we know nothing of ourselves
who we truly are
our capabilities
our capacities
we are deep continents submerged in a sea of not knowing
we face each day blindly oblivious of our true pasts
we end each day no closer to ourselves
strangers to each other
still thinking i can hurt you without hurting me
still judging and under-estimating you
still ignoring and bothering you
people told me who i was
other people told them who they were
i tear off the mask only to find another underneath it
masking the rusty surface and facing the sea
asking me for a purpose so patiently
a purpose…?
endings n beginnings
reasons why and dates
we have no idea what we’re measuring
certainty is a joke
nothing is certain
nothing is sacred
nothing is forever
open up now
to the possibility you may have been wrong
prepare to accept you may have erred
maybe your memory
maybe your perception
maybe your thinking was out
and you never ever saw it
an actor hooked on his lines
you never leave your play
you never drop out of character
and walk to the back of the theatre
and see that its all just a bloody act
you so fixated on anything that comes along
money
gossip
fashion
power
fame
youth
strength
victory
domination
power
omnipotence
prestige
yes yes
give them to me
yes yes
anything youve got
in my sleep i scream out for someone to wake me up
a sleeper calling in a roomful of sleepers
a little starfish in a tiny pool cursing at the ocean
an eagles feather stuck in a stupid idiots hat
a black panthers pelt in a cardsharks hovel
i pick up my paints and i paint lemuria
i paint me in lemuria
i paint natalie in lemuria
i paint steve draper in lemuria with guitars and eyes
i paint elli n minna in lemuria with the temples n snakes
i paint scarlet kilbey as a moon goddess priestess in lemuria
i paint details of lemurian jungles
but when i stop
but when i hit pause on my i-box
but when i rinse the paint n pastel dust off my hands
but when i look in the soft mirror and fall right through
but when nightfalls short and daylong
and memories seep from the shadows
and i wake up in the light of a bye gone after noon
when i wake up in yesterday
when i re enter the continuum
when the film has started to print through
when the discrete channels begin to hear each other
when the god in man starts to wake up
when the last man is killed
when we stop and realise
when the reductionism reaches its final logical phase
when scientists say we dont fucking know
when they gonna realise
that you really do have to pay your dues
if ya wanna sing the blues
that means without authenticity youre nothing
thats why they say people suffer for their art
not because arthur rim baud or dylan t
got writers cramp scrawling the stuff
but you gotta be wide open if you wanna catch it
and youre gonna catch everything
n things you didnt foresee
n things you didnt want
and the better you are
the crazier you are
dont you see they go hand in hand
but what is madness and genius and pain
except a mind so finely attuned
nothing escapes its attention
and a mind not content with its own explanations
that is
you cant be jim morrison without being jim morrison
you cant have one without the other
and thats why dylan is so easily spooked
and why poor jeff buckley had to go swimming
and why kurt needed nothing less than oblivion
and why some masters never utter a word
and why winter follows spring
and spring follows a meandering course
and why krishna is the colour of a cloud
and why we dont fall off this world
and why it never comes when you want it
and why you better carpe fucking diem
and scarlet kilbey with her big head full of ideas
still sleeping
dreaming of her lemurian childhood in the jungle opera
when they summoned the gods and the elements
when they spoke in tongues of lightning
and the music was blazing
and the rhythm was infectious
and the jungle closes in
closing in
closer and closer
the monkeys and big cats
the medicinal vine
the bark with its dmt
the shrubs n luminous moss
the roots travelling underground
the rain and the wind
the open spaces
the temples on the hillsides
electrical disturbance!
a blue white flash
a sudden illumination
steve kilbey drops his paintbrush
the magenta
the ice blue
the marine green
the lemon yellow
the violet n indigo n purple n mauve
the crimson n maroon
the paper ripped from a tree
the distance recedes
people step out from behind the trees
natives
savages
wild men n witchdoctors
barbarians
sun worshippers
woad wearing britons
egyptians with bird heads
i dont know
whatever theyve got
franks, celts, yutumbi, watusi, belucci
fettucine
babychino
crash
thats evolution
i guess