nasty tone
nevets: madame could you have yer conversation elsewhere
her: no i wanna talk here
nevets : why not over there or wait till im finished
her : no i wanna talk here
nevets tries playing song again
but the “lady”s got her back to us n shes screaming
at the top of her shrill ‘orrible bleatin’ voice
oh the shame
oh the crime
for nevets deep dulcet tones to be rudely crudely interrupted
by this female oaf…an oaffette
any way nevets stops the song
nevets :i wish youd shutup n go away
oaffette : you cant stop me…youre just the guy from the church
uh oh
nevets sniffs a set up here
i mean she said that with all the practiced assurance
that ive noticed in my kids when theyre trying out
some new complaint theyve heard
it always smacks of rehearsal
and quite clearly our “lady” had prepared this
you see
this was her scene
and i couldnt come in here n boss her around
a guy from audience tells her to shut up
she says to me
is he your only friend here
nevets : yes thats right you philistine
someone in crowd yells
hes got lots of friends here
the crowd cheer
nevets: look here lady lets have some democracy in action
who wants the lady to talk?
a complete silence
a negation of sound
who wants to hear me play my stupid song
much cheering and a resounding YES!
her: i dont care im gonna stand here n talk
people start pulling on her garments
but she stays put
then nevets notices that mosta the little group shes
been screaming to
have mostly drifted away
to avoid being roped in to this fiasco
but one slightly dopey looking geezer remains
nevets addresses him:
and what about you me olde mate
standing there like a great useless puddin’ listening to her tripe
suddenly the ineffectual gormless fop skedaddles
hes not up for being abused by some angry old sod up on stage
so he pisses off
ha ha ha
this leaves our screaming friend
with no one left to scream to
so she simply has no choice but to mercifully
disappear
the rest of the gig was then good
i made up some stupid stuff
this is my new thing
making stuff up on the spot
its the acid test of a genius
straight off the top of my head
i just let the muse straight outta her box
anyway they all enjoyed it
and i must admit im pretty damn entertaining
in a showbiz anti hero kinda way
i like the way my voice is going
and i gotta million songs
tho i always do the same old bunch
as an artist i still feel im on the brink of some
breath taking discovery
but it only gets revealed to me bit by bit
over the years
i am wry kind cynical nasty friendly experienced naive
i am totally confident that while there are bigger n better geezas out there
that no one is dishing up my kettle of fish
cos im in control
forget all the bullshit
as a human im just a flawed weak bloke struggling along
but as a writer painter singer player actor
oh im just getting going
and ive put in this long hard apprenticeship
30 odd years
but now baby
now
im a master
dig it
its monstrously vain
of me to declare it so
but im confident that i can tackle
any esoteric conundrum
that i can come up with brilliant stuff
FOREVER
non stop
off the cuff
quick as ya like
just like this blogge
everyday
bang!
there it is!
muse: you big headed old self congratulatory bastard
mum: gee you aint ‘alf got tickets on yerself, sonny jim
the chirch : we’re gonna be sick
syncophants : go killer!
elephants : hes trumpeting himself again
angry readers : blah blah blah
nevets yeblik : fair enough
john garratt : something pragmatic
most of the world : yawn
insert own entity here : insert own phrase here
so there it all is
a ridiculously immodest buncha baloney
i mean the funny thing is
it is all half true
its hard to be one of the best and keep quiet
(someone help him then)
i guess im just havin a delayed reaction
to the lady
and to walking round darlinghurst
for a cuppla hours
and to the joints
and the red bulls n vodkas
and the sauna
n the swim
n the walk along the promenade
and the long baffling joyful painful
careening life i led up to
walking on that stage lassanite
forgive me
or
forget me
im just trying to write a blogge
and make an ‘onest living
bring home the soy bacon
and keep a non asbestos roof over our heads
maybe one day we will walk in the sun (with adequate protection)
cos hippies like us
nevets
we were borne to blogge!
viva la blogge!

no one who reads this will believe it
ah thats too bad
i write for my muse and her alone
to her are these things are dedicated
lady autumn has come
and white flowers spell my name on green grass
twice a medieval spell has been directed at me
i watch my mirror but no sign of you
everything has significance
how could it be otherwise?
someone must be having such a laugh
its all there out in the open
so blindingly bloody obvious
im still saying where where?
show it to me
i have arranged pebbles in the tetragrammaton
i have burned messages to the dead
i have written my wishes in silver on black paper
at aphrodites altar have i laid sacrifice
and hermes god of magicians no stranger
no stranger i am a stranger myself
i know not this island or the remedy to your suffering
my dreams blur and undulate across watercolour hills
people accost me rudely
i am challenged by the south wind
coming up from antarctica
i feel old suddenly
ha ha says time
you really thought itd go on forever
i have observed unseen constellations in the sky
i have contacted an intelligence within the walls
i have calculated an alternative calendar
and every second tuesday is now given back
there is no reality
i am able to get here so quickly
i am at last a computer poet with asterisks
i am the astral traveller in negative armour
white letters on blackground
i am the most ambiguous man alive
my ambiguity surrounds me like a cushioning fog
here in my verse i am invulnerable
its driving me mad being me
obviously
the seasons personally torture me
summer tied me down under a sunlap
and burnt a blue circle behind my eyes
autumn is a grey ghostly bitch
i am held motionless
suspended in embalming mist
winter is an absence
the world shrieks out in agony
frost and heartbreak attend winter
spring is barbarous
the birds strike
the fish bite
the bees sting
the flowers come out in gaudy patches
that make my old head ache
the days of the week are all people to me
a pack of cards contains my next doomed choice
the suicide king and his sad wife
i roll the dice
i smoke the weed
i notice cryptograms in sand and snow
i bump into people presumed missing
i get caught in nets
music is from the middle ages
the dark ages of black magic
oh you lived then
so did i
no no dont drag me back there
i seek the future
bleak as it it maybe
they burnt everything
my house my trees my sisters
my youngest fled into the flaming woods
my little scarlet clad girl
now i turn my back on pasts
i see the clouds have formed a threatening funnel
and the dark maw in the sky
is sucking at my soul
angels are around my bed in the morning
i see them thru my eyelids
i hear them with my hands
but they never say why or where
the autumnal sun is haloed in orange cloud
the sea churns dull green grey
the sky has blanched to the palest only just blue
and sand is forever in the sheets
these are the days then
of gentle dissolution
of fading out
quiet time
calm
end