The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

region

strange the mind

which harps on without a string

and imagining furies

unleashes them instead

our complicated webs allow us to intersect exactly now

bang!

thats it that all led up to now

and thats the other bit stretching away before you

today i am pleasantly becalmed on the edge of sunny winter

all we can ask is being granted

this beautiful day this relative sanctuary

a voice whispers

this is gods work

why would a sensible man like me believe in some god?

a voice whispers

night approaches 

and then yes

the afternoon is rapidly fading before my eyes

the sun accumulated light heat drains from objects du jour

the greenery exhales an oxygenated hit of cool

i wrack my brain for details

but i stumble instead in my head lost in a library

inner library

down row G searching for books by God

a voice whispers

probably doesnt write under that name

of course

gods name isnt god

a voice whispers

 under every name…

i wake up outta my crystalline reverie

up in the trees somewhere

i have discovered nothing new

like us all bound to go on

and bound to earth

by a such a silken tape

and a rain of comets

a voice whispers

why the sea is boiling hot

some golden morning has come

the shyest dawn which peeped through curtains

and parrots and exotic birds of love

and clouds in the shapes of heroes and gods

and great golden beasts charging across dawns palest sides

leaves are one thousand shades of green

branches of silver catching light from the sky

the crow like a bassoon mournfully wails miles away

the houses are so still…. not one moves

all those lovely people sleeping peacefully

dreaming of cosy things like tea and toast

and throwing themselves into morning like this

breakfast by one of welwyn garden city’s lovely ponds

or half a vegemite roll from lyneham primary’s school canteen

i wake up on the morning of a big exam

its november and I’m eighteen

the world so full of promises

i lie in my bed so young and tanned

i was dreaming of milky flesh girls and luxuriant kisses

my mother knocking on the door

my father revving up his mazda rotary

my brothers watching some cartoon on television

serrated times

the magazines are out of date

man all those people are long gone today

perhaps i have been over doing it

maybe

i fall asleep unexpectedly by the blue pool

under the shade of  an elephant palm

the film in the camera over exposed

i spit out my stimoral at Stuvon Flats

i hear the beatles out in the twilight

i canceled my appointment with the aquarium

my tank was not quite ready it was empty

i read an article about a distant star

its strange to think of all that life out there somewhere

the buses are irregular although i’m not going anywhere

last night i saw venus’ shadow on the moon

by the way thanks for the card

it meant so much

for a moment

then the sun and blue sky again

propped up in bed

a vase of withered flowers on a little white table

its clean here if a little shabby

i watch the motes silently fall in the ray of lights

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ardent nymphaea

i came home my honey made me figs poached in honey

seaflowers pressed in white parchment

crisp white bread and crimson wine

a goblet of green glass i slosh it down thirsty

my hand stretched towards the table laid in damask

the plates and the urns turned in red earth

the nymph dressed in black fishing net against these cream walls

as year one begins an albino snake is born

its red eyes in winter as we sit before her fire

two of her creatures collected together

but the wine makes me warm so deep inside

then afterwards

everything we tried

as year two begins her goat has twin kids

we will call them helen and paris she said with a laugh

on hot summer nights we lay on the soft mossy rocks

when a huge full moon enslaved all the sky

one day she killed paris the kid

and then her face she hid

as year three begins her elemental maids bathe me in her magnesium baths

they have not touched a man for eons she said

and they laughed as they scrubbed the brine from my back

at night i watched the sea

as she called for me

as year four begins there falls some lovely mist

and everything just appears from it as if new

i catch a silver fish

and lo inside there is a golden trojan coin

i do not like this at all she said

but i something about it soothed my head

as year five begins we see a ship a hundred leagues away

we see it in her magic pool where we can see anything

but i cannot look for long

and the cold is early this year

i must talk in my sleep

beyond us amphitrite listens in the deep

as year six begins she puts me through a little ceremony

i am crowned in gold leaf dandelion and i dress in my white cloth

i say something in a language unknown yet familiar

and she smiles

now maybe you can always remain 

the music will begin

and i fall right in….

the seventh year is here

the long morning of the world

cold clear brook

clean sky above

a wanderer in love with this earth

this ramshackle cave i live by the sea

hung with nets and flowers you see

lay down in straw and softest wool

ambrosia or nepenthe in amphorae

king of ithaca street down on the water

prince of the low tide and turtle shell

building my boat that never can float

and the wind coming in as the seas getting dark

a coldness sweeping down from the north

a sadness that penetrates the coral and seabirds

and sung by the shells down on the shore

a feeling of destiny wrecked and rusted

a feeling forgotten from hideous dream

toadfish hover in the transparent shallows

poseidon now latent in turbulent deep

i sit here alone

but i never weep

a raven arrived with scraps of food for him twice a day

either time or fire will consume us

driven by some insane god to this mountain top

hounded day and night by my thundering head

wondering what became of my people so far ago

je-hovah don’t care about a harem n drugs man

the chosen ones got no choice but to fuckin’ rejoice man

meanwhile a slave from knossus fucked w’ the bosses bigtime

he stuck in his trident and pulled out a devil

he threw in his net ….oh…. did he catch a fish!?

baby i’m sorry i been out crush in empires

the pyres are burning n turning men into white ash

i had a dream to conquer some etruscan town

turned out it was just a dream and my luck ran out

there was no one left aground

there was nothing to be found

all the mounds became one big mound

but the voice that rages in my mind

demands the hands of all the fans of egyptian Ra

my marble floor is cold upon your hands and knees

but deep in your bower i have relinquished all power he agrees

my skin is like paper it tells all of the stories of all of my days

i have fought against the fiends who worship Tash

who is like a giant rotting vulture

or the child swallowing monster that is Aberron

but what was i saying?

a thousand voices proffer a thousand lines

my hold on the lord surely golden but my head disinclines

i knew a charioteer who had no fear now he’s got no frontier

and that boy from thrace with the pretty face ..god put ‘im in ‘is place

and charlemagne proud n vain a real frankish king

fighting for christ but christ wanted peace …what a stupid frankish thing…!

oh my baby i must catch a train to bethlehem alaska

i must fly by swan to thebes nebraska

didn’t i meet you once in tyrus omaha ?

i was selling snakes to pharaoh n you were workin’ behind a bar

i said i didn’t know you as we’re introduced afar

its raining softly in the promised land

threats and promises look the same from where i’m watching

high on this rock above the red seas

how the dead seize upon my shades children shaken me down

now i fume and i rant to the plants and the spume

i am heston turned and then redouble burns

satan you mother now look what you done

coming along and inventing your fun

and your fun is not good no

no your fun is no good

give me a wish then or plague me no longer

the sea is my baby now she would receive me with joy

hell i’m just a lonely prophet boy

at the entrance of the mountain kings hall

oh the siren calls low at this latitude sir

jumble bundle common and care

i lost in this photo outside of eden

hurry worry wriggle and writhe

i just a poor wanderer alone in me head ma’am

gnashing thrashing bang em n woe

(english peasant song circa 2012)

i just a old minstrel fall down on me luck there

i rippy van winkle i sleeping for ever

in those languid dreams which glide through my skies

oh i am nijinsky who moves like a black cat

no gravity has any pull over him

he moves with the grace of a swan through the air

or  salmon flashing berserk through alpine stream

purgatory saturated and enhanced

in the afternoon of a faun-ification

see me suspended over the stage because i really can fly

see us burst from the cinema  a fruity comet

i feel like robbing a river bank

i feel like asking god a million questions on behalf of mourners

i feel like blowing out to white in vishnus effulgent white

i feel like sinking in magnesium sulphate till there is no ache tonite

above all else is this castle in the cloudlands

potency throbs in the silences and blank sheets of water colour paper

acid free and textured rough

a lunatic chucking round sound n colour a self taut tantric turkey

this insight into my life was made possible by the time being . com

no infinitives were split during the creationism of this blog