plunger

i dont want to alarm youbut i’m plummeting thru your handsthere i gotho you do gasp n graspyou can never seem to get a hold i live on september the thirteenth islandits right between easter island n christmas island fact : the sudden sunlight circulates in the seaspraythe sea spray that i see that i say is spray is missed the sand that i planned to demand in my hand is beyondunderstandinggod says every grain of sand is numbered“hi,if youre holding this grain of sandit belongs to s. kilbeysome romantic beach shack13th of september islandthis grain of sand is # 57378885643a reward will be paid for its return”my island homemy island homemy island homeis a’waiting for me beach comber come home nowcome in from the heatyeah i had a man friday onceboy thursday i called himgee its thursday todaywell waddiya know i had to let him goevery damn thing on the island…1st the volcano2nd the crocs3 rd the sharksin equal 3rd the snakes5th the spiders6 th jellyfishetche had a problem with everything you knowand i dont take to whiners or shirkersoh yeah he could speak a crude form of english :he was educated at lyneham high, after alla kind of ex-strange studenta very impudent student if i may say soafter he bullied me all the way thru a double metalwork periodi still was stupid enuff to hire him tire him then fire himjesus lyneham highthey said 16 per cent of canberras pregnancies were from lyneham highor was that the amount of urine in dickson poolor was that the number who ended up in jailwhich we sometimes spell gaolwhich suggests how very random n ridiculous things arei did a little island-ology at schoolwhich is luckycos i know how to light a cigaretteor open a bottle of beer with my former teethmy […]

i dont want to alarm you
but i’m plummeting thru your hands
there i go
tho you do gasp n grasp
you can never seem to get a hold
i live on september the thirteenth island
its right between easter island n christmas island
fact : the sudden sunlight circulates in the seaspray
the sea spray that i see that i say is spray is missed
the sand that i planned to demand in my hand is beyond
understanding
god says every grain of sand is numbered
“hi,
if youre holding this grain of sand
it belongs to s. kilbey
some romantic beach shack
13th of september island
this grain of sand is # 57378885643
a reward will be paid for its return”
my island home
my island home
my island home
is a’waiting for me
beach comber come home now
come in from the heat
yeah i had a man friday once
boy thursday i called him
gee its thursday today
well waddiya know
i had to let him go
every damn thing on the island…
1st the volcano
2nd the crocs
3 rd the sharks
in equal 3rd the snakes
5th the spiders
6 th jellyfish
etc
he had a problem with everything you know
and i dont take to whiners or shirkers
oh yeah he could speak a crude form of english :
he was educated at lyneham high, after all
a kind of ex-strange student
a very impudent student if i may say so
after he bullied me all the way thru a double metalwork period
i still was stupid enuff to hire him tire him then fire him
jesus lyneham high
they said 16 per cent of canberras pregnancies were from lyneham high
or was that the amount of urine in dickson pool
or was that the number who ended up in jail
which we sometimes spell gaol
which suggests how very random n ridiculous things are
i did a little island-ology at school
which is lucky
cos i know how to light a cigarette
or open a bottle of beer with my former teeth
my grass skirt had weeds which hurt my legs
we had a little island set up inside a classroom
we’d dress up like the black n white minstrels
n chuck connors n shake spears
n we’d row out to the shimmering sea
and net monsters between our canoe
can you?
i doubt it …..
miss waddlespoon our teacher kept me back
n showed me
what happened when the white hot lava
hit the warm pink sea
i hid in her caves
she stood on my promontory
we stripped back the jungle around the lagoon
island-ology was looking good for me
later the deputy head
miss mountjoy
chose me to represent our school in terraforming
she took great interest in my use of basalt
my obsidian swirls were the talk of lyneham
oh how i loved my bauxite shavings
how they smiled on my molten core
but thats the real world
and here….
just a small dessert island with only 2 airports
september the 13th island
just a dot on the map of love
just a tiny
i wake in the morning
the salty air blowing round my beard
the parrots screeching in the canopy
pilate talking in the cockpit
the survivors stum-ball around in their pear-o-chutes
oh look maude…its steve kilbey
yes! welcome to my island
some of you may never go home again
(ooh i hope not…!)
please dont eat the coconuts with SK engravied on them
please dont feed the monkeys
or monkey with the feed
please avoid the mountain trail after 5 pm
as it will be closed for ambushes
please take your room key with you if you go swimming
its good for jabbing in the sharks n sea-snakes eyes
bathe near chubby children…the crocs prefer em
no fertility dancing or appeasing the sun god after 11 pm
all castaways should be out of huts by 11 pm
no sunburn no blisters no service
dont wee in our rockpools
we dont put winkles down your toilet
dont vandalise our volcano
the collection of fiery ash is strictly forbitten
caution : human sacrifice next ten miles
watch out for falling cannibals!
i am a suave olde island meister
the sun n sin king
sinking

shape before using

wednesday arrives in garments of grey turning bluei find iti lose iti almost overlook itam i amongst friends ?sometimes i wonder why i bothersick of myselfi wait to be reabsorbed into the cosmic allyet still i remain separate visited jim o’bleek in his officesthe view over the wildernessi almost thought i saw giraffes down therehe examined my casemurder? he said…..thats the easy part…..its this poetry charge that worries me….sure jim sure… i sayand we laugh and we drink some silver-leaf teaand he asks me a hundred questionsas he peruses the dusty tomes of law n lawlessnessi sit in the corner watching the wildlifehe quotes me paragraphs n clausesoh ? i say never listeningnever understanding…you’re better off to ignore most of that…he saysok… i say …..that shouldnt be too hard…lateri catch the rolling starecasethe dwarves are on strike some singer called jilly mirror has been found alivethe war drags onsome actress called joan aparte has been found missingthe weather will get worsethe commissioner has been exoneratedpolice have found a large cache of angelfruitdean nigh the sky-surfer has been injured in a cloudsome foreigner got smacked about up on golgotha crestthe minister appointed his brother the chamberlain gave himself a raisethe generals all remained safethe poor seem to be getting poorerwine shown to be useful for sobriety dosfamous author bookedfamous singer moves out of sharp flatfreak accident : train collides with giantesshot tip : pyromaniac in the 3rd heatwhat your husband is worth ; suburb by suburbpiers de boor on extremists :burn them!sexy ways to lose weight n goddess couponsfree full colour lift out featuring bobby des moines n di-rhonda snodgrassaw fuck all this! i thought as i wandered thru the newsthe driver in my macronetic phonotron has been puncturedand all the flanges had been splangedi couldnt afford to see a polaristi […]

wednesday arrives in garments of grey turning blue
i find it
i lose it
i almost overlook it
am i amongst friends ?
sometimes i wonder why i bother
sick of myself
i wait to be reabsorbed into the cosmic all
yet still i remain separate
visited jim o’bleek in his offices
the view over the wilderness
i almost thought i saw giraffes down there
he examined my case
murder? he said…..thats the easy part…..
its this poetry charge that worries me….
sure jim sure… i say
and we laugh
and we drink some silver-leaf tea
and he asks me a hundred questions
as he peruses the dusty tomes of law n lawlessness
i sit in the corner watching the wildlife
he quotes me paragraphs n clauses
oh ? i say never listening
never understanding
…you’re better off to ignore most of that…he says
ok… i say …..that shouldnt be too hard…
later
i catch the rolling starecase
the dwarves are on strike
some singer called jilly mirror has been found alive
the war drags on
some actress called joan aparte has been found missing
the weather will get worse
the commissioner has been exonerated
police have found a large cache of angelfruit
dean nigh the sky-surfer has been injured in a cloud
some foreigner got smacked about up on golgotha crest
the minister appointed his brother
the chamberlain gave himself a raise
the generals all remained safe
the poor seem to be getting poorer
wine shown to be useful for sobriety dos
famous author booked
famous singer moves out of sharp flat
freak accident : train collides with giantess
hot tip : pyromaniac in the 3rd heat
what your husband is worth ; suburb by suburb
piers de boor on extremists :burn them!
sexy ways to lose weight n goddess coupons
free full colour lift out featuring bobby des moines n di-rhonda snodgrass
aw fuck all this! i thought as i wandered thru the news
the driver in my macronetic phonotron has been punctured
and all the flanges had been splanged
i couldnt afford to see a polarist
i didnt want a malarkey suit
and fell-ons were now illegal
back to my place
the surfaces are all neo-soft
i move from room to room via mo-help
my antenna can tune in antares
a maid made a bed
i live simply nowadays
just oxygen shots n a virgin therapy
i’m smart…i use rezzi-rect-em instead of undevilled
i never switch off my kestrel strike
i go to a bar
some guy playing there
david neil
i heard of him
he fell out of a window on a bridge
he sang that song
about the guy who wakes up to find
his wife turned into a dragonfly..
i’m so tired of songs like that
arent you?

before the next coat

childrenive gone completely mad for youhush nowdont complainmy purse is haemorrhagingmy chariot is wheellessi sing a song outside the doori walk a lonely pathlost but unable to lose myselfthe words falteringthe picture waveringthe thoughts clotting in my headgonna be hard to get out of this onehavent got the right stuff cant see a way out gotta keep moving thogotta keep breathingroll the dice manwheres yer double six double six double six ?gotta get an iron in the firegotta get a fire in yer backbonegotta carryon as if nothing really mattersand how can it?

children
ive gone completely mad for you
hush now
dont complain
my purse is haemorrhaging
my chariot is wheelless
i sing a song outside the door
i walk a lonely path
lost but unable to lose myself
the words faltering
the picture wavering
the thoughts clotting in my head
gonna be hard to get out of this one
havent got the right stuff
cant see a way out
gotta keep moving tho
gotta keep breathing
roll the dice man
wheres yer double six double six double six ?
gotta get an iron in the fire
gotta get a fire in yer backbone
gotta carryon as if nothing really matters
and how can it?

romance n promises of summer days

wonderful spirit continue to guide meflame on! light the lamp of lovefill my head with the sweetest wordssummer for some of usthe days stretch out before methe nights so black n invitingknit me a mansuit i can wearweave me my crown of weeds n reedscoz i wander abroad in broad daylightsdazzled by the oaks thunderous voice that reverberates undergroundand i’m in league with the riverthat accepts me without even a murmurdive deep in her dark waterslose your breath and be drownedsurfacing in another summer golden rays call your vapour to heaven summertime will be a love-in thereexquisite musicits…….david neil“after that summer thats never coming a gainmy baby waiting for mebehind her frosted pane”the angels toll the silver bellsgo skinny dipping with jesusdrink sangria with rama lie down n dream beneath the sleeping weeping willowsdream of summerpastwhen you floated in bluer skiesright over the school so far belowyou could hear a brass band playing in the distance as you drifted awayinto the effulgencecos life is not solidand we appear n disappear and we bring to the table what we have learntand all stories are made up as we go alongand eventually you must end up on your ownwalking through a stormwhere nothing can help youin a black wood filled with uncertaintythen remember today today todayyou are a childeswimming in a vast sparkling seaheld up by the oceans handsand gently surged to the sandafternoon endlessyour kind mamayour handsome fatheryour big sisters who tease youbecoming golden brown in the sunbecoming invisible in the warm black nightbecoming yourself more and morelearn to lovelearn to walk the astral pathlearn to reach deep insideand retrieve memories of summers long pastsummers of boleynsummers of iscariotsummers of ancient times that crowd your mindthe sun and the stars and the moonthe groves n the flesh n the winethe lakes […]

wonderful spirit continue to guide me
flame on! light the lamp of love
fill my head with the sweetest words
summer for some of us
the days stretch out before me
the nights so black n inviting
knit me a mansuit i can wear
weave me my crown of weeds n reeds
coz i wander abroad in broad daylights
dazzled by the oaks thunderous voice
that reverberates underground
and i’m in league with the river
that accepts me without even a murmur
dive deep in her dark waters
lose your breath and be drowned
surfacing in another summer
golden rays call your vapour to heaven
summertime will be a love-in there
exquisite music
its…….david neil
“after that summer thats never coming a gain
my baby waiting for me
behind her frosted pane”
the angels toll the silver bells
go skinny dipping with jesus
drink sangria with rama
lie down n dream beneath the sleeping weeping willows
dream of summerpast
when you floated in bluer skies
right over the school so far below
you could hear a brass band playing in the distance
as you drifted away
into the effulgence
cos life is not solid
and we appear n disappear
and we bring to the table what we have learnt
and all stories are made up as we go along
and eventually
you must end up on your own
walking through a storm
where nothing can help you
in a black wood filled with uncertainty
then remember today today today
you are a childe
swimming in a vast sparkling sea
held up by the oceans hands
and gently surged to the sand
afternoon endless
your kind mama
your handsome father
your big sisters who tease you
becoming golden brown in the sun
becoming invisible in the warm black night
becoming yourself more and more
learn to love
learn to walk the astral path
learn to reach deep inside
and retrieve memories of summers long past
summers of boleyn
summers of iscariot
summers of ancient times that crowd your mind
the sun and the stars and the moon
the groves n the flesh n the wine
the lakes n the evenings n the dawns
your ancestors were you n me
summer is recycling us over n over
we pop up under the palms licking frosty fruits
cruising down the motel strip in a fancy car
we laughing cos we alive
at last (again)
summer deep is in the hills
jesus with his jaguar
strange birds arrive in the foggy blue
the great god pan is still king
we are golden youths in bacchus’s retinue
we crush the grape
we raise the cup
we dance with the dryads
into the nights wild depths
we are ecstatic n telepathic
we are in love with everything around us
the sacred glades come alive
and summer wraps us up
with warm sheets of air
and pillows of lovely dreams
and whispered words of welcoming
and summer is a beautiful girl bathing in a stream
and we watch her from within the woods concealed
we are rogues n ruffians n merry fools
we sleep under the stars
we eat wild raspberries and drink the dew
we ride the ceiling fans in hotelrooms by the sea
we check in to a deluxe suite
we amble down the boardwalk at rehoboth beach
shoot the curls at malibu
making friends with hawaii
summer comes in so many guises
listen to lord krishnas flute in the lemurian jungle
its all mixed up
lord krishnas flute in the holy night
mingling with the singing mermaids
far out to sea
too far out to see
a comet blazes overhead
star of bethlehem beach
for a moment everything is illuminated
then darkness returns
rendering all things equal

black rainy night

deer steevei am writing to you to sayblah blah blahnfurthermorerhubarb rhubarb rhubarbi look up from the pagenorth bondi is dazzling in the early morning sun(day)everything washed cleen by the rainfive daughters2 brothersone wifeone mother54 years olde13 different people living in my headwhich one will betray me?these are the ravings of a madmanlast night it rainedsade is playing in my incense filled roomyou give me you give me the sweetest taboothe rain falls out therebut ive telescoped into my roomyes i am wildly intoxicatedon a potent cocktail of stuffthe room seems to fill with a fogmy eyes are wildmy pupils are like black platesi take everything ini look at myself in the mirrora naked manyou can tellby the hairs on my chinny chin chini made myself a sangriaone slug of red wineone slug of triple secone dash of raspberry syruptop it up with a berry vnvoilai slosh down my concoctiona door slams somewherepeople laughing somewherea painting i did of harry houdinimy clean n dirty clothes all mixed upants invading this house all the timemy wife is having a long showerthe children is all cuddled up3 in one big bedthe rain : fall fall fallthe wind : blow blow blowthe wife : shower shower showerthe man in the mirror : naked naked nakedthe 13 voices in my head : whisper whisper whisperthe stuff in my bloodstream : intoxicate intoxicate intoxicatei give the ants some of my pot cookie to eatfuck em if they cant take a joke…but i reckon the queen’ll be sending em back for morego on little anty eat up yer nice sweet cookietonite the old nest will be jivingthey gonna be the coolest antsmeanwhile sade : there is no other love like oursa blonde woman walks in the roomshes smilingi must be dreaming i’m nakedor what?this woman with an […]

deer steeve
i am writing to you to say
blah blah blah
n
furthermore
rhubarb rhubarb rhubarb
i look up from the page
north bondi is dazzling in the early morning sun(day)
everything washed cleen by the rain
five daughters
2 brothers
one wife
one mother
54 years olde
13 different people living in my head
which one will betray me?
these are the ravings of a madman
last night it rained
sade is playing in my incense filled room
you give me you give me the sweetest taboo
the rain falls out there
but ive telescoped into my room
yes i am wildly intoxicated
on a potent cocktail of stuff
the room seems to fill with a fog
my eyes are wild
my pupils are like black plates
i take everything in
i look at myself in the mirror
a naked man
you can tell
by the hairs on my chinny chin chin
i made myself a sangria
one slug of red wine
one slug of triple sec
one dash of raspberry syrup
top it up with a berry v
n
voila
i slosh down my concoction
a door slams somewhere
people laughing somewhere
a painting i did of harry houdini
my clean n dirty clothes all mixed up
ants invading this house all the time
my wife is having a long shower
the children is all cuddled up
3 in one big bed
the rain : fall fall fall
the wind : blow blow blow
the wife : shower shower shower
the man in the mirror : naked naked naked
the 13 voices in my head : whisper whisper whisper
the stuff in my bloodstream : intoxicate intoxicate intoxicate
i give the ants some of my pot cookie to eat
fuck em if they cant take a joke…
but i reckon the queen’ll be sending em back for more
go on little anty
eat up yer nice sweet cookie
tonite the old nest will be jiving
they gonna be the coolest ants
meanwhile sade : there is no other love like ours
a blonde woman walks in the room
shes smiling
i must be dreaming i’m naked
or what?
this woman with an accent
a soft voice
the rain falling
its so perfect
sheet lightning illuminating the sky in flickering caresses
nothing else matters
there is nothing out there anymore
the outside
the rest of the house
the sleeping girls in the one big bed
the ants eat their cookies
staggering towards window sill
(rocker drugs ants!)
fuck i am such a childe
i love stuff like that
i aint raging at the dying of the light
if darkness comes
then i will shine on regardless
out there where im nothing
in here where i am everything
yeah i am the violinist in the subway
yeah i am the masterpiece for sale for 150 bucks
only you n i know that
most people dont like people like me most
but it makes you like me more
that i am so under appreciated n under valued
i am your little secret
i am your refuge
i am your haven
i am a washed up old bastard
i am i am i am
i did it all by myself
i taught myself everything
but i guess i shoulda got a new teacher
at fifty four i dont have anything to show
but my lovely jawline n my steely thighs
i cant help admire n detest myself at the same time
in the mirror my face is flushed
my hair is damp n dark
pushed back from my forehead
i look like a red indian
i look like a lemurian crazyman
my eyes so huge n black
i stare at myself intently
my fascination with myself…
i mean
its sick
isnt it?
stupid olde narcissus is turned into a flower
the blonde woman lays her hands on my back
her hands go right through my flesh
and soothe my olde n aching bones
my face with all its planes n angles n lines
not the face of decency or morality
jesus steeve you been living a fucking hard life, boyo
take everything to the extreme
you indulge in simply everything
i never sit eating pizza n watching the tv tho
i never come home drunk n scare me family
i never watching sport with boys
i never down the pub chatting up floozies
my face is olde now
i can still see its me
can you see the real me…can ya? can ya?
the blonde stranger in my room
i let her touch me
i cant get a fix on her
she modulates
her delicate face though
i always wanted someone like her
oh shes so pretty
shes smiling at me
dont my wild black eyes frighten her away?
my black eyes on her white skin
an inexhaustible chemistry
my brown hands on her white neck
my lips touch a spot beneath her ear
her neck n throat are unbelievably fragrant
a soft young sweetness
i am a man
is it any wonder then….?
the light glows on in the room
i watch us in the mirror
as the rain falls
and night expands into the wee small hours
and the minutes slip skip n glide
mmmmmm

mans second best friend

so many things at oncelook its all happening out therethe clouds the rain the wind the starsme n my baby loveso much moren so much lessi can do anything i think i canbut i cant make the horses drink the wateri just gotta let goi thought it’d be so easyyoure just an antennayoure just a wiresaturday i played the festivali guess you could say i was tepidly receivedi just dont knock their dicks in the dirt, do i?my glory days are goneim just an olde geezer with a dodgy voiceno one there wanted to hear mei struggle on playingbut whats the point?after the showlady: i like the cover of utmw!man (excitedly) painkillers playing soon!me : yeah dec 22man : i cant be there….wowunless you know who i am n what i doyou wont really dig itas an entertainer i’m a zilcherwhat am i good for(absolutely nuthin’)on thursday i travelled up to see my new accountantwho is a paid up fiend n subscriberfrom way backeven his skillscannot save me from being in deep debt to the tax demonsi got a couple of big lump sumsi didnt put the dough aside for taxbang!theres a problemunlike most peoplesmy tax is not deducted at sourceits my own fault …i dont blame anyoneat one point my accountant says ruefullyyou probably think i’m a ” straight”no no no i saywell i am he saysa “straight” with good taste in music….nonetheless its good to be with someonewhos got ALL yer recordsi meanif he aint in my camp…who the fuck is?now i need a doctor n dentist n lawyerwho are fiendss reading this bloggejust thinki could get my botox shots from a quackwhos got p=a playing in the surgeryor get defended by some barristerwho thinks freaky conclusions is just dandy or if i had a fanboy dentisthe’d know […]

so many things at once
look its all happening out there
the clouds the rain the wind the stars
me n my baby love
so much more
n so much less
i can do anything i think i can
but i cant make the horses drink the water
i just gotta let go
i thought it’d be so easy
youre just an antenna
youre just a wire
saturday i played the festival
i guess you could say i was tepidly received
i just dont knock their dicks in the dirt, do i?
my glory days are gone
im just an olde geezer with a dodgy voice
no one there wanted to hear me
i struggle on playing
but whats the point?
after the show
lady: i like the cover of utmw!
man (excitedly) painkillers playing soon!
me : yeah dec 22
man : i cant be there….
wow
unless you know who i am n what i do
you wont really dig it
as an entertainer i’m a zilcher
what am i good for
(absolutely nuthin’)
on thursday
i travelled up to see my new accountant
who is a paid up fiend n subscriber
from way back
even his skills
cannot save me from being in deep debt to the tax demons
i got a couple of big lump sums
i didnt put the dough aside for tax
bang!
theres a problem
unlike most peoples
my tax is not deducted at source
its my own fault …i dont blame anyone
at one point my accountant says ruefully
you probably think i’m a ” straight”
no no no i say
well i am he says
a “straight” with good taste in music….
nonetheless
its good to be with someone
whos got ALL yer records
i mean
if he aint in my camp…who the fuck is?
now i need a doctor n dentist n lawyer
who are fiendss reading this blogge
just think
i could get my botox shots from a quack
whos got p=a playing in the surgery
or get defended by some barrister
who thinks freaky conclusions is just dandy
or if i had a fanboy dentist
he’d know to give me a little extra laffing gas
cos i’m the fuckin’ killer
n i can handle it
when natalie was “having” scarlet
she had this gas mask on with the laughing gas on high
have a whiff of this she says offering me a wee lungful
wow!
it knocked me into the middle of next week
i thought youd like that
said my wife who was astonishingly calm n composed
all things considered
gee i wish my dentist would give me a hit like that
talking of which
i need 2 crowns
the longer i put it off
the harder it will be
any toothquacks out there
eager to drill my fangs?
any used car dealers with a cheap car for me
that wont blow up?
anyhow
david byrne is OFF
hows that?
thats fuckin’ show biz folks
next thing up
the triffids in melbourne
thats gotta be good, right?
meanwhile
its saturday nite
im gonna get wasted

begin ‘is luck

nobody knows anythingi travel round this n other worldsa free spirit but you dont get it for nothingpast weeds n stones n little bunny rabbitsi roll over bridgesi fly over lakesi walk thru wallsi am a presence waiting for you to close your eyesi hover in the summer darknessi am so very patientnowi can waiti go where i wantin shotgun shacks at the edge of townget yer skulls n powders herei am black madame apollyoni am a thousand years old todayi eat men alivei swallow cities n townsi lift up my skirts n darkness comes downjus’ count yer money carefully honeyyou dont wanna cheat mei know how you diedi know how you gonna be borni am the snake mans daughteri am a childe of the marshesi am the morning that never comesi am so pretty but you never see mei am that bird on the linei go up n i see everythingin the deepest lake i am an eelin the highest sky i am a cloudin the strongest tree i am a termitein the hardest metal i am rustand lower yer voiceyou never knows who might be listeningand close yer eyes nown fall asleeplet yer old mama croon you awayas the train clicketty-clack clicketty-clackpast the houses with their back gardenspast the factories n general storespast the fields where the labourers groanpast the fallen down silosand past the sandy trailsyeah your mama sings to youand her fingers soothe away the pastand she cradles your sweet white skulland she gently rocks with the trainand people move past on the screenthats me you sayno thats meno thats meoh mama wont you sing some moreoh yes childe surely i will sing some moreabout a devil in the deep blue seaand aboutan angel in a pitabout that little boywho one day woke up with a […]

nobody knows anything
i travel round this n other worlds
a free spirit but you dont get it for nothing
past weeds n stones n little bunny rabbits
i roll over bridges
i fly over lakes
i walk thru walls
i am a presence waiting for you to close your eyes
i hover in the summer darkness
i am so very patient
now
i can wait
i go where i want
in shotgun shacks at the edge of town
get yer skulls n powders here
i am black madame apollyon
i am a thousand years old today
i eat men alive
i swallow cities n towns
i lift up my skirts n darkness comes down
jus’ count yer money carefully honey
you dont wanna cheat me
i know how you died
i know how you gonna be born
i am the snake mans daughter
i am a childe of the marshes
i am the morning that never comes
i am so pretty but you never see me
i am that bird on the line
i go up n i see everything
in the deepest lake i am an eel
in the highest sky i am a cloud
in the strongest tree i am a termite
in the hardest metal i am rust
and lower yer voice
you never knows who might be listening
and close yer eyes now
n fall asleep
let yer old mama croon you away
as the train clicketty-clack clicketty-clack
past the houses with their back gardens
past the factories n general stores
past the fields where the labourers groan
past the fallen down silos
and past the sandy trails
yeah your mama sings to you
and her fingers soothe away the past
and she cradles your sweet white skull
and she gently rocks with the train
and people move past on the screen
thats me you say
no thats me
no thats me
oh mama wont you sing some more
oh yes childe
surely i will sing some more
about a devil in the deep blue sea
and about
an angel in a pit
about that little boy
who one day
woke up with a black fury sucking him off
and about the monkeys in lemuria
who were vicious n mad
and about a beautiful lady turned men into pigs
oh that aint too hard says an old ladies voice
and everyone in the carriage starts to laugh
oh mama oh mama
yes my sleepy childe?
oh mama sing me those songs about the kings
about the gold
about the boys who never grow old
oh sing me to sleep because i am so tired
but i’m shaking
and i cant tell whats wrong with me…
oh childe let my love dwarf thee
oh childe come back into the dark earth
be a part not apart
oh childe listen to my voice
the wind is my friend
he carries my words
and i talk to the night
whatever that means
and the night has a thousand eyes
and the walls can all speak
and the carpet burns
and the dawn is mourning
hush you little rascals
dont wake now
atlantis has gone down
down to the depths
with a boiling white sound
someone interrupts
hey its madame apollyon….
shut your mouth!
i’m singing my little steven asleep
my poor tired boy
all sweaty n hot
from working all day
so hard in his mind
he tried so hard to run from mother earth
but now as his day draws nigh
he turns to me and he sigh
someone in the carriage says
hallelujah!
and they all join in my mamas song
mama sings :
ashes and dust aint so bad
cmon now n dont be sad
the passengers in the carriage :
aint so bad
don’ be sad
mama sings:
tomorrow wont care whether youre there
son dont let the blues hear you fuckin’ swear
passengers in the carriage :
yeah don’ swear don’ swear
mama sings :
one door close
another one open
but maybe it wasnt
the one you been hopin’
but thats alright
its goodnight
goodnight
goodnight
passengers in carriage :
aaaahhhh goooood niiiight!

quick n nasty

no time no time no timesplendish duffly xox wing wang wooa quikkyright it down bee-lingpro cream your genie usisnt thiz grandetacks nailing meits all micksed upis this then in saniteethe roo ins the abs n loot pitts bread pittbroad pitangel in a pitangel of the pitts + kil-be-el-z-bubhey bubba louiehey my my hayhave i done enough yeti must not write silly bloggsi must not write silly bloggswhy not?oh…thats rightgive my wrista wreste!

no time no time no time
splendish duffly xox
wing wang woo
a quikky
right it down bee-ling
pro cream your genie us
isnt thiz grande
tacks nailing me
its all micksed up
is this then in sanitee
the roo ins
the abs n loot pitts
bread pitt
broad pit
angel in a pit
angel of the pitts + kil-be-el-z-bub
hey bubba louie
hey my my hay
have i done enough yet
i must not write silly bloggs
i must not write silly bloggs
why not?
oh…
thats right
give my wrista wreste!

adventures in the din trade

sometimes i feel like jus’ making it all upi mean, who would knowbut life is always weirder than frictionand thats how the snake got out its skinand kilbey flounders n struggles from one disaster toanotheri could right a fucken bookkilbeys semi-autobiographythe real story un ex purr gatedor whatever…hey its all bullshit, right?who cares if kilbey insulted hughie louis n made him cry?who cares that he snorted coke at roger jaggers bar mitzvah(or was it bar none)or at the pittsburgh area music awardsa drunken slurring kilbey he didnt mean to be drunkbut he thought it might helpactually it didnt take much to get us drunka sip of champersand kilbey was staggering round the green roomtreading on rick ocaseks cornsand eating mister misters guacamole we went out for a stroll in the snowas luck wood have itwe bump into ziggy marley n end up blowing a spliffkilbey pretending to know all about dubsays some stupid things“thats not fucking dub, man(mon)!” says z mwe’re left coughing in the snowwhat you say that for? i ask himi dunno he saysfuck ‘im if ‘e cant take a joke ! ah touchesometimes our minds think so alikesome fan recognizes usoh no kilbey sayslookin’ round for an exitbut the guy is loomin’ largesteve?noyes it is!no its not!steve kill-beee?no!me : it is…he’s just being rudek: shut up you imbecilefan : steve?me : yes!k : no!fan: steve kill-bee…of the churrrch?me: yes n nok: no n nofan : excuse me…are you steve?k : (looking daggers at me!) yes…..me : you see, i told youfan : i’m sorry, are you steve kill-b…..k: (emphatically) YES!me : are you?k : shut upfan : steve kill-bee of the churrrch?k : yes…can i sign something…?fan : ( giggling) steve kill-bee oh ha hak : (warming to it a little) yes….its me ..in the fleshme : […]

sometimes i feel like jus’ making it all up
i mean, who would know
but life is always weirder than friction
and thats how the snake got out its skin
and kilbey flounders n struggles from one disaster to
another
i could right a fucken book
kilbeys semi-autobiography
the real story un ex purr gated
or whatever…
hey its all bullshit, right?
who cares if kilbey insulted hughie louis n made him cry?
who cares that he snorted coke at roger jaggers bar mitzvah
(or was it bar none)
or at the pittsburgh area music awards
a drunken slurring kilbey
he didnt mean to be drunk
but he thought it might help
actually it didnt take much to get us drunk
a sip of champers
and kilbey was staggering round the green room
treading on rick ocaseks corns
and eating mister misters guacamole
we went out for a stroll in the snow
as luck wood have it
we bump into ziggy marley n end up blowing a spliff
kilbey pretending to know all about dub
says some stupid things
“thats not fucking dub, man(mon)!” says z m
we’re left coughing in the snow
what you say that for? i ask him
i dunno he says
fuck ‘im if ‘e cant take a joke !
ah touche
sometimes our minds think so alike
some fan recognizes us
oh no kilbey says
lookin’ round for an exit
but the guy is loomin’ large
steve?
no
yes it is!
no its not!
steve kill-beee?
no!
me : it is…he’s just being rude
k: shut up you imbecile
fan : steve?
me : yes!
k : no!
fan: steve kill-bee…of the churrrch?
me: yes n no
k: no n no
fan : excuse me…are you steve?
k : (looking daggers at me!) yes…..
me : you see, i told you
fan : i’m sorry, are you steve kill-b…..
k: (emphatically) YES!
me : are you?
k : shut up
fan : steve kill-bee of the churrrch?
k : yes…can i sign something…?
fan : ( giggling) steve kill-bee oh ha ha
k : (warming to it a little) yes….its me ..in the flesh
me : oh ha ha ha hee
fan : steve….?
k : yeah…..?
me : here we go…
fan : steve …..?
k : yeah….?!
fan : (proffering programme for the p.a.m.as)
could you get rick ocasek to sign this?
me : oh ha ha hardy ha ha
k : (blushing ) err…yeah..sure..you wait here
as we re-enter the building
kilbey chucks the programme in a rubbish bin
(or was it a trash can?)
i dig it out n i say
c’mon get that chaps programme signed
kilbey tears it outta my hands
muttering under his breath
about fucking idiots n jesus christs
although he got ocasek to sign it
it still ended up in the rubbish
with the poor geyser probably still waiting out there..
eventually after knocking over sineads perrier water
and pissing meatloaf off
with a veggie jibe
kilbey n i hit the frickin’ podium
we had a speech prepared
but kilbey had ripped bits of it up as filters
over the week since i wrote it for him
plus it had gotten snow on it
and a few pages gone missing
kilbey started off by saying
he thought the p.a.m.a should change their name to
“the pits”
absolutely no one laughed
except me
i laughed at no one laughing
one by one his jokes fell flat
his drummer jokes were badly received
if he’d done his homework
he would have seen
that the vinny capice award for best new group
was named after the late vinny capice
pittsburghs most famous n beloved drummer
who died in a freak accident a month ago
when a steinway piano fell on his head from six storeys up
kilbey then made references to
republicans with crabs
ted nugents left testicle
david coverdales smoking jacket
n tawny kittaens flea collar
william penns penis
and a load of other faux pas n insults
that went down as banga pearson said
went down like a pork chop in a synagogue…
sensing a revolution
i took the mic
ladies n gennlemen…
i said ,soothing the boiling rabble
ladies n gennlemen
tis wiv grate plessha that we read the nominees
for the vinny capice encouragement n special award
for the pittsburgh areas most improved and original group
this prize will include 2 whole days of recording
at nova sound where your sounds are important!
kilbey giggled n quietly burped
i continued…
(but the bugger was trying to put me off
having made a bit of a rum go of things
kilbeys solution was always just then to make it worse
go all the way
n hope salvation is located at that point
where a shambles meets improvisation
n hope for the fuckin’ best)
anyhow
i tried to be serious
kilbeys very demeanour showed he cared not a fig for any of this
his very posture said fuck the fuckin’ pamas
he stood at the podium
stooped shoulders n scratching his head
he hoped he looked stylishly dishevelled
but he looked like a fucking scruff from sydney circa late 80s
anyway
i tried to ignore ‘im
the nominees are:
johnny n the young rockers
(kilbey groans…he hates stupid names like that!)
lenny n the p.a. rockets
(kilbey : god…thats terrible)
little julie n the pittsburgers
(kilbey chokes on his champagne, spluttering)
billy n the bad boys
(he continues to splutter n cough loudly)
and finally but not least
kilbey interjects : but definitely last…
the brad waddlespoon band featuring todd waddlespoon
kilbey : we were gonna call my band that…..
and the winner is…
kilbey…gimme the envelope
him : i dont have it…!
me : (whispering furiously) youre s’posed to..
him : well i dont..
the audience sat there suddenly sobered up
they were stony faced and to a person angrily unimpressed
ah…i say
my voice sounded huge in the silence
like the whole universe was listenin’
to whatever i would say next
ah….i said
we ..ah..lost the envelope
kilbey stepped up to the mike n coughed
onvelope ….he corrected my pronunciation
we stood there awhile
there was movement behind us
rick ocasek pushed aside n said
the winner is…. the .brad waddlespoon band
featuring todd waddlespoon!!!
the place erupted
the waddlespoons came on n played
a truly awful new romantic boogie
no one spoke to us after
we never got paid
we found our own way to the airport
and our flight was delayed
n then after 6 hours on the run way
the plane bounced all around the sky
scaring the hell out of us both
fucking show biz…i ask ya
cue david neils : memory of metal sheets
memory of metal sheets
looking thru dark glass
i think about a stone hearted woman
n how the time go pass
i talk to talking creatures
i climb the money trees
i swim on empty beaches
searching for my sheet metal memories
(from western songs : david neil in the wilderness )

anti-lopes

shopping in melrosei point out to kilbeyin alvin aardvarks a pair of anti-lopesreal 1960s anti-lopesthey wont be in my size kilbey sayshis needle-nose pressed up against the glassbullshit….i say …go on n try ’emkilbey just stands therevisions of anti-lopes in his headit was the” inne shoppe” canberra 1968 (is this where his fetish for adding the “e” came from?) shopping in david jones with his motherhe wandered away from the haberdashery for a momentdown thru the record bardown the mysterious back of this sprawling emporiumit was 68 n psychedelia had broken loosegents clothes were sposed to be floral n colourfulpaisley cravats n bright cor-du-roylike you were percy shelley or someoneup the back is the inne shoppea few square feet of modern ragsas kilbey n i stand gawking from a distancea cool dude comes in the back doors he n his girlfriend leave the royal blue skiesn the pine trees all behind as they walk towards the inne shoppeoh wow! kilbey whisperswhat..? i sayshhhhh! he says its ronnie haze the best bass player in the a.c.t.n his girlfriendwho is the saucy sister of a guy i knew once in dicksonanyhowunless mick jagger himself had walked in…hazey was the bees kneeslong blond hairblond sideburnsslim n impossibly groovytanned skina nehru jacket ….so tastefulhis black boots were just….righthis girlfriend was like him in negativeblack hair pale skingroovy outfitshe seemed devoted as she clung to himoh my life would be complete if i was himc’mon ..! i saykilbey says ssssh!ronnie haze is checking out the inne shoppes clothestheres a guy working in there would scare anyoneimmaculately dressed in double breasted pinstripea supercilious flouncing ninnykilbey’d never dare go in a shoppe with a guy like thati seen kilbey in action…he’s scared of shop assistantshe hates buying thingshe cant decidehe n i get into argumentsme : they […]

shopping in melrose
i point out to kilbey
in alvin aardvarks
a pair of anti-lopes
real 1960s anti-lopes
they wont be in my size kilbey says
his needle-nose pressed up against the glass
bullshit….i say …go on n try ’em
kilbey just stands there
visions of anti-lopes in his head
it was the” inne shoppe” canberra 1968
(is this where his fetish for adding the “e” came from?)
shopping in david jones with his mother
he wandered away from the haberdashery for a moment
down thru the record bar
down the mysterious back of this sprawling emporium
it was 68 n psychedelia had broken loose
gents clothes were sposed to be floral n colourful
paisley cravats n bright cor-du-roy
like you were percy shelley or someone
up the back is the inne shoppe
a few square feet of modern rags
as kilbey n i stand gawking from a distance
a cool dude comes in the back doors
he n his girlfriend leave the royal blue skies
n the pine trees all behind
as they walk towards the inne shoppe
oh wow! kilbey whispers
what..? i say
shhhhh! he says its ronnie haze
the best bass player in the a.c.t.
n his girlfriend
who is the saucy sister of a guy i knew once in dickson
anyhow
unless mick jagger himself had walked in…
hazey was the bees knees
long blond hair
blond sideburns
slim n impossibly groovy
tanned skin
a nehru jacket ….so tasteful
his black boots were just….right
his girlfriend was like him in negative
black hair pale skin
groovy outfit
she seemed devoted as she clung to him
oh my life would be complete if i was him
c’mon ..! i say
kilbey says ssssh!
ronnie haze is checking out the inne shoppes clothes
theres a guy working in there would scare anyone
immaculately dressed in double breasted pinstripe
a supercilious flouncing ninny
kilbey’d never dare go in a shoppe with a guy like that
i seen kilbey in action…he’s scared of shop assistants
he hates buying things
he cant decide
he n i get into arguments
me : they fit
him : they do not fit!
me : hold your stomach in
him : you hold yer tongue!
etc
anyway hazey walks right up to this ponce
can i help you sir? says the ponce with a smirk
hazey says
have you got any zigger jackets?
the guy frowns n shakes his head
hazey says
have you got any anti-lopes?
the guy starts to mumble something
shaking his head
hazey gestures around the guys shop
and lifts a shirt up off the rack
inspecting it
sniffing it
n suddenly replacing it
like it was the most disgusting object on earth
no zigger jackets or anti-lopes
yet you dare call this the “inne shoppe?”
hazey laughed a mirthless laugh
n he n the girlfriend swept out
like ambassadors leaving the table of negotiation
from then on in
both kilbey n i were anxious to secure
a pair of anti-lopes
they had proven elusive
we were beginning on our evolution thru jeans
amco
leisuremasters
levi-strauss
lee
lee coopers
wranglers
bear-cats
but
somewhere out there
was a pair of anti-lopes with sks name on em
finally
that day had come
but he couldnt stand it
luckily being much the same size as him
he was 32 in those days..
i went in n tried the bloody anti-lopes on
kilbey stood outside gesticulating thru the glass
oh wow they fitted perfect, lee
not too tight
not too baggy
buy em! he was outside saying
ok ! OK!
later on kilbey gets busted for jay-walking
the sign says dont walk but kilbey walks
c’mon he says
dont walk here on a red sign i say
impatiently he snorts n steps out into the traffic
cars start stopping all over the place
horns start honking
and a policeman cruises up on his bike
n busts kilbey red-footed
sir, let me see some id
kilbeys got no idea let alone id
sir i’ll have to take you in until i can determine who you are
kilbey starts laying on the aussie accent
oh…youre from downunder? says the quite frankly dopey copper
i have a sister in crows nest, nsw says the copper
his eyes are a little misty
i havent seen her for ..what..2 years this christmas
kilbey waxes eloquent on the joys of crows nest
a lovely suburb.. he drawls so honest n harmless
the cop n kilbey chat about crows nest for a while
every now n then kilbey rolls his eyes in my direction
eventually the cop says
look sir
i’m not going to take you down the station today
but jay walking is an offence in california
and please pay this ticket..
he gave him a ticket for 10 dollars
oh yes i will !said kilbey pathetically subservient
(and he did! …what a rebel…?!)
anyway
a load more things happened that afternoon
but jesus
my rsi is killing me today
so this is the short story
after a series of hilarious misadventures
the anti-lopes got locked in the boot (trunk)
of a hire car
that got dropped off somewhere
before their absence had been detected
kilbey n i blamed each other
most people (who were interested) believed me
the anti-lopes were never seen again
he never even tried em on
but he never paid me for em neither
so fair sfair i guess
oh god they were lovely tho
i know kilbey still thinks of em
on a misty night in the purple gloaming
(cue david neils ” alberta”
alberta , give me some more time
i cant see how i could have been so blind
and tomorrows faraway
jes’ like yessaday
alberta, please gimme some more time”