The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

baby
its like an arrow in my eye
the far thing
neither beast norman
shutting down merrie olde england
the blurred crusade…well here we go
lord parlophone having annexed lyonesse and tir na nog
approached in the etherworld by an indian spirit
he whose mountain is ever clear
and having laid waste much of south umbria
then surrounded his brother
the earl lee byrd
whereupon germany promptly sat by the rhine figuring out perspective
and some old housewives did toil upon the kilbeaux tapestry
william (billy) the conqueror
heard the 12 string burns
and captain cook us up some great southern land
french entered anglo-saxon
and begot our luverly land-gwidge
lord steven of the lowlands
architect of the resistance
already tres formidable
a renaissance man in an era of pure dross
consulted long with his lords in hyperborea
and unleashed a silvery blast on his great horn
summoning his free champions
count pieter de rooos
lord pipe-ah
and the dutch rebel dyke plog
they fought a valiant camp pain
bringing down the houses of york-razy
and laying siege to the hole of fame
steven
who looked like a true king of old
with a proper medieval beard and everything
a special gap between the mustache
a man for all seasons
a panther in late autumn
king leer
faithful servant of his sovereign liege
upholder of the queens sheets
licking her wounds in the east tower
richard gear
shorn chronologically
oh mi lady
lord steven with the gap in his mustache
awaits your royal pleasure
in the room with soft carpets
and tiny things tinkling in the august breezes
see how his shiny chain mail clings to his bulging calves
his lute slung over his back
his grey eyes in a weather beaten yet serene face
his hand e’er on the pommel of his great sword
lest any should catch him unawares
oh even in medieval days
even in these darkling ages
a handsome man is still a handsome man
and a relief that this good kind somewhat modern looking man
should save his queens country for last
as he knelt
pledging his troth
fulfilling her oath
and craving a boon
pulling forth her own royal map
she showed him the deep fertile valleys of wessex
the lovely hills of bristol
the impregnability of her ports
the already held hampton wicke
her loyal serpent
thrust his sturdy dagger down into the map
the queen started in surprise
well-in guard n city…no no
you cannot go in there my lord
suddenly billy the kid conquer or
called mad uncle willie by his nephew cuthbert the badly-named
and called big king willie by his chambermaid ethel redding
and called king-o for short but not for long
by his plotting scheming half brother alice
meanwhile the bishop of woosta-sheer
a saucey sod
and loyal to duke umheer-offen
signed the deal with plantagenet records and tapes
and executed 40 serfs at their single launch
baron fatso from little italy was not yet on the scene
i’m almost with you said william the conk
as he gave hereward the wake up
youre fucking history mate called out king harold
hey you should check out david bowie in an eyepatch
because dude youre gonna be needing one !called back william
in norman
(oooh!)
archers let loose he commanded
still in norman
the sun was blotted out by their shafts
their black feathered bolts rained down …oh harry!
oh england!
we are lost
we are lost!
now we’ll have to learn how to spell rendez-vous
and pronounce raison d’etre
and learn to eat what…?
bits of froggies?
meanwhile the queen stitched diligently at the kilbeaux tapas tree
and evil barren carrere
a french ponce and cheat
took off with the royalties
the houses of lang-caster
the houses of tele- caster
the houses of love and viscount guy de shad-wicke
the knights of malteasers
the bish shops and the bash shops
the slurping usurper cnut the burper
and little bonno his jester
all the tennys court with their grande balls
all perished in the sword shortage of 66
scotland took back their kilts
and the japanese attacked wales
the french went on to invent berets
the italians gave us italian and italian garlic dressing
the maltese gave us falcons
the english gave us toffee and crosse and blackwells marmalade
the irish gave us belfast frank and dublin frank
the isle of man gave us testicles
and the normans gave us wisdom
see…?
tomorrow: unravelling the 8 henrys

on the long days in oceania
when i have run out of words
i send you down to the shops to buy me some
get half a pound of mixed adjectives i say
but no adverbs…theyre cheaper up the junction
while i’m waiting
i take drugs
i write some songs
i touch up a few portraits
i choreograph the sculptures
i parse the colours on my i-life
i switch on summer from a slot-machine
(i shoulda put the Cat out)
i loll in my hammock as the south seas winds blow
someone gently strummin’ a uke
plunka plunka plunka plunka plunka in the afternoon
grant comes over to my beach shack
totin’ his maton guitar
and the inevitable bottle of red
dont let me smoke any of this …grant says
taking a huge puff on my spliff
dont let me drink any of this ..i say
taking a huge gulp on his bottle
bloody pot gets me all stoned ..he says
(like i’m forcing him to do it)
after we are both pleasantly refreshed
grant starts to tune up his guitar and talk
so steven how have you been filling the long hours here?
well grantley i wrote a couple of songs just this morning…..
grant laughs
yeah …i bet their real beauties too…
actually, grant, scarlets just gone down the shops
to get me some new adjectives…..i say
grant rolls his eyes
oh…i just got some…
really?
grant lights up a stuyvo
has to be stuyvo soft pack
dont give grant a stuyvo hard pack cig…he’ll know
as he inhales he closes his eyes and winces a little
and then he blows it all out upward n away
in some schoolboy smoking gesture he has never seemed to’ve outgrown
he chucks down the vino from the bottle reluctantly
(havent you got a clean glass…?!)
everything about grant is a soft kind ironic fussiness
he talks quietly but he laughs heartily
i love to bignote myself to him
and oh how he loves to laugh
fuck em grantley…i’ll show em..the kids ‘ll love my new songs
grant almost chokes on his cigarette in merriment
yes steven…oh ha ha ha ha..i’m sure they will…
the fucking critics grant…they cant understand me…i’m too good
grants rolled up in a ball laughing
who could understand you steven.. ha ha ..except me
you wont fucken laugh grant when i got my own tv show
no….no one will… he says
presently scarlet kilbey returns with the adjectives
sorry dad she says
what are you sorry for sweetheart ? says grant
i dont think dads gonna want any of these…..
i poke thru them
too latinate
maybe this one
oh no…too cliched
hmmm….too ordinary
this one…….too florid
this one….too obvious
this ones good….oh i already used it
this one….nah! too obscure even for me
grant starts to strum out a tune
he’s got a capo on the fourth fret
and he’s picking the guitar slowly
“i cant believe (he sang)
i cant believe that you left me on new years eve
i was taking you to the dance
now my tears just water the plants….”
scarlet says i like it!
grant continues
but the song has gone all minor-y
and sad
“i cant believe i never saw
how you loved me less
as i loved you more
and i cant believe
that you dont know
that i want you back
and i miss you so…”
gee thats pretty sad there grantley …i find i’m saying
you really think so says grant
warming up to it now
you really think its sad..?
i do says scarlet kilbey
shes 5 foot 10 inches tall
she has wild hair that looks like a dryads
she has the deepest blue eyes
like looking at a summer sky
dad what should i do with these adjectives ?she says
ah …i dunno….stick em inna cupboard i s’pose… i say
its beginning to rain
grants off strumming again
he’s changed the capo up two frets
and hes picking out this countryish thing with a D shape
he starts singing
his beautiful voice up close is always a treat
“the rain is falling down on my true loves town
where the clouds roll down upon the brown river
everything i have i give her
everything she does
makes me love her”
did you write that, grant …i ask
most of it…he winked at scarlet
most of it…
public domain?
traditional arrangement…
oh the old trad arr….?
send royalties to g w mc then….
immediately!
we all have a laugh
gee oceania is beautiful this time of year ..i say
a little warm though perhaps steven says grant
dabbing at his forehead with a little hanky
god hes got a bloody hanky…i exclaim
its alright steven…he says…
i know you old people like their warm climes…!
we all have another good laugh
grant produces another bottle
he lights another ciggie with the same malarkey as previous
he takes the capo off the guitar altogether
and begins to strum strum strum
the soft rain keeps falling
and grant strums between 2 simple chords
but with subtle differences each time
a melody seemed to imply itself somewhere in the chords
grant looked at us and smiled
then he looked off at some point miles away
and some deep sadness informed his song
he began eventually to sing
” i remember you from a dream
walking beside me
we were a team….”
he choked up a little
oh grant …scarlet says
he continued
“i remember the way your smile curled
around words like
i give you my world
and i dont think
that i’ll find you in this place…”
jesus thats another sad one too… i said
grant seemed well satisfied with himself
he put his guitar down and uncrossed his legs
he looked at scarlet
hey listen to this he said
“you move around on your island
your baby blues shine like diamonds”
i nodded my head
thats very nice
i said

the silent dark lake where we used to sit
in summers long days
listening to swans and larks
the reeds rustled
the ants bustled
an old rowboat fallen into disrepair
the three of us
joined hands and danced down the path
we hid from each other and ran on ahead
we walked the forest paths to rollingen
and swam over to the other side
theyre were no other sounds
but a breeze in the pines
and the caw caw of the crow
the lowing of cattle somewhere
the grass all lush and green
oh such a gentle northern sun
its rays friendly and warming
the spell of childhood still not fallen from your eyes
so i was the dopey leader
and you 2
learned to swim and climb so easily
i was amazed by your alien litheness
by your subtle strengths and good natures
cartwheels and somersaults along the forest paths
and chatter chatter chatter
you were finishing each others words
getting angry with each other
we kicked stones along and gave them names
we saw foxes and once a weasel
and e trod on a tiny snake who quickly slithered away
later
when i was long gone
your mother found one of you in the forest
on your own
what are you doing here ? she said
do you think ….you said
if i walked far enough into this forest i’d find my father..?

got the disturbing news my daughter elli is back in hospital
i feel so powerless
and although i love her so dearly
she
being the most like me of all my kids
and i
still being a kid myself in so many ways
we clashed a little during her time here
over a lot of the usual teen-olde guy malarkey
elli thinks im a scruffy old bohemian ratbag
she doesnt care that i wrote some song last century
i’m just a bit of a hopeless case to her
and before you protest
oh i’d love to have a dad like you
think
ive been absent
ive been an addict
ive been unreliable
plus the fact that i’m a moody son of a bitch
and it dont all add up to father christmas
elli is so like me
that we almost became opposites
no me being in the church means nothing to her
she’d rather i had a proper job and wore nice clothes
shes over the bricklayer look in spades
shes bloody beautiful
shes bloody intelligent
shes got everything
including this disease getting at her all the time
shes 17
her sister started their new school yesterday
ellis in hospital getting lumbar punctures and dye scans
and i dont know what to say or do
except wring my hands and feel demoralized
everything is so complicated between us
i never wanted this stand off
but its like …..
lets face it all my relationships are fraught with this….
everybody is always slightly disappointed me
i can see why too
but with elli being so very much like me
it makes it all so hard to understand
like fighting with an aspect of yerself
a cruel beautiful female seventeen year old aspect
with a swedish accent and a haughty manner
and now shes sick
and i want to wrap my arms around her
like any father would
and there is this distance
this distance….
not merely physical
an estrangement or something…
i just wanted to tell the world
how much i love that young woman…

lying in my bunk
half asleep
the bus goes on n on
moving thru the black rainy night
i hear ploogie laughing and talking to the driver
i hear muffled music
i smell dope smoke drifting down the corridor
i roll over and sleep on
i dream as always of things going wrong
guitar necks with too many frets
microphones that go all limp
sounds that are stifled and unable to manifest
i stand onstage stark naked plucking at my stringless bass
a phone rings in a motel room
the roadcrew snorting an eightball
the entrance has been barred
the exit has been alarmed
the load-in was hours ago
i’m walking down the street in some midwestern town
trying to find a veggie restaurant
my hair is dyed auburn
my earrings are 2 blue mexican crosses
a green suede jacket and green suede boots
i’m lost
ive taken the wrong turn
i’m out of my depth
i’m on my own
i’m not thinkin’ straight
i’m jet lagged and confused
ive been up all night asleep
my pockets are full of belgian francs and dutch black cats
i sit down at a table
someone sets down a glass of water
its starts to rain again
my room wont be ready for ages
i wonder where tom went
ive still got my dads ring on
i take it off
and try for the one thousandth time
to read the inscription or whatever it is
but
i cant
the rain beats down steadily
gee i really miss……
who do i miss…?
cant think of anybody just right now….
300 gigs
300 smokes
300 drinks
300 reviews
300 how do you dos
the road……
maybe i’m only pretending
i tried to make myself tougher
but i just ended up emptier
the restaurant is is dark n warm
candles burn on
is this the sanctuary then….?
all sanctuary is temporary
the continuous state is exposure
raw nerves exposed
headaches and stomach aches
nervousness
loneliness
intoxication
hangovers
bullying and being bullied
accusing and defending
hiding in some temporary haven
but you always find yourself
the people clap but you feel worse
actually youre not even that good
youre so so
and you sometimes really know
you nibble at the food
people in here
husbands n wives
colleagues
friends
all quietly eating
a low drone of muted conversation
people living the real lives here in this city
the drudgery
the constancy
the hovels
the palatial haciendas
the fishwives
the soulmates
the crab grass and washing machines
the soft summer nights in the gardens
do you pity or envy them?
as usual with you i s’pose its both
you can never just see things for what they are
nothings black n white…even black n white
living in the suburbs
oh it could be so good or so bad
the possibilities fork out before you
you take out that huge green notebook
oh you were writing a lot of stuff in those days
you walked around the back streets of oklahoma
you can still see it now
those gentle lanes on the edge of the city
a motel with a pool
you sat up all night
imagining the lives of these people
whose back gardens you glanced into
as the 4 of you drifted down this lane
a long long back alley
that connected up all the houses
lovely homes spaced well apart
on this afternoon
the 4 of you
the 4 of us
had smoked marijuana and walked down this lane
the motel backed right onto this lane
and you’d smoked and walked and talked
probably argued and bickered
or ganged up on someone
but i was drinking it in
and that night after the gig
i opened the book and the words fell out
about some imaginary woman who lived up the lane
and her bizarre life
and her white skin and her scarlet cocktail dress
and i wrote about the men in her life
i imagined them and imagined them..
sitting at the table of my motel room
on the outskirts of somewhere in oklahoma
in 1988
and their lives are realer to me than my own
where is that book now?
(the solid book we wrote cannot be found today)
i sold it to get money for schmack in the ‘orrible nineties
ha ha said the clown
meanwhile in a parallel universe
i’m sitting in cincinatti or pittsburgh or birmingham
or goulburn or somewhere
nibbling on some jap-mex yum cha
when
“steve?”
i look up
its this girl from arista whos been on tour with us
arranging things
things like meeting people
and meeting more people
and signing things and being polite
this is horrible to say
but i have never remembered this girls name
so i just call her arista
“arista…?”
shes tracked me down
after all that is her job
she tracks down rude and air headed ninnies like me
so that we may do interviews n shake peoples hands etc
we are sorta adversaries
her representing law
me representing chaos
after all theres no way they can MAKE you do an interview
so it falls to people like “arista”
who is actually a nice sweet person
its just that she represents schedules n work n all that
i’m trying to get my head around everything at once
be all fucking things to all people
and i gotta go n meet some retailers….
the retailers never like me…
who would…?
i wasnt s’posed to be liked…
you werent supposed to get up close to me and like me
i was an obnoxious git and i had freckles
see
the illusion was instantly shattered
under the glare of commercial introspection…
so
leave me here
in this sanctuary
the soft buzz of talk
the rainy day
the glow of a fireplace
nothing here alters or affects me
i can be neutral
i can rest
leave me here
then

i am the delver
i am the toucher
i am moving thru the night
you dont see me but you feel me
i am a hard bastard
im hard like steal
im hard like winning
im hard like diamond bay
i am an unrelenting machine
rolling over the lands cape
i am the insinuator
in sin you ate her
wine drinker
night rider
dream lover
i unravel
i measure
i cut
i look and i see
i take baby
oh i take
but i give and i give
i give no quarter
i give examples
i give you twenty minutes minimum
oh i am kind to be cruel
oh i am a man
the best and the worst
i am the thinking mans man
an educated brute
destroyer of naive virtue
i am undiminished
i am mojo n uncut
i am dark and thirsty
i know how to make my move
i break all the rules
i have two turns at once
i always roll double six
double six
double six
i am a black knight
moving down the white queens diagonal
i am a feather legged joker
trumping your fucking ace
i am the father
i am the masculine form
i am firming up the deal
i buy futures
and i have no present
i am the hoarse whisperer
i am the husky throated love song singer
i handle everything
i squeeze all the fruit
i finger all the strings
i pull out all the stops
i leave no turn unstoned
i am never drunk
i am never soft
i am never lost for words
i am never shy
i am never tepid or insipid
i am yang….bang!
i am loki… i love my mischief
as a metal i am mercury
as a number i am 13
as an animal i am panther
in music i am bass clef
in colour i am cobalt blue
as a drug i am nepenthe
as a car i am a banged up mustang that overheats
as a master i am pitiless
as a slave i am rebellious
as a worker i am useless
as a waiter i am impatience
as a conspirator i am ruthless
as an optimist i am hopeless
as an animal i’m quite human
as a saint i’m ridiculous
as a sinner i’m quite good
i’m back with 2 beasts
i’m the most in the least
i am no ordinary man
no jim jim
i am everyman everyday everywhere
one foot in the grave
one foot in my shoe
one foot ahead of the other
when the world sleeps i am awake
plotting my course
plowing my furrow
sifting thru the options
detaching from this plane
i make two wrongs maker write
i memorize the clouds
i stretch into the stars
you can say what you like
you can do as you think fit
i dont care
i go down to the bottom
i go up to the top
i survive
i prevail
i struggle
i am defeated
i resurface
i reconsider
i adjust
i adapt
i attack i release i sustain i decay
ive seen it all
i noticed
i got mentioned
i was there
so long ago
you were just a child but i was there all the same
when you were learning how to tie your choose
i was out there somewhere
delivering the bizness
saving the universe from the eighties
writing the wrong song
my fabrics dont shrink or stretch
my dish has not decayed despite 2 decades
i always knew what i was doing even when i was lost
even when i was lost i never foundered
even when i foundered i was always fine
even what i borrowed became mine
i sing my own praises
i blow my own trumpet
i pat myself on the back
i gotta hand it to me
i got shake my hand
and i gotta shake my head
and i gotta getta move on
i gotta get it right
just for once
look at me raving on to you
i’m this
i’m that
oh you know that its true
i’m down on my luck
but i’m still in the ring
i’m a lover and a fighter
i’m a negotiator too
and a humane shield
and a renaissance man sipping soy rococo
i am sir stephen in the storey of oh!
i am a cool breeze on a stifling night
i am the voice of unreason
i am the intemperate one
i am the experimenter
i am the man within a child
i am the man within a woman
i am the oak inside the acorn
i am the acorn inside the earth
i am the earth within cold space
i am charged
i am positive
i am plus
i am on
i am
i am
i am
i am outbound

i’m kilbey
who are you?
i paid my dews before you were outta short pants
and they call me old man skyriver
giver of boons
tinker of tunes
i sing but i dont dance
i been to jail
i been to france
i been to helvetia n back
with out e’er a backwoods glance
(e’er…..how poncy!)
yes i am the velvet throated poet
oh how i know it and then
blow it!
(a mod ‘un de quincy!)
the fool on the hill
man i’m sitting here so still
still i’m sad…..
my encyclopedia brain
with half the letters missing
dont go dissing me cur
youre just a blur on the silent screen
youre like something in be tween
have you come to praise or bury me
have you come to drown or ferry me
hey i rhyme on time; how very me
i am so self obsessed i forgotten my name
i hate myself but its love to blame
viva la difference but its all the same
hey did i ever tell ya bout the time
i was recording in manhattan
i got the vu meters to flatten
ya see i could detect a pattern
i was snorting some brown powder
i was supping on some vegan potato chowder
i was strumming my bass much louder….
never mind me
i often digress
i bullshit you
then i truly confess
bless you reader
hail thee oh subscriber
you kindness doth sustain me
(can ya lend us a fiver?)
i am the keeper of the flaming frame
sleeper you should keeper
the words seem to have ironed things out
the dope seems to have cleared things up
steve kilbey all defiant despite his recent losses
knocked out by phil e stein
and mod n times
the killer as they call him
has adjourned to his corner
yoga is massaging his shoulders
chi gong takes the mouthguard out of his gob
and
swimming tries to stitch his swollen eye
in every painting you do kil-bo
one eye bigger than the other…why bother
and why twins
i guess he’s not a mono zygotic kinda guy
aha
the rhythm n rhyme have disinte-grated
all the hoo hah now a-bated
whats left?
a slinky bass line
the smudge of a shadow on yer eyeline
the whisper of some words on yer grapevine
enjoy me freely
i wont be a round forever
they dont do this model so much these days
i hear the new guys dont know their eros from their venus
how much distance i must put between us
the australian us
the euro-pean us
the dream bus is calling us
too much
magic bust
magic free dirt
hey every body call me mr guy forks
cos i am discombobulated
sometimes im good
sometimes im mournful
sometiimes im friendly
sometimes im scornful
im an arrogant little prat
an irritating brat
scare the hell out of a bat
prattling on with this n that
how much do i promise
much
how much do i deliver
little
a brittle precious little
hey i’m everything at fucking once
no one here knows what i can n cannot do
i can spell through as thru
cos i’m so good
that i make mistakes
like swimming in black lakes
full of voracious vermillion snakes
like the lamia who ate rael
or buffalo ballet by john cale
if there was a rock ph.d i’d be at yale
i always fail
i always fall
i always fill yer head with nonsense, thats all….
why do you love me love love me do
you love me oh say it long and hard
say it with your credit card
say it with a glassy shard
or something i possibly marred
i’m kilbey
i’m my own man
but you could rent me…anybody can
for half an hour
increase your power
beauty like a hairy flower
knock ‘er over n wow ‘er
i am the one they simply call him
i was once known as slim
i got vitality n vim
my receiving is dim
dim, sim
flim flam
no ham or spam
was glam
now damn!
clown prince the neverking
not that anyone was wondering
nice day here…no thundering
guess i’ll have a fucking swim under then
poach some pears
see to my affairs
trim my beards hairs
listen to some kevin ayers
descend the stares
never see
suntanned druglord
glares
for all the tourists
down by the sea

dear fiendss
seemz ive hit the jackpot this smorning
as i peruse the amazing list of free goodies
awaiting my confirmation
no…not that christian malarkey with a wafer n wine
but
all i have to do is confirm
that i’m stevekilbey@gmail.com
(and if i’m not…then who else is?)
its that easy
then
i’m gonna get..
(drum roll please and cheesy show-biz music…)
2 petrol vouchers
i myer gift cert
one b and w gift cert
one woolworths gift cert
a pink i-phone (wow!)
a sony-wega lcd tv
a toshiba laptop
an apple i-phone
need cash? 500 bucks no questions asked
a 500 gift card
a J+B hi fi card

and we all thought that this world
was full of cynical hucksters
playing the old pea n shell game
with gullible idiots som moi
and then
this miraculous cornucopia of stuff
arrives in my e-mail box
all merely awaiting
confirmation
am i stevekilbey…?
yes i am!
heres yer stuff, then, you lucky sod
thank you very much!
wow…a PINK i-phone
i’ll be texting all my friends like crazy
maybe i’ll get some brian mcfudgeon ring tones
and download some cooool movies too
and same way cooool games
maybe thats what i’ll spend my first five hundred on
that other five hundred….hmmmm
maybe some breakdance lessons
or that autographed spandau ballet kilt
i wont be needing petrol
not with my 2 vouchers
which are small printed pieces of paper
entitling the bear to goods and services
sorry i mean the bearer
what would a grown bear do with a spandau ballet kilt?
i wonder if bears do get certificates from each other
dear bruin this stone entitles you to one large salmon
honey vouchers
confirmation needed: one pink pickanick basket..
anyway
gee i’m looking forward to my sat laptop by tosh
wonder if its compatible with my new sony wega lcd tv?
wonder what i’ll get in myer…..some way cooool clothes i’m sure
a pair of those jeans that makes your arse hang out
and yer legs look like sausages…yes
and a fcuk tommy hill-frigger t shirt
and a justin timberlake hat
you know those ones that make you look like a complete fucknuckle
you know
i need to investigate this for my own site
free words awaiting you now
blog vouchers
rant gift certs
etc
anyhow
i’ll be seeing you all soon…..
on easy street

the world within the world within
the cut
the incision
the revelation
we travel and travel
we move together
we leave
i am coldness
you are heat
you signal the oncoming era
i hark back to an age of larks
let science and magic then blend
let us put asunder these strange bonds of matter
michael before me
gabriel behind me
the alchemical smell of melting metal
of sulphur
of blood
of sperm
the temperate layers of flesh
the unyieilding skin of gold
the flash of light when elementals appear
the claustrophobic laboratory
what door now opens
what path can be found
which way out
which way in
which of us will go first?
me?
yes?
i plunge in like a fool
in to what
into what i do not know
i fall and fall and fall
i never become used to this falling
ah my friend has joined me
falling past me so fast
sickening jump
falling faster gaining speed
we suddenly collide
smashing full on into the wall of sleep
jolting us like solid ice
we disintegrate on impact
we break into a thousand agonizing pieces
our names are obliterated
we are given up
in liquid slowness something reassembles me
some divine process perhaps
taking oh so long
you are ready before me
you are ready to leave but you kindly will wait
the process fits us with beautiful wings
and we soar away
out of the deep abyss and its gloom
and we spiral up towards the brightest star
and we fly up up into the great sky of the earth
and you sing a mournful song as we break free
in cold space
we spirits pass
our winged shoulders pump the airless tracts
we flow in the wake of novas
we in the slipstream of the hurtling moon
where the dead make their abode
the dead moon full of dead souls
watching the world
waiting to be reborn as a helpless child
as the moon curves to take us
we alter our course
into the depths of whatever is out there which is mostly nothing
with the occasional some-thing moving through it
eventually we are sucked into spaces rip
flung into black and blacker voids
even as spirit i am afraid
we huddle in the pit
in the deep pit of the universe
where everything curves
and everything oozes
and everything slips
pulled down by eventuality…
a devil approaches us
burning in the flame of old evil
a delightful old devil
roasted red like a dried up pig
dribbling like a fiend
and poking at us
like delicacies on a hook
satan you lying bastard
satan you filthy monster
satan morningstar devourer of children
not so …..says the devil
his breath stinking of brimstone and rotten garlic
his breath stinking of cheap perfume and gelatine
his breath stinking of listerine and white paint
not so …says the devil
his tongue black and leathery
his tongue coated in green moss
his tongue forked like the serpent
not so…says the devil
his voice like velvet against glass
his voice like water lapping a pier
his voice like machinery seizing up
satan you treacherous toad
you are a very rude man says the devil
his grip is fiery
like a million bull ants biting
like a wasp colony inside your skin
his scorpion fingers
his vampire nails
his dragon wings beating foully
this is no illusion
this is no dream
this is no shadow play
he snaps his blackened reddish fingers
articulated like a lobster
and hell yawns open suddenly
and you struggle fiercely against where he has us pinned
you beat at his pinioned wings
and scratch at his eyes
screaming the name of every god you can remember
and he roars at some of those names
and others make him laugh
and still others make him cower
so the old brute knows fear, eh…..?
emboldened you break free and dart away
he turns toward me
his eyes a flaming darkness
his teeth black with flecks of blood and foam
his nostrils flared and misshapen
you….! he says
stand back wicked one ….i hopelessly shout
into his smouldering face
then you have returned with something
something that makes him snarl
spinning to face you
back for more? he asks in a deafening whisper
reaching up for you
like a giant reaching for a fly
like a monstrous child reaching for a gnat
like an angry bear reaching for a bee
you are unafraid
you hurl a stone
and like goliath
he totters
this way
and
that way
and
this way
and that way again
gasping and clutching at his forehead
where the stone lies embedded
it is a sun blazing in the night of evil
it is a star burning brightly in the caverns of black space
it was all your hope and love and strength
dont fade , star……
the prints of darkness pierced by light
the measure of him taken
his demise was assured
from the very beginning
silently we ascend
me scorched and bleeding
my wings damaged
i limp thru the skies
you pale and nearly lifeless
my old friend
in the light of cosmic rays
in the clear light radiating out from unknown sources
in the sublunar dimness
in the frozen beam of distant planets
i see your face
as we flee that dreadful place
your face like a hurt angel
your face with its noble angles
your face now quiet and drawn
the fearslayer
the master of self
the constant

you

all you need is a way in
a way in
a way in
the palms open
the patient vegetation
the path half stoned
the gate swings
sometimes you cant take a trick
sometimes it doesnt matter if youre good or bad
the more desperate you are……
when you start trying to force things….
when everything keeps going wrong
people misunderstand
no ones on your side
you think of the outrages and you bristle
you think of the truth and it scalds
you think of all the times….
this place.
nice weather
you grew up here
all those snakes and spiders
never got you once
the sun got you tho
got you good when you werent looking
nothing brings you pleasure anymore
its just a fight
you cant ever win now
its just…..this and that…
red tape
accounts
an appointment
take your medicine
get something fixed
you cant get what you need back there
words glide from you if you want…but so what?
its all kinda moot
a done deal
nothing personal
destiny after all
accept it all as it comes…..bah!
the rats keep running faster
nibble nibble gnaw gnaw
whats undone is undone
time and tide
lost all your letters when the ship sank
bad poker game / dead mans hand
you start to remember something
it happened a long long time ago
somehow you can still see it in your mind
did this happen to you…..?
is this a story….?
remember
youd worked hard
youd done what was asked and you were resting
and then that thought came
that burning thought arrived in your mind
the name of a city
a place you had to go
ive already done so much you moaned at it
but the name of the city was your only reply
get someone else you thought
but still just that name
no no im not going you thought …didnt you
im not going there no no
but the name was like a gong crashing in your head
it seems to appease it when
you walk to the docks
2 ships
one to your destination
another to another city altogether
joppa
at the last moment
you jump on the other ship
you pay for your ticket with your last bit of cash
you settle down in your berth
you look in the mirror
an old man
white beard sunburnt face
penetrating eyes but what do they penetrate if not yourself
it feels better now we are out at sea
the name has stopped pounding
the sea air is cool and soothing
you feel tired
you lay down and sleep
when you awake
the ship is starting to go up and down
waves fling it about on an agitated sea
the water crashes over the deck
the sailors work at the ropes
they pull in the sails
they strain at the oars
the ship sails down into a huge green chasm of water
the captain is screaming to the men through the storm
the ship is as helpless as the smallest leaf on a tree
it spins and lists and shudders
the sailors are praying and crying out
still you hide in your berth
though there is no hiding place to be had
the name of the city pounds in your brain
NINEVEH
NINEVEH
NINEVEH
finally
even you
even you
the most stubborn old fool ever
you realise
you realise how it must be
its me you scream
its me
its me
its me!
you stand on the deck
awash with water
you stare into that wild water
you stare into the grey green depths
at the white crested waves
no one tries to stop you
and you jump
the shock of the cold water
water fills your lungs
you cough and splutter
the sea swallows you down
the water is calm again
the sailors somehow save their ship and get to joppa
while you
in some stinking purgatory
some fishy darkness
you in the slime and guts
breathing as you can
eating as you can
travelling somewhere
you know
you can never escape your destiny
what must be
it seems
must be
and you were picked
chosen
selected
this task was fallen to you
the monster spits you out
on the cold sand
you have arrived