The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

easter gets me all religious
my kids ask me
do you believe in jesus?
i start umming n ahing
i mean how can an intelligent man answer that one glibly
(voice from another room : or even you….)
i kinda imagine jesus with his les paul guitar
with his 30 tattoos of identity
with his black jaguar in the jungle
with his scarlet childe on his lap
with his lovely hands all damaged
with his beard shaped so right
jesus what a kind man
what a thoughtful man
people must have said back then
wow! what a lovely geezer…..
(in hebrew of course)
jesus he could pull any woman…but he never did
he had incredible cosmic powers at his fingertips
but he refrained from using them
he took the middle path like his old mate buddha
he says make it easy on your self
make it easy on yourself
he said
take it easy take it easy
dont let the sound of your own god drive you crazy..
he said im easy like a sunday morning
he said easy baby
you dont have to be so hard…
and sometimes if you got lost in the snow
jesus would be there with a barrel of brandy
but i dont understand this ransomed for our sins business…
do you?
it doesnt make any sense
maybe you did come back
maybe you didnt
i dont rule anything out
maybe you came back as someone else
but why not come back n show everybody
now that mighta had an effect
but its all so unlikely
and the bible is a dodgy document
and so are the priests who have made themselves fat n wealthy
by reinterpreting it in their own images for 2000 years
where does jesus tell us to build a vatican?
and all the other malarky carried on his name….
i reckon jesus would be a great singer….with that voice
and his lyrics would be simple n succinct
and charisma….c’mon
hes held this world in thrall for a long time
and we aint ever even seen his face
oh we know he must be handsome
like willy dafoe
or jeffrey hunter
or young max von sydow
they look out on off into the sky
taking it all on their narrow shoulders
all they ever did was help n heal n say nice things
now jesus gets crucified against a sky with racing clouds
on either side
theyve nailed the robber
theyve nailed the thief
jesus is only 33 years old
man thats way too young
i was touring with starf-ish then
but jesus is being put to death
in an incredibly cruel n barbarous manner
what did he do? whisper the onlookers
no one really seems to know
well he really put them pharisees big noses outta joint
but they talk the stupid romans into executing him
like a political prisoner
so no one is really taking the blame
the people stand by n watch it happen
voice from another century : dont we always…?
later on
much later on
some priest figured out
that christ died to redeem our souls for all our sins
but christ says nothing of this himself
nor do the gospels
this is a very troubling and extremely stupid doctrine
no one really knows how a deal like that is s’posed to work
its so fucking ludicrous
big ole Jehovah
he creates this world outta nothin’
with all its brilliant things
but the people
his crowning achievement
go wrong again n again
right from the start
THEY PERSIST IN DOING NAUGHTY THINGS!!!!
they eat fruit theyre told not to
they kill each other (alright if J tells em to)
they get up to all sorts of dirty tricks
J nukes sodom n gomorrah
then he tries to drown the whole world
but for one good guy
but alas evil lives on
that ole devil
one of Js former right hand men
now gone fucking bad
and sucking off souls from the earth
god helps the israelites for a while
but they go bad too
like all of em
why cant fucking old Jehovah takes some responsibility here?
i mean if i had 5 kids
n they were all bad wouldnt someone say
some of the blame must lay with him?
no olde J goes on looking for some way out
he decides to have a son with an earth woman
(no hanky panky…naturally)
(at least the greek gods would actually “ravish” their earthly bints)
so out comes jesus
half man half god…just like hercules a long time before
with all the fucking hassles n headtrips that must bring
and jesus walks around very modestly
laying nice trips on people
preaching
hey whoa take it fucking easy my brothers
not harming a fly
a few show offy things but not many considering
then
he gets nabbed
framed
banged up
and god says
ok
now i can forgive all these other sinners
(tho we still go to hell if we’re naughty)
c’mon…is there any sense in it
Jehovah can do what he likes
why does he have to muck about with all the red tape
why not smite the romans n pharisees
like he smote sodom or jericho
or did He figure out those pre emptive strikes were un PC
i’m sorry
i love the hell outta jesus but the bible is silly
AND YEAH I READ IT!
most of it is a load of olde tripe about some dudes
in the middle east killing each other n doing nasty things
(bags full of philistine foreskins anyone?)
no the israelites are not my people
what the fuck do i care about them
anymore than the persians or medes or the assyrians?
everytime they DO get the upper hand they blow it any way
and how nice that the god THEY invented
makes them HIS chosen people
gee….thats kinda predictable, isnt it
and then along
out of all this old fashioned chauvinistic racist twaddle
comes a new testament
because the old one is OLD baby
and we got jesus
saying
be cool!
and that
is quite a revelation in a book
with bears tearing youths to pieces
and whales swallowing geezers
and talking snakes n angels with burning spears
finally
just a cat
n
he says
be cool
it was revolutionary for its time
(except if you lived in india)

my back is cold
the wind comes in off the sea
the birds tweet tweet tweet
whatever theyre saying
everyone asleep
everyone in the world
everyone finds sleep eventually
the heroes and the villains
the leading lady and the best boy
the guys playing the roman soldiers
all having a cigarette in their togas
a disciple speaks furtively into a mobile phone
i am down in the garden set
i sit with my friends talking
i notice iscariot is missing
all things as they must be
we sit under the stars
a small chemical fire burns
we huddle round but it gives off no heat
the woman playing my mother mary forgets a line
and we do it over n over till its right
the romans arrive
banging at the gate
calling out my name
they burst in upon us
iscariot giggles as he points me out
theres your man!
the romans seize me
no peter no!
peter seizes a romans sword from its scabbard
he weilds it so gracefully in the moonlight
and he brings it down on its owners head
glancing off but taking the poor mans ear
i stoop down and pick it up
how strange it seems in my hand
almost transparent
i touch it to the romans head
and it reattaches
(we’ll fix it in post)
the damn ear just reattaches
the startled man tugs on it
i admonish peter
dont you ever listen?
as one soldier binds my hands
another pays iscariot
27 28 29….30….ok?
iscariot snatches the money away
the director : cut!
we try again
could it have been any other way
even now i’m not so sure
i mouth the words about the bitter cup
pilate appears
a good pilate
a handsome pilate
pilates made a loada movies before this
pilate has his own plane
pilate has clean hands
the pharisees with their false beards n hooked noses
youre like a fancy grave with its rotten body …i say to them
the roman soldiers
like cockney sergeant majors from world war two
they flog me without any rancour
nuffin’ personal guv’nor
whispers the centurian
his breath smells vaguely of whisky
i am before pilate again
he begs me to do something anything to save myself
the pharisees entreat him to have me killed
they are the embodiment of wickedness
they point and hiss and boil in their malice
the roman soldiers stand there
theyve seen it all before
in gaul and macedonia n wherever this goddamn empire stretches
the empires got ya by the balls says one soldier
and youll wish that you never appeared says another
pilate decides to let the crowd decide
decide deicide
pilate will be retiring soon
his nice place in tuscany you know
funny both the actor n pilate have little places in tuscany
pilate doesnt want to get it wrong
he seems to like me
he keeps shrugging n rubbing his clean clean hands
they march me up to the market place
the crowd go crazy when they see me
wow all these extras dressed in period
old ladies done up as some judaen granny
arabic looking types in cloaks n capes n strange hats
they bellow for my blood
why i wonder?
who has whipped them up against me so?
pilate looks uncomfortable
you mean youd rather crucify this guy….this guy here…??!
he says pointing to me
he smiles so sadly
as they drag me away
people reach out and slap n punch me as im led past
hey take it easy i say to one over enthusiastic extra
hope you enjoy your easter says a kid trying to kick me
we break for lunch
the crown of thorns is too hard to get off
so they leave it on
i have lost my appetite
too soon it ends
and i’m struggling down the way of agony
dragging my balsa wood cross
which is still heavy
some teenage extra spits in my face
leave it! cautions the director
joseph of arithmetic or wherever appears
his kindly face
his empathetic eyes
he shoulders my burden
he takes up my cross and struggles
while the crowd bray n jeer n hurt us
i see my mother
i see mary the magdalene looking so pretty for the 1st century
with her make up n lipstick and her carefully applied tears
i see the disciples
peter big n oxlike
matthew pale and thin
thomas blustery and barrel chested
james slim and effeminate
john honest and handsome
we reach golgotha
the place of the skulls
all done up like a gothic horror set
the skulls grin and grin
sorry about this sunshine
whispers that cockney roman sergeant
with his whisky breath
and he gives me a wink n a small smile
bang bang bang
i sag down as i feel the nails go through my hands
i grimace trying to bear the terrible pain as they nail my feet
some technical problem
i hang from my cross
while someone has an argument with someone else in a trailer
they come back out
and we continue
the robber n the thief are already “up”
we’ll have lunch in paradise together today i say
the soldiers gamble for my clothes
i hang there
the sky turns black even tho its 3 in the afternoon
i get given vinegar instead of wine
i get a spear in my side
and i slump
everything goes dark n silent
thats a wrap! says someone
and the lights come back on
jesus! someone says
and everyone laughs

she lives on monday street
its monday and she has monday-itis
all the birds sing backwards
listen….its a looking glass song…
violet brooks goes to school
shes neither here nor there
no one notices when she goes off on her daydreams
its cold in the classroom
the other children are already 100 years old
the teacher what a fool she thinks
as he marches around waving his calculus about
he scribbles things up on a board
he seems to pluck numbers out of the cold thin air
she cant follow this nonsense
“..knowing x cannot be the multiplier…” he blathers on
violet brooks ….
she cant bring her delicate mind to rest on such matters….
what day is this miss brooks ? he suddenly asks
why….its monday sir…its always monday sir…
yes miss brooks …..monday……
they stare at each other
he is in his fifties with his white beard
she still a child
mousy and drab
violet brooks says with her eyes
“oh dear teacher do leave me alone….!”
the teacher seems to read her
in the coldness of the monday winter classroom
he suddenly warms
and an unexpected smile appears upon his angular face
oh violet brooks …he says
do you think juggling these numbers adds up to much for me..?
oh i would much rather describe the flight of a flying horse
the huge feathered wings beating against the blue sky
while its rider holds on for his life
and hastens into the wild beyond
or the sound of the mysteries being celebrated
or the taste of a naiads kiss
yes yes ! said violet brooks’ eyes
tell us about these things
but….and the teacher sighed sadly
and the children wondered at his sudden melancholy
but…said the teacher
staring out the window
his grey eyes all unfocussed
but….he said a third time
and everything was silent in that room
in other rooms around them
in the playgrounds outside
in the halls n corridors
they could still hear the other children
but as if from a distance
the teacher gazed longingly out the window
it was beginning to snow
snow whispered the children so silently
the teacher watched the flakes swirling down
the year when you were 10
it was always monday…remember….?
a mouse could be heard scratching n quietly squeaking in the walls
the teacher turned and looked at violet brooks
outside… her eyes said to his…outside…..
the teacher snapped his fingers n beckoned the class
they took their coats from their pegs
and they walked out into the gentle snow
out of the school
they walked
down the street and out of the town
into the great forest that leads down to the sea
and they found a nice place
and they stopped
and took out their thermos flasks n their sandwiches
sat down under a great oak tree
dear students…the teacher began
look at this empiric world
test its realities
turn quickly to catch it out
get up early in the morning before it manifests itself
the numbers are important
somehow it all joins up somewhere
but no one knows exactly how or why…
violet brooks asked : but why is it always monday….?
ah miss brooks ….he said
monday represents the end of sunday
the day of rest
the day of peace
the day of sun
monday was ever the saddest day
monday monday cant trust that day
tell me why i dont like mondays
its monday……
oh monday morning
the snow fell outside the little clearing
where the pupils all were eating their lunches
the branches overhead were interwoven like a roof
violet brooks said
i dream of a sun drenched saturday
i’m down by the beach and the sea is turquoise
and all the bathing suits are crimson and mauve and leaf green
and the hair is all blonde and the tans are all golden
i dream of beach shacks filled with lava lamps n pineapple juice
i dream of long walks by the shore
i dream of the clouds in shapes of woodland creatures
i dream of a bucket of sand and my own little crab
i dream of looking in vivid rockpools
i dream of an ice block on a stick…
here she seemed to pause
imagine it….said one child
yes …said a second….i do…
violet brooks began again
out in the real world its thursday
our teacher is writing this all down on a little machine
others read it on their machines
theoretical people
virtual people
all unknown to each other mainly
they turned to the teacher
is this true? they demanded
he looked down at the tangled roots and the fallen leaves
he saw a squirrel in a tree
he saw a mushroom quietly growing
a plane flew overhead
monday airport
monday flight
monday specials
monday motel
monday meetings
the world stretched out n on
he could never hope to encompass so many lives
he looked at the students
go
he said
i release you all
go to saturday
walk in the sun
return to golden times
he had no more but finished saying these words when
he looked around and
saw all the children gone
but violet brooks
i will stay in monday she said
until all the children here are free
she turned n walked away through the trees
the teacher waited for a while
watching her go and then
he turned n walked
in the opposite direction
towards the mighty crashing sea

i stumble through life as usual
i dont know what i’m gonna do
i got no “plans”
i really have no clue
the morning arrives…not unexpectedly
the earth revolves
the sun sets
the living rooms
the breathing apparatus
the moving men
a thousand islands dressing
through driftwood waves and steal guitars
i see the days of my phantoms holiday
all spirit-tahiti
all flowers and a distant native song
i know paul gauguin
i say go go gauguin
i say go again gauguin
i got a beachcombers hut
i got a sky blue swimming pool
i got my soothing lagoon of memories
i swim thru them for you
some are so faded n threadbare
i realise how sad it is that all things will be forgotten
the things we said
the things we did
the things we created
the things we played with
all of it wiped away….where?
but i’m forgetting it already
as i trawl through the pools
and i dive deep but the blackness dismays me
i get up real early n trudge through the forest to the sea
i’m so mixed up
memories are superimposed on each other
memories all stored carelessly
the worms of forgetfulness have gnawed at their corners
they have been exposed to doubt
and have become pure white
oh my memories
i swim in the sea
the sea of memory
with all its terrible monsters
how i hate them coming up to taste me
monstrous memories of icthy-o-saurus
i can feel his needle teeth in my arm
i can feel the poison entering my blood
who am i now?
the sea is cloying and smothering
i am a little boy
and old ladies with viridian lipstick
and cigarette breath
all kiss me me and pinch my cheeks
i am scared stiff
the sea turns nasty
all choppy and the spray in yer eyes
a rainbow arcs above us with its roy g biv
i see it through the green glass of the water
i see it through the green grass of my idyll meadow
in english narnia during the good times
cavorting with those lovely woodland folk
i am just a boy with flowers in my hair n little goat feet
i whirl n i twirl n i never run outta breath
i leap from one thing to the next
i leap to my island home which is waiting on me
hand n foot
the island assumes its manifest human shape as princess lulutiti
she solemnly approaches me with all her bounty
no wait am i marlon brando all burnt n dying?
am i tyrone power and my heart is seizing up
right here on the set?
no wait am i jim cook having my last sandwich (no spear-mint!)?
am i marco boleyn having my last ride?
no
youre noah veil
says princess lulutiti
as she makes the palms sway
as she makes the hills undulate
as she pulls down the stars and sets them on her brow
as she straddles the horizon and rubs against its length
as she fixes up all my pains
as she takes away my ache my takeaway ache
as she unzips my olde mansuit so gently
oh noah she says
oh look how new you are underneath it all….!
my friend paul is there painting it all
go go gauguin i say
you make it look so easy man!
i had a lotta practice says paul
oh soft summer nights
oh naive and warm island people
oh kava kava
oh coconut milk and wild raspberries
and dark chocolate from holland
and opium from china
and perfumes from india
and crystal skulls from lemuria
whose cargo is all this…?
lulutiti smiles
noah you have come to the islands of the dead
this is your mind randomly flashing
these are the thoughts of the dying man
lulutiti is so big and now so old
she cradles me in her mountains and valleys
she rocks me in her warm earth
she soothes me to sleep
a million other men sleep beside me
a million other women and children
all sleeping somewhere safe
waiting for the right opportunity
dreaming it up
watching from a distance
yeah and
aloha

yeah
doc says he guesses i’m ok
doc says ya can stop taking amiodarone
doc says go n knock yerself out
i’m lucky my heart beats slow
i’m lucky my blood pressure is low
may be some other part of my body will clap out
doc in another room : yer liver….
undertaker in another room again : youre prostrate
saw a picture of keith richards yessaday
wow thats scary kids…watch out for the booze n the cigs
watch out for late nights and co-caine
watch out sea -food that aint fish
watch out for pig n lamb
watch out for chook n milk
watch out for darkness
watch out for bars
watch out for time
dorian greys picture would look like miley cyrus
compared to keiths orrible mug
man
time waits for no one
the mirror is brutal
i guess we’re not meant to cling on, youth-obsessed
but you can streamline yerself as you go
surely one can avoid such a frightening metamorphosis
you just have to try n figure out what to avoid….
like
almost everything
start running your bio-machine on clean fuel
or it may clag out faster
i have eliminated many things i have judged harmful
tho some have slipped thru
watch out
you n i may not be as tough as old keith
its like hes metabolised all the toxins in his face
and then he adds eyeliner…(!?)
keith…that aint working anymore…good god
cant they keep the eyeliner away from him?
nonetheless a very very amusing interview
contemplating delicate subjects
such as mick n bowies “friendship”
in very anglo saxon terms
in same mag (docs waiting room)
article on how a lotta people wanna indict bush for war crimes
(to harp on my unoriginal subject)
i hope that it happens….
i also see someone called chrome d
has slightly misinterpreted something
i wrote here
or misinterpreted a general jist
and this is it
hardly any of my songs are about drugs
some may mention them but within a context
a few like anaesthesia, paradox you might say are “about” drugs
but most are not
but
all of them were written after smoking pot
but theyre not about smoking pot
no more than if i’d been drinking wine
would you say
the songs are all about wine
autumn soon is not about drugs
my songs are not really about anything
they are portals for each individual to escape thru
there you will
depending on your interaction with the song
find another world
you choose the colours
you choose the characters
im just giving ya some guidelines
but my guidelines are nebulous subtle things
to say they are all about drugs
is to take 99 per cent of their due away
i couldnt have fooled your heart for so long
if they had been coded encrypted nonsense about drugs
now get back on track!
i work with dave s in his bondi junga stude
thanks george handsomest n generous taxi driver extant
thanks nelg
dave n i cook up some great music for possible tv use
the philistines mightnt like it
but eek will be happy to see
that ttb
ever thinking of art career
whacked some multi media thingies down
for some variety
and knocked out a new poem
the girl upstairs had a studio
and she played us some new music from england
is it called wonky beat?
it was the most TERRIBLE n VILE n DANGEROUS thing
i have yet so far heard
consisting of many many loops of bits of music
but all out of time
all out of tune
making no sense
just totally disorienting me
people listen to this shit n take ketamine?
welcome to the future buddy
cos doing that
would seem as alien to you n me
as my auntie lou smoking a spliff n listening
to al adin sane
wow
1 minute of that music n i wood break down n confess
every secret i knew
i’d give up my family or my friends to the inquisition
if only they would turn it off
i am sickened now
just thinking about it
it is dizzines
it is nausea
it is existential angst
it is the decay of mankind
it is too fuckin’ weird for me
way too weird
i will avoid it all costs
to me it is a true nightmare
a soundtrack for a seizure
anyway
we bump into a trumpet player
who blows some muted trumpet n some flugel horn
on a couple of tracks
we have thai food
nk comes in and likes what we did
not a bad day
and jap lunch too!
what a great day
pity i cant have it over
aint it?

today i visit the big heart quack
the professor with his dapper suit
doctor mc suave
who will try to determine
at 500 bucks an hour
whether my irregular heartbeat
was caused by the dehydration
or if its a thing i always have had
cos i wanna get off this medication i’m on
which is making me feel weird
a weird in a very weird way
and weirdly
even i dont have the vocabulary
to describe this feeling of….of…of…
there…
you see…?
its hard to put your finger on it..
but anyway
i’m not feeling myself these days (oooh mr humph….etc)
maybe i can get off this amiodarone
by the way my good wife will be accompanying me
so she can get the story straight from dr rich mc suaves mouth
then later on
i’m gonna record some possible music for a tv show
(probably the philistines wont like it)
but at least i will be doing it with
the man with the best english accent in australia
mr david skeet (ex venetian ) (like timbo)
in his comfy bohemian studio up the junga
if the bloody tv dont like it
i use it for something else
yessaday
finding myself carless instead of careless
(yes …no saabs…what was i thinkin’?)
the family n i took a long long walk
visiting a specialist lolly shop in rose bay
down to the water
up to a park
up new south head road
down dover road
back down old south head road
and wending our way back thru the houses and passageways
back to home home on the strange
the woofle got quite pissed off towards the end
it musta been a 5 mile walk at least
and by the end she just refused to hoof it
this led to me or nk carrying her
even tho we carried her
she continued to whimper
now whimpering can really get an olde mans goat
and the kid had my goat, i do not kid man
but luckily
right at the end
she shut up
climbed down
n got on with it
eve n aurora was so full on noisy
that i changed the side of the street to get away
from their constant yabbering and eves #&%^$ cartwheels
at the lolly shop i purchased some choc bullets (non vegan)
and some white frogs (non vegan)
and the kids got these lolly-pop rings (non-anything real)
and nk got 2 peppermint creams
and we got some tattoo gum (what flavour? ..sugar!)
with tattoos that said
dont touch!
and
a mobile phone speaking on a mobile phone
and
a gold cup with the winning checked flags
i came home n started a major overhall on my painting room
i have discovered loadsa olde notebooks
olde scrapbooks
and newspaper articles on the church
and a photo of a very young n slim me
sitting in my black loungeroom with the redcarpet in rozelle
underneath a couple of gold records
it looks groovier than it was
but the fam all cooed over it
and a pic of russell n monored looking rebellious (or something)
i wish i had a museum or something to keep this remnant
of what was once a good collection of church stuff
its the last lot
its all in a big big bag in the garage now, anyway
youd think i’d wanna look thru it all
but i’d never have the time
so there it all is….
meanwhile the room remains half done
i have lots of bits n pieces for my painting
brushes rollers pastels paint paper pencils erasers etc
and its hard keeping track of it all
so i’m trying to re arrange it all thoroughly
i have painted the very best painting ive ever done
its a big golden dragon
and everyone agrees its the best
its my dragon
it came outta my head
its basically got golden scales but with red n turquoise markings
its got the most evil reptilian eye
and its teeth are disgustingly horrible
it would be such a conversation piece in yer living room
i mean
its a nasty dragon
and the gold metallic changes as the light changes
it flashes, y’all…
i guess this’ll be up at my site soon
along with
metallic forest
the weird baby bird
the horse (eve calls it the ice-mare)
the rabbit (thats my fave says aurora the human bunny)
and a small self portrait
and a lovely one of eve as a dryad
and a strange one of a sybil or something
uh huh
thats shood do ya for now
listening to adorata by gutter twins (thanks mark!)
listening to beatles and sigur ros
listening to myself
listening to the autumn wind n feeling its wee nip
see ya later then
in spades

so much to say
so much to tell ya
hell i got no control over what i’m likely to write
i missed the school reunion
ha!
for so long i fantasied about showing up there
you know
oh i hi boris
oh oh morris
oh hi doris
yeah
i became a rock star…what did you do?
oh…realer state…how fasckinating!
maybe i shoulda shown up with my bass strapped on
can you imagine
and can you imagine the state
of some of them 55 year olde classmates of mine…?!
oh well
i’d walk in
i’d out trump em all
and i’d leave
or
au contraire
i’d show up
n be so fucking modest
that it’d drive em crazy
“hi horace
my silver grammy award.?..nah…its nothing….
but you were telling me about yer tomato plants… “
all in the most quiet voice n downcast shy eyes
anyway
whatever i may or may not have done
i didnae go…well it WAS in canberra
speeking of which i see the crunch is hedding to ottawa
which is the french word for capital city
and playing a blues fest (!?)
(theyll get the blues when they see how unbluesy we are..)
peter k to me : you dont have a black bone in yer body…!
(but i mean…who does?)
he meant that i had no soul n no rhythm
maybe that was true backstage in birmingham in 1990
but cmon
we just released the whitest middlest class anglo saxon lp ever..
i mean they should give em away with audis n saabs
(talking of saabs
theres a nice one up the road for sale early nineties 3000 bux
its tempting me…any comments on old cheap saabs?
ps
it looks like its in mint cond)
ah where was i
birmingham in englend
birmingham alabama
i dont care for either that much
i dont like either city
n i dont like the name birmingham
sounds like a whole lotta red tape n malarky to me
i mean where wouldya rather be
birmingHAM or bondi bloody beach
i mean ok i know birmingham gave us duran duran
(and it shows)
and birmingham alabama gave us a gig at the steel works
but i cant see myself ever back there again
in either
theres certain places you know you never gonna return there
a regional tour of englend …not really likely
i think we’re TRYING to get to lunnon, guv’nor
i think we may try to get to amsterdamn
i know we doing nyc on the 8th of july
wow!
nyc the big appfel
oh boy
wait till they see my new way of rocking
wait till they see my very good roll
wait till they hear my croon like a hoarse n fucked up lark
wait till they hear us hammer it home
then we’ll see whose got the bluest boiled blood n blackest bones
i straddle all forms (effortlessly!)
i rock out
i swing down
i flow out
i suck in
i hurl about
i push on
i get into
forget that i’m 54 cos you just got paid
i laugh at old age…ha ha!
these days
anything is permissable
an old rocker gallivanting about
and shouting out
some song
about a lotta
rocknroll
he said
im a howlingwolfe
i go ooh hoo hoo
i go rocking to the east n the west
i embrace my inner hindu
i embrace my inner redneck
ever so lonely ever so lonely freebird
this is planet EARF!
and her name was ree-oh
and to cut a long kilt short
i lost my mind on the road between
tulsa n damascus
and jesus plays a fender jaguar
and he drives a daimler 6 point 9
jesus listens to big stars sister/lovers
cos theres a lovely song on there a bout hymn
jesus loves me this i know
cos some ignorant rednecked pig told me so
jesus oh sweet jesus the girl with the…
well…you know what kinda eyes they were…
and fuck
its sunday
its jesus daddys day
his day of rest
the rest of the day
and jesus stardust and the disciples from mars
and jesus takes you down to his place by the river
and they dont pay their dues like jesus anymore
and jesus saves
but he didnt save jeff buckley
and jesus my rsi is playing up today
and i wanna reconcile jesus n patti smith n opium n spacemen 3
and south america and marco boleyn and crystal skulls
n 23 skidoo n rocking n rolling and shooting up a river
and the statues of sharon stone
and its daylight saving
and its jesus saving
and its saving grace
and its gracious n giving
and please sister mor-feen
lay your cool cool hands on my head
and jesus jagger n jesus richards n jesus faithfull
and come all ye anita palindromes and gala dalis
and abyssinian sisters
see you can chuck anything in a blogge
anything in a song
you can chuck anything in my locker at the ice bergs
you can master a record
or record a master
i like my rock n roll n my jesus on the side
i like to rock because its fun in the summertime
i like to rock cos i’m a beastly beast n a rockin’ fool
i like to rock at 7 p.m. onna satta day night
my bass…oooh it rumbles n grumbles
as i pummel it
rockin robin tweet tweet
the magic bag
the magic stick
the magic dirt
the magic band
the magic beans
everything in my world is magic
watch out
jesus is around today
and he’ll be wanting ya to be good
SO TRY N BEHAVE!

very keen to disarrange his mind
kilbey plunged into the world of the illegal drugs
he quickly became friends with marijuana cannabis and hemp
(a legal firm : marijuana, cannabis and hemp)
he’d tried drinking
and frankly
it gave up no visions
it made him feel sick
but of marijuana he quickly became an intimate aquaintance
and sampled it in all its forms
the thirty dollar deal of homegrown leaf
the primo buddha sticks
hashish made from the pollen of the flowering heads
hash oil extracted from hash
hydroponic grown under lights
sativa n indica the two varieties
hash ice from a cold extraction process
bongs
pipes
chillums
vapourizers
chronic
commercial
maui wowie
white widow
northern lights
you name it
i had it
i smoked it
i inhaled it
i ingested it
and its somewhere behind virtually every single song of mine
that you ever heard
pot was put here as a blessing for the musicians n writers
who find it helps get things going
i been doing it nearly 40 years
it cant be THAT bad for ya
its not that good for ya i’m sure
but it cant be that bad
the western govts have outlawed this drug unfairly
its a travesty
my friend is still in jail because he dared have too much in his garden
the government has said
this plant is so evil
so bad for you
that we will lock you up
for yer own protection….
yeah right
thanks idiots
what a pathetic world
my mate in jail
n george bush free….HA!
kilbey then tried the hallucinogens
lsd which can be highly elevating
or deeply distressing
i never liked the strychnine in the stomach feeling much
i didnt like how it kept you awake after it wore off
i liked the meaningfulness i found in it
i liked the way it helped me perceive that all was one
that it was all connected
i liked the way it made me reinterpret music and art
i liked the special feeling it gave me like i was in the know
then kilbey had mushrooms
which were like a gentler more natural lsd
they put a big grin on yer face
i tried dmt (not that long ago i 1st had it)
thats something else again
its a huge information download
its a message from yer fucking sponsor
its the aliens talking to us
its a new mathematical/art pyramid
revolving in yer head suggesting aesthetic solutions
then theres the san pedro cactus
which is mescaline, baby
oh my oh my
that one is wild and weird
and its actually good for yer heart n bloodpressure, fair dinkum
this is a total trip so dont go down the disco
you can buy san pedros anywhere
so buy one
get online n read preparation instructions
n
visit some other south american magic realistic uni-verse
i also smoked diviner sage
which i do not recommend
it made me feel weird for days
i did not enjoy its weird revelations
it had no art or music for me
i smoked angel dust…horrible
i smoked ice….now thats a warm nice n dangerous feeling
yeah ice is like smack in that
its not a spectacular feeling
but just a very subtle warm detachment
if you hate yerself its a very attractive feeling
of course
just like smack
when you dont have it
everything you hated about yerself
will be multiplied a thousand fold
so it gives a little
but it takes a lot
ive snorted n shot amphetamines too
once again not an outrageous drug like mescaline
you feel alert talkative benevolent…at first
if you keep going you end up fried like an olde egg
but if you had a snort every now n then
(and could keep it to that)
it wouldnt really do you any harm
(much!)
speed makes me horny
like ecstasy does too
as does cocaine
(giving the desire but sometimes removing the wherewithal)
cocaine is a complex n highly addictive drug
i snorted it
i free based it
i smoked it as crack
i shot it up
its subtle
its so dangerous
the best stuff is so delicious
the bad stuff is so fucking bad
either way
if you have too much
say goodbye to your creativity
itll flee ya baby
never to return
it dont mix with my music
it dont mix with my creativity
it dont enhance my enjoyment of music
but it makes ya horny
(yesterdays quote from nk : yoga makes me horny
i say : does it?
her (after some thought) : everything makes me horny)
ooh cocaine ‘ll destroy ya in ways you never imagined
and i never was addicted to it
but i certainly have been n could be again obsessed with it
if you had the good stuff n it didnt make you obsessed…..
i wonder…
but it wont write a song for ya like pot or acid
and its really very nasty stuff
it fucked marco boleyns creativity and TOTALLY!
if only you had a little time lapse dispenser
that could give you a tiny line once in a blue moon
but i doubt youll be able to control yerself…
lab rats will choose cocaine over food n horny she-rats
they will suffer running over electric currents to get to it
if allowed they’ll snort emselves to death
so beware all you rats
then we have a weird drug like ketamine
neither pleasant or unpleasant
ketamine kicks ya into the astral plane
and its very hard to describe it
not a lotta fun
but possible inspiration
if you wanna think on another level
i wouldnt really care to do it again myself
n
laughing gas which i love
n wouldnt mind trying some more
i get it at the dentist
but he never turns it up enough
the reveries are strange n fleeting
ayahuasca..the vine…
only did it once
not really qualified to say much but wow!
could be the big one
the really inspiring one
stay tuned!
the opiates are problematical drugs
ive had opium morphine heroin methadone oxy contin
bupa norphene (however you spell it)
i tell ya this
they will all fuck you beyond belief
they will not make you horny
they will not give you savoir-faire
but if you dare
in the honeymoon stage of opiates
you may find some groovy inspiration
but look what happened to me
although priest =aura was my opium album
i just became a very boring junky
and all junkies are boring
and methadone is real rubbish
really bad for ya
much worse than smack
n
a million times harder to get off of
BEWARE!
kava kava is a pleasant dreamy drug
guarana is interesting in higher doses
caffeine can be nice or nasty
nicotine is a niggly little drug
being straight can be great
being stoned can be groovy
it aint a legal issue
maybe a health or moral issue
but not a legal issue
no more than sexuality should be a legal issue
i resent the millions of men n women locked up for drugs
one day in the future
this will be perceived as barbarism
just like the way we treat animals
but its hard to break out of old paradigms of thought
some people would rather have a gun owner next door
than a pot smoker
some people think breast feeding in public is obscene
some people think its ok to drop smart bombs on dumb civilians
specially if they live far away n arent white or speaka da english
the drug laws create the crime associated with drugs
just like prohibition created crime with alcohol
remove them n you remove crime
let drugs be a medical issue
let people decide for themselves
like they do with food
i mean obesity kills more people than smack
by a long shot
but i dont see em making big macs or kfc illegal soon
i dont see em making wars illegal soon
but they take away one of mankinds consolations
nay
obligations
to change ones consciousness
searching for inspiration
searching for answers
searching for oblivion
searching for another take another view
bullshit thats not my right!
what?
god made a mistake when he made the poppy or the vine?
marijuana is an implicitly evil thing n should be eradicated?
people taking ecstasy should be arrested n slung in jail?
for our own fucking good?
voice in another room : YEAH RIGHT!!!

i dream of my life
my life of dreams
my dream life
i dream my life
i dream my life up
and when its all over
ah
when its all over
it’ll seem like it never began
i walk along
i take some money out of an atm
i glare at the passers-by
i get on the stockholm subway
and i hurtle along under the city
the swedes all looking so ordinary
the immigrants all looking so wild
i ride the train for a while
in my pocket i clutch a five hundred crown note
to score a cap of heroin
i go up to this couples flat
they let me in
ah the old familiar smell
of brown heroin cooking up with lemon juice
i hand over my dough
and he flicks me a little transparent capsule
(i think it once may have contained something for travel sickness)
now full of a brown powder
looking like quik chocolate dust
i knock about a quarter of it in my spoon
(always had yer own spoon)
i add a drop of lemon juice
(always had yer own lemon)
and a little water from yer needle
(always shoulda had yer own needle)
then begins a tricky process
cooking it up
dont burn it up
dont boil it up
it can turn into a useless black residue
no you gotta boil it in the spoon
just so
and it turns into a cognac coloured liquid
i draw it up
i find a vein
i shoot it in
oh! i jump if i miss the vein
cos the lemon juice burns
immediately
the smack smacks me round the head
in a kinda sick n giddy explosion of detachment
suddenly all my problems seem so far removed
the dingy flat i’m sitting in seems cozy
the dealers seem like such dear friends
smiling at me benevolently
as i put my little kit away
and roll down my sleeves
we sit there talking junky talk
didja hear johan got busted?
didja hear anna got more methadone?
didja hear about erik getting ripped off?
hows the dope in sydney?
how much is it?
how long you been doing it?
the same old stuff
i say goodbye to my friends
and i hit the streets
sitting on the train home
i sit looking at people
most still going to work
its only 8 in the morning
already ive scored hadda fix n on my way home
at central station a whole mixed bag of junkies climbs on
theres russian guys n slavic guys n finnish guys n black guys
theyre all arguing with each other
shouting and waving their fists
we come to another station n they jump off
taking with em their portable argument
i get out at mariatorget my station
up the escalators
i stop in the shop at the top
and buy a bag of mixed sweets
and walk outside
its snowing n dark n cold
the snowflakes settle on my face
but i feel very large and very relaxed
i stop in a supermarket n i buy some semolina
which is what i virtually lived off
make this milky pudding
throw in some brown sugar or jam
cheap n filling
at lunchtime i go to an n.a. meeting
mainly cos i’m lonely
and to see whos there
the usual bunch gathers outside the hall
champing n smoking in the cold
americans
spanish
italians
african
scandinavians
all addicts to some drug
people stand up n share
its mostly in swedish n i tune out
sometimes a rockstar or politician is there
sometimes someone says something un-p.c.
and the room bristles…!
a lot of people mouth the party line
and everyone approves
i’m pathetic
when someone asks me how long i been clean
i say not long
or i say about 2 hours
i often connect with other users n dealers there
and go off n score
i have even walked out of a meeting
had a fix in the bathroom
n walked back in
of course everyone knew who was using
but they remained pretty tolerant
i even turned up for sessions with my sponsor
completely on the nod and dozing out
i was a kind of functioning dad
i picked the kids up
took them to ballet or kung fu lessons or whatever
i made the simple dinners i could make
i got them into bed if they were staying with me
occasionally marty would show up n stay with me
i had an amazing apt in sodermalm
like stockholms eastern suburbs type of thing
(ie hip)
i had a little loft bed and an amazing kitchen
i had a huge living room
with big windows to watch the snow
marty would show up to visit his swedish kid
hed crash on my lounge n watch soccer all day n night
sometimes i’d borrow money off him
or sell him my equipment
(hes the owner of my fender six bass n my vocoder)
i spent the day
ringing up people round the world
trying to get them to western union me dough
somedays i couldnt raise any finances
very occasionally a dealer ‘d give ya credit
but usually not
my friends martin k n fred d helped me out often
sharing their meagre stashes with me
i often was hungry sick and lonely
i sat n wrung my hands in despair
but when the money came in
i’d buy a loada dope
n sit in my apt on bastugatan
happy n alone in my dreamy dope fuelled deleria
i needed nothing or no one
i watched days of our lives or read books in swedish
and i shot dope
when i was flush
dealers would deliver
and i became friends with a guy called kjell
a big athletic handsome red blooded swedish geezer
except he had a raging smack n rohypnol habit
and hed drop round my place
in the course of his day doing his “straight” job
and hed shoot up n smoke up the “roppes” as the swedes called em
there was something very disconcerting
at seeing this vision of viking perfection
having a fix n nodding out
but when things were good he came every day
we drank tea and ate biscuits (pepparkakor)
and discussed the events of the day
when i had money n dope life was grand
when i didnt life was a miserable dirty anxious hell
people tried to get me off but nothing worked
the pursuit of dope was my only desire
all else was some hassle
i made music with people
sam therapy n king dice have a track or two out there
but i was unreliable n either had had too little or too much
it was all or nothing at all
lost in a northern wilderness of pain
and all the junkies were insane
the stockholm underbelly
the dark secret in the heart of hyper-normality
hanging around the central station
strange hungry looking people
sleepy n demented looking people
whores n cripples n thieves n pimps
and amongst them there
look isnt that…that guy…
who sang that song….
nah!
it couldnt be him!

please go to my art site
you can click on it there on the right
you can see the paintings for my new exhi
in pittsburgh pa starting real soon
still havent multi media thingies finished
but its all coming down the line soon too
if you like my blog style
then you’ll like my little discourses on my subjects
you see i am the total package
taking care of all your artistic needs
a one stop shop for all things renaissance
i’m blowing my own horn again
for who else will?
here i am a whirlwind of activity
spinning out stuff constantly
voice from another room : most of your stuffs quite good…
i am there in the frontline
nailing the paintings n songs n blogges that only i can
and i nail it and i nail it and i nail it
i have enough fire for ten other medi-ochre poets
but lawd, dont i love to go on about myself
i’m shocked not to be discovered
in some ways its fun too
to make an album like #23
most mags wont review it
most people wont ever hear it
yet the record contains more grace n beauty
than 97% of all rock records thatll get released this year
its like theres a curse on us gets us ignored
voice in a other room : that curse is age and time…
so inna way
its been kinda amazing to release sheer masterpieces
like priest=aura n #23 etc
and know new people keep stumbling into us
amazed we exist
with our huge body of werk
and all the solo thingies
and all our malarkey
you see
people in their mid fifties are SUPPOSED to be at the top of their game
before senility sets in
you pull it all together
all your experience
all your knowledge
all your love
and you pour it into the crucible of your latest work
and you evoke the most beautiful convulsion you can
a ninny listening to # 23 for 10 minutes so he can review it ….
its so pointless
like watching , say, fanny n alexander, for 10 minutes
and saying
whether it was good or bad
our records are like those vitamins that slow release
our records esp #23 will go on giving for years
long after you forgot who the strokes were
or whatever…..
heres some more #23 snippets

cobalt blue is the standard configuration of the church
it is a wild n bleak song that changes key n minor /major all the time

deadmans hand
thats me playing the guitar riff that you first hear
thats pete playing twelve n other guitars on other side
martys ingenious bassline going up n down
finally at the end of the song
tim wades in with his g harrison guitar solo
i also play female vox n vibraphone on the mellotron
frank kearns on additional random guitar

pangaeas got patti hood playing harp
and sophie glasson playing cello who always comes up
with the right thing
tim does melltron n backing vox
pete plays baritone guitar
marty does ac guitar n solo

happenstance
marty on bass n dark vox
me on ac 12
peter on ebow
me n tim do b vox

space saviour
i play the main guitar bit n keys
marty plays bass n drums
pete on other side guitar
tim sings b vox n keys

angelstreet

me on organ
frank k on bass
tim on mellotron
marty on noisy guitar
pete on sweet guitar

anchorage
me on lead n noisy n vibe guitar
marty on rhythm
pete on double bass guitars
tim on keys n b vox

luna
standard configgeration

sunken sun
me on lead guitar n keys n bass

operetta
me on piano
tim on mellotron n bvox
marty on bass
peter on sweet guitar
frankie k on random lovely guitar

please also note:
UNTITLED #23 would not be possible without klks funding n patronage
and baybee THATS the bottom line!

so there you go
i think its a good record
cos we didnt try to hard
no one got too much control
it was easy
and because
we continue to improve
its logical really
so remember
save up yer shekels
buy a painting
buy our records
oh and thanks to all my recent generous subscribers
and constant donators
you are appreciated very much
especially in these grim n hard times

see ya later!