The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

dangerous thing
vicious attack
moving at lightning speeds
across the plains and prairies
striking out like a ghost
a phantom on your chest
a cruel murmur through the ranks
a coiled necessity
a claw of persuasion
in the wilderness between my ears
in the jungle in my mouth
in the plateau of my intelligence
creatures of the air
swarmers and wriggling birds
swallows and terns
crashing in a field
blazing eyes emitting smoke
sensitized skin detecting the net
colour changer
hooked and curved
razor teeth
saw tooth
finned gilled winged poisonous
dart and feint
locate and disable
break and enter
undergo deprivation
float in cosmic blackness
hunger rips you open
thirst cuts your throat
madness chattering gibberish
bruised and grazed
shot through with veins of iron
among the reeds by the rivers
hiding and waiting
down you go again
knocked out of your sky
a wobble begins
miss the land
cant stop now
ready to fall a part
caution : no substance
warning : no lightguard
question : why?
the moon influences their moods
the sun warms their blood
but the moon directs them from a distance
half full not so empty
the planet-go-round
things happen in big and tiny ways mimicking each other
things go on happening even if you cant see them
alliances between planes
men receiving a message they barely can understand
the earth hides away from the future
the stars aware too but uninvolved
the rumour of a messiah
the sighting of a giant
the unmistakable presence of an angel
who can say they have never lived ?
the theatre too hi brow
the gutter too cliched
the bible….well who has really read it?
the small print…yes yes..just sign it
a small drink…no..?…go on…
something scurries beneath the facade
dont look there…!
heres your drink….with real arctica ice
heres your paper…the daily bad news
heres your medicine…down it goes…good boy
no no
i remember you now…
i hated you then and i hate you still now…
come along theres a good fellow
dont spoil it now
dont ruin it for everybody
where is rome?
where is babylon?
where is nineveh?
where is siam?
none of them have turned up again…
is that what we’re waiting for…?
the mob
the arena
the tyrants …..all the same
wine addled cowards soft bellied and stupid
coddled in power
oh no
im not waiting around for that one again
but choice is an illusion
and illusion is by its nature tricksy
and if you think you know something
then youre a fool
and if youre a fool
youd make a good tyrant
wine slaves executions palaces the whole thing
plan an invasion
or kick back on capri
the vultures are hovering
but youre playing with your little fishes
same old mistakes
same old patterns
watch them rise and fall
cheered today and fucking cursed tomorrow
over and over
and over it

voices whisper offstage
1 where is he?
2 how should i know, 1
1 ‘es s’posed to bloody be here
3 calm down there 1 …he’ll show up
2 sssshh you two…look there he is…!

the scene
a hotel entrance at night
a black cold sky pricked with lonesome stars
a man stands in the shadows of night
he stands in the wind and cold smoking something pungent
he carefully stubs it out and stands still in darkness
the wind blows his wispy hair this way and that
a medium sized man in everyway
dressed in scruffy clothes
totally unremarkable unless…

1 ..unless what?
2 unless you know ‘oo ‘e bloody well is…of course
1 well who the hell is he?
2 you know as well as i do who he bloody well is…
1 ‘e’s the time bein’
3 he’s the bloody mangy panther …thats what he is
1 yeah i can see the mangy part…
2 but thats not what…..
1 alright sshh its starting up

in the deserted lower entrance
just off the main street in a big city
6 lift shafts sing like a 1930s movie choir
the long cylindrical holes fill with wind
and like huge flutes they wail and coo
the man just stands there struck with wonder
this beautiful sound aching down the shudderin’ concrete
oh who woulda thought it?
and then
why not more musical architecture
domes of memories forever reverberating
the time being
(for it is he)
hits his plush sweet suite of rooms overlooking
the city and beyond it a great grey bay almost shipless
that day is over forever
singing in a red room
a cup of tea with old friends
baked veggies
a smoke a laugh a tear a fire
thirty nine storeys up watching the lights
do yoga

1 that eastern stuff bores my pants off
2 you cant have the being without his yoga malarkey
3 come off it 2…are you saying theyre inseparable
2 im just saying you know yoga
thats what whats responsible for his reversal..
1 what?
2 when he started to come good again cos of yoga..
3 no it was cos he stopped taking bloody ‘ard drugs!
1 i thought it was coz of his wife duckling dalton
2 i thought it was cos he started swimming again too…
1 who even bloody cares about this old hippy anyway ?
3 someone must…
2 ah hes alright….theres a lot worse….isnt there?
1 bloody hell i knew this blog wouldnt make any sense
3 the people dont wanna read this tripe
1 wheres the fountain of endless gossip ?
3 wheres the sneering jealous putdowns of the execs ?
1 wheres the self searching nervous true insights?
3 yeah…and the bold showing off sweeping statements
1 the faux-pas and the embarrassing rants…?
2 ssshh somethings about to happen

man ,room
types into a small white box like machine
it transmits his thoughts instantaneously to everywhere
he turns off the box
he stretches into a familiar pose
popol vuh begin to play
fade out

here i am
arent i ?
is this me….at last
can you see the real me
can ya
can ya?
hmmm ok
youre probably tired of all that other stuff by now
so alright
lets go
across my desk this week

1. i finished a most excellent book sent me by one of my
oldest and strangest friends marcus ‘udson who now abodes
in sunny old sweden near the norf pole
the book was called ” the scar” by china meiville (a bloke)
it was incredibly well imagined bizarre fiction
about a floating conglomerate of pirate ships
in some other earthlike world full of humans
and cray-humans and insectoid things and
amphibious monsters and a thing called an avanc
a transdimensional leviathan that these pirates
hook their fleet up to and lots of intrigue double crossing
and nasty tricks
the book before this one “perdito street station”
is also an absolute 5 star corker as well…

2. friendly fiend roscoe be gave me a book at the vegan do
its called the origins of man and the universe
by an australian mystic barry long
to tell you the truth
i didnt like the look of it
i didnt think i’d like it or agree with it
it was given to barry long
the way my blog is given to me
thats right
it just tumbled out of his head
after a lot of spiritual searching etc naturally
i mean
he wasnt a steak gulping booze artist
bashing his missus n having a fiver on the neddies
and then one day this book fell out of his scone..
no no
i guess he spent a lotta time thinking about this
tapping in
remembering
intuiting
anyway
your humble being starts reading a bit and blow me down
barry long is writing so many things the olde sk been saying too
tired of the 2 stupid choices given to us concerning our origins
eg old testament or new science
long posits a third explanation
which satisfies me spiritually and intellectually
incorporating elements of darwin and religion
yet avoiding the superstition of the latter
and the “soulessness” of science
long does all this in a calm easy to understand way
he states brilliant things and moves on
i was amazed to find so many of my own inchoate thoughts
addressed by long in this book
and cst coach you would be interested in the stuff
about how we were once unselfconscious animals
joined into the intangible net of all things
like all the other creatures still are
thats why you never see a cat miss a jump
and how a seabird can plummet a thousand feet
from the sky and shoot like an arrow through the water
and nail a fish 6 inches long 20 feet down
every bird can do that
they hardly ever miss
a ha
to become self conscious we moved out of that net
we became outside it
yes
well a real evolved man can still tap in
through yoga
meditation
martial arts
long constantly repeats the paradox
of the martial artist able to kill with one small move
who would immediately lose that power should he ever use it
eg
there are superpowers available
but by the time you got em
you dont wanna use em
you have accepted that consciousness
existed before matter
created and descended into matter
and is fulfilling a “purpose” none of us can truly know
just like there is no one man on earth understands
all the workings of a boeing 747
too many systems
too many parts
the designers and mechanics only know compartmentalised bits
so too this earth and universe and creation
we all only know or realise our own bits…
we can only really guess at the whole purpose
anyway
i highly recommend this work
if you, like me
or
if you like me
and you think adam n eve is a great story
but quite frankly it obviously aint how things got started
but you also realise that evolution does not explain
this blooming paradise adequately
its only an aspect of the “truth”
we are not random blobs evolved out of chemical soup
there was consciousness behind this
there always was
and our consciousness will never disappear
just like krishna said…
neither are we original sinners
prejudged by some cranky old tent-god
doomed to eternity in hell or purgatory
cos we didnt believe in some unlikely malarkey
c’mon…
heres a third possibility

3 off on the plane this arvo
off to rehearals and all the rest of it
im not s’posed to let the cat outta the bag
so im staying shtumm
rehearsed yesterday and sounded good
i am performing with 2 different acts
wow! will be exciting
will give ya the inside goss too
as long as its not still secret…
ooh lots of celebs and music biz boozers to bag
sir dennis eton-hogg and the like
big time operators and fast talkin’ flunkies
drummers n singers n engine ears
stayed tuned people

over n out

the time killer

i was born the boundover life-blind son of the north wind
i was sequestered amongst the centaurs
where i excelled in archery and playing the lyre
i was so lovely they incased me in pearl enamel
lest any see me and fall in love with my beauty
i strode through the sacred glades erect
i was practiced in the magic arts
and i called the dryads from their trees
you birch
and you ash
and you willow
fleetfooted daughters of wood
spirits of the groves
io io ao io
i sung them from their boles and hollows
i loved them in the noonday shade
when summer ran through the meadows
the spirits and i move under eachs tree
all the birds knew me too
and flew messages for me to distant points i would fain know
then ripples of the breeze would spread through the leaves
a world much younger than this one
oh my heart tells me of its existence
oh i was wrong to think it all meaningless
suddenly we hear music
what is that strange strange melody
a gentle sad cadence
a regular phrase played over but modulating with the dappled light
the woodland creatures prick up their ears
why this then is the real arcadia sings a voice
children rush onto the stage dressed in gossamer
tiny little wings like bees some hover slightly above the ground
little moonflower and autumnleaf and rainywings
look theres daffodil and mossy-ears and honeykiss
starpowder dumpling, and mrs grinsmiths faery…
who has ordered this gathering here in the midday sleepy sun?
i hide myself quickly in the arbours shadows
i climb a tree and i watch from the boughs
i sit cuddling a panther asleep in the leaves
she purrs like a cat and licks me with her rough tongue
sssh i whisper in her jet black ears
let us observe these faery folk below
sure enough out jumped johnny bee
and mrs tompkins chimney gnome
there was buzzer and knot and little pinky the cobweb girl
oh a woofle there she is
a fat little fairy whose tiny wings can hardly carry her aloft
and look isnt that oberon himself
dressed in the liquid green of high faery
attended by swallows and crickets and great green frogs
while cherubim swarm around his head in a cloud
a fanfare of faery brass
out from her bower steps his gracious wife
eternal queen of these stately elms and the quickening sap
mistress of the spring and elf rider
lady of the forest and mischief maker
stargazer fortuneteller lovemaker heartseeker
the panther growls softly
be quiet you feline fool
i tug her whiskers gently
i fondle her huge black cats face
i kiss her dusty fur
and she takes my hand in her mouth
and chews ever so ever so slightly
oh you bad girl i say soundlessly in the tree
below us the weird ones in the dell
in small piping voices they conduct their frolics
under canopies of sheerest spells
the lady and her consort
giggling pixies and a dour gnome
dragonflies darting errands
butterflies singing praise
they drink faery wine from tir na nog , baby
and oh, and believe me, it doth taste but goodly
in the distance lies the castle of good king stephen
not five leagues hence
where all sleep through the noon in enchantment
dark forces gather in the marshes and the fens
the night is a visitor these days
the night gives shelter to the darkness abroad
the magical stars twinkle over pink fairydust encrusted clouds
a unicorn canters on into a moonlit knoll and snorts
the lovers tiptoe across the stage at last reconciled
tomorrow we’ll be married and journey to ithaca
we’ll tell your father the duke
when we meet him by the fountain of laughing waters
in the land of alakazam
far across the green blue sea

yawn…..
i was born in a black lake
i had 3 heads and i smoked crushed skull
i flibbered like a gibbett and i howled like a snake
i said a wop bop a be lulu bang bang bong
i said yeah my people
i looked out over creation and i knew it loved me
i strapped on a fendar bass as big as ancient grease
and i played the fuckin’ jerky turkey
i shimmied like a silver moondawg with fiery fangs
i talked to lucifer over my back fence as i hung out my washing lady
i did a residency at the vanilla inferno opening for the coroners
i was a vulture volted vampire with gnostic nuts and bolts
my records were played in the earth
i walked into a 224 track studio abbey-ladyland rd
new london somewhere out there still
i said give me some friggin’ reverb
i said let the dealers and ladies approacheth
i said slap down this riff if ya know whats good for ya
i said detune my mandolins doubles
i said append that 3 bars of bassoon
i said bring up that kick so it makes me sick
i said make it thud dud gimme primal mud
i whipped out my trusty axe and i cut some tracks
i chopped up guitars with nick hard
i wheeled around and slammed down mute palm ostinato
you are the master they whisped in awe
as i sang like a night in gale
i sang like god would sing if he had buckleys voice
i sang half beast like a whale in the deeps like a worm
i listen hard and i loiked what i heard
i pulled out a rare vintage keyboard worth millions
robert fripp gave it to me when i suggested the name king maroon
no jimmy bowie gave it to me in texas as a going away present
actually it was a prototype stu sutcliffe had played on doctor who
i tell a lie
brian jones lent it to me when i babysat his ocelots
whatever
rest assured my keyboard was the vintagest rarest grooviest
talk about analog
i programmed it via an octal map it responded to snobol
i impinged a personality printout on its memory cards
while manipulating its intake nipples via midi ha ha
i double tracked each flurry of eastern female voices
assigning semi quavers their own reverse delays
these i fed into my onion box which serrated every 16 th bar
are you following me, knucklehead?
i then channeled the reverberating spill into a guitar mike
i sent mike out into the room
i played peters strat with a hair dryer and the songs ends split
i choo chooed the flim flam jettisoning the flotsam
i kept the jetsam for a b side knowing it would come in handy
i milked the descending hammond all shrouded in soft phase
i regulated the pulse of the caramel cello to 65 bpm
it was splanging with the timps but fuck it..nobodies perfect
i linked up 3 different mastercharges with coaxial cables
i got the harp to sound submarine
i tinkered with its tinkles until they were verily submerged
at the same time as i was doing all this
i also ran a marketstall and worked in a govt office job, smartarse
but you know what?
your wife* still fancies me more than you
and my worst song is a million years ahead of your best
so subscribe me 50 bucks for your lame insults
subscribe me fifty more
then get down on your knees in awe of my genie ,us
anyway
i humbled a steinaway with my twinklin’ digits
i rhapsodised its innards with my wire vibratin’ antics
i invented rock n roll right there
i invented jazz and i rewrote eine grosse nacht ficken musik
i dreampt up the blues and country n eastern n northern lights too
i turned elvis onto peanut butter n banana sandwich islands
i introduced mick n keef in a gents toilet in burnt oak
i jammed with old strauss before he went partners with levi
i noodled with old bach who said
ach time being i cannot keep up wiz you!!
i am the king of music
i am the saviour of life on this planet
i created all art and everything
i know everyone youve ever heard of
in fact i was leonardo da capri-vincis mentor
jesus christs dad did my extensions
when i lived in 5 shekel ave bethlehem lakes
adam n eve used to come over my place after naming the animals
cmon
i paid my dues
im authentic…got it?
i go all the way back and then some
thats for sure…now are you sure
anyway
now you seen my credentials (mr humphries)
let me finish my tale (oooohhh!)
my masterpiece was completed
with this one 2 minute 45 pop song
i had invented simply EVERYTHING GOOD
what will you call it sire
said george martin as he and the other engineeers grovelled
amongst the ruined equipment and smoking instruments
the name came to me in a flash
a bolt of pure inspyration from beyond
MAYBE THESE BUSDRIVERS

*if you got one

i was born a snake hipped love god on the 44th of june
i had 2 mothers
one was the glorious universe
the other was gina medici a cockney courtesan
my first act was to liberate the slaves and make things right
my second act was to pick up a fender stratocaster
and plug it into a 13 thousand watt marshall stack
where i blasted out a riff that was a cross between rebel rebel
and layla and jumpin jack honky tonk daytripper alright now
eschewing breastmilk
i drank asses milk
it was hard to find in well -in garden city, my man
i jumped in a fucking ford transit van n i hit wembley hard
an overnightmare sensation
i was lean i was cool i was slim baby
slim slim slim!
yeah girls…tell someone who cares
some cats were smoking ice…..man i put it in my drink
i hit the stage like a falling piano….BANG
david duchow had rorschached my whole life
and it was modulating on a thousand screens
i interwove with venus fly traps in filmtime
all my hardnesses on a floppy disk
dont sass me son im the bona fide son of jesus jehovahsson
i got moontalk and the doublesnake skulls
the devil is my uncle he taught me how to flame
he lived in berne
he loved and he learned baby
this here is my true fuckin’ story
and so say all of us
if any man can deny it
you’ll find me outside your undertakers with a colt 45
you’ll find me inside the overtakers with a beatles 45
you’ll see me like white lightning as i steal your thunder, mr no wonder
lets face it yer wives dig me much more than you
they erected my shrine in your sheds
the ladies scream slim slim slim!
please ladies im trying to write something here
i was born on a black friday with a mellotron on my knee
i was quoting jean paul sartre and friends with law trek
i dabbled in immortality but found it lifeless
i dated lindy lou rimbaud
the topless star of disneys snow black
i smoked oofle dust with tom apollo-nair
i hung out with the bleedin’ cognoscenti
i did experiments on a studer eight track
that revolutionised the revolution
i recorded brian harrison just before he dived in the pool
i kissed sharon stones statuette in the hall of eternal tears
i was there when groucho invented the neutron shake
i invited lennon n presley n dillon to dinner
and then i found i had something better to do
i shunted a double fronted gibson terroriser
plugged into a triple fourway backwards mounted f hole
i had chrome nuts and a springcoiled whammy bar
i had a love me cushion and stack heeled monti boots
i wore fuckin’ james bond soldier holsters with velvet paisley trim
i drove a suped up hawk-eagle with talonated carbies
it could do 100 over 13 and it ran on vortex zinc boosted spirits
i drove it to rome and budapest and siberia and the east pole
i picked up sophia loren who hitched a ride to banbury cross
we crashed at ezra pounds and she got her tits out
i exploded in the charts with my number one
but robbie williams only managed a number two…..oooohhh
aqua were bubbling under but the pistols had the bullet
nick kent gave me a 5 star review in la gala phonetica
the hippest magazine in croydon
sour-creem magazine voted me uno in all categories
i received a doctorate in esoterica from yale
i was made an honourary fellow at camden town
i met the queen on kings road n smoked a prince
i went to knightsbridge, illinois and i saw the big cilantro
i did a show in mexico
the senoritas called go slim go
i did a show in a show on the ivory coast
the watusi daughters yelled
slim youre the most
some prick in washington, b.c. hired me to spy on the moon
i appeared in that tv show when they first landed on mars
i wrote some of the backing music with pablo picasso on crete
i gotta job up in new hampshire photographing the smell of pines
i earned a million a day plus overtime
i flew down to jamaica for a holiday with bowie and bianca neuman
i rented the villa du luxurie and i drank noet et brandon
i released a record in the stratosphere
slim:hymn
in melody shmaker steve sutherland wrote:
“although i am a dwarfy little gimp with not a scrap of talents
secretly in love with the roadie from the sticky carpets
and frantically jealous of blokes like slim
i must admit reluctantly
that the first note of slim:hymn (and what a title!)
blows all other rock n stone out of the quarry
slims got it all
the canberran legacy of hypersurrealism
the ergonomic chutzpah to boogaloo the shibboleth
i say slim:hymn is the best thing ever ever ever!!!!”
well
that capped off an amazing month for me i must say
the pull its a prize
the noble price
the booka danno prize
q magazine and p magazine too
slim slim slim
ah
what a life it was

i piece together a story bit by bit
everything is inside
everything is already within
i looked everywhere
out in the tuscan dusk
swooning under moons of musk
amongst a coral shoal
darting with the bream and sole
deep in a woodland grove
i burned a fatted calf to jove
outside the walls of troy
slaughtered with the hoi polloi
i am the wanderer
wander wander wander
wish i knew what i was lookin’ for…
i had some gold and i lost some gold
i had some powers and i lost some powers
i killed and i saved
i drowned in women
i was thrown into the sky by volcanic ambition
i was persecuted and i hid amongst the unclean
i hurled myself into dangerous mysteries too late to see the price
i am eternal
i go on and on and on
i never win but i never completely lose
i have commandeered this body to sing my song
i sing my song to the glory of the hand that shaped me
be it i was dreamed up along with everything else you see
i came dancing out of vishnus beautiful blue head
a speck of dust in a field in the background of his dream
oh i wanted life though
oh i wanted to experience….everything
oh i wanted to touch and taste
explore and kill
yes kill
a killer i became
and i loved to kill
and i killed for the love of it
not for love itself
can you see me now all covered in gore
why did we kill
why did we kill
i woke up in a fever once
i screamed out
why did we kill all those men
why did we cause all those women to be widows
what good has it ever done
i sat up in my tent
the men were all asleep or under some spell
i called out for sword
i called out for my gun
i called out for my dagger and my axe
i called out across the fields of some persian babylon
or was it germany where we killed under blue skies
i called out my orders into the void
steady lads
easy now boys
we can fuckin’ do em
we can fuckin’ sort this lot out my lovely boys
we’ll fuckin’ send em home sore, eh lads
hold that flank there tighter boys c’mon keep it up
sergeant whats that fuckin’ man doing there…?
steady boys….archers….wait for it
get those fuckin’ thracians back in line, timo
or i’ll cut off your fuckin’ balls…!!
alright boys ..see you all in bloody ‘ades
NOW! NOW!! NOW!!!
the void was silent
the silence inflamed me
the bastards kept on coming
we speared em
we shot em
we split their bleeding ugly heads open
suddenly they were all over us
i bellowed in rage
and with my javelin i hooked a man by his eye
and flung him into the mud
and his shade shrieked like a girl as it went underground
to the cold and lonely places
some bastard was ‘acking at my arms i couldnt feel a thing
i reached out and with my bare hands crushed his face
and i was delighted in my work
a strangeness came into my eyes
the battle had slowed down to me
it seemed ages as i watched an arrow leave its string
arcing over the screaming soldiers
plunging deep into soft warm flesh
in the space that the slow time gave me
i pirouetted and swayed
and i cut at my leisure
i stepped in before they even knew i was there
as i moved in my own time and no one elses
and i was a true artist then
lovely deep thrusts
aesthetic feints that described wondrous geometries
and little small subtle movements with my embedded knife
tickling their hearts with my mournful blade
and then one day
youre moving through the carnage
slow and cool like a panther
hey youre an old hand at this
you can afford to be careless
you take your pick of the fighting
you dispatch heroes and cowards with a sneer
then you see him
and hes moving towards you really slowly
slowly in some trance he approacheth you
a slender dark man
a man younger than you
whirling his sword
aiming his gun
kicking his feet
throwing his stars
flashing his eyes
crooning his song
and you know he is the one…
no no no
suddenly
everything shudders back into the realtime
for you and everybody else maybe
but not for him
dancing moving avoiding delivering
and fear takes away your breath
steals the very air from your mouth
and no no
you just want to go home
theres been a mistake
doesnt anybody understand
theres been a terrible mistake
im steve kilbey
cant anybody hear me
but the warrior is as close as this
he strikes at you
you dismally parry
and the shock of the clash shoots up your arm
and punch punch punch
his fist mangles your face
oh you have no will to go on now
he moves in super slowness
his blade in single framed seconds
silver and red against blue
and then in
in in in and in
and then
last thing
you see his smile
a sad weary smile
a cough
and he lets you fall into the dirt

the third and final time i saw you
under beech trees and clotted clouds
you defied gravity just by standing there
with nature as your green mirror
with living stone you walk and talk
touching the naked hills with your loving tongue
seducing the very valleys as they rolled away
supplicating to be made whole again
i ran towards you faster and faster but getting nowhere
i can see you becoming farther and further away
i can see how the land is joined to the sky now
i can see the invisible mending that will sew what?
stitch stitch stitch
the moss goes on the boughs
the stones go on the ground
the birds go on the sky
the sky should be blue
the blue should be bright
the bright should be….oh i dont know baby
the rabbits should chase the fox
the lambs and the lions….i’m all mixed up
the meadow is speaking in flowersong
the path that i followed which ended at your door
now i’m not so sure
the bats which sleep in the woods
the witch in her cottage preparing a brew
the children are frightened out here on there own
no father dont send us out into the great forest alone
no father dont you see
that woman wants us gone…..
i follow my path over dingly dell
through rooted knotted places like elfish bowers
and i cut my little name on all the great trees
rumpelstiltskin
sometimes i carve puck
sometimes i burn the word ariel into the bark
sometimes i flash through the brook like a lure
and i hook eels and minnows for my supper
sometimes i hide in your ear whispering
sometimes i appear as fireflies leading you astray
sometimes i am seen as a great grey wolf
on the feast of stephen i am a dark shape in the snow
i stand outside candlelit windows
whimpering below the winds own voice
god rest ye merry gentlemen let nothing you dismay
then i carry off the lovely ladies to my lonely den
where they discover i am a reasonable beast after all
yet i am myself devoured by the darkness of their piety…
when spring returns to bohemian lands i am a lark
in summer i am seen as adam naked and unadorned
and i wander this garden alone
then as the autumn fills mens hearts with gloom
i open a door in a hollow tree and i escape to lyonesse
or italy
or i stay and lie low until next may
under the fixed green star of venus
under the wandering leaves
until the green shoots burst gently from their beds
until my love awakes in the soft light of love
until a new day dawns with an avian fanfare
where we tumble alive from darkest dreams
and some brave knight arrives with joyous christian tidings
and the monsters are hounded out of our lands
the dragon defeated and his lair destroyed
oh my lovely love dressed all in cambric
oh my lady love a’walking through a new morning
blue birds singing and daffodils shyly peeping
let the colours be unfurled
let yellow equal gold
let white equal deepest silver
let her eyes burn like a blue sun
let all creatures be in praise of god
let his joyful creation be unveiled in all its splendour
let eden be reopened at last
we will sing a glad song again
io io ao io
pan will appear
grapes and wine
ah! merriment and laughter
goodbye sadness
loss grief pain
now all banished
now all vanished
forever and ever
amen

the second time i saw you
by the lake of sacred memories
as you moved above the flowers
insinuated into the afternoon like a series of allusions
we crossed small bridges in to islands of cranes
i skimmed words across the top of your waters
and monsters lazily surfaced to snatch them away
a child comes forward saying where did the morning go
a graceful swanlike girl
i turned and said who is that child baby
who is that child as she wandered away
as she disappeared amongst the swaying rushes and basalt tables
as she flew across the sunset leaving tiny ripples
as she moved into satori like a mirror
that child was killed in your war you said
that child was never mentioned again
that child was yours before you lived
that child has been waiting for you to come
no dont follow her you called after me
but i stood up suddenly and ran off after her
where are you
i decided i would sing
where are you i singed the night with this question
my lonely hidden birdling was nowhere to be sure
i was lost in my darkness
there you are you said
you stood there sadly
you stood there faintly radiant
you stood there so distantly near
still in afternoon you were
gently pulling me back into your light
back into my time and light you crooned
we sat looking out at the other islands in the lake
i told you not to follow you said softly
you shook your head so slowly
dont you ever learn( you were singing now)
is everything a song to you i said in plane words
is everything a song
and then
who will sing that child back
oh sit down and dont be silly you said but you were still singing
i dont like it when people sing the way you sing i said
i wasnt singing then but my sentences were picking up melody and rhythm
i dont want to sing i said but i was now beginning to sing
everyone sings here you said never losing your song
i dont want to always be singing i sang like caruso
my voice was carrying for miles in that silence
the rushes rustled and the cranes craned their necks
sunset was staining the crimson lake
strange currents eddied and flowed
im no bloody singer i sang out in an angels voice
my harmonized husky breathy voice reaching up to some heaven
the buddha of that heaven leaned from his cloud saying
oh wont you ever learn to be quiet
everyone has heard your song already
i turned to you then thinking do you agree
is my song not only unwilling but unwanted i stuttered
i appealed to the trees that bark
let me see the rushes
let me hear the mountains deafness
let me endure a hundred lives
let me walk inside the storm
let me wallow in followers
and in my tower of hours in a city of just days
we will recall the war
we will cancel all deaths
we will bring back the slain
we will sing em to life
we will sing such a song…
you interrupted then
with a little smile you shook your head
a little smile so sad and faint
no it said
your smile said no even as you were still
and the rushes rustled no even as they were still
and the cranes called no as they were still in the sky
no no no no no no no no no
everything seemed to be no
until i learned to love no
i loved no more than yes
i loved no more
no love
in love with my own no
maybe it was no all the time
i tried it out
no no no no no no no no no
you interrupted me again
thats not it either you sang in a voice of steal
so i sat songless for a while
thats better they all agreed
thank you yelled the buddha of some heaven
at last said the rushes
good called the cranes disappearing on a horizon
now you said
i must be going
goodbye
i thought i heard you sing from longaway
goodbye drifting on the evening air
goodbye lingering in warm currents
goodbye wafting into foreign windows
goodbye sounding in empty rooms
goodbye goodbye
goodbye

the first time i saw you
standing under the rhomboid sun
rosewood and petal moss
little dapples of faded light
your machinery played on and on
and the music travelled in a straight line
picking up velocity and ferocity
notes you had released from the spellish air
as i touched you milesaway
as my fingers burrowed under the veneer
as i approached you in rapid suggestion
dont look at my music so closely you indicated
dont handle my appearance with your eyes
i am not for looking at
undismayed i undid what i had done
how my hands lingered on your softest symphony
how i unfastened the tiny chords binding
how i sang my own song deeper into your neck
all the time
flowers blooming in the misty rain
the vegetation is moist and ready
the streaming of constant flood
the entered entrance
an underground sea
a succession of notes ascenting
a blizzard of icy trumpet blasts
percolating percussion
oh your song streaks towards end of dawn
oh your song maintains its orbit around the sun
oh your song makes me want to fuck the day
oh your song has me hard and so fast
oh your song…..who wrote those words for you
who sat down and went through it over and over
who made you have slightly return
who banged out them lines baby
who gauged your gun and shot off a message
who dallied around the exit waiting for you to come
who showed you how that note was sung
oh your song is a song of surprise
who forced you to fade it out
oh you sing a lot of song for me you said
oh you sing a lot of fucking song baby child creature
do you worship the moon in its pink aureole
do you meddle with your settings ever
do you reassign love thus so easy
oh you sing a lot of nature
oh you sing a lot of creation
oh you sang this world into being
yes you sang
i sing my song forever
for all possible lovers
for the seekers
and for the dead
why do i sing for the dead you sang
can they still hear you sang in answer
listen listen listen a chorus of hushed voices
listen the dead listen she sang
the sweetest voice among them appeared
the dead dont listen yet they cant help but hear
he or she sang in a voice of glass and thorn and silver
the dead were hearing the song and some were answering
some were too sleepy and could not be bothered
some became the effulgence around the bursting moon
some became a ripple of semi quavers breathed on a flute
some became the thud of a drum
some spoke within quickening harp like sighs
oh you sing a lot of dead songs you dead they sang to each other
oh baby lets hasten away from here the dead all sang
and they smiled at you and you answer them in your song
oh baby dont make me die all over again
and this made the dead cry
and they answered you back in their own way
in their own song
and a mans voice burst through their mix
a mans voice singinging like honey
a mans voice sang from long ago
a mans voice so beautiful keening in the darkness
oh his wordless song
oh he sings a lot of song of life and death and life
oh he sings wordlessly of his own death
oh he sings so distantly
oh he sings an elegy for life
oh who wrote those wordless songs
oh who lets him burst in upon the other voices
sshh now listen you sang in my ear
sshh now the dead will listen to him too you whispered like a song
and what of the living i sang back
i sang back to all of them
and what of the living
short time living
long time dead
they sang back sadly
they sang as if in answer to my song
why did you sing that song you sang in whispers
the dead watched me sadly from their differences
the homeless dead finally finding a home
the rich dead
the poor dead
the singing dead
the sleeping dead
the dawn was finishing
and you sang now i must be leaving
and you sang that you were starving
and you sang that you were living
and you sang that you were singing
then the voices one by one they all faded
faded down and away away away
i only heard my own inside my ear
buzzing like a trapped thing
whispering singing questioning
sing another song it tried to say
sing another song? i said
sing another song to day