The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

darkest hour of the night

i’m staying here in melbourne at these apts

and my first apt was a dungeon n i asked to be moved

so they moved me to this apt upstairs

but this backs on to gay disco thingy

which starts pounding ‘orrible bleeding music

coming thru the walls

an unavoidable and irregular bang thud bang thud

that sometimes picks up momentum and resembles

a construction site

its impossible for me to sleep tho my ladyfriend can

3 in the morning the lowest point of the day

i am so tired but i could no more sleep thru this than a blizzard

one can only imagine the ferocious volume at its source

such a joyless racket so unmusical

oh i have had lotsa time to consider what this sleep depriving row is

it has but 2 bits in every song

a boom boom boom 4 to the bar kick drum sample

which sometimes turns into a stop

suddenly theres this stupid predictable little drum roll

then the whole hideous mechanical cacophony starts up again

one piece can go on for 15 minutes unswerving from its purpose

to repeat itself over and over like a replicating virus

it does not deviate for variation or originality or grace

it goes on imitating a demolition jackhammer

(at least they stop for lunch)

this is music untouched by human hand

it contains no love sustenance or life

it is dead and ennervating

its equivalent in ballet would be

someone just jumping on the spot

its equivalent in painting would be

someone flinging purple dollops at a pink sludge

its equivalent in film would be watching the same 5 frames

over n over n over then it stops n then starts over n over n over again

all at a crushing earthshaking level

that would drown out a fucking boeing 727

this is surely orwells awful future we live in

what a sad lifeless gigantic din all for nothing

a waste of electricity

a genuine dismal unbearable useless horror

not music at all actually

it has a beat but so does a dripping tap

stupefying idiot sounds rendered at a titanic volume

my idea of hell

good night all

a blow for the cause

baby take off your riverboots

and dont forget to eat up your filmshoots

a cannibal isle bee

the cooked booker his fried fee

hooker looks at hook says call smee

my galleon is running a ground says he

a door ajar of mouses

a floor above the haunted houses

we see she espouses certain forbidden n hidden fibs

she ridden a kitten out of a fog

surprised the reprisals began with a dog

hogged the logos  rhythm in spasm in a prism

ma’am the RAM is full pull the hard drive

honey the musics all runny its dripped

i ripped it and burned it and finally i sipped it

my lips were chapped and charged and all chipped

my voice was a little brittle ‘mongst the wattle

a grotto in the ghetto where gepetto fashions pin ok oh

electric conga line eel shorting coke

milk whitening fleshed enmeshed crash

micro soft surge urge my stash to ash

i cant find my mind here ..will it appear sincere…?

up the wooden hills to bedfordshire i now wearily tread

goodnight one and all

yeah

thats what i said

mechanistic deluge

hopeless and forlorn ere long i sailed  upon

your body of water

madam oh sell me something knew something blew

alienable wrong i was farmed for my dna

i was hunted because i was game i guess

i was corroded by times friction

there is no where to hide from yourself

or is there ?

a door opens and you take it

you dont ask any questions

you imagined anything better than before

you thought you had nailed it but it clobbered you

you think

even though this thing has unseated every rider

you think

ah i will be the one to master it

with hubris we carry on into the mountaining storm

deny everything

deny your reflection

deny your bleary eyes

deny your red hot ears ringing like bells

deny your thieving itchy fingers callused and hard

deny your shiftless limbs deny your listless spirit

defy the good in you by denying it somehow

you figure out some lies to patch it all together

but then you fall in love with the lies and delighted to tell them

songs are lies too

or exaggeration to say the least/most

more than music more than words

what does it all mean

why is it so hard to write a good song

lotta people out there trying at any given time being

finally it can be revealed as flowing from an unknow source

we search the terrain but we never can see it

some vast cold lake of beautiful ideas up to the brim

a lake of graceful wonder and elegant simplicity

ruffled by flute like zephyrs deep as a bassoon

in this lake full of inchoate masterpieces

we pluck the tiny various elements

with which we plead our case before the universe

why should we exist at all without originality

more than a recombination of some previous jive

we see the potential far away like the eagle sees the calf

we glimpse third and forth possibilities in the 2 sides of each story

we travel with eyes open and we are vulnerable to everything

everything is work

the sorting out never stops

i construct it my facade and my background carefully

i nervously admit characters into my novels chambers

on warm nights i’m in the garden drinking iced green tea

among shrub and twisting fern elephant ear hyacinth rose

my mind gleams like an instrument under strange crested moons

in crescent myriads the effulgence of stardust orbits thrown up

andromeda swings by in her whorl amidst flower and star

something out in deep space wakes like a kraken in the darkness

our puny cities brace for annihilation

in our last hours we lie in bed drinking as time ebbs out

and you say

i been having the craziest dream

cold fire

baby to my amazement

coddled winter nestling in on thin ice

meet me on memory street i’ll be dressed as human

you must remember me i was in your class

now you some withered imp simply sinning for good

i’m beginning to feel that numb appeal

i long to be lashed by river reeds

i long to be gashed by hammer and red nails

i long for an end to window pain and old times ache

why dont you answer my thoughts anymore

i chase you down in a sideshow in an alley

way down in an operation run by magic dan

i buy 3 tickets one for each world

i buy 3 drinks one for each thirst

i watch 3 times one for each eye (I)

honey i take out my rainstick and i let it slide

oh yeah she deal me king king jack 6 9

huffing and bluffing i overturn the buffet laden with K

that little cheater you oughta meeta no one fucking sweeta

that slender siren cryin’ her shames man theyre just names and games

that cruel cool angel fish i bet you wish you never licked the dish

she dressed like a nurse but i feeling worse and i need to rehearse

she tell me how she want it n she tell me slow

she says oh honey not yet oh no

now the blues may have blinded me but i can still see italy

i mean champagne corks may have blown my sight

but i can see her crouched on under night

now hang on now hang right there on

aint i too old for you i hear my self saying

is a mountain too old for a cloud says she

but hang on now hang on right there on

aint you too young for me i hear me selves saying

is the lamb too young for the panther says she

(chorus of greek women)

is the world too round for the burning sky

is the ocean too deep for the roaring whale

is war too cheap or bloody or wrong

why every soldier should be singing along

i stopped to listen as a mist thickens

is the past too gone for a man to remember

is the future too far for soothsayer to see

is the moon too cold for the blazing sun

is the sun too much for the blushing moon

do the stars fucking care about our lives and our dreams

does the darkness anticipate light with a shiver

the quivering river has entered the sea

and a giant has drunken the sunken underwater

and a god sits alone at the side of a shore

watching the tide roll in and out more

we watch it on tv we watch on the screen

we watch how somehow they colourised the water more green

we notice the god with his dumb LA accent

last week hes in rehab getting off rhubarb boy whatta bastard

last week crashed his porsche into a pillar

he flew into a zoo n set free a gorilla

introducing our saviour unto his killer

verlaine the poet and thomas the miller

under the milky rilke and thriller

suddenly

i wake up from this poem askance

i fallen asleep in some gazelles pants

i ‘m dreaming in bed and living in trance

off of malarkey street down by romance

where the chimneys erupt in a plume of marantz 

where you ask for a sleep and they all say perchance…?

ok its ten oclock thats enough

(sound of it being switched off)

goodnight …….!

red echelon

unapproachable maw of time

dog end tatters of an age

improbability in the unlikelihood of uncertainty

a rainy jungled mess of a day

i am a wolf in a strange citified gangling wrangled place

i am a wolf despite my pinkish mansuit

pegged out i crawl mainstreet all rushing fluff and lippy droll

my instinct synched to sunken natures unnatural tides

wind rides the trees in threes i raw on all fours

famishing snow my hotel more den of iniquitous silence

my growling belly my howling telly my bubbled grapelli

my coat full of pine needle ice white frozen dragons blood

i smoke the bones of dry dreams i snort the dust of derision

i fondle the emptiest dolling mannikins

i know a sorcerous caster a damn fine woman

i mind shifted shafting her softest softness

oh great bliss can be had in this and no other

come delve into opportunity you gawking birds

all you buffoons observe my gorgeous protocol

now i sneak down corridoring halls past mauve walls

knock knock knock at the door of a lamb

my tick tock lock against her door jamb

i produce my ID as i press her paws

i leap up with a great flourish

(i discourage imitation and cat flattery)

they may slander me but gander me now

old and grizzly i maybe still motion blur i become

i ravenous cavernous carcass i swoop on the coop

hen again and again

bite right through light and dark

lamb damn i am looking  for who dealt a good ram

nevertheless a blessing for a mess like me

a catastrophe a hungering tragedy

my name is black thirteen

and i’ll be back

between

the black window

golightly the caterpillar on the leaf

soar like a fish in the deep blue sea air anywhere

burnlike fire flies set the day alight or down

gnome deep under tree hammering out a song

a gold ring upon a pretty finger all along

merry old may christmas every day say dont i know you

where the gossamer web meets the shuddered leaf

where the diving bird hits the solid lake

where the reddening sun collides with the falling moon

where the serpent like roots coils upon a bad mans grave

where the sharpened thorns catch the virgins flesh

scarlet drop of blood upon a snow drifted mirror surface lagoon

a blue crane it was so long ago it flew alongside the embittered road

do you remember a flightless winger entered your lens unrefracted

the wee shadow man who lurks under flowery beds

the sprite delighting in tormented rose cheeked babes

the wicked child who pulls the wings off bats

the goblin freaked fuck witch with no breeches

the mescaline and feminine agendas of our vegetal friends

io ao io i adore thee pan i adore thee excelon my queen

in tir na nog i stayed awhile yes sneer you knaves t’is the truest thing

in tir na nog a lovely maiden met me at the edge of this plane

quickly fine sir ere this portal close says she sweeter than i can suppose

and as i crossed into that mysterious wood

why all my old life lost to me all gone existing in just memory

for i tarried longer than my tomorrows should have allowed

yes you can laugh you minions of machines and crooked queens

in tir na nog where wonders interpenetrating our mundanity

in tir na nog where zebras and peacocks wander

see our saviour with his jaguar see our saviour in the amazon

see our king of faery dressed in finest mail

riding a purple and vermilion dragonfly he broke in himself

holding his sceptre of razored jet inset with tiny pearls

but he clipped the wings of his slaves

and he fed his enemy kings to a toad

yes this world is not the only world

your time is not the only time

a day will dream you will all seem strange and funny

because everything we knew and did was somehow wrong

yes you can grin you jackals and monkey men

but the time of magic will come again

against my grain

steam congeals into ice

spirit condenses into flesh

they say animal turned into human

but ive never seen that happen

voice in another room : but youve seen the opposite….

look i dont want any trouble

i just want to change the world and go home

i just want a cuppa tea and watch some telly

i just wanted to rule the universe..oh what a mess i have made…

last night i was not dreaming as i lay deep awake

one of my souls then left its hearts chamber

and exited straight through the door of the crown

the minute i put me foot down on the os-celerator

you know i’m a pretty sharpshooter on my own plane

i took down the wing coz it drove me insane

i flew into your mountain in the cold astral rain

i am here both by choice and the law once again

i am here to be tried near these piers of my thane

undone by the sons of the evil unslain

unmeasurable things i bring back for perusal

look faint-hearted sword oh damascus inlaid

a diamond geezer i am with divine spam

the violent gods send all of their thoughts to me

i publish them on the net like fish poetry

one  god up in heaven

one god in the sea

one god in the earth

one god here in thee

one god in the fire who sent you to me

one god in the death for who else could it be…?

these fragments and morsels that feed me most nights

i suck up the glamour and i freeze from the slights

and  drove round in my falcon under black and white lights

i stopped in the graveyards and got into fights

i went down in a heap convinced i was scaling new heights

i forged my identity which violated my rights

i entered the blindspot outside the gun sights

i created a war out of maybes n mights

i invented a golem dressed in loose tights

who fucked up my lines and lost all my kites

who lucked out at last last time they did rites

who hung around like some stalagmites

in a cave full of trolls and ‘orrible wights

god i must be dreaming i was walking towards a shore

jesus christ at my side as we walk through the dunes

wow hes talking english with a swedish accent like max von sydow

the saviours voice is so melodious it is so mellifluous

i am hypnotised i cannot concentrate on his sutras and mantras

steven its no good if you dont listen

says that glorious voice so warm and so damn mild

(almost like the voice of a child)

his voice has the quality of every great symphony

his voice i can feel it way down in the ground

yet high in an ether unturned by a moon

sweeter than honey preceding a swoon

more insinuating than a mining boon

more devastating than a forty eight crash

more trepidation than a honeymoon rash

i wake in a sweat i open the door

everythings changed ; its jus’ like before

god i gotta lay off the uranian figs

the physician from greece has been seen at your digs

hes on the guest list for some of my gigs

the ones i’m not doing on account of the rain

it couldnt be helped

it’ll come round again

yeah i crashed into your mountain

in the cold astral rain

i am here by both choice and the law once again

a complete blast

and the woman stepped out of the river

the deep and swirling euphrates

the warm and dark tigris

the lonely and sacred alph

the holy and healing ganges

and we come to a fork in the road

and we see we have been wrong all our lives

we have inflicted our own good on all we deem evil

we have murdered for life

we have tortured for love

we have invaded for peace

we have indeed fucked for chastity

yes as the book progresses you realise….

when you realise we are villains dressed as heroes

when you realise all that we have set in motion here….

when i was five i ran away from this world

yes i seemed to be here but i was off elsewhere

those dreams i was having…you dont expect me to believe…..?

and all the things i was born knowing and seeing

and all the things i could never ever learn

born to know but not to lead

born in doubt but not to follow

everything in life becomes dispensable in death

money debts children enemies

yes they will carry on

in the darkness or in the light

this world never began and it will never end

it was always here and everything upon it

no creation no evolution just permanence

our souls exist in perpetuity

we will play every part

the baron the drunk the pilot the wife

the son the sister the father the child

the dog and the star

each and everyone

they say we were once part of god

but fixated on autonomy we fractured

an infinite number of busted bits

tiny little lords of their universe

working their way up from worm to sun

pull on lives like you pull on coats

in one world an athlete in another lame

in one time a king in another a slave

in another youre rich in another youre poor

youre everyone youre no one

this must happen because you desired to experience everything

i laugh at the simplicity of science and religion

missing the point as always as ever

solemnly swearing on this book or that

why everything happens on one million levels

if you dont take it all into account then what have you got?

its fucking hilarious when the preachers and PhDs

tell you this world was created by this means or that

idiot eden or some primeval soup yeah i dont think so

i think we cant even believe how incredibly groovy this all is

i say groovy because no other word can express my delight

my delight as i observe the mechanisms in place

interlocking elements across all dimensions

the masterstrokes of an author

something everywhere that yet cannot be found

too huge for your little books

too much for our language to contemplate or bear

i know it i always knew it

humanity is perverse

all the people you help  will burn you the most

and you always keep turning into things that you hate

christ and buddha show us other ways to live

but truly, who have you met that can live like that?

as i approacheth old age i tune into to subtle things

the people i think of appear out of nowhere

because of my yoga because of my diet

because i am both sinner and saint embodied as one

because i am madder than a lake but saner than you can believe

because i have thrashed my mind ceaselessly before me

everything i have i have dreamed up

a spirit within me taught me everything

we all have that spirit but so very few will listen

given five daughters to atone for trespass against female

given ten years of heroin to atone for my trespass against man

i knock out my stuff(ing) without really trying

if i’m trying i must be wrong i guess

and the woman in the river

all white and naked

lilith i s’pose or some abstract eve

even the educated man is baffled by her charms

and an animal sits at the seat of the soul

gimme some mumbo jumbo to reconcile lust

gimme some esoteric conundrum as an erotic frame

my genius must create now he’s all wound up

he must sacrifice the evenings of women to alter his shrine

he must move through the virgins and widows and aunts

he must have all the nurses and waitresses and queen

he must dodge all the hags and the harpies

he must avoid the slatternly sunsets and the cold frigid dawn

oh he’s ever so sly like a fox in a hutch

oh hes ever so greedy like a snake in a hole

and all the time i’m wearing away

and all the time everythings getting quite slim

i am charged with great power

i am weaker than piss

i drip fluid prose

then i cant say my name

i think we are all on the wrong side

weve been cheering for bad guys all of the way

the way that things are in this world we got going

a comedy a farce a hilarious tour de force

they take the good things away

they give you the worst

they tell you youre free

free to do as somebody says

the revolution must be in the heart

even so

it may seem that you never win…..

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The popular play Van Park will be performed for a limited time, in Melbourne, at Chapel on Chapel. Get your tickets soon!  Wed 21st March to Sun 1st April. Full details here  .

WIN TICKETS TO VAN PARK AND THE OPPORTUNITY TO MEET STEVE KILBEY

Place an order by midnight 31st of March 2012 via the church online store to go into the draw to watch Steve Kilbey perform with John Paul Young in the play VAN PARK at The Chapel Off Chapel in Prahran in Melbourne, Victoria. The tickets will be for the finale on April 1st and winners will get to meet Steve after the show. This entertaining play is currently on every night until the 1st of April and tickets can be purchased here.

VAN PARK – a musical comedy

Starring John Paul Young and Steve Kilbey

                   Writer/Director Greg Appel l Music King Curly

Win two tickets for the closing shows on Friday, Saturday and Sunday (finale show) and the chance to meet with cast of the play!

A huge hit at the inaugural Sydney Fringe festival – “Van Park” starring John Paul Young, Steve Kilbey and many more –  will play for two weeks at Chapel Off Chapel theatre in Prahran during March, as part of the Melbourne International Comedy Festival.

This musical farce is about a group of washed up rockers who wind up in a Caravan Park. Amongst these battle hardened creatures a sensitive young boy come of age.  Enter the love interest and let the music begin.  It’s theatre you might actually enjoy!

Just as his 1975 chart-topping song Yesterday’s Hero lamented a star’s fall into obscurity, JPY’s character in Van Park faces a similar fate – albeit one with a few more vices gleaned from the rock ’n’ roll lifestyle.

Van Park also stars another legend of the Australian rock scene – The Church’s singer, lyricist and bass guitarist Steve Kilbey, who’s character, interestingly, spends much of the show with a (cough) unusual phallic enhancement.

Van Park is written and produced by Greg Appel (Spontaneous) – who was one of the directors behind the very successful ABC documentaries Long Way to the Top and Bombora – the story of Australian surfing both were made with Paul Clarke who also collaborated on early stages of this musical. Van Park also features a live-on-stage soundtrack via King Curly, known among fans for their quirky and highly original sound.

Van Park is many things rolled into one. It is as much a touching story of an unconventional childhood as a critique on the excesses of hard living. But, ultimately, it’s a rollicking musical full of larrikin humour that’s plugged into an amp with the volume set to high.

“some genuinely entertaining elements in this show. JPY is a real trouper and in strong vocal form, Kilbey’s energy and presence light up the stage and Webb’s smoky, achy voice is to die for. There are a couple of very cool new songs – I Was Born in Shadow Land and Family Man – and some sterling renditions of classics – Yesterday’s Hero and Am I Ever Going to See Your Face Again?”

 The Age, 27.3.12

i love this play

i love the songs…..

I HAD A FUCKING BALL!!!!

sk (Steve Kilbey)

Venue: Chapel off Chapel, 12 Little Chapel St Prahran
Dates: 21st March – 1st April (not Mondays or Tuesdays), Preview 21st March
Tickets: $ 45.00 Full, $ 39 Conc
Times: Wednesday to Saturday 8.00 pm, Matinees Saturday 4.00pm,
Sunday 6.00 pm
Bookings: Chapel off Chapel.com.au (03) 8290 7000