The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

we will never understand everything
every question opening a hundred doors
you adore the opening therefore
wherein time slows suspended in viscous nights
and i come marauding your hamlets
i lay waste your virgin meadows
i put your question to the sword
something has turned me red again
something has burned me dead again
but a brute dumb force makes me jerk around
and we both watch your face as you go under the hammer
going
going
but
never truly gone
not gone like time
not gone like sick sweet love
not gone like the forests of antarctica
not gone like atlantis who went down to the bed
with a crystal melodious keening groan
we both come back
we all come back
or maybe not
if some do not
then someone somewhere will understand that
if not you or i then someone must
there must be a reason for what happens
it is the only outcome
a servant to my old nemesis’ opposite
dawn finds me on my side
my vitality and my will hold me together just
my will to go on
to be more
to see more
to explore
my face has sheered off into angles
i was some pretty prints but that was ages ago
in the red light of the naked bulb
i appear even redder than red and ready too
i see it all better through my blurry eye
the colours dilate in some plasmatic schema
white flesh with soft plummy bruises
turning purple and violet blue green
like a snowball gathering speed and size
your white waist flares into white hips
and the white clouds are absorbed in the white sky
i wonder which part of everything
all this will help me to understand
naturally there will always be loose ends to be tied up
the details irritate me however
bring out the things that i like
make it really good or really bad
the years are disappearing underwheel
mind and body need investigation
we are surely capable of more
the seer and the seersucker
the mother and the motherload
the farther off the fatherland
dont go back
stay right now on this very word until it is gone
not gone like the wind
not gone flake
not gone bad
not gone cheap
not gone forever
forever baby
they say in the songs thats a long long time
but nowdays forever is only ever a few minutes away
you can see it if you but have the eyes
the future parading around with its lovely ass hanging out
and forever is sitting there watching
watching watching
making small growling sounds perhaps
whats the time mr wolfe?
the big bad old wolf
christian wolf
whoever wolf
wolfgang amadeus wolf
yeah so forever is like mr wolf
and the future appearing as little red riding hood
and mr wolf is licking at little rrh
his big forever tongue
can you understand this part of everything my dear…?
he has eaten the childs milfish granny already
(who was the past, of course)
and now that slightly handsome angular wolf
with his snaggle teeth and nasty nips
with his lupine lope
with his devouring hope
mr wolf dressed in his mansuit
look his paws are really hands
and little rrh says where wolf?
she does not realize mr wolf is a real wolf
she thinks hes an actor auditioning for a part
what kind of film is this she says sitting up blinking
several men stand around handling the technical details
they laugh and smoke cigarettes and ignore her
the wolf forever however
he opens his jaws ready to swallow
when
the present as the axeman suddenly bursts in upon us
he cuts open forever to reveal the past
little rrh pulls on her pants sadly
the boys pack up n go home
and the cleaners come in
then we leave
though
still not understanding everything

i rehearsed
it was ok
i dont like rehearsal much
a necessary evil
i guess
see you round the traps
sk

suddenly its sunday
the sabbath day
the day they say
that olde jehovah rested after creating heaven n earth
i got this book “genesis” illustrated by r.crumb
wow!
i say it again
wow!
the illustrations are fucking superb
but
the story of creation n noah n abraham and all that crowd
how the hell they call this the good book…?1
i know i said it before
but wheres the goodness?
take old abraham for example
he wandered round the middle east
saying his wife was his sister
tricking his hosts
who may or may not have had their way with her
and then getting goats gold and slaves
when embarrassed pharaoh or whoever
realizes hes been doing abes wife
not only that
but him n his wife are already over 100 by this stage
and a load of other petty silly trickery
and daughters “knowing” their fathers
and all the blokes marry their frickin’ cousins
and talking snakeys of course
dim references to the nephilim
(who the fuck are they actually?)
and a supreme deity who prefers to sniff burning lambs
than a nice dish of organic veggies
oh my socks
the western world which invents supersonic jets
is pretending to believe this stuff
this incredible allegoric mish mash of old stories
i mean why the fuck am i supposed to be on abrahams side
whats so good about him?
god keeps telling him he’ll have millions of descendants…
why would that motivate you…?
god :here steve run around the middle east, pimp out your wife
knock up your slave girl, almost sacrifice your little sonny
and get involved in a load of malarkey!
me : but god ….i dont wanna….please…
god : dont you wanna have millions of descendants…?
me : NO!!!
god : well what were ya thinking of…..
me : ok…well…psychic powers, a few gallons of nepenthe
a nice tent with oasis glimpses in upper samaria etc….
aw
its just so hard to reconcile
the clumsy seemingly self-contradicting actions of jehovah
with the glorious universe itself which he supposedly created
he is all the worst aspects of a tyrant
narcissistic nepotistic arbitrary spiteful sadistic
no wonder with religions like this we have run amok
promised lands n chosen people
what about the rest of us?
why does a god who designed n created gazelles n cheetahs
care about grumpy old abe n his fleabitten camels?
it doesnt add up
every child feels the panic
on meeting this impossible old character for the 1st time
what are we supposed to learn from jehovah?
he sure doesnt take any responsibility for the mess he created
does he?
anyway
the rain is holding off for a while out there
its st valentines day 14 th of february
didnt this cat die a grisly death in some christian scenario?
now hes the saint of greeting cards (i just made me own!)
and roses (bought a bunch from ye olde corner shoppe)
shoppe owner to sk : theyre selling like hotcakes…
i normally charge 30 a bunch but for you 20…
today i’m judging a vegan bake-off in newtown
must remain hungry for that
the rain is threatening but not falling
leaving the world in an unsatisfied state
an expectation of fulfillment just hanging there
the humidity is hard to bear
everything is sticky and damp
at ten to nine in the morning
the fridge hums
the tinnitus rings
the clocks ticks
never tocks
the world feeling apparently still solid
they say we rush through space
our sun travels alongside unfixed
each and everyone of us pure stardust
as much as the trees on the stars
we have a right to be here

after a wild and tumultuous night
after the last lightning has bolted across the purple sky
and the thunder claps and exits quietly
and the men n women cease their ministrations
when the kissing ends and the dreaming begins
hands still touching
going where the other can never follow
we sleep together but alone we dream
the neon and the empathy still judder thru my system
in my dreams i soldier on through my mind
but whatever i do i never remember
when i wake up
its saturday morning very quiet
gently oh so gently drizzling
the odd car zings thru the wet streets
a cool rain has come
the city crouches beneath the clouds
docile and tamed
its hour gone at last
the clubs close up
the spades are spent
the hearts are all broken
and the diamonds are paste
the cold light of the warmish day
the clocks all ticking in the silence
the hum of the fridge
the rustling of blinds n curtains
this is my territory
as much as the nights confusions
the grim grey light
pale mirror
the creeping cumuli
i listen to my ears ringing on
trying to tune into a station they can never get
those yesterdays when i wasnt me
who were you then?
no i dont know
someone else somewhere else
luck ran out
as it does
life as they told you is brief
what stands on either side but rest
and the cold morning drizzle
the small stones and pieces of brick
holes in the mortar where lizards live
the tiny bits of glass and drifts of sand
and weeds scraggly raggedy ugly skinny things
strangling the daylight for their fix
emitting dull buds that flower dimly
things become unbearably still
i’m left here with my past n my future
on either side the deep gulf of unconsciousness
lit up by short dreams
in a series of lives

another day
4 p.m. circa february early 2010
dive down thru layers of personalities
another day
another storm
another time being
another point in the distance
on an afternoon when all stories merge
on an afternoon when all probabilities surge
on an afternoon before the urgent wind came
on an afternoon after no one
on a hundred degree day straight out of the futures
or straight out of the arabian nightclubs
the sky glowers
the skin cowers
embalmed in hours
thunder threatens to the north
weird little tree cover in milky pink flowers
towels hang agitating against the new storm
for god sake thunderer bring on the dark clouds
wash this fair city clean of all its sin
though that might take awhile
thunderclaps roll out towards the heads
the ants panic in long jittery columns
on an afternoon like this
just as you would imagine me
on the balcony surrounded by my little gang of shrubs
i jazz up the afternoon with my puffing, billy
some new thoughts enter my skull
some old ones fade away
old memories not what they were
new memories folded up
to be looked at on another afternoon
this afternoon which is almost over in its own midst
i invoke indra god of weather to pour down upon my city
and flash flood away the things that keep us bound
a fresh wind flies out of the mouth of the heat
like the cool tongue of a lover in virtual re-creation
the clouds are thick and woolly
and they hover ponderously on the sky
dogs bark far away
howling against the coming storm as if it could stop it
like men rage against their oncoming fate
which does not listen
youth does not need heed me
folly cannot comprehend the sublime nature of things
the ground still burns my feat
yes i say yes
there is always more than 2 choices
but thats all they give ya n thats all they got
the time being gives you multiple choices
its however you wanted it to be because thats it
right?
the storm seems to lose velocity
it seems to lose its intent
its terrible sitting here
waiting for that cleansing rain which may never come
a man of simple taste n origin
i eat almonds and sip tepid rice milk
i need to vibrate faster
i need to feel lighter
i need to be able to fly in to the sun
but the barometric pressures me to the floor
i eat some deeply purpled cherries
spit out their stones
maybe a cherry tree will grow in one of my empty pots
i remember other days and afternoons of course
the swirling currents of luck
the rise n fall n rise n fall
rags to ditches
ashes to ashes
hags n witches
look where the stitch is
the sun is so strong
i go down to hades to find some shade
the dead call out my names
hold out their fading hands to me
i see them all
rank upon rank
file upon mile
row on row on row
in the hall of the black mountain king
he says if you want those shades back sing!
and sing of the storm and its coming
i crave something salty
i crave something sweet
the heat has unravelled my plans
i must give in
i will sit in some cool spot and unconcentrate
unconcentrate on nothing

i sit on the wall with my baby
whose just dressed in her faded knickers
her wild locks doth blow and bobbing in the ionized winds
we look out to the distant horizons
as the storm comes in upon us
oh storm come unto me
the old milky sun reduced to a joke
struggling to be heard over the rising tumult of the storm
my succulence and my heliotropes move by natures unseen hand
words flow to me in non mechanistic streams
words in other languages pour into english
my deep self reads it all
i let it sort it all out
up in the speed of thought
which is 666 times quicker than light
the words appear to me on old fashioned reels
in my head pyramids revolve flashing symbols and numbers
and glyphs and hieroglyphs
and pictures of nude blonde american women in b/w
baby runs inside to get away from the frowning sky
but i remain savouring the coolness
rejoicing in the miracle of holy life
and convinced more than ever
of some supreme fucking genius
who is behind everything
the marrow in our bones
the electricity that animates our flesh
our place within the big picture
the regulation of the heavenly bodies
the songwriter for the birds
the architect of mountains
the painter of skies
so huge and benevolent he is not seen
lord
call him zeus call him deus
call him vishnu
call him the unnamed
well this world
know well this world
this world which seems so ordinary
this world which seems so tame
oh baby baby its a wild world
full of yoga and magic
everybody contradicting everybody else
the experts disagree on EVERYTHING
each age disagrees with the last and the next
youth mocks age
age scorns youth
man and woman fucking each other over n up
everybody so convinced as they preach their left wing right wing
i cant tell the real from the unreal
i keep on swallowing more misinformation more disinformation
i cant tell
who can tell
so i feel it
i feel the storm
the real storm coming out of nowhere
across the sky and for a moment it seems it will blow over
my tiny fig tree grooving in the zephs
baby comes back out with her stormy eyes
little baby frowning like the february skies
late summer child careless in disarray
sitar music n incense
old white hippy drippy moses inculcating an atmosphere
of faux spirituality in his bondi pad/ dump/ shack/place
w.h.m. leading you back to the promise of land
the promise of rock n roll…thou shall be released
my box set of solo records will get you started
ignore the drum machine and watch the time just being
burn my music burn my eye
order me from eye tunes
order me to go on a quest
baby comes in and eats some grapes
she like some old time film star
with her improbable lip
curvy hip
and her eyes reflecting the stormy vault overhead
her teeth are big and white
and she moves like puck or ariel would
we are alone here together
on this unlikely afternoon
i am the impressionist poet
who writes the first thing that comes into his head
from his deepest self
to his shallowest manifestation
a voice guides me
baby herself is not to be guided at all
she plays with the shrubs n her little creatures
and bounces her head from side to side
she kisses my back as she goes inside
just once
just ever so lightly
come back out here i command in a gruff voice
no she says
no
i dont want to

my parents wanted a child so they named me beast
i slunk through the neon jungle
some toothy king i was with no crown
as the sly fox jumped the wine dark sea
i sacrificed other mens children
i gotta big in with some immortal bint
and i hid inside (the) horse
how i got my scars
wounded in love
wounded in hatred
some big shot trying to take me down (down, down)
yeah i can quote from the bible
still jesus has not touched me
except once in rozelle
when he was drinking with jim and lindy morrison
and then one day i overheard a man singing a song
it went like this..dum dum de de dum dum dum de
or was he singing dumb deii dumb deii
tho it has no further relevance
and thats how i came to be here
at marc and cleos sipping retsina
been pining for it
still there is the question of nineveh
nobody knows much about it
except that it was an extremely naughty town
well it was coz i was there
not like sod’em n gomorrah
where the citizens were trying to fuck angels
now thats bound to piss yer god off
but nineveh had no visits from the hebrew angels
we were just you know
1 cruel
2 proud
3 bloodthirsty
4 idolaters
5 all of the above
i myself was not that bad
a little vain maybe
a little lascivious perhaps
tho cherubim were not on my menu
nevertheless
until they do a computer keyboard
with the nineveh glyphs
then i wont be able to prove it
by telling you some easy to learn phrases
you might need to know in nineveh
such as
give way to chariots
bill posters will be executed
do you have amorite slaves for sale here?
which way is the temple of set?
do you speak babylonian? yes?
this dagger is not worth 3 pieces of silver!
good morning mr xarion…hows the concubine…?
etc etc
i am eternally indebted to old jonah who put us on the map
nineveh had its good sides if you knew who to ask
of course we ended up desolated
an empty downtown
full of pelicans and porcupines
and animals starting with p
the temple harlots dressed in red
bright red
their robes were dyed with the blood of rare alligators
and fixed with the feverish tears of infatuation
the soldiers dressed in black
implying death and destruction and not showing
too many marks
i mean robes get dirty fighting bedouins and sacking cities
and where to give things a good wash in the desert
nonetheless i am the ancient marinated
pickled n in a pickle
a picked a peck off a peacocks fevvers
the seven deadly sins
lateness rudeness silliness naivete stinginess sluttiness bullying
the seven deadly spice girls
sporty naughty posh dock baby-dopey sneezy n ginger
the seven suits in some decks of cards
hearts diamonds tridents arrows clubs bloods spades
the seven cardinal colours
maroon pink orangey-green brown puce mauve n ginger
the seven wonders of the world
the statue of the time being in sydney harbour
the hanging gardens of vaucluse
the great chicken of kiev
the pyramid of avon
the furfle of groon
the bewlay brothers tea rooms in dublin
mr n mrs fred dunballs sea breeze motel in wollongong south
still i am not convinced
2012 is approaching
everything we thought we knew is turning out to be
a bit of a fib
dont say i didnae warn you
i’m not gonna squabble with anyone anymore
i got my deckchair on the titanic and i aint moving
(down to the bed with a shining glass sound)
my band plays on
WE PLAY ON
yes
we played on
on into fulltime
over n above all penalties n sundries n such
no wonder i’m a con fused
con glomerate

things add up n combine in mysterious ways
often stupidly
often like a badly written script
you’d say no too obvious but lo look at your life
coincidence on top of coincidence
synchronicity on top of sting
mumbled threats
fumbled promises
whos writing this stuff
whos making it all up as they go along
when do we get to stand n say
author! author!
i can dig any theory
can put almost none into practice
practice makes perfect sense
we are creatures who have lost their grace
we wallow n waddle and holler n hoot
we rarely glide or swoop or ululate or sing
you can lead your high horse to water
but you cant make it drink eat or be merry
and
i’m so tired of running from my own heat
i let the sound of my own wheels drive me crazy
i dont know what i want to say
undo i guess
undo this mess
undo
unlive
unlove
unbe
uninvited like the freakin’ clouds
today australia is very warm w/humidity on the side
you gonna sweat you bet
get fucking set
i now have wireless
i have turned my airport on
i have thrown away the cables
full of their mysterious threads
i irradiate my home with a million more tiny daggers
electronic pollution giving us tumours
killing the bloody bees
so we can google bee
dont kill bees
dont kilbey
yeah i gone wireless
i got my tablet
i painty painty real good n finish it all off
always fresh conundrums for any killer
mostly at least me
thats beast not least
life is trickier than i ever imagined
just think what it must be like for bobby dylan
coz my life drives me crazy
and some nights are i cant turn off all those old songs
biting me on the arse from the past
fuck life then but what else have we got?
my battery moves into the red
my account is fuller
but my head is emptier
and my heart is heavy
and its beat goes
boom boom bang boom boom bang
bang shang a lang
my lungs go gaspetty gasp
my teethies crumble
and they were all YELLOW
life and time drag me down
random flux
disturbances in the fabric of reality
bad karma for an old villain
or what?
dont answer that, please…..

a lass a lack
shot gone shack
towing the line
keeping (on) track
your shrine to the sailor
your jim-jims yer jailer
my world (pop one)
your world (pop none)
where does all that money come from?
my jack was knifed
your tongue was forked
the spoon was full
my falcon hawked
oh my gold falcon with its beige plastic dash
full of poisonous fumes
and its plumes of smoke crash
my vacuum fucking sucks
my void must be worth a few bucks
my null is my skull is my dull ache
for god sake
for william blake
for adams little snake
waking up in march
the idols of march
the groves of larch
just think of em n it makes me parched
and sand everywhere
hand me your share
never been there
here there or anywhere
the midget and the shark
talking in the dark
the shark says ooh you nice little bite
the midget says that cant be right
dinner in five
luck e to b alive
things go better with coke
i come to find that aint no joke
some say i’m a slowpoke
yeah its true folks
i’m the sentimental bloke
crestfallen
west crawlin’
guest callin’
oh steve
what you got up yer sleeve
tell me something i want to believe
oh steven something only i believe in
even eve n aurora …..
the fauna n the flora
priest =fucking aura

there you can see something ive been doing
the cover for my boxset
its a painting of me back in the daze of whine and poses
surrounded by eyes
the eyes of the stars
the eyes of the beasts
the eyes of the worms
the eyes of the night (approx 1000)
i’m gonna call my boxset
monsters n mirages
isnt that what my songs are about after all
after all that now everything
everything after all is what my songs are about
everything you couldnt find
i have provided in my songs
all your lives you wished for these songs
you asked to see the monsters so i sang them to you
you wanted soothing so be soothed by all this
you became the audience and split into many many people
i soldiered on but i kept ambushing my self
finally a single smack stopped me dead in my tracks
now
i paint the astral body electric
i am at the union of cosmic and deep earth
my wretched body will return unto the dirt as ash
my souled out soul will turn into a million songs
i choose to return as music
i choose to return as colour
i am the prints charming
i am the evergreen silentest song
i see the target and nothing but the target
i slap on a bit of paint
i dunno what im doing do you?