The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

whatever you say i am
i am
sam i am
i am i am i am i am
look at me
all angular n red
look at my brain stuffed full of disinfotainmentalism
look at my fat little fingers aw….how cute…
look at my tour
oooh i’m treading the boards
ooh im going to some distant city
ooh i’m on a plane going up in the sky
hey its saturday aint it?
hey wheres my mate ricky “whoah!!” miami?
hey wheres my guitar n my pipe n my bowl
hey wheres the audience and the global warming
hey theres only a thousand zebras left….aw it’ll do, wont it?
hey wheres that song with the c#minor?
fuck
i dunno
rummaging around in my brain
find terry n terri
find kathy
find my winning ticket
find my little unicorn…..ah…how sweet…?!
find my feet
find the strength
find out
i chuck my heart in my mind
it doesnt fit properly but who cares
sometimes they overlap
sometimes my brain throws out
what my heart would easily accept
sometimes when my heart is too proud
a niggling thought in my mind
can lead to a repossession
i wander on down through my blog n my life
i pick up relics n souvenirs as i go
a tear here
a tear there
(tear to rhyme with there)
tear along this line————————–
kilbey just stumbles along
all rubbery and docile
he plays his dna hand
he meets the commentors on a frozen tundra
he blooms one more time before he fades away
he smokes yet more dope
he does more yoga
he swims n swims
he paints n paints
he listens n listens
my hands hurt
my back recoils
i work like a bohemian slave dog
sweating over a hot pastel
i compose music and words while i cook my toast
i pray to god as i squash some ants
they ran out of triple sec
so i just had orange sec
and i tried to forget all the things you did
i tried to forgive you your trespasses
but i’d rather have you prosecuted
and i kept turning the tv off
its eating up your life
and i pick up another paintbrush
and i pick out another colour
and i submerge myself in a hundred faces
staring out dumbly from gallery of my life
ooh you lovely ladies
ooh you handsome devils
ooh you whining harridans
ooh you manipulating little sObbers
now i am so weary….
world weary
whirled wary
i turn again
to face the onslaught
of patent madness
impending olde age
and unbearable grooviness
i am the being in time
i am always
and i will always be
thus

so many levels
so many sobs
i weep for lemuria
i weep for atlantis
i weep for a little boy crushed by a truck
at the bottom of baines place in the sixties
i weep for a boy i saw once with no ears
i weep for myself because i’m old and washed up
i weep for you because of your isolation
i weep for the finders and the keepers
i weep for the ugly awkward ones who need love too
i weep for frustration and self loathing
i weep like a willow
i weep into my pillow
some melancholy that i follow
has left me feeling so hollow
so i weep for the sleep that will never come
and i weep for the people
i never met n will never know
who might have loved me as a friend
and been my solace in this 21st century
because i’m not at home here
i’m on the lamb in these days
trying to lay low
with occasional bursts of transcendent prose
kilbey is mad
was mad
ever mad…?
i dont think so therefore i’m not
madness has no glamour on me
ill-starred maybe i am
but still clean
still sharper than one micron
still unbowed before the wall of sludge they call fun
i hate fun as a concept a justifier
i dont make music for fun
i dont write this poisonous bilge for fun
i hope you have some fucken fun reading it
but i dunno about fun
i’m burning up with some terrible malady
my eyes can hear the future clearly now
is that a symptom of my fever?
right now
if you wanted
i could imagine something fantastic for you
or instantly write you a song
about how cool you verily are
my instruments are arraigned about me
the muses hover at my fingertips awaiting instruction
a wonder to myself
i pluck my loot
i bang on my base
i drum up some thing
i enter the studio
i fling violins at people
i murder the engine ear
with a conductors baton
i hammer the faders home
i turn red and i yell at the music that does not transcend
transcend what ? gasps my stupid laptop
transcend this fucking mundanity! kilbey shouts
i am an alien
i am on the wrong planet
i dont wanna waste my precious time being here
who am i? i screamed into the e-void
and answers came back
you are this
you are that
i love you
i hate you
i do not care about you…
i turned trembling
the doctors had shrugged
the lawyers shook their heads
the generals turned away
the actors were merely actors
the leaders all stood behind us
only the poet dares to go there
where where where?
(the clamouring voices)
there is where ecstasy and sorrow collide
in some contradiction
a poet will suspend you vibrating
to some new groovy truth and….
aw shucks
i’m giving away the trade secrets now
anyhow
where was i
i weep for um…..how does cauliflower sound….?
….no no…uh..i weep for uh….concupiscence ….uh..
yeah …thats better…..oh look a glimpse into my brain…
oh…is that how he does it, dorothy?
guess so harry guess so
oh look no on a mat appear
oh no look theres a cute little allusion
oooh hes a clever olde bugger dorothy
ooh hes a bit of a treat to us olde deers
oooh dont know why he aint as rich as bohno hughson
oooh my daughter valerie went to school with him
what she say then
hes an arrogant SOB on every level!
whats a sob?
its a little cry or gasp
how many levels are there, dorothy?
many many many, harold, many many many
how strange life will be for kilbey i still be saying
poor olde steeve he never gets it , right…?
look its a new church album…..
whats that all about then?
i bet its got some nice new songs on it
songs about the time
songs about the distance
songs by the man in his mansuit
songs of hiding and pursuit
songs of gliding and gah-loots
songs about other songs
i sing the causal and astral bodies electriques
i sing a certain song you have been waiting for your whole lives
here dive in
there are many songs
look
many new songs
all songs are guaranteed to contain LOVE
all songs will last n last n last
all songs guaranteed to make you sob
all songs contain traces of music
all songs contain traces of ancient greece
all songs contain traces of arrogance
all songs contain traces of ….mystery
mmmmm mystery
mystery baby oh mystery
dont you love a lover a love a love a mystery
dont you just wanna loose n lose n loose yourself
in a good mystery
well my songs got it! he says triumphant
voice in next room says :jerk!
voice in another room : get on with it
mystery mystery
cant explain
musnt explain
am i mad? its a mystery
am i sad?
its a mystery
am i really so fucking bad?
its a…ha ha..yes …yessa ….mystery
what will ever make me glad?
its a mystery
government warning :
these songs will make you wish steve kilbey WAS the p.m.
government warning : kilbey is an icon
he needs considerable repair and reconstruction
DONATE GENEROUSLY TO THIS BLOG
or risk total isolation
cos if this man goes down
you will be all alone
IMAGINE THAT
a kilbEy less world
imagine that
youre on your own now
NO KILBEY
are you imagining it?
its bleak
its terrifying
but childe
please try
a world devoid of ME?
oh ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
(this blog is suddenly interrupted by a knocking)
mr kilbey?
mr kilbey?
its time to go on….
mr kilbey its time to fucking go on now sir
mr kilbey wake up youre having a bad life
mr kilbey the orchestra is waiting
mr kilbey the audience are patience (or patients?)
mr kilbey
you are an arrogant SOB on every level
and its been a pleasure to know you sir
good luck sir
bon voyage sir
over n out sir
into the ether
i commend my spirit
spirit come n take me now
spirit come n fill me now
ooh
wonder what the weather will be like today?

who am i?
i was born in 1954 in england
my mum n dad were called mum n dad
i was an obnoxious little childe and had no friends
at the age of three i took up the bass guitar
and penned many songs that were……yes?
steve kilbey!
no…i’m afraid youre just guessing now…
but…uh….i thought steve kilbey was….
no no no
steve kilbey is not the correct answer…
who am i?
who are you…who who….who who…?
i really wanna know…..
well who the fuck are you?
i say i
cos i is used to saying i
but who am i really?
am i who i was?
am i who i will be, kilbey
i’m sometimes so sick of olde kilbey
CANT I BE SOMEONE ELSE
yes i look good for a very olde codger
but i want some real youth
i want the agenda-less day of a faun
i want the raining pleasure
i want to get drunk n you wear the hangover
i want stick my fingers in white chocolate
while somebody else can lick them clean
i want reckless thoughtless aimless nights to arrive
i want more than that
i want to see my past lives all trailing
like a distorted afterimage on a huge screen
kilbey will weep to be a mere shadow one day
another ex-life
oh you heard of steve kilbey
yeah…i used to be him…
oh how was he to be?
ah….ok…up n down i guess….
yeah…i heard that…
a grumpy olde renaissance man
renaissance man my arse
jus’ cos he wrote some same stupid songs n did some ropey paintings..?
well err yeah thats as good as it gets these days…
so in the lack of vinnie van google
and leonardo di caprio-vinci
i guess guys like olde kilbey move up
i guess so…
like best of a bad bunch..
dude…it is a bad bunch out there..
how many blokes could explain the iliad to ya?
kilbey
how many could explain the mahabharata or the kalevela
kilbey could…
how many blokes can merge a diary into prose poetry
sk
how many blokes appreciate space noise AND frank sinatra
how many blokes do so many good and bad things at once
how many….
STOP!
this endless list of what i can do does not define me
this also endless list of what i cannot do does not define me
who the fuck is inside here now dictating this to kilbey
this is the sanest question a mad man can ask
all my life people say
steven youre this
steven youre that
steven you should be a lawyer a priest a rear admiral a star
steven you should see yourself
steven youre a handsome/ugly bastard
steven youre so young/old
so masculine/feminine
so friendly/rude
so stupid/brilliant
GET AWAY FROM ME ALL YOU…
how voyeuristic you all are to witness this breakdown…
the centre is not holding
does anyone have a tranquillizer….?
ah thank you….a glass of brandy
let me get my breath
oh the years catch up with me
oooh i am a poor old man
down on his luck
misunderstood by the philistine hoi polloi
who wouldnt know a renaissance man from a removal man
and anyway
i know who i’d rather have on my side
when i finally have to quit this fire trap
and relocate to infernal melbourne
where it buckles in the rail
and there are no shadows
yet
whispers reach my ears
i am locked in a tower cooking up my exhibition
i slap on paint like a tart slapping on make up
i smudge n i rub n i stand back n say
fuck thats fucking awful
i make records like you would make toast
stick in a song for me, ta
thats it a little jam…and …presto
dont you ever get sick of reading about me?
because in reading about me youre reading about you?
huh?
do you really believe that?
yes?
does everything end in a question mark?
does it?
look
tell me who i am
tell me in less than fifty four words
why you think bondi beach would be a great vacation spot
for you and your family
and you may win
3 weeks at my place
my family n i waiting on you
HAND N FOOT
in spades baybee
yes
a dream vacation
complete with me as your servant
bringing you the sydney morning herald every morning
and rewarming up your hot water bottle every night
just tell me in your own words
your own words mind you
WHO AM I?
or
WHO I AM
or even
I AM WHO?
send your comments to
time being
15 nefertiti street
west nineveh
666-1313
i will moderate them carefully
with my big olde moderator
(it makes me feel much greater)
n
(in austrian accent)
I’LL BE BACK !!

… the bullets hit me in the heart
it is a shocking pain
i am thrown backwards
my eyesight grows dim almost immediately
confused thoughts n memories rush into my head
in truth
i have often longed for death
not the pain n fear
but the cancellation
the nulling n voiding
the wiping clean of the slate
the great zeroising
the rest n reset
the big sleep
i want to merge into blackness
have no more cares n concerns
this whole damn world hanging round my neck
i have wanted off so many times
sometimes i have seen death
like the extinguishment of a flame
one simply ceases to be
blown out
gone daddy gone
now your life is gone
no more bills arguments noise cruelty pain humiliation
no more responsibilities
no more expectations
no more nothing really
but in your real real heart
you know
you know
it aint gonna be like that
you may obtain a little rest
you may get a little respite
hell
everyone deserves that
even whoever the “you” i am addressing here..
whoever the “i” is or am…
the bullets have done their gig well
and i’m dying
look
i’m frightened
i’m struggling
i’m bleeding like a dog
then
then
then
what is it?
ssshhh!
i’m trying to put this into words…
ok….
i leave this all behind
the execution
the men
the small dirty yard where i was shot
the city where i was held
suddenly what does it matter…..?
why should i care about anything
and then i rest
i rest out there
in here
deep in here
far out there
far out in out
deep rest
while i rest
i am aware
who is i?
i is the awareness remaining
i is the finger who types
i is the you i share with you
the me in me
that makes me want to reach the you in you
i is the eternal
blissful sleep
sacred slumber
i wash the years from my face
i wash that kilbey right out of my hair
no ones son or father
no man nor woman
no ghost or angel
i simply am
i am iam iam i am
my doing is all done
now i am
am what ? says a voice from another room
i am i am …i reply to myself
i am the thought
this is delicious
this feeling of “i” ness
detached unlocated anywhere
no more agendas
no more trips
no more sleight of hand
no more ambition
endless peace
no
not endless
says another voice
from another room
agitation begins subtly
your calm begins to fracture
why was it ever thus?
you
(now its you not i, thank god)
you
yes you
yes YOU
who do you think i was talking to?
YOU YOU YOU YOU N YOU
all of you
all of those yous
you wanna have another go
you wanna have another shot
you said
hang on a minute
maybe i will give life another try
but the struggle the pain the fear i say
no no no
you say
i will give life another try
maybe it…
maybe it wasnt so bad after all
maybe it was ……
JESUS now!
why did you wanna do that?

i’m being questioned by some guy in a uniform
i’m being led away to some cell
i’m escaping dramatically
digging tunnels with spoons
or leaping over electric fences to my freedom
i run down lonely streets in dead of night
i sleep in abandoned cars
i eat berries and drink rainwater
i am re-captured and beaten
help me
this is no joke
i am being held against my will
i am being brainwashed
i am being reprogrammed
a guard comes in my room
we struggle
i crack his head on a wall
i see my chance
and i slip into the darkness
i roam shanty town in the shadows of night
hiding in the alleys and warrens of this place
i lie low for a while
until one morning i swim across a canal
on the other side i climb up a bank
and run like hell into a dense wood
i forget my own name
i live in a cave like a hermit
i live off pure air and the crystal streams
i grow slowly invisible to all but the most careful eye
i am friend to the small birds and creatures
i am friend to the serpent and to the bear
i move through the woods silently like the wind
i eat the honey the bees willingly give
lovely little wild apples i roast outside my cave
i learn the languages of the beasts
i learn how to bring the rain on down
i learn to manipulate the clouds
i send my mind out
out out out
to the great cities of this earth
to nineveh
to sydney
to l.a.
to rome and athens and anywhere i want
i am there now
all around you
everywhere nowhere
wherever
i explore your dreams
i float through your nights
i appear behind your eyes
and then i disappear
i sing in the loneliest night
i dance by myself next to my fire
i read books unwritten at last
i invent a million stories you’ll never have time to hear
i test my bonds
i scream at the jailers
i rattle my cage
i pound my chest
i mate with a female they have captured
i burrow under the walls
i climb up into the sky
and pull my rope up
i want to be gone
gone again
real gone
help me
theyre holding me here
this is no joke
they got me
n they got me good
i am being executed right now
oh god
they missed
oh god
theyre reloading
theyre aiming
and

i arrive at an airport in the heat
i disembark and collect some luggage
i breeze thru the building
a car is waiting for me
i jump in and it zooms off silently
all around the humidity and the brilliant green trees
swampy gardens merge into spectacular red flowers
the air conditioning purrs
i sit back in the seat watching the sultry suburbs go past
temples and small jungles
walls grown over with ivy
streets leading who knows where
it begins to lightly rain
we drive through exclusive neighbourhoods
a confusion of architecture
steles and little towers
ponds bridges palms brooks
peacocks wander around
finally arrive in some driveway
a garage door slides open
and we go inside
i jump out of the car
i go through a door
through a passage
i enter a long cool corridor
dimly lit
strange paintings hang on the wall
the carpet is sumptuous
the heat is defeated herein
lovely music plays somewhere
i walk down the corridor
i look at the paintings closely
its so hard to focus
the still lives seem to move
the portraits bulge out
they sweat wink and smile
i walk on n on
through the gathering storm
yes
in the darkness of the long corridor
a storm has been assembled
and it blows towards me
the portraits all scream
something appears within the storm
a black lack
an emptiness
a void
i reach for my knife
but the emptiness swallows me whole
and i stumble in some nothingness and
i swoon to the soft floor
a light comes on
people emerge from the hive
the lions prowl at the edges of civilization
helicopters come down in boiling seas
the vines and lianas strangle the trees
the statues crumble under the rain
the traffic skids to a halt
the old way is closed

so tangled tonight
such a fair light
its so still
my heart drags
the stars
the clouds
all the usuals
this is hurting a bit
i sang today
yeah i stood there singing
where was i?
far far away
singing this about that
i sang some song
same song
about pursuit
theres me in my mansuit singing pursuit
the drums go boom
the guitar go clang
the bass go throb throb throb
some people clap
i sing some more
i stand there singing more to the grapes n trees
i stand there looking out at it all
i sing some more
they clap some more
i walk off
clap clap
i smoke some dope
i talk some talk
i eat some dinner
i hit the road
thats it