The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

in the wake up

in some deterministic universe

someone is waiting out there for me to write these words

in some cafe where its morning

in some happy time before now where my memory drifts

but the present spits me out here in coogee nsw

the 1980s are finally and safely over

i appear sitting here banging away at a computer far from my native land

hey i look alright in a not too bright light

yeah i been doing music over the last few days

finishing off the speed of the stars

which is me and FXK from ireland

this man is a dreamy character

we cook up some great new tunes for our record

barton price comes in and plays some excellent drums

what a total pro!

its great seeing a brand new piece of music  come to life

my intuition is working well i guess

this very pleasant music comes out easy when it does come

anyway that was yesterday and tonight it is now

so much happening so much standing still

saturday night is still out there and happening i suppose

we can imagine it even if we do not try

one million cold beers and one hundred thousand joints

countless pills n all the rest of it

things are very foggy out there in the mental plane

the red lights of a taxi blur to a crucifix

driving around looking for parties and drugs and music

i stay at home

as hours rush by then cascading slowly

my whole life has left me tired and burnt

what need of any company have i..?

i ask myself and receiving no reply

i wonder why

from my window i hear the big engines roaring down on the seaside strip

and planes flying in to land at mascot airport

next door in a garden some cooing lovebirds their exaggerated laughter

fragments of music on the night

and the tattoo parlour where you can get skulls and roses and snakes and devils

and the massage place you put your boots under the bed…

and shop thats open in the morning but closed at night

and another which is the opposite

ok its wednesday afternoon and i just remembered this

it will remain unfinished i guess

uriel nice

we imagine the long excruciating journey

by cart by horse by ship by foot

trudging in the dust of a caravanserai

the cold dawn and the empty coast

in a sky much younger than ours a reflection a mirage

to find purpose within the desert night and find something to eat

premonition indistinguishable from memory then

from now on each step is cautious and light

the whispering sands the murmuring stones

the grunting stunted trees

because the boy can hear the voices of everything

and all things do cry out to him

and the moon pulses through closed eyelids

bringing its usual pale nightmares outlined in the faintest pink glow

the twisted old devil man why cant he leave me alone..?

stumble ahead into storms on the red sea and on white mountains

snow swirling and slowly whirling now youre hypnotised and lost

at night we camped by the lotus pools and lagoons of some dead sultan

the fruit was delicious and easily plucked from the deserted orchards

but see the ghosts and colour them hungry

plunging into a green river filled with black crocodile

and then dislocated and dreamy in a white graveyard where you stopped and prayed

you heard one of the voices of god so clearly but then maybe it was gone

the clearest heavens remain silent it was wishful thinking

the rain and  we understand again

then the woman who took you aside in a kings great hall

and lay with you in sweet chambers of some new sin

then you knew how hard and easy life can be

when the sun rose in the sky the next day for you smiling

you felt pleased to wash it all off in parthian baths

and those who accompany you talking in pali and bengali

and the generosity of the one lord and lord buddha his incarnation

and as we begin to understand the sublimity of spirit

sacred heart of night burning on then in the indian evenings full of swans and flowers

lovely golden youth so blue against the brown water

the riddles of existence hammering and unanswerable in our dimension

the mind is conquered by the heart and the heart by the spirit

the opposite wave of love cancelling out any attack

soothing saintly eyes we imagine them filled with tears

compassion crushing down like a sorrowful gravity

feeling it inch by inch and ounce by ounce and then fathom over fathom

in the fields watching the farmers breaking their backs in long hot summer

and monsoon afternoons in the city in a kitchen

as you sat at a table drinking wine and eating a yellow dhal

with monks and lamas and priests of old gods

and you learnt that all is vibration

and you learnt to yoke yourself to the universe

and you studied the vedas and you practiced devotion

and you chanted in sanskrit and apprehended krsna and radha

and you realised love is the way

the only way

beyond indulgence beyond asceticism beyond intellect beyond power

seeking god in vibrant jungle and outlandish temple

and in the soldiers and in the merchants and in the slaves of kings

in paintings in books in word and always in song

and slowly and painstakingly

you became a rishi,  a yogi and a great magician

and your beautiful face turned towards home

as it became apparent

what you  had to do