moth

a big black moth flew in from the whirling duskwhere the wind lost its mindblowing in all directions at oncethrottling the flowershurling petals a roundvelvet darkness has fallen like a curtainutter luxury of warm night surrounding me like a second skinthe night which caresses me like a twinthe identical moonnamed and nameless starsnepalese fingers meddletrees run out of room in the skythis night is delicious it has become uncontainablethis darling night with its white pinpointsa gorgeous creature of a nightall feminine and warmsoftoh night find your mouth and kiss meoh night be forever openopen like the vastness you coveras you ride the seaand soar over the sandwho are these birds still singing?oh i am an egg in the nestoh i am the bursting bud on the branchoh i am the soft moaning eveningon the eve of springs second monthand my moth flew into your dwellingwhere my daughters dance in your dreamsmy lovely daughters from pleasure realmswhere there are no weekdayswhere trees grow on moneyand people shoot up silver colliding in tranceyes and i the eternal nightwho rules all space and spacessay this to you because i need a voicei say the day you see is shortlived and soon fadedeverything returns into me unto mei was there and i am there and i will be therethe day is a fantasya glitch in continuitythe day is light stretched thinthe day is impermanenteventually all days end in nightand in timenight will swallow day forever the night had spokenher introjected silent voice ceasedmy ears drown in the silence that came in her wakethe moth lands on a wall in the kitchenblack moth on white wallbeautiful little big moth that you arepart of the nighta little piece gone from the puzzlehere here im rearranging things againfor the sake of my friend the nightthe 30th of […]

a big black moth flew in
from the whirling dusk
where the wind lost its mind
blowing in all directions at once
throttling the flowers
hurling petals a round
velvet darkness has fallen like a curtain
utter luxury of warm night surrounding me like a second skin
the night which caresses me
like a twin
the identical moon
named and nameless stars
nepalese fingers meddle
trees run out of room in the sky
this night is delicious it has become uncontainable
this darling night with its white pinpoints
a gorgeous creature of a night
all feminine and warmsoft
oh night find your mouth and kiss me
oh night be forever open
open like the vastness you cover
as you ride the sea
and soar over the sand
who are these birds still singing?
oh i am an egg in the nest
oh i am the bursting bud on the branch
oh i am the soft moaning evening
on the eve of springs second month
and my moth flew into your dwelling
where my daughters dance in your dreams
my lovely daughters from pleasure realms
where there are no weekdays
where trees grow on money
and people shoot up silver colliding in trance
yes and i the eternal night
who rules all space and spaces
say this to you because i need a voice
i say the day you see is shortlived and soon faded
everything returns into me unto me
i was there and i am there and i will be there
the day is a fantasy
a glitch in continuity
the day is light stretched thin
the day is impermanent
eventually all days end in night
and in time
night will swallow day forever

the night had spoken
her introjected silent voice ceased
my ears drown in the silence that came in her wake
the moth lands on a wall in the kitchen
black moth on white wall
beautiful little big moth that you are
part of the night
a little piece gone from the puzzle
here here im rearranging things again
for the sake of my friend the night
the 30th of september night
who i call the duchess of darkness
an exquisite night full of notice
ha you would succumb too
even you daylovers and suntrippers
lightfreaks gambling in the mornings
even you afternooners in the shadow of twilight
my my baby you love to move through this tonight
i carved my wand from ash and i charged it with thought
the night endows it with her subtle power
the night who i salute to boot
the night i have produced on your screen
the night i engineered on our behalf
the night you got me for my birthdays
the night you found on the bottom of a pool
the night you dreamed of a night like this
the night that was nigh
a night like a knight
nightlife
nightfighter
nightsuit
nightwings
nightfeeler
nightlove
moth
night
moth

stranger still

another weird dayi arrive in cold stormy melbafter leaving warm glamourous sydneyafter waiting round for 1 n a half hoursmy guitar failed to emergeso i went off axeless(without my instrument…i felt..so ashamed)i turn up at david birdies housea man of few wordshe concurs that we’ll just “wing” it at the gigthat means we’ll improvise n hope for the besthes gotta great studio out back of his houseavec grande piano et alanyway after an eccentric ride into melbowe load in our geari get on an endless phone queue to find out where my irreplaceable guild guitar isi feel really unanchored knowing its floating round melbo without medavid b n i rehearse one song togetherhe joins effortlessly in on teachers by lenny cwow ok mr birdie youll do nicelypolinski n i do a jap dinnerduring which a friend of polinski needles me bout vegetarianism then godbut i dont lose itback to gigthere i met melbo gangsam sdon be g leedavid b turns up seeming impossibly untogethereverybodies talking at/to him at oncehe mumbles n mutters n shrugs n twitchesbut he goes on n does a lovely setabout 3 quarters way in i join him n play some rudimentary bassthen he splits n i do my thingi still have a bit of match fitnessand i do fairly well without forgetting words or muffing chordsafter a while mr db comes back onand the real magic begins for mewe do providenceramblekeeperneverness hoaxhes never heard the songs beforelet alone played emi read an excerpt from fruit mach n he accompanies medon b said this worked very wellthen we do a long long medleystarting with invisiblechrunch fans woulda already seen this coming beforebut this one goes on n onswallowing up other songs with the same simple chordsd b is sure a great keys playerto jump in n knock […]

another weird day
i arrive in cold stormy melb
after leaving warm glamourous sydney
after waiting round for 1 n a half hours
my guitar failed to emerge
so i went off axeless
(without my instrument…i felt..so ashamed)
i turn up at david birdies house
a man of few words
he concurs that we’ll just “wing” it at the gig
that means we’ll improvise n hope for the best
hes gotta great studio out back of his house
avec grande piano et al
anyway after an eccentric ride into melbo
we load in our gear
i get on an endless phone queue
to find out where my irreplaceable guild guitar is
i feel really unanchored knowing its floating round melbo without me
david b n i rehearse one song together
he joins effortlessly in on teachers by lenny c
wow ok mr birdie youll do nicely
polinski n i do a jap dinner
during which a friend of polinski needles me
bout vegetarianism then god
but i dont lose it
back to gig
there i met melbo gang
sam s
don b
e g lee
david b turns up seeming impossibly untogether
everybodies talking at/to him at once
he mumbles n mutters n shrugs n twitches
but he goes on n does a lovely set
about 3 quarters way in i join him n play some rudimentary bass
then he splits n i do my thing
i still have a bit of match fitness
and i do fairly well without forgetting words or muffing chords
after a while mr db comes back on
and the real magic begins for me
we do providence
ramble
keeper
neverness hoax
hes never heard the songs before
let alone played em
i read an excerpt from fruit mach n he accompanies me
don b said this worked very well
then we do a long long medley
starting with invisible
chrunch fans woulda already seen this coming before
but this one goes on n on
swallowing up other songs with the same simple chords
d b is sure a great keys player
to jump in n knock it off like hes played em a million times before
this medley goes n goes
taking in all kindsa other bits n pieces
and then bang
it ends
david b packs up mutters good bye
and that we should do it again
yes please david anytime olde son
oh yeah n my guitar turns up during 2nd number
e g lee tunes it n whammo
oh mutch mutch better
this guild is my sound
i sign some autographs
fruit machine sells out n i sign em gladly
i talk to some fiendss n fanss
some of em shy
some drunk n overthetop
bellowing stuff at me
ah what the….!?
theres the little lord n mr d
we go round for a cuppa herbal tea
n finally i stay at donaldos cosy gaffe in elwood
we stay up talking n talking
and tis a weary killer who greets you now
fly back home at 2 oclock
love
me

concert pitch fork lift home wood bound

come round the corneri see a fleur de lisformed by 2 lizards biting a third lizardon either side just below the head this 12 legged monster enjoined in the rites of springcan go vertical or horizontal it seems not to matter muchup and down the suncaked orange baked bricksthe lizards all flip aroundtrying to get on top of the otherssometimes other lizards appeartheir heads popping up from the grassand outta the brickstheir sleek brown bodies glint in the suni pick up on the lizards wavelengththey are not at all afraid of methey saythey can intuit goodwillhowever they fear my clumsinessim standing very still then i communicategood say the lizards all togethersuddenly i’m aware of the reptilian rustlethe lizard airwavelengths are valve bouncing outlike sparks in the staticlike a field of electric and aromatic informationlike the fine tuning of a microscopelike the individual markings n tiny perfect scalesthe deep beauty in the lizards eyebetrayed by their violent congressis there no romance? i think-ask themno none says oneunless its loving on the face of a wallthe sunlight warming your cold blood up and upthe light penetrating your scalesfilling your head with a dazzling boiling colourred expoding slowly into purple blueas you become warmer you become fastertaking advantage of the velocity of the lightthe chatter in the field multiplieswe apprehend messageswe perceive subtle changes in conditionsas the sunlight intensifiesas it beats down on our absorbing hidesyes as we drink in the sunand our veins fill with its firewe are dragons in all but sizefilled with fiery anger and desirefilled with springs imprecationsfilled with lusts angles and slipswe bite into each otherand remainwith jaws clamped tightuntil dislodged by night

come round the corner
i see a fleur de lis
formed by 2 lizards biting a third lizard
on either side just below the head
this 12 legged monster enjoined in the rites of spring
can go vertical or horizontal
it seems not to matter much
up and down the suncaked orange baked bricks
the lizards all flip around
trying to get on top of the others
sometimes other lizards appear
their heads popping up from the grass
and outta the bricks
their sleek brown bodies glint in the sun
i pick up on the lizards wavelength
they are not at all afraid of me
they say
they can intuit goodwill
however they fear my clumsiness
im standing very still then i communicate
good say the lizards all together
suddenly i’m aware of the reptilian rustle
the lizard airwavelengths are valve bouncing out
like sparks in the static
like a field of electric and aromatic information
like the fine tuning of a microscope
like the individual markings n tiny perfect scales
the deep beauty in the lizards eye
betrayed by their violent congress
is there no romance?
i think-ask them
no none says one
unless its loving on the face of a wall
the sunlight warming your cold blood up and up
the light penetrating your scales
filling your head with a dazzling boiling colour
red expoding slowly into purple blue
as you become warmer you become faster
taking advantage of the velocity of the light
the chatter in the field multiplies
we apprehend messages
we perceive subtle changes in conditions
as the sunlight intensifies
as it beats down on our absorbing hides
yes as we drink in the sun
and our veins fill with its fire
we are dragons in all but size
filled with fiery anger and desire
filled with springs imprecations
filled with lusts angles and slips
we bite into each other
and remain
with jaws clamped tight
until dislodged by night

the song n its singer

imagine all those lovely songs as yet unwrittenthink of all the divine music you may never hearwhat is a song?how would you explain a song to an alien?music n words that go hand in handis a bad song still a song?yes, because people still like bad songswhat is a good song?a song that is a spellwhat is a spell?to be able to influence people or eventsas though you had power over themwhat do good songs make you feel?that youre not alonewhat is a song that many people agree is a “good” songsuzanne by lenny cohendiscuss “suzanne takes you down to her place near the river”by starting with suzannethe singer implies you already know suzanneor have at least heard of herby suzanne being the first word in the songi am suddenly forced to throw together a rapid image of her in my mindyes, the song is called suzannebut before hearing iti expected that in the song somewheresuzanne would be sung aboutbut i did not necessarily thinkit was someone that i already must knowor would get to knowcohen almost sings of heras if he is passing her on to meand i already know a lot about her and her place by the riverthe water flowsits incessant journeyits swelling and its diminishingan exotic placei can see itin british columbia or somewhereits summeri see the overgrown white apartmentsuzanne has a balcony or deckthe trees rustle n move in the warm breezesits bohemian but its still very upmarket sixties“you can hear the boats go byyou can spend the night beside her”notice cohen is saying “you”not i did this or that but youits ambiguity is delightfulis it a predictiona possibilityor just a manner of speech?(ie:you can get to canberra in 2 hours these days….you can buy tickets when you arrive )and her place is right beside […]

imagine all those lovely songs as yet unwritten
think of all the divine music you may never hear
what is a song?
how would you explain a song to an alien?
music n words that go hand in hand
is a bad song still a song?
yes, because people still like bad songs
what is a good song?
a song that is a spell
what is a spell?
to be able to influence people or events
as though you had power over them
what do good songs make you feel?
that youre not alone
what is a song that many people agree is a “good” song
suzanne by lenny cohen
discuss
“suzanne takes you down to her place near the river”
by starting with suzanne
the singer implies you already know suzanne
or have at least heard of her
by suzanne being the first word in the song
i am suddenly forced to throw together a rapid image
of her in my mind
yes, the song is called suzanne
but before hearing it
i expected that in the song somewhere
suzanne would be sung about
but i did not necessarily think
it was someone that i already must know
or would get to know
cohen almost sings of her
as if he is passing her on to me
and i already know a lot about her
and her place by the river
the water flows
its incessant journey
its swelling and its diminishing
an exotic place
i can see it
in british columbia or somewhere
its summer
i see the overgrown white apartment
suzanne has a balcony or deck
the trees rustle n move in the warm breezes
its bohemian but its still very upmarket sixties
“you can hear the boats go by
you can spend the night beside her”
notice cohen is saying “you”
not i did this or that
but you
its ambiguity is delightful
is it a prediction
a possibility
or just a manner of speech?
(ie:you can get to canberra in 2 hours these days….
you can buy tickets when you arrive )
and her place is right beside the river if you can hear the boats
and arent you n suzanne just ships in the night as well…
cohen knows you can spend the night beside her too
something in this implies
suzanne maybe a woman of some promiscuity
a free lovin’ hippy
if you want to spend the night beside her…
well you can
i’m also feeling a certain bitterness
cohen spent that night
n now its your turn
he was just another bloke
another notch on suzannes bedpost
“and you know that shes half crazy
but thats why you wanna be there”
ok now hes really casting aspersions
on her
himself
and you
the woman is a little unbalanced
cohen realised that himself
and it turned him on
and he also reckons itll turn “you ” on
this half mad free loving woman with her groovy pad
next to that lovely churning river
with its beautiful n mysterious boats
whose destinations are unknown to us
suzannes lunacy is attractive in some sick(ly) way
oh i guess weve all met people like that
but im starting to feel a bit nervous about her
like
am i just exploiting her madness?
am i too straight for her glorious insanity?
“she feeds ya tea n oranges that come all the way from china”
like shes hand feeding ya the oranges
popping those juicy segments into your mouth with her fingers
those expensive chinese oranges…they must costa fortune
and the sweet tea
the ceremony
the feeling of ritual in its preparation n serving
“and just when you mean to tell her
you got no love to give her”
oh oh youre backing out now
youre looking for an escape route
maybe suzanne is crazier or dirtier than you imagined
maybe you aint got love for her or anyone
you were just looking for a night in her bed
you dont want anything serious
now you had the night
the tea
the oranges
the half craziness
its enough
youre getting ready to say some stumbling excuse
when
“she gets you on her wavelength and lets the river answer
that youve always been her lover”
ok
suzanne totally outmanoevres you here
shes crazy and psychic
she saw your bullshit coming and shes cutting you short
she tunes right into your mind
wavelength…a particularly “sixties” word
a crazy hippy nympho term
man, suzannes got yer number tho
she anticipates you
and then
metaphysically
metaphorically
the river itself
her permanent companion n neighbour
the great flowing river that carries men hither n thither
the river who has seen the whole thing
the river who has flowed since time immemorial
who meanders over deltas
and rushes in the mountains
the river speaks for suzanne
the river answers your excuse
before you have even said it
and it says
in its watery tongue
which it insinuates in your mind somehow
youve always been her lover
as a thing which truly understands the word always
the river utters these winged words
always been her lover
you are more than a one night johnny, mister
youre connexion is so deep
ha you dont even realise
you never see the layers of reality
the deep implications
but suzanne has fucking shocked you
shes telepathic with a talking river
which is in cahoots with this…..witch
and the river says
man tho i am myself verily deep
druid you are in deep with ms suzanne
you and her go way back
you may have forgotten
but suzanne herself
remembering through her lives
and i
the eternal river
flowing since gods beginning
we have not forgotten
arent you in awe of this woman?
do you know what youve gotten yourself into?
this musta happened like this for lenny too
cos hes warning you in his weary voice
its a prediction, after all, isnt it
these things will happen to you
as they did to me
and presumably a whole host of men
connected to suzanne
as she gently manipulates them
for her own crazy (hmmm, is she really?) ends
“and you want to travel with her
and you want to travel blind
and she knows that she can trust you
cos youve touched her perfect body
with your mind”
now youre convinced
now you wanna know and go wherever she wants
travel
where to?
what kinda voyage would it be being blind?
or will you travel willy-nilly
with no care for arriving anywhere
and once again cohens slightly bitter accusation
(now in the past tense)
that youve touched her perfect body
(and who would know better than him how perfect)
but you touched it with your mind
but you touched it with your fingers too
lenny somehow implies
there was an exchange
a body for a mind
suzanne let you have her
cos youre vaguely interesting
although cohen and the river
see right through you

in the next verse
cohen introduces unexpectedly
like a bolt from the blue
the last person you expected to encounter
in this riverside sensual extrasensual weirdass song
it cant be….. its…
“jesus was a sailor when he walked upon the water
and he spent a longtime watching from his lonely wooden tower”
suddenly you feel guilty
you been making out with suzy n
having weird psychic conversations with rivers
and freely enjoying the permissive n groovy free love sixties
when jesus appears
christ, leonards jewish as well
so we picking up lots of things here
the song has exploded wide open
and jesus and the sea of galilee have come through
hang on though
how does lenny feel about jesus though?
the whole of this verse is rather fictional
jesus was a fisherman but not a sailor per se
which wooden tower was he watching from then?
a crows nest or turret aboard a biblical fishing boat 33 ad?
or a lighthouse?
or a fortress?
theres no wooden towers in the gospels i can think of
cohen seems vague on what jesus was purported or not to have done
“and when he was certain only drowning men could see him
he said all men shall be sailors then until the sky shall free them”
this isnt exactly what jesus said at all
but how many could tell you that
cohen sings with such sombre authority
you could believe its the gospel truth…geddit?
imagine those drowners as they go down
seeing the soles of his feet
as he carefully treads the waves
like a surfer with out a board
and suddenly seeing a chance yet at salvation
the drowners furtively pray to him
but jesus wants more than the desperates
he wants your heart before it is an emergency
come out of love
not out of fear
and why shall the sky free them
when the sea is the sailors element?
does he mean freed by heavens judgement?
does he mean the stars in sky which light the sailors way?
“but he himself was broken long before the sky would open
abandoned almost human
he sank beneath your wisdom like a stone”
meanwhile where is suzanne in all this?
shes temporarily forgotten…
and,yes in one way christ was broken before the sky would open
in a way cohen echoes the taunts of the romans n pharisees
why dont yer god save ya now, druid?
as jesus was mercilessly banged up on the excruciating cross
cohen also implies the freedom the skies could grant was rain
going on with the river and ocean
(surely tears cant be far away??!!)
anyway now christ is abandoned
by cohen
by the jews
by the romans
and almost by you
youre almost at the end of this verse
suddenly youre losing interest in the man of sorrows
he who was abandoned by almost everyone
sold
denied
left to his fate
and now
despite cohen telling you his sad story
you have used your “wisdom” to push him away
he actually sinks into your watery subconscious
and on into oblivion
a heavy inanimate object
in the end
although he could once walk on water
he ends up sinking anyway
“and you want to travel with him
and you want to travel blind
you know you can trust him
hes touched your perfect body with his mind”
more travel/voyages
christ and his retinue of saved souls picking up momentum
but always into the unknown travelling blind
now hes touched your body your heart
with his mind his heart
hes saying go back to suzanne now
but a little part of me may go on in you
“suzanne takes your hand and leads you to the river
shes wearing rags n feathers from salvation army counters”
youve left her place
now youre going down down to the river itself
you seem a bit unwilling or unable
or you dont know where youre going
or why else is she leading you
one things for sure
her dress is a bit embarrassing to you
rags n feathers
2nd hand at that
shes a crazy scruff
but somehow she has some of christs attributes
rubbed off from the second verse
you try to understand her bizarre attire
“the sun pours down like honey on our lady of the harbour”
ah a beatific vision..
suzanne as whore with a halo
martyred beatnik wisewoman crazybitch
how are you feeling about her now?
a seeress
an angel of destiny
the sunlight is so warm without burning
its a lovely moment
there on the shoreline
the river is now a harbour
and suzanne is its patron saint
she is so much more than you could dream possible
its a photo opportunity
“and she shows you were to look among the garbage and the flowers
there are heroes in the sea weed, there are children in the morning”
suzanne
like all saints
can let you see the marvellous in the mundane
she needs to show you where to look
otherwise you may not have noticed
the beauty in every single thing
in the 2 extremes of garbage and flowers
in all things
in the seaweed the heroes
what does this mean?
nothing
except to look for the miraculous constantly
or is cohen referring back to our drowners n sinking jesus
surely heroes all now down amongst the seaweed
but still worthy of your remembrance
and of course
the children
the future
the innocent ones
the lambs
the ones you could still yet help
suzanne now reveals them
the hope for this dizzy world
suzanne is a voice for the phantom children yet to be born
or are they suzannes own children
running in to mother in the morning
only to find you and or lenny cohen in there too?
“they are leaning out for love
they will lean that way forever
while suzanne holds the mirror”
leaning out of where…the mirror?
leaning out of that symbolically future morning
into the present day?
anyway
they like all children need love
they always do and always will
even these children in the future
however suzanne seems to have suspended them there in time
as long as she needs to
forever if necessary
suzanne does things in forevers after all
and only when the love is truly available
from you or any other lover
only if you will love the children you may conceive
will she allow them to materialise

there you go
probably not one of these thoughts occurred to lc
when he wrote it
its just my interpretation

good morning steve, well you wont believe me today*

*lyrics from the universal by small faces well i went round jlks house last niteand we did my vox on the secret canadian projectsample lyricyesterday is a hole for mein the afternoon that you sold to mewinter in the mirror feeling cold to meand i wanna dig deeperbut i just gotta keep ya away i reckon these guys should like itif they dont then i’m no use to ’em at alland they should ask bone-oh or michael stripeor ian mcbolloch or some other blah blah blahbuti reckon they will like iti knocked off my lyrics n singing in 2 hourscame home started watching science of sleep which i was enjoying but nk says too tiredcant we watch the rest toniteok i saystoday i listened to small faces on way to pool on podtin soldierjesus, do you know that song?my 1st girlfriend i was telling you about before on hereshe or her sisters had a single of iti hadnt heard it all that much on the radioand when i put it on her fathers big old record playerit was the unbelievable visceral sound of lovecoming off a scratched lump of vinylwith a needle deep in its groovestarting with an electric pianoan ascending chord progressionits the anticipation of romance itselfthe band suddenly jumps in real loudand the songs starts to come on like a drugthe bass fat and roundthe incessant ticking of the hi hatthe fancy guitar fingeringits horny musicinsistentrising up n upcmon yells steve marriot slightly off micand the drums pile in “i am a little tin soldierwho wants to jump into your fire “and you know that worked for me on so many levelsof course hes talking about a more obscure taleby hans christian anderson (hi tt in danmark!)a one legged tin soldier, a toyfalls in love with a ballerina […]

*lyrics from the universal by small faces

well i went round jlks house last nite
and we did my vox on the secret canadian project
sample lyric
yesterday is a hole for me
in the afternoon that you sold to me
winter in the mirror feeling cold to me
and i wanna dig deeper
but i just gotta keep ya away

i reckon these guys should like it
if they dont then i’m no use to ’em at all
and they should ask bone-oh or michael stripe
or ian mcbolloch or some other blah blah blah
but
i reckon they will like it
i knocked off my lyrics n singing in 2 hours
came home started watching science of sleep
which i was enjoying
but nk says too tired
cant we watch the rest tonite
ok i says
today i listened to small faces on way to pool on pod
tin soldier
jesus, do you know that song?
my 1st girlfriend i was telling you about before on here
she or her sisters had a single of it
i hadnt heard it all that much on the radio
and when i put it on her fathers big old record player
it was the unbelievable visceral sound of love
coming off a scratched lump of vinyl
with a needle deep in its groove
starting with an electric piano
an ascending chord progression
its the anticipation of romance itself
the band suddenly jumps in real loud
and the songs starts to come on like a drug
the bass fat and round
the incessant ticking of the hi hat
the fancy guitar fingering
its horny music
insistent
rising up n up
cmon yells steve marriot slightly off mic
and the drums pile in
“i am a little tin soldier
who wants to jump into your fire “
and you know
that worked for me on so many levels
of course hes talking about
a more obscure tale
by hans christian anderson (hi tt in danmark!)
a one legged tin soldier, a toy
falls in love with a ballerina in a box
after much misadventure
arranged by some unexplained malevolent force
(who’d wanna be cruel to a toy? a one legged toy??)
including being swallowed by a fish
the tin soldier ends up burning in the fire
with his ballerina who doth verily love him back
a ha
but the next day as they clean up the ashes
the maids find 2 tiny tin hearts in the grate
is that a happy ending?
how would that test-screen out in burbank i wonder
anyway
marriot milks all the implications in the line with his voice….
oh i wanted to jump into loves fire
and i saw myself as slightly damaged a la the soldier
(why?)
and thus deserving of sweet sweet love
i dont need your aggravation marriot croons
in the breakdown…
i just gotta make ya
gotta listen (he spits out slightly off mic)
i just gotta make ya
my occupation!
well i could certainly dig that
marriot sang in a choked soul voice
implying urgency
it was urgent n important
his love was busting out all over him
he tickles the strings on a suspended fourth
and i was getting the idea
i do anything you want me to
sing any song that you want me to
(but what song could his girl want but this?)
i aint no child…take me as i am
(he insists)
finally finishing with a crescendo
marriot somewhere in there
the emerging urgency multiplied tenfold
i just want some reaction
why dontcha gimme satisfaction
cos all i wanna do is * to you
cos i lo-ove you!
*inaudible
man
i was hooked on this song for life
isnt amazing i said to the girlfriend, shocked
she smiled n shrugged her shoulders
obviously it was not doing it for her like it was for me
or maybe itd been played to death in that house
i knew how marriot felt tho
cos i never seemed to get that much reaction either
i dont know what it was exactly was wrong with her
but looking back on it
she was just a very ordinary girl in an ordinary place
in an ordinary time
why couldnt she see how groovy it all coulda been…?
she had no clue and i was disappointed
a couple of years later
i purchased the sublime
the autumn stone
a double album incl. their greatest hits
afterglow
i loved all the way their songs were slightly ambiguously
about sex
theres everything i need to know
just resting in the afterglow of your love
and the hammond organ is so grinding n creamy
and as usual the drums are so wound up
that he goes on pounding when the band has stopped
a trademark kenny jones move
itchycoo park
you wanna know what lsd sounded like in 1967?
listen to this flanged masterpiece
you can miss out school
why go to learn the words of fools?
marriot sings
n i could only concur
a ripping version of red balloon by tim hardin
bought myself a red ballooon with a blue surprise
took the love light out my eyes
ooh blue surprise
yes baby
the blue surprise was heroin
lazy sunday
which even my dad liked
if you wanna know how my dad sounded
when he was angry
listen to the cockney geezer
on this song
screaming out
“shut your bloody row!”
exactly the words my father would use
and yet
halfway thru this jolly song
when he sings close my eyes n drift away
the chords go minor
and we feel for a few bars
the real melancholy of sunday
the fear of it being over
the implied loss of freedom
tomorrow will bring
and lemme tell ya fiendss
sunday monday all the same to me who dont work
but sunday still brings me down sometimes
hey joycie wheres my toasted baked bean sandwiches?
anyway
its all captured there on this song
and of course the universal
sounding like it was recorded in marriots back garden
some psychedelic summer morning in the sixties
when acid rock mixed it up with english music hall
guitars n clarinets n euphoniums all together now
a hippy trippy name dropper
came to my door
he said i just bumped into mick
he told me you know where to score
no not me friend
the small faces
boy did they even look like a group
marriot would form humble pie with “franger” frampton
(thats what they called him in canberra
a franger is a condom)
and sadly die in a fire in a hotel
caused by falling asleep with a cig burning
ronnie lane
bassist extroadinaire n co author of the songs
kenny jones
and ian maclagan
the best keys player in rock almost bar none
would form the faces with rod n ronnie
confusingly enough
their 1st album
which may or may not be
called
the first step
was credited to the small faces
it wasnt until the second album
long player
that they were just the faces
i listened to a bit of long player today
particularly marvelling at a track
sweet lady mary
which is almost maggie may about 2 years early
its all there
the melodic lyrical bass playing
(i LOVE ronnie lanes bass playing)
the wandering organ
woodies scrappy n rough guitar
its a prototype hit
the first step had some corkers too
dylans wicked messenger
a song called devotion which is tres romantique
these guys certainly could conjure up some magic
ronnie lane died of ms in texas a while back
a tragic sad loss
what a wonderful geezer he was
my mate wil-o has met ian mclagan
out here playing with billy bragg
(who i dont like at all)
and he said mac was a diamond little geezer as well
kenny j played wiv the who for a while
what a raw powerhouse dynamo for any band
a true fuckin’ thumper with bags of finesse
rod went on to whatsername from sweden
and whatsername from new zealand
and woody joined los stonos roulade
(make up yer own spanish!)
if yer really interested
i cannot recommend highly enuff
ian mclagans book” all the rage”
one of the best rock reads ever
and it broke my heart to see
the wonderful small faces never got paid a brass razoo
ripped of by grinning hyaena andrew loog old-ham
who got the fucking lot
publishing
records
everyfing
and thats why i hate mosta the pricks in the biz
(but not all)
anyway
nk was no more enamoured by the small faces
than that ordinary girl 37 years ago
when i played her
here comes the nice n tin soldier
oh god i hate that guys voice she casually says
almost derailing this blogge
hmmm
i wonder if the small faces/faces is a kinda guy only thing
like dylan……
anyway
i dig it
even if its gone full circle
in my own life

enter / return

sam sejavka has a blogsailsofoblivion.blogger.comit promises to be weird n wonderfulbut youd expect that from him, wouldnt you?this fried-day i hit melniboneplaying with david birdiewho ive never met or spoken towonder what we’ll do?a genius should be prepared to think on his feetso im ready for all contingenciesplease feel free to drop in and watch me happendb will probably blow me off the stage(dont take that the wrong way, mr humphries)(mr humphries!)im flying down early so we can figure things outsimone polinski is doing our mixim talking to e graham lee from triffids re january shows in sydthe logistics of getting a band back together w/ guest singerswhos doing which song and why…you also know about kev carmody in early jan at stateyour humble hero doing his kc song images of londonbe nice to see kev after all these yearsnever met him when i was “clean”struggling with commish but will nail itfeel confident i can take on anything ndo it some rough justiceplus i got excelsior on 27 octhope i can be as good there as i ended up being in aucklandbut i may serve up a christchurchwho knowsnot mei ring my olde mate in can-berrapaul cto tell him of twillies n minna in particulars fascinationfor david bowie circa hunky dorycan she ever get sick of the bewlay brothers?i listened to that song a bit in rehabwhen i was in the one cobain escaped fromthe aching painful hours went by like yearsi’d lay on my bed listening to bewlay brothersand reading the gitai was right there in the momentwith no casingwith no protectionevery note n word meant something to my screaming brainohhhh and we were gone!how i longed to be gonei hadnt quite managed to kill myselfi read that some chick rockstar o.d.ed in the baththat seemed ok to my […]

sam sejavka has a blog
sailsofoblivion.blogger.com
it promises to be weird n wonderful
but youd expect that from him, wouldnt you?
this fried-day i hit melnibone
playing with david birdie
who ive never met or spoken to
wonder what we’ll do?
a genius should be prepared to think on his feet
so im ready for all contingencies
please feel free to drop in and watch me happen
db will probably blow me off the stage
(dont take that the wrong way, mr humphries)
(mr humphries!)
im flying down early so we can figure things out
simone polinski is doing our mix
im talking to e graham lee from triffids re january shows in syd
the logistics of getting a band back together w/ guest singers
whos doing which song and why…
you also know about kev carmody in early jan at state
your humble hero doing his kc song images of london
be nice to see kev after all these years
never met him when i was “clean”
struggling with commish but will nail it
feel confident i can take on anything n
do it some rough justice
plus i got excelsior on 27 oct
hope i can be as good there as i ended up being in auckland
but i may serve up a christchurch
who knows
not me
i ring my olde mate in can-berra
paul c
to tell him of twillies n minna in particulars fascination
for david bowie circa hunky dory
can she ever get sick of the bewlay brothers?
i listened to that song a bit in rehab
when i was in the one cobain escaped from
the aching painful hours went by like years
i’d lay on my bed listening to bewlay brothers
and reading the gita
i was right there in the moment
with no casing
with no protection
every note n word meant something to my screaming brain
ohhhh and we were gone!
how i longed to be gone
i hadnt quite managed to kill myself
i read that some chick rockstar o.d.ed in the bath
that seemed ok to my ravaged sensibility
i envied her
i envied her her oblivion
i envied her not having chronic insomnia
i wanted to rest in peace like that
in the bath…..just slipping away
i watched the oj fiasco live on tv
if he didnt kill that woman
i aint the mangey panther!
i saw people in the rehab pair up
even tho it was against the rules
i saw em smuggle in drugs but i abstained
i listened to their stories
and they listened to mine
hi im steve n im an addict
i loved telling my story
whatta story
i used to add lots of bits
cmon
im an artiste, i embellish the truth
i tell lies to tell the truth
i told em whoppers too
yeah i been on the gear my whole life
yeah im a big rockstar n im real tough
yeah i cant be happy without it
meanwhile
i was in a room with a guy from porno for pyros
martyne, a blonde guy
i played my 12 string in the dusty courtyard
this place was no 5 star motel
“mommy why you staying at this motel again ?”
asked a little black girl who hadnt understood
mommy was a cocaine fiend
towards the end of my stay there
we got buses n went to gyms where i swam
we went to aa n na meetings
where we saw the occaisional famous druggie
joe walsh from the eagles visited me in my room
(this is true)
he used to visit any musicians staying at exodus
(and there were plenty)
i asked him how he liked the other guys in the eagles
who had recently reformed
he spun round n looked at me
“well, i hate the bastards but i aint drinkin'”
dallas from csn and y, the drummer
he was there all the time talking to the junk sick musos
i got his autobiography off him
boy thats a sobering read in rehab
he gave me crosbys book long time gone
jesus ,crosby ended up in a metal cell wanted by the fbi
thank you lord that i didnt go as far down the path as he did
a nurse there told me she knew kurt wasnt gonna make it
“he had that look, ya know
like the baby antelope that gets singled out by the lions
you knew he was lost”
i tried to bust out one day
but my junky contacts in l.a. had all been warned
not to take my calls
besides i had no money
eventually i was driven to airport
where i boarded a plane to sweden
where i spent 6 weeks living in the country
singing my sweet lord n hare krishna to the swedish cows
(they loved it but the farmers told me to piss off!)
i swam in the lake n ate good food
gradually my ability to sleep returned minute by minute
i took the twillies then aged 3 for walks thru the hushed forests
i did the dishes outdoors n washed in the lake
i lay on black basalt rocks alone
in the gentle warm scandic summer sun
and i convalesced
i watched the white swans building their nest in the reeds
i rowed a leaky boat with twillies over to a small church
where karins grandparents were buried
and we put flowers on their graves
minna was confused that they were in the ground
and yet
simultaneously in heaven
i swung in a hammock n was eaten alive by mosquitoes
i saw a sick fox wander into a clearing
i wrote poetry
at night i would take the long path to the lake
looking for sleep in its chilly waters
i cried alone in these lovely but alien nights
i talked to vishnu
i stubbed my toe in the dark
and walked into things
i thought about heroin all the time though
and eventually when i returned to aust
i succumbed again
i was not fixed
i was not finished with it
i still thought i could get back in the ring
with that monster
and have another swing
that monster no one can beat
that bitch whos fucked everyone (up)
that nassty substance hiding in my cortex
whispering its seductive propaganda
“take me back, baby
itll be just like the olde days
you know
when we first started
and i wont hurt you again
i promise
oh baby
you know i’m the only one
can make you feel the way you want
please baby, let me back in”
and as soon as you do
the honeytongued beauty turns into a hideous fury
and she got ya by the balls
and she says
“get down on yer knees boy
im back to stay
and its gonna be real hard to ever git rid of me again”
anyway
gee
i been in a famous rehab
but it was real nasty there
i saw a lotta sad things
when peoples families n wives n hubbies
came n visited on the weekend
i saw a guy discover that his fiancee
was with some other coke fiend in a room up the hall
it all happened before my eyes
this most private thing
at a family meeting there one weekend
i saw fathers who refused to acknowledge their kids
n mothers who blamed emselves
“oh little frankie never woulda smoked crack
if i wasnt such a bad mother!!”
“yes, my mother made me a crack addict!”
“oh, if i give her enough wool
will she make me one, too?”
(bitta levity folks
cos i know you find this drug stuff
heavy going
unless you been thru it yerself
but
sorry
i guess it was reading sss blogge
or just cos its part of what made me who i am)
i met lots of characters in these places
junky vetenarians of 60
hookers n whores
pill popping doctors n nurses
coked out lawyers n businessmen
gangsters
(yep
i was in a room with a black guy
who was asking me about sydney
with a view to taking over
this “candy-ass” town)
other stupid musos
like me
maids n models
groupies n group-captains
italians n americans n africans n jews
old
young
idiot
genius
all hooked on this n that
all trying to get off the hook
there was a poster of john wayne
dressed up as a soldier
and hes saying
if you think lifes tough…try being a speedfreak!
i hated the chemical smell of the place
i hated my injections against the chronic nausea
i was throwin up buckets of green bile
which seared my throat on the way up n out
anyway
thats enough of that
it does me good to remember it occaisionally
if you didnt like it
i’ll be back with the candy-ass stuff
tomorrow

fairybomb

picked up a pack of fairy bombsonly 18 dollarsgreen fairy bombsfairy cross the mercyfairy meadow where i was formerly frommy shuffle chucks up some krautrockhow trippyi search my mind for memoryi delete yesterdays eventsclear historyi float above the histrionic tripe hurled at meafter all that do i have to suffer this nonsense ?please one comment per personplease keep it relevantcos i do wanna read what you think of itplease consider what i write todayif youd like to be considerateplease desist with the bullshitits depressing meit tires me outit enervates mewhy ?i try…oh i ami ami am the saint who is no saintyes thats who i ambut i get tired of bad energy assaulting mei do my thing quietlyi love children n animalsi dont eat the beastsand i make musicno skeletons in my closet for quite a while nowhow tedious when someone tries to drag out an old oneor tries to dream up some silly flusterbesmirching my fucking not so good namehere on my very own pagesfor some hysterical melodramatic bunkumplease im olde and im tired now desistim trying to write some poetry here for youim trying to weld unweildy forms togetherim trying to find some beauty in this afternoondont hassle a poet!see i had something better than thisfor the people who were interestedwhat a shame!

picked up a pack of fairy bombs
only 18 dollars
green fairy bombs
fairy cross the mercy
fairy meadow where i was formerly from
my shuffle chucks up some krautrock
how trippy
i search my mind for memory
i delete yesterdays events
clear history
i float above the histrionic tripe hurled at me
after all that
do i have to suffer this nonsense ?
please one comment per person
please keep it relevant
cos i do wanna read what you think of it
please consider what i write today
if youd like to be considerate
please desist with the bullshit
its depressing me
it tires me out
it enervates me
why ?
i try…
oh i am
i am
i am the saint who is no saint
yes thats who i am
but i get tired of bad energy assaulting me
i do my thing quietly
i love children n animals
i dont eat the beasts
and i make music
no skeletons in my closet for quite a while now
how tedious when someone tries to drag out an old one
or tries to dream up some silly fluster
besmirching my fucking not so good name
here on my very own pages
for some hysterical melodramatic bunkum
please im olde and im tired now desist
im trying to write some poetry here for you
im trying to weld unweildy forms together
im trying to find some beauty in this afternoon
dont hassle a poet!
see i had something better than this
for the people who were interested
what a shame!

until chocolate is melted and mixture is smooth

imagine the pleasurefieldwith all its gratificationssee the dipping edge of wishcarved from pearl and silverwhipping it distantlyburrowing in the earthor billowing through the etheror breaking into sound on a silent worldyes youimagine the pleasurefieldas it tumbles inside thereand the raving mad god who bestrides its interiora shower of stardusted rusted up midnight spare partsin your rooms by the harbourwhere you entertained the ambassadoralong the seablack wharf with its sickly lappingthe mangey gulls alight on rotting polesand waiters running back n forth in their vanityand the people attack their food with lustand i envy them their appetitebut too slothful to eatthe ambassador relishes his gluttony as he devours youit makes me so angry to watchhis pride stains the floorboards open7 times 7 his deadliesman you fractured ivory coastimagine the pleasurefieldwith its cardinal scamsand its out of work actressesunlaughing after having scenethe size of your determinationthink of all the free drugsthat theyll give you as soon as you get cleanthink of all the sex once youre celibatethink of how as soon as it all stopshow something else immediately starts againas good as you can ever besomeone says oh thats too badsomeone else says oh its saturday night hereyou know im at a partyand its warm and some people jump in the pooli didnt realize that the stuff would make me feel like thisi see some man dancing with his wifebut in his eyes he looks like the devilit occurs to us that the devil is among usin denim and board shorts and driving a utewow thats so cool you say as we leave the placewow i wonder who he knew there you saywow he looked like a guy who knew his way around towndown by the rocks in the darknessyou fumble with my black velvet shirtyouve lost me in the darknessand youre […]

imagine the pleasurefield
with all its gratifications
see the dipping edge of wish
carved from pearl and silver
whipping it distantly
burrowing in the earth
or billowing through the ether
or breaking into sound on a silent world
yes you
imagine the pleasurefield
as it tumbles inside there
and the raving mad god who bestrides its interior
a shower of stardusted rusted up midnight spare parts
in your rooms by the harbour
where you entertained the ambassador
along the seablack wharf with its sickly lapping
the mangey gulls alight on rotting poles
and waiters running back n forth in their vanity
and the people attack their food with lust
and i envy them their appetite
but too slothful to eat
the ambassador relishes his gluttony as he devours you
it makes me so angry to watch
his pride stains the floorboards open
7 times 7 his deadlies
man you fractured ivory coast
imagine the pleasurefield
with its cardinal scams
and its out of work actresses
unlaughing after having scene
the size of your determination
think of all the free drugs
that theyll give you as soon as you get clean
think of all the sex once youre celibate
think of how as soon as it all stops
how something else immediately starts again
as good as you can ever be
someone says oh thats too bad
someone else says oh its saturday night here
you know im at a party
and its warm and some people jump in the pool
i didnt realize that the stuff would make me feel like this
i see some man dancing with his wife
but in his eyes he looks like the devil
it occurs to us that the devil is among us
in denim and board shorts and driving a ute
wow thats so cool you say as we leave the place
wow i wonder who he knew there you say
wow he looked like a guy who knew his way around town
down by the rocks in the darkness
you fumble with my black velvet shirt
youve lost me in the darkness
and youre undoing the past
the rocks are slippery and green
and the ambassador lights his pipe
the air fills with the acrid smell of the stuff
diplomatic immunity he grins n exhales
the police are out there watching us all im sure
he gestures towards the ocean
out there doing their job
he points towards the lowered sky
or up there chasing villains
a childs sandcastle collapses
and the crabs jump out of their shells
the worms in their sandy holes with tiny legs
the suctions of their greediness
the swift silver mackerel who swallows the hook
as i tear it from its throat
it stares up at me
absolving me of all my murderous guilt
i realise we’re on a boat
and i lurch to the rails
as the white wake rushes past
and i fall into the foam
and surface in a lagoon in shadow
wandering to a house
the reeds jostle each other crackling and moaning
the blooms are all there too
big blooms and little daisy
and the woods with their small offspring
and the stones who came especially
and the waters from rainy sydney
the fields from around here
salt and pepper of the eartha
ritual for no reason
enveloping haze of marine evening
serener pastures
the orchestra swells up
is this the end?
yep

X*$

read my zip you useless starsmy energy is uncontainableand it burns and returnsmy soul slowly learnseven if this is a jokewell im laughingall the way to the riverbankall the way this timenothings gonna stand in my way outwho was the one who told ya how the trick was donelook at that what a great linewho was the one….who showed ya…yeah i like showed better than toldwho should ya…who showed ya what?who showed ya how the trick was donewhich trick baby?which trick doth he mean?well the clue is in showed, little pigindeed it iscos the trick and the show are one and the samethe same and the one showwhere you get trickedbut you wanna be trickedor is it part of the trickthat you wanna be trickedone more trick in one more showthe killer steps up on the stagethe last stage outta townthe killer who has murdered poetrythe killer who mangled the musicthe same killer who maimed artthe killer straps on his bass guitarfor the 10,000th timehe plugs in to 10,000 shocking voltshere is part of the trickhere in the show embedded with tricksand hes showing you how these tricks were doneoh i thought it was part of the show you saythat hes showing us how the tricks are donethats just part of the show, right?yes thats righti would wrongly saythe killer is showing youthat hes not tricking youbut if you do want a showa little trickery may be a consequenceand tricks of the tradeand tricks of the lightand overtricksand undertricksmagic trickshocus pocusdiplodocusyes i know a few magic wordsyes i know sutras for obtaining favouryes i can command a small army of elementalsyes i can even induce the entire universe to change all this power has unbalanced meand now i’m madand being mad makes me angryso im mad and madand ive put […]

read my zip
you useless stars
my energy is uncontainable
and it burns and returns
my soul slowly learns
even if this is a joke
well im laughing
all the way to the riverbank
all the way this time
nothings gonna stand in my way out
who was the one who told ya how the trick was done
look at that
what a great line
who was the one….
who showed ya…
yeah i like showed better than told
who should ya…
who showed ya what?
who showed ya how the trick was done
which trick baby?
which trick doth he mean?
well the clue is in showed, little pig
indeed it is
cos the trick and the show are one and the same
the same and the one show
where you get tricked
but you wanna be tricked
or is it part of the trick
that you wanna be tricked
one more trick in one more show
the killer steps up on the stage
the last stage outta town
the killer who has murdered poetry
the killer who mangled the music
the same killer who maimed art
the killer straps on his bass guitar
for the 10,000th time
he plugs in to 10,000 shocking volts
here is part of the trick
here in the show embedded with tricks
and hes showing you how these tricks were done
oh i thought it was part of the show you say
that hes showing us how the tricks are done
thats just part of the show, right?
yes thats right
i would wrongly say
the killer is showing you
that hes not tricking you
but if you do want a show
a little trickery may be a consequence
and tricks of the trade
and tricks of the light
and overtricks
and undertricks
magic tricks
hocus pocus
diplodocus
yes i know a few magic words
yes i know sutras for obtaining favour
yes i can command a small army of elementals
yes i can even induce the entire universe to change
all this power has unbalanced me
and now i’m mad
and being mad makes me angry
so im mad and mad
and ive put all this energy into my bass
its got a loada songs inside it
and the people in the songs
came out of their songs
while im on the stage
those songpeople with spidery voices
caressing up my basses neck
and curdling in my fingertips
these song characters made of music
made of solid stainless steel music
bulletproof music weighing in at 10,000 ks
the bass was rebelling under my hand
the hand that had fed it
the only hand it had ever known
the wood warped n woofed
the strings attached themselves
the frets frowned down and i fell a semi tone short
floundering in a sea of dissonance
i was a drowning drone in d flat
i was washed up on the shore like a dead b
a killed b
someone laughed
(was it you?)
they killed b flat
now hes diminished
unaugmented
seventh sealed
riffed over n out
scaffolding n skeleton crew
the stretched note
a long drawn out cadence
a conductor of lightning
a flash of ether burnt
smell of cordite
smell of ammonia
smell of electricity in ozone
sound of a shot
sound of a kiss
sound of the sea

root of star

in harridans black hallwhere father and kathy were waitingwhile ugly snouts sniffed outsidequickly they shouted in the gathering windand the whole house felt like it was cryinghurry they called through the widening gapand i at last jumped for all i was worthas the night crashed through the holelet me tell you they were laughingon the othersidekathy was holding fathers handand father saidsit down here son… we’re still movingthe night moved within songs we sang thenkathy turned to me as she sang and she smiledand oh her smile sang another songand father held us tightly as we hurtled headlongwhere is it we’re going father i askedbut kathy said ssshhand father concentrated as hard as he couldbecause everything was changing he saideverytime i come back he murmuredand kathy just kept singing and singingare we still moving i shouted above the stillpointfather had closed his eyes he was having a lay down i thinkdont touch him said kathyor he’ll wake up i saidshe nodded solemnly and yawned herselfim terribly sleepy she saidno kathy i saidno you mustnt go to sleep as welldont be silly she said as she closed her eyesand left me there all aloneit seemed like i was on my own again nowi sat there feeling so sorry for myselfi sat there choking on my sobsas father and kathy slepti hate this if its a dream i shouted to the dark skybut if it heard it did not answerand if it answered then i did not hear itgreen life was germinating around all the cornersthe night was no longer blacki perceived it to be a deep violetwith crimson veins running through it like skini realized that it moved and stretched like a fabricthe stars which i had thought to be whitewere revealed in pale yellows and vague redsthe morning cannot be […]

in harridans black hall
where father and kathy were waiting
while ugly snouts sniffed outside
quickly they shouted in the gathering wind
and the whole house felt like it was crying
hurry they called through the widening gap
and i at last jumped for all i was worth
as the night crashed through the hole
let me tell you they were laughing
on the otherside
kathy was holding fathers hand
and father said
sit down here son… we’re still moving
the night moved within songs we sang then
kathy turned to me as she sang and she smiled
and oh her smile sang another song
and father held us tightly as we hurtled headlong
where is it we’re going father i asked
but kathy said ssshh
and father concentrated as hard as he could
because everything was changing he said
everytime i come back he murmured
and kathy just kept singing and singing
are we still moving i shouted above the stillpoint
father had closed his eyes
he was having a lay down i think
dont touch him said kathy
or he’ll wake up i said
she nodded solemnly and yawned herself
im terribly sleepy she said
no kathy i said
no you mustnt go to sleep as well
dont be silly she said as she closed her eyes
and left me there all alone
it seemed like i was on my own again now
i sat there feeling so sorry for myself
i sat there choking on my sobs
as father and kathy slept
i hate this if its a dream i shouted to the dark sky
but if it heard it did not answer
and if it answered then i did not hear it
green life was germinating around all the corners
the night was no longer black
i perceived it to be a deep violet
with crimson veins running through it like skin
i realized that it moved and stretched like a fabric
the stars which i had thought to be white
were revealed in pale yellows and vague reds
the morning cannot be faraway i heard myself think
and i wondered what kathy was dreaming of
i soon became aware of the earth
as it rotated in space somewhere
how its light travels to us from the lightless regions
how the moon can be seen in every pool
how the reflection dazzled me when i was there
and the inevitable glow of childhood
illuminating almost every corner of space
how the dust danced in the morning sun
i started to sing the song again
that lovely song kathy had been singing
and its words gave me a kind of strength
and its melody uplifted my flagging spirit
the otherwordly night in its own light
the churning feeling of the voyage
the celestial beings who sang along with me
in the marvellous distance