The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

ive never met martin kennedy
ive never seen him
or spoken to him on the phone
hell
i aint even ever emailed him
i wouldnt know him from adam
however he and i have created this very nice little record together
oh its a lovely record
unlike my painkiller record it is not self indulgent jamming juggernaut
it is not space rock
it is not harsh or wild or heavy or anything
its kinda easy on the ears actually
its not difficult to understand
theres 13 songs altogether
mk is mixing it with someone in melby
jlk provides b vox, choirs and spiritual guidance on all things vox
miranda jk does some singing on one track
mk always providing simple subtle songscapes
faraway voices when youre not expecting em
little sounds halfway between a voice and a trumpet
little trumpetlike things commenting in some alien language
like on
*my will be yours*
a jazzy late night bleary eyed creature
electric piano
haunting stringvoiced voices
sk comes in
worldweary and tired
my will be yours
you will be mine
i will lose all that i will find
the music rolls away from his words in sad waves of memory
the trumpet voiced sprite joins in
half mocking half sympathetic
you can almost hear a familiar word in there
it segues into
*stretch into the stars*
which is a slow burning piece
gradually gaining a theatrical momentum
sks sings
the night you sold me
i was frozen like the stars
you might have told me
that our love would last
jlks voices curl and whisper like malevolent spirits
the song becomes a swaying tower of voices
then
sk whistles his lonely theme
in some dark autumnal euro cityscape
mks guitar playing throughout
is meticulous elegance in simplicity
it drones and chimes and tinkles and soars
a master of subtle arts mk has learned all his lessons well
never overplaying his hand
his music is glowing in mysterious openess
pop music which is anything but.
a master song architect
these pieces drip effortlessly from him
never sounding forced
never sounding tired
his music is familiar but completely his own
he has his own mojo going
its not a rockstar ego me me me brassy blast
its a craftsman
only his craft is honing the most subtle backing tracks
for someone like me to sing upon
like *another place*
another place another score
im a stranger at your door
go the words
piano and violins
a squirmy little synth
the choruses becoming lush
at the end a kinda key change
and a new affirmation
but it ends on a bluesy feel
*uh i dunno*
actually rocks pretty hard, baby
overshot my sarky (sake?)
awkward old malarkey
sings your humble hero
and lo the bass doth throb
what you wanna do asks the falsetto chorus
uh i dunno replies bewildered sk
*thought of leaving*
another smoulderer
if you were really like you said
i’d put an arrow to your head
and i’d pull the string
everytime i sing
the songs have something of a showtune feel
compounded by trumpets which often appear
playing jazzy solos and pissing off again
*all is one*
has semi religious bent
and lover warning his beloved
that he is her only hope of salvation
and hinting at his own buddha like aspirations
while mk provides an almost western ambience
feedback loops tamed sweeten the electronic haze
those half voice half trumpet things return blowing/singing
a mournful melody
2s an illusion now
i sing
spirit come and fill me now
spirit come and take me now
as the music changes gear into a coda
its lovely stuff indeedy if i may say so
*love increased*
is another wide screen biblical number
ghostly voicestrings like heat rising off sand
the wedding feast
the love increased
the wedding bed
the fire fed
i intone in a patti smith-ish poem at the end
a girls voice singing a lovely melody
the trumpet appears in echo
kahil gibran stuff i guess
a time of joy
pure unalloyed
a time of peace
the love increased
oh
i almost believe it myself
it goes down very easily
i can tell you
*the other place*
(as opposed to another place)
has mks characteristic morse code blips in rhythm
simple subtle melodic gorgeous
his soundscapes are a pleasure to wander in
they inspire words like rain inspires flowers
*friends are gone*
the saddest song
a piano a melody
electronic phase shifting haze scrapes by
sks voice desolate weary
theres always someone hiding behind you
and i dont understand
the lie of the land
all the music exactly where it should be
accoustic guitars strum away
its all immaculate
wonderfully conceived
brilliantly executed
mk has provided moody wonderful music
i tried to match it with some singing
i think this is lovely record for lovers
for enjoying lonely bittersweet fruits of love
it is guaranteed to be an appropo soundtrack
night music
but day music too
music with lots of places to get lost in
thats some of the songs
anyway

a beautiful blue
the colour of a storm cloud they say
i have but merely thought that i saw you
i have felt you somewhere inside
all along
me
a part and a parcel
a part apart from you
none knows why this has happened
how did i fall fall fall
am i awake or asleep
the worlds
put in motion
now like clockwork
they run on and on
they orbit fiery suns and coldstars
the seasons come and go
the nights open to reveal days
soul transmigrates from stone to wood to beast
finally human
human rock n roll over again n again
snake human
rat human
pig human
tiger human
monkey human
finally human
then after many turns
after many rock n rolls of the cosmic dice
finely attuned
you wake up one day
it is obvious
and
you can see the sense in it
one day
i cant make that day happen for you
although i’d like to
one day you wake up
and you cant help but noticing
the leaves
the shapes textures the fine veins of sap
the way they move around in the wind
their shadows and brighter sides fading and gleaming
moving en masse
in a carefully choreographed accidental ballet masterpiece
everyday on everytree
what to say of the flowers
i’ll say this again
each flower
drawing from the same soil
same rain
same sunlight
produces
through invisible processes of life
colours scents shapes
vividly different
each life force brings forth her own version
there are bees who make their honey from one flower only
different bees
different flowers
different honey
the bees who are aerodynamically incapable of flight
how they hover and zoom and communicate somehow
all filled with life
but what what what is that?
what is this life?
what is this invisible silent incessant force?
what is this fragile gift?
in some cases life is indeed a sentence to hell
why why why?
why o merciful one does this have to happen?
i saw a man in a wheelchair at nielsens bay
while everyone was away swimming and playing
here he was on a hot day
parked under a tree
hes all scrunched up and squirming it looked like
no one to talk to or share his wishes and hopes
what wishes and hopes could a man like that entertain?
our simplest freedom would be his greatest luxury
i angrily turned to myself
i say
youre a fool for believing in god
what is the answer to that?
and the answer is
there are some answers i am too small to understand
there are some explanations i cannot hope to deserve
these are indeed the deep mysteries of life
another voice in my head says
that man in the wheel chair…
you have already been him
or one day you will be
there is nothing you can do about that now
maybe one day from another vantage point…..
you see i think we will play all parts
beggar and king
master and hound
husband and wife
sick and well
this knowledge should inculcate sympathy and mercy
this knowledge should bring forth humility and humanity
youre not who you think you are
youre maybe more than that
youre maybe asleep and you dont even know it
the executioner may be the victim tomorrow
the eater may be eaten
the forgiver may be the forgiven himself
love others because they may be you yourself
no one can help who they are
is that really true?
how would i know
and how would you?
whenever a man a points to the sky and says behold
the groovy fucking wondrous beauty, my baybee !
theres always some little nasty thing give you a little sting
i have found this blog to be like that
but that is this plane my friends
welcome to kaliyuga
what did you flippin’well expect
even on its maybe last legs
this is a beautiful world
every piece fitting into the puzzle so brilliantly
the more you find out
the more there is to know
each discovery points to
oh dear
each discovery is pointing us towards a metaphysical component
behind the laws and ratios and colours and mechanisms
there is an elusive hand
there is unbelievable intelligence and love
thats how i read it
but thats what i wanna read
10 000 years ago the indian sages said
all is vibration
long ago
before europe was even a rat infested medieval sewer
these cats said
if you want to dig this trip properly
there are ways of speeding up the process
ways of letting you in to the subtle place
the quiet place
where you need to turn your mind off
your quoting of facts and figures is no longer useful here
that is not what its about
the quiet place is hard to find
the empty place
and they dreamed up yoga
they intuited it
can you believe that
a way of achieving union
whatever the hell it means to you
dont tie me up in semantics
union with your beloved
what does that mean to you
union
think about it
before you say anything
union
as above so below
union return
union reunion
union reunited
union power
union knowledge
union understanding
union union
from the one comes many
back into the one they will go
union with your beloved, child
be still now
let go
relax
let your body be heavy
and let your mind be light
you think you could speak a language without learning it 1st?
this is the greatest work
this needs time devoted
this requires your mental attendance
this requires you to sit still
concentrating on your breath
until your clamourous foolish mind shuts up
then you may begin to approach the empty place
the empty place which is full of everything you want
stop bleating
yoga demands much perseverance
when youd rather just be sitting around
and thinking up reasons why everything is ugly
in your life
then stand in the dog eagle and tree pose for a while
then the triangle
then the warrior
stand on your head and shoulders
finally the corpse
now sit cross legged
meditate on the supreme lord
who is formless indeed
however he is so kind he may come to you as
(insert favourite god here)
meditate on his power and glory and love
meditate on the nature of emptiness
meditate on nothing
meditate chanting the word om
or pronounce it aum
feel christs presence in your heart
or the peaceful extinguishment of nirvana
but do something
its so nice

busy being nothing
wasted on pleasures excesses
some power animates me still
the sea is cold and clean today
i swim through the water unfeeling
i do my qi gong
i feel the air move round my body
i expel my breath carefully
i vaguely touch the invisible source of power
the ocean is more beautiful
than all the pictures ever painted put together
refusing no river
accepting the rain patiently
its mysteries are deep
it reveals them ever so slowly
they say vishnu lies in the causal ocean
as he sleeps the goddess of fortune watches over him
whole universes emerge from his pores
as he dreams everything up
dreaming dreaming dreaming everything up
into each thing a tiny tiny drop of spirit
the spirit which can divide itself like a flame
it can give and give and never be exhausted
oh lord you are so around us everywhere
that like fish in the ocean
we cease to be aware of you
i care not
for people who
never having prayed
say that you never answer prayers
you have always answered mine
i care not
for those who have never meditated
who say
there is nothing out there
for those who have not striven in yoga
who say
there is no union
for those
never submerged in your sweet service
who say
there is no one to serve
o vishnu
to walk and talk with you
ah vishnuloka
your abode
i imagine myself in some eternal twilight
the tulsi flowers
the lotus
birds sing evensong
a flute in the distance
and women singing
a song about all songs
their voices chime like bells
and sustain like a fender guitar
the jungle all around us
the indian night
how i have longed for this everlasting twilight
all my lives have dazzled me
i have been burnt by lifes fire and old flames
mistake upon mistake
life afterlife
now in the fullness of time
after everything has taken place
when all that might happen happened
i find myself here in this wild garden
dressed in fine clothes
perfect temperature
and the warm evening breeze
carries all lovely scents
as you smell them
a million memories come to you
memories of deliciously lovely things
you gathered from your lives
memories of white snow and yellow sand
memories of underwater light playing on green rocks
memories of familiar music
memories of memories
now so faded away and thin
like a gossamer veil
you can look straight thru
and you see
the first time someone told you they loved you
on some warm lovely night like this
someone took your hand
and whispered the soft words of love
someone kissed your forehead tenderly
and sighed in the falling night
and you got the strangest feeling
a dizzy elation
a fulfillment
a deep hit in your heart
but that hit o vishnu
is as nothing compared to
the love that made you dream it all up
the love that caused life
as you set everything vibrating
as you put the planets on their courses
as you figured it all out in a flash
an interlocking everlasting work of art
this whole trip……even im almost speechless
all art is to glorify you
all music is to glorify you
and who are we
but you as well
each in a form they have devised
each in a life they deserve
for if you do not deserve your life….then who does?
each coming back again and again
one more
two more
oops three more
thousand times again
i have at last turned a corner at least
sk will just be a thread in ttbs coat of many colours
look
just there
that little piece
you can hardly see it
along with the countless others
each essential thread of life
to sew these garments i will one day take on
kilbey is a day in a classroom
kilbey is a moment in a game
kilbey is hay in a needlestack
kilbey is a cloud on a huge sky
kilbey is a smile
kilbey is one tear in a river of grief
kilbey is just one more
one of the passing parade
the kings and fools
the stars and the freaks
the mighty and the maggots
kilbey is a note in a symphony
kilbey is a small stone by the side of a highway
kilbey is just here and now
kilbey a while longer maybe…
when this kilbeysuit falls apart
o who will i be then, my dear lord?
let me not forget
the lessons i should have learnt as kilbey
let me retain
let me go on
let me speak with you
alright
its enough

scarlet moon
pretty as you are
fall down on me
a mortal man
a musician a fool
a spring in a weary land
the treetops and little blue eggs
majestic raven on the wing
over the cold oceans currents
where i bathe
amidst the rollers and the weed
where the shells lie under sand
and glass worn smooth
salt that clings to my skin
and little fishes go by
and night comes down gently
like a woman coming down on a man
delicately the night straddles earth
and envelopes it in a warm dark embrace
it flaunts a huge swollen moon
and twinkling stars
a night dedicated to love
mosquitoes have appeared
in the blackness and the shadows of night
around little ceramic flowerpots
where the plants exhale oxygene
orchid moon
cactus moon
money tree moon
if only we could fly
my baby
if only we could skim thru that shifting air
if only we could leave at will
never mind
tonight love is in the stars
tonight that begins now
as i turn off this computer
and stride over stride
i walk away

spring has sprung
rah rah rah
the bugs go mad
the icebergs pool still cold though
the sun shines
the palm trees baybee
the pacific turns aquamarina
the wavelets rolling in
the tourists arrive by the bucketload
the time zips past
the children come out
the children dressed in uniforms
the schools divulge the children
the olde domino players appear out the back
this morning at the pavillion
as i counted to a million
i caught my breath
then let it go
as a shapless bird so free
it cruised on past the bibliotech
deserted gloomy discoteques
and then it dived like lead into the sea
weekend shoppers still swarm to the games
they burn their bridges and they fan the flames
alone in the crowds forgetting their names
they fade on the way to the exit
and
who uprooted the no through road sign on the corner?
and who noticed the stars
and heard the shiver of the dawn
and who was there
apart from you
who apart from you
you are apart there
in pieces
at the edge of the park lie beautiful houses
inside them its already dark
inside them every sound is drowned in luxury
inside them spring reigns and rains
garden over groan
swimming pool and deck chairs
statues of dionysus and apollo
i am spring spitting flowers
i am total
i am an afternoon in the sun
under a tree
wine
talk
laughter
life will be renewed
we must go on

cascading water
blue cranes circle in the air above
copper coloured lizards on warm rocks
cherry blossom
oak leaves
the azure sky is stretched over the skeletal clouds like a skin
like a memory pulled over the years
and faded of all colour
eels in the pool hiding in shadow
musical garden
flowers swaying to the beat
lilies ripple outwards gracefully
poppies nodding luxuriant sleep
goldfish drink the air with soft gulp
tranquil tea house where we meet
the windows are half open
i drink my tea and daydream
i listen to your voice drift on outside
somewhere
i listen to the intricate language of the birds
their many different tongues
the little creek speaks and babbles in the shallows
i listen to your soft voice leading me on
youve taken my hand
and you stroke it gently
you stroke and talk
talk and stroke
playing me like an instrument
sometimes you say a word
and your fingers emphasise it with gentle pressure
sometimes you pull on my fingers and whisper shhhh
i drink my tea and think of the foam fingered sea
and sailors in storms
and explorers in jungle temples searching for the crystal
divers swim through atlantis in the cold depths
but a monster has taken up residence there now
outside children are playing in the abandoned pleasure huts
you talk to me in your way
there is no continuity
i hear the words but they sound foreign
i see your lips pronouncing the words
but i hear the sound in my heart
the meanings tumble out all over the place
my mind thinks of the power and intelligence of vishnu
my heart thinks of the love all the love he must have had
you are talking about life
the lives you have led
the lovelives lived
the life of a lifetime
the love of your life
it doesnt matter
you are not even listening to yourself
no one else is there
the eel suddenly darts in the pool
a light wind ruffles the surface
you are talking and stroking my hand
you say
heaven is relative
heaven for one, hell for another
heaven must be deserved
heaven is open to all
heaven is not what you expect
heaven has vacancies
heaven has a glorious view
heaven is heaven
a tiny melancholy cloud blocks out the sun
for a moment everything seems changed
the water becomes suddenly opaque
the birds all leave
the lizards scuttle away
the fish sink deep into the pools murk
you stop stroking my hand and let it fall
you no longer are saying anything
i still hear some words lingering on
you stare out the window
you gaze at the view
you become lost in some thought
then the sun returns
you stand up
you say
lets go

music
the beat
being in and out of time
being on the money
staged adulation
fake applause
the audience un moved
words leave your mouth
brandishing admonishing
rock n roll medievalitica
the black prince baybee
the jack of spades in spades
with his lowdown moustache
you never catch jack of clubs with that moustache
you never gonna take a trick like that
jack of spades can play guitar though
fender mustang thru a load of stuff
he rides in the back compartment
he travels light years away
he blazes his own glorious trail
he finds a path between the women
he plays like a grand slammin’ jammin’ fiend
he summons up the devils dandruff
he lays it down in pastures green and cool
laughing all the way to the riverbank
pastoral space rock
the flowers of the valley
the tiny lights in the sky
a journey outside time
we are savage and intelligent
the music is the key
must be in key to open the love lock
the locked-on heatseeker eros
the jack of spades calls cupid to him
in all his vainglory
cupido vulgaris
with his arrows of love love love
the guitar strings
the bowstrings
bing! go the strings of your heart
the fingers pull n tweak
the fingers doing the work of music and love
the fingers which scurry over the frets
the fingers which hurry over the women
the stage which sinks under the music
the swamp of sound
the murky jungle juiced source of slither
music which charms snakes
music glyph in sonic sky
play your guitar jackie of spades
oh man lean on that thing like a bent snout
oh let it wail shakey flimsy brother
let it out and about
make it shout the blues back at blacks n whites
let it quote shakespeare and dolly dagger
let it walk with jesus down the kings road in 1978
the messiah in chelsea boots n mod-z-art white drainpipes
the apostles smoking and inventing their creed
the disciples lost in the crowd
ready to rock
ready to reel in their nets full of men
spades over hearts
wands over cups maybe too
guitar over itself
woman over man
man over woman
the tide pulls the moon closer
all things flux n flow
being in
being out

looking back its so easy to see the mistakes
oh bitter regrets
oh how i blew it time and time again
oh how i wished id listened more
and kept my mouth shut more often
how i wish i’d thought things through
and i’d been more polite
behind a typewriter i was tap tap tapping away
making up lies and lives
fact and fiction
i tell you truthfully
for these lines are hazy to me nowadays
if you tell a big enough lie
you can adorn it with enough imaginary baubles
you can bullshit the people with words
you can make it seem like anything happened
you can put it to music and they sing along
singalong as one to your sad songs full of lies
the huge lie contains a tiny truth
such a delicate truth
it will not suffer a name
the big lies open you up
after all you enjoy them…i guess
the enormous blatant lie
the monstrous fib
the wild exaggerations
cute little white lie
the obstinant guff
the opaque denials
stuff made up on the spot
spot made up on the stuff
saying any old thing
any old thing you thought was clever
or cos it rhymed
or cos it fit the bloody meter
singing isnt saying though
im not saying singing isnt saying neither
you can sing and mean something
you can say what you like
you can say something youd never sing
singing says something you could never say
music sing with winged words
music can say something even without singing
what does music say so wordlessly
she sings but not in words
she comes in singing
music
music saying and singing yet doing neither
anyway
many can say
few can play
fewer can sing
fewer still can sing and mean something
and very few
mean anything
to you
the piano speaks to me
joy and triumph
pain and sorrow
no words
it has no words
it speaks in broad sweeps
it speaks in tiny creaks
it speaks in decaying shadows
it speaks in sustaining haunting overtones
it speaks in its hammers n wires
it speaks in its pedals n wood
inside its mysterious chest music is created
oh most beautiful and self contained of all instruments
even in silence your beauty speaks in spades
the possibilities you contain are endless
you need no words
your fingers will find the words
your fingers push down here and there
oh the subtle textures of touch you must master
i used to see my father play the piano
the piano became an extension of my father
my father used the pianos voice
to sing his songs he wouldnt think of writing
the keys went up n down
the pedals went up n down
out came his english blokey cockney song
a song about all the pretty girls hed met
a song about cold london winter
a song about the second world war
a song about all the other wars england had been in
a song about smoking cigarettes n drinking tea
a song about earning yer crust n paying the bloody bills
a song about fixing cars and watering the lawn
jaunty confident relaxed stuff
he took over on the piano
with no self doubt
no hesitation
he never wondered if hed make a mistake
tho he almost always did
he could sit down at a piano anywhere
and strike up a good tune that people liked
you didnt have to have read his reviews
he didnt need amps or eyeliner neither
its all relative
if only if only if only
i only got part of what he could do
the way it came so easy to him
i say how you know what to play
he say i dunno my fingers just go
piano
yes i had piano lessons
but i never learnt nothing
he didnt need no lessons
his fingers just go there on their own
why wont mine?
look i let them do as they please
oh no what a racket daddy-o
why didnt i get this bit
i have the desire that it should happen
i expect it should happen
it never happens
oh piano
not so easy to get to know
sometimes piano or music
she reveals more than youd dared to hope for
some lovely undeserved intimacy
oh music i love you
oh music sleep with me
oh music sing to me in a piano language
the original language of love
music
later
came
the words
lovely torch songs to make me weep
unrequited love and mournful ballads
i like sad songs
is this sad?
nevermind
hold that thought
think it up on your own
chop up a little language
sprinkle on some fairydust
some flakes of congealed nice
some allegorical herb
some harmonic edge
simmer
cook
shoot
camera
recording
live!
and over to you…..
probably in hollywood

theres nothing to stop you…..
leaden afternoon
music percolates
follow the shadow with your eraser
plane off tiny planes
the things know what they want
small arrangement
painting n poetry n music
all the same
all the same
subtlety
suppleness
a flick or a curl or an adverb
a hammer a shading an allusion
slide colour comma
principles so slowly revealed over lifetime
you guide the pastel over the paint
change words slightly for flow
a note distorts n releases
universal ratio of beauty
map of the subway subconscious
tokens of travel
proof of arrival
you say
i know why i can be bothered
train of thought
concept of conception
in the roots of the mind
where you cannot willingly go
i have taken it upon myself
in the substrata
in the permafrostiness
in the crocodilian regions
in the chambers of black mist
when i thought i was asleep
your mind is a vast continent
deserts n tundras
steppes and stairs
cities teeming with lifestyle choices
men n women chained to their own times
the one who remembers
the message is too subtle to transmit
or even to think of it at all
it is elusive, the message
it is quicksilver
its nature is ineffable
it forever recedes
you think you got it but…
oh no
its slipped away through your fingers n toes
it ties everything up neatly though..in one hit
this formula
or set of formulae
to vibrate faster…whatever n howsoever
to vibrate faster=veganism
as far as i can tell
to become aware
aware of what?
ah, youll know when you become aware..
can nothing solid be said?
the knowledge is not knowledge
its pre verbal,post lingual intuitional bing bang
its knees up mother brown as sung by vishnu the preserver
with freddy nietzche playing the piano
and the nibelung on b.vox
what would i know anyway?
if i knew i’d be rich rich rich
or leave this world today, right now
sometimes though
i think ive seen it
the message
the equation
the sign
the signal
the answer
the solution
the idea
the big picture
the design
the yoga
the union
the poetry in motion
the moon n stars
everything
all bound up
one law which governs it all
is it the law of love?

oh
all those things i cant tell you about
all that stuff i cant bear to forget
and i cant stand to remember
the dark stuff
the weird scenes inside the silvermine
banking on nights to never end
that always do
oh that cold light
12 hours hence lies another night
another room to take you in its warm arms
in the darkness
white powder
flesh
someone in a costume
oh god my ears are ringing
wine bottles full of starblood
cos it all fills me with longing
for some new violation
for some transgression of the outside world
to take it and bend it and have it your own way
to bend it over n over again
according to your will
a little maid appears
im here to do your room mr kilbey
oh ok
yes turn down my eiderdown
turn it down the way you do
im having the world a la carte
im a hungry man travelling thru a forest in 1616
i meet a little blonde maid in a dell
sweet sunlit bower
we lay among the flowers
a man needs a maid
maid bring me my gloves
maid bring me my glasses
i need to see better
this delicate work i do
these improvisations on a theme
come here now maid
and take away these things
im so busy lazing away here
the world is chucked out the window
look out the window
what do you see
the world, of course
i see myself in the mirror
all bothered n distracted
my chest heaving like a sea
my heart beating like a drunk drummer
walking on this dipping floor
dripping dew drops and snow flakes
pink candles flare in the corners
shrine to some kytheran goddess
venus in a shell harbour
venus in synthetic furs
venus, fly! trap!
the candles emit some scent
has permeated my cavernous mind in its fogginess
the smoke hangs in the air suspended
sweet bitter taste in my mouth
oh is a saint supposed to do this?
i remember my name again
i seem disconnected from its anglosaxon implications
i see it as disembodied vowels n consonants
poetry floods thru my drains
all those rude n rotten fucking poets
who knew how to live it up
all the way down to jimbo
ah poor sweet dead jimbo
too soon
too soon
gone down below where the goblins go
oh no jimbo 27 too soon to go
you saw it coming tho
sweet arthur rimbaud
rockstarchildpoet
you had it all your way
absinthe bent your brain
and you got it all down
deranged n derugulated
you let your senses wander
but jus’ like me n jimbo
we were lookin’ at the big picture too
the big picture on the wall in my room
little maid please straighten up the big picture
oh its hanging so crooked
like a guilty serpent at a chickens funeral
the big picture i kept my eye on
like jimbo
and some other long gone cats
alley cats winos dope fiends poets n layabouts
visionary fools getting it all down
and me…
i gotta get it all down
down on paper
down my throat
into my self
bang it up
im rushing here and there
im on my run
i dont care to listen
i dont care to hear your warnings
this is my favourite thing right here
my little favourita
maiden heaven
bedrumour
honeymooner
lovesnatcher
bloodboiler
heartacher
sugarsniffer
backbreaker
it goes around again
will this never end
melted icing in your rearview
closing in on ya honey like a bad cop
coming down like the law
taking you under protective
restraining you for your own
getting the truth anyway they can
finding out all about ya
and what you been doing with yourself
like a premontion of a headline
take a dive in the 13th parallel
impaled on a song you are
hovering over it like a dragonfly
invisible inaudible wings
snapped at by the sick olde toads
the goldfish lear at you from underneath
they look up your name thats starts with a ?
and then suddenly it all ends
a burst of flame
the canopy implodes
the cockpit is torn apart in white flame
i reach for the ripchord
as im spat out
back into the world
the fresh air singin’ in my earrings
the grey clouds like a shroud over the doomed city
the endless ocean
lapping and licking
the countless grains of sand