The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

watt ever

compound fractured now

the beginning and the end of us

a short spell and we are all off

i hallucinate the humdrum

superimposing it on a magnificent reality

beyond all this illusion and all this maya

glory is unfolding like the darkest vanilla

like a shot curving through the air springs forth spirit

spirit free of mind

mind free of body

body free of death

death free of life

another ten minutes disappears into the gloom like a messenger

my thoughts wander like stupid animals and are run over on the highway of synapse

whether i am an idiot or a poet

whether i am good or bad

whether i am right or wrong

thoughts bubbling up from a babbling fountain of inanity

this and that

so and so

such and such

mind out of control

stop mind stop! i would say

but it would only be mind saying it to itself

mind thrashing wailing kicking trying to escape

mind full of memories

the fading ones

and the ones you wish you could forget

mind full of women and graveyards and weather and facts

mind full of music and books and rivers and morning

and children and friends and bastards youd like to strangle

mind full of paint and film and past lives that can barely be apprehended

guitars and cars and arrivals and transitive meander

the dumb pull of the hand

the blind touch of the tongue

the fiery chakra at the base of the spine

the saint in me watches on sadly

the dreamer awake with fingers full of dream

down another level and everything is heavier

up another level and we just float away

whatever it is i am trying to say

suddenly… it doesnt matter anymore

hands off  man a shoulder

it has been a tough year

one of my towers needs a complete refurbish

and rapid eye strain from ogling all my dough

all that kudos and praise it brings me entropy

yes the displeasure is all my mine

i am here this evening for the usual anterior motives

renumeration and/or revenge

voice in another room: a great title for a book or a song…or a painting..or something…

argy bargy hustle bustle hurly burly

a day in a city faraway

the slaves in my vineyards under the sun

at night the white delight of the sleep of the rich and the right

oh yeah my oar is stuck in the med sea you must see i’m no salesman

oh yeah i can see it from here when the damn waters are clear

suddenly i’m in rhyme

maybe you knew that all the frickin’ time

anyway now i must away

midnight is down and about

i’m feeling inauspicious and inappropriate

yes i believe in ghosts and they attracted to me

yes the constant whispering the sound of tiny songs somewhere else

those sad soft fingers all over my face

listening to me breathe

the glass all fogged up

like a skull full of outside

o heart full of unison

diamond faceted face of your clock

just 20 minutes to fall into my burnt caramel dream

is that me for a moment

blasting bastard of a day

sickly hot searing sun

in my mind where i toil everything has been going off

god protect me from all attack decay sustain and release

in my mind where the pictures roll on tho i may no longer choose to speak them

in the mind of madness in the delusional fields where i slave away

in the worlds where i will miss everything

only i will miss you more

if i could orbit and swing back

before corroded memory sleeping seeped into my reveries

an enemy within ah but how to fight it..?

my food is sunburnt

my touch evaporates away

the illumination was not expected

enraptured by my torpor the seconds coalesce solid

anxiety my constant and incessant companion whispers

whispers what though..? asks a voice in another room

it whispers in a tormented language of a hiss and a whistle

it bristles around my ears at a rakish angle

like a halo of sibilance drowning out your words

its dull dazzle blotting out everything in tiny geometric stars

at night i fight on in my dreams where you appear

dressed in my burst fears and maybe yes the straps

perhaps the dread i feel heels me and hemmed in by my skull the thought compounds

the consuming bonfire of looming future stretches out its fingerling flames to burn present

the elapsing collapsing time tick tock tick baby

i know it full well i cant tell if thats the clock in another room

or the rattling charms of a snake eye dice that stares up with black eyes

the yawning void opens up sucking us in to its straw

like vapours we are smoked and then blown away

like nodding off at the wheel of a fastest car

or hurtling through a million geezers or bitches

my ears talk my mouth tastes my tongue hears

futile tears from the hanging man

hung by the hangman in a dangle

those angles and those lines

by the sea the pines only remain from the past

when a cool wind finally arrives

i shiver in my freckle skin inside some man i dont understand

i quiver before your arrows that enter my ventricles nerve

a swerve then i serve myself the desert you left in the kerb

the blurb bubbled forth it ripped ahead off

the murk i shirk has worked away at on me

the dark weave even steven cannot be leavin’ alone

a glance at my phone

and i wonder why you never comin’ home..?