The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

coffee hounds ep by church now done coming soon
track one how easy it all is (coffee song)
marine sleepy floydy
track 2 hounds of love
the kate bush song
nice version i guess
track 3 instrumental of 1
without my stupid voice
i cant cope with all the email n gmail n myspace
i just cannot dedicate so much tyme and electronic blechh
i get like 100 emails a day
i answer most urgent
the rest drift behind
people get angry feel ignored
sorry
im spending 2 hours a day on blog
its killing my shoulders arm n now knee
no time
the computers swallowing my time
makes me restless
gives me headaches
makes me feel sick
been doing self portraits
scarlet comes in and says
i like your daddy
i say
no i like your daddy
she says i like your daddy
theres a portrait of ricki
i like your ricki she says as she leaves
tonite gigging at opera house
reciting 2 songs
huh?
yeah
lets see what happens…
full report tomorrow
thank you to spate of generous subscribers
people you are very very good friends of the time being inc
had a nasty bit of argy bargy just now with someone close
my anger (again) consumes me
despite all the other bullshit i write (about)
my anger is still a fucking barely concealed monster
constantly slipping his shackles and slathering mad
anybody reading this
PLEASE DO NOT ATTEMPT TO “FUCK” WITH ME
i cannot control myself
i am willing to argue straight n negotiate
but now at this advanced age of almost 54
(thats right, add them years n weep!)
i cannot tolerate any childish malarkey
or unnecessary friction
dont drive me around in 3rd gear with the handbrake on
or im gonna boil
just like my car
falcon experts please come to my aid here
my car doesnt have a leak
but SOMETIMES but not others
it boils and the fluid comes spurting out some place
i cant see
othertimes..no problems
advice?
weather here very sultry
storm coming in
feels like my head
here i am
stevie killbee
poet idiot space rocker artist player singer blogger veg
ok they are my gigs
but not fuckin’ arguments n nyah nyah nyah n
killin the goose that laid a golden blog
or looking my gifthoarse in the bloody gob
anyway
i gotta lotta things on the boil (bad choice o’ words)
n i aint done yoga
gotta pick up the kidlettes etc
scarlet hurt her hands playing with a cactus
and shes still miserably waving them round at me
and im afraid my eyesight is dimming sufficiently
that i cant see the small spines remaining in her hand (if any)
painkiller is coming soon
my paintings have taken a tern for the better
i auditioned yesterday for part as antarctic scientist….
how can i not get the gig?
i am the antarctic scientist
at the east pole
where the pole dancers live
GAME OVER

the room turns whiter than white
the creams fly to white
the whites become silver
the silver becomes light
the light becomes me
and i
i become.
the mayans
the lemurians
the civilizations lost in jungles
their geometry
the mathematics
their endogenic plants
their exogenic knowledge
downloading rapidly
calculations
numbers revolve
the beautiful rivers of singing fish
the jaguars
the snakes
the knowledge of natural things
sweet balance
respect
gentleness
the healing arts
the visions
the prophecies
objects wrought from what…and how?
magic
deep magic
the faint chatter of living dna
against the background of wind and birds
all things in communication
everything changing by thought alone
the shadowy world of men as illusion
the bright light fills my body
i am truly ecstatic
oh gift from gods
speak to us in million ways
yoga
childbirth
the sky
the heavenly bodies
the magic plants
through chance
through chants
through the physical acts of love
through meditation
through the chi/prana
through the creatures
through architecture
through sacrifice
through discipline
through courage
through desperation
blue becomes neon turquoise
green becomes ultramarine
black becomes liquid void
spacemen and ancestors
gnawing my ear off
whispering at hi-speed download
the sound of a mental internet connection
the power suddenly fills me with fear
i remember to breathe breathe breathe
the swedish word for breath and spirit is the same
what will death be like?
what was life like?
different for us all
the materialist will go kicking and screaming
the yogi will blissfully attain emancipation
the rest of us in some hospital
thinking
can this really be it?
that day
that day i knew was coming
that day i have watched steadly approaching
only as is natural, though….
george harrison sang about the art of dying
is there an art?
is it letting go?
is all art a letting go
and is all letting go an art?
the power senses my resistance
i concentrate
i breath out
i let go
as much as an uptight egotistical silly old hippy can
ah
the power takes me
come then it says
what had frightened me before
now swirls around me
my body which was ice
is now a warm potent fire
my blood floods my hands n feet n face n cock
a wave of delicious erotic thoughts
women before my eyes and other females
of some indeterminate origin
space ladies with electric fingers
still the computations go on and on
the power sizes me up
and it reckons and relays
alien aztec-like women
kiss me
straddle my mind
the machines continue to operate
the seeming of organic structure
the alien strumpets are repulsively non human
but deliciously obscene
they writhe and giggle and swoop and disappear
an incredible excited calm falls over me
i see processions
i see markets
i see ceremonies
oh south america
oh peru
oh brazil
oh ecuador
how did i end up so far away?
oh lemuria
this cold and distant future is hurting hurting hurting me
this mad world
but my sorrow is detached
an ache i can feel but which no longer has any hold
like my broken arm
like my broken heart
like my broken promises
the power says
yes you are a fool
while i bathe in its silvery heat
while i float bouyed by the power of some other world
vishnu appears on the steps of another gods temple
not in india but here here here
in south america
jesus too
i see him
dressed in colourful clothes
tripping in the jungle
caressing the snakes
walking with the panthers
out of his mind on love
the love of it all
before this could be dreamed up at all
the sheer love
my mind has separated from my body
my spirit has separated from my mind
my past has come out of my spirits tongue
it whispers it to my mind
and my body trembles in awe
my body relaxed beyond earth and fire and water and air
my body heavy clumsy temporary
my mind rigid ignorant under-utilized
but trying and crying
my spirit
ineffable
the same spirit
everywhere nowhere
cant see it cant cut it cant burn it
my spirit
that great actor
animating flesh through will and love
pretending to be forgetful
it raves to my mind
my mind agitates my body
i pick up my pastels
i pick up my bass guitar
the spirits gossip
turns itself into ideas
which travel electrically
through mysterious meridians
and at some faraway place
kilbey writes a painting
or paints a song

im carrying a big bowl of prawns from one little house
to another
im six years old
i cant believe they eat this stuff
i can hardly bear to look at the pink objects in the bowl
the smell disgusts me
how can people eat something that smells like that
the tiny things are monstrous
every instinct in me is revolted
suddenly
what do you know
i drop the lot in the dirt
oh dear what a shame
we are down the south coast
the locusts vibrate in the trees
the water is cold and green and foamy
i am sunburnt and freckly
all the adults tease me
and none of them love me very much
i am so angry to be a child again
again?
again? i thinks to myself
what were we before then…?
in the time before time
and the time before that
oh i perceive the pattern
you struggle to acquire…
money
skills
power
property
identity
and then
its all stripped away
and you start again
still with those old appetites
those old hankerings
big deal i was some big big shot
somewhere faraway n long ago
these english types dont sit well with me
fussing around and eating prawns
i, whoever i was, did not eat prawns
i did not like small talk
and i did not like to be made fun of
ha an impotent foreign little sod
no longer the big old grand wazoo
or whatever the fuck it was
what does it matter?
that world is gone
the people are all gone
come back as little steven kilbeys in england
of all places
england
ha!
a voice whispers in my head
i was a sikh
its constantly on the tip of my tongue
the answer i mean
i am so close to finding it
when i do
i will put it in a blog
and someone will argue with me
the way they always do
going thru my writings looking for punctuation mistakes
while im laying my life on the line here
if i decry warmongerers they say im spreading disunity
i say
some fights are good fights
krishna said if your duty is to fight
then you must fight
i rave on about the “straights”
quite frankly i dont care about em
EXCEPT
they’re trying to tell us all what to do
EXCEPT
they’re ruining this fucking planet
ok
heres my definition of a “straight” once and for all
materialistic
brutal
nonspiritual
religiously fundamental with no questioning at all
pro guns
anti some drugs (ie all the divine ones)
no imagination
demanding nothing from their art
meat eating
alcohol n bellowing in yer face
no disciplines
parochial
obstinate
out of touch
willfully ignorant
superficial
afraid
bellicose
scheming conniving conning
ennervating
gossip rags and infotainment
gated communities
4 wheel drives in the city
docile

now yes yes
all of us probably test positive to some of those
its just that
if most of that was you
then youre a “straight”
leave me alone
and i’ll never mention them again
just like i never mention telegraph poles or water restrictions
you know
theyre there but who cares
ah but the “straights”
are running this western show
as i said
epitomized by bush
the very worst ignorant aggressive yet cowardly himself
a draft dodger who calls himself a war president
he has run the u.s. into the ground
he does not love his people
who can argue with that?
am i being a divisionist here?
ok bush n men like him
are ruining a lot of things
are we “non-straights”
gonna just sit back n say nothing?
are we gonna blindly obey these idiots
even though we KNOW it our heart of hearts
that they are fucking pathetic
how do you think bush will be judged by history?
i could have been a better president
i said it before many times
a lot less people would have died
for a start
etc
what pisses me off the most
is that “straights”tell me what i can n cant do
what i can ingest
how i can change myself
the way they hound artists intellectuals prophets and freaks
the pharisees who did jesus in were “straights”
the idiots who threw robert mitchum in jail for smoking weed
they were “straights”
the guys presiding at the inquisitions
the guys who burnt down the alexandrian library
the guys who beat a blind lady in bondi
the guys who deforest the amazon
the japs harpooning them whales
the guys organizing world war one kitchener et al
football hooligans
butchers
fanatics and extremists
the cops n the robbers
the tali fuckin’ ban
the cia
the terrorists
the crusaders
captains of industry
howard, thatcher, pinochet
fast food corporations
oil companies
arms manufacturers
a guy called piers akerman
who writes in sydney rag the telegraph
he is the straightest of all “straights”
he is the most predictable knee jerking
right wing i told you so “straight” of them all
and you see his little picture of him
(and he must have chosen a good one
imagine the ones he rejected..)
and there he is
resembling a smug little toad
all puffed up in his self importance
as he trots out the 1950s blacknwhite bullshit
programmed into him by the western paradigm
and he parrots it ad infinitum
is that divisive?
yeah
i didnt say us under the loose banner of bohemian are perfect
who said we cant fuckin’ criticize the bastards
who stubbornly ignorantly are causing more problems n grief
bohemians dont kill or advocate war
but i can write whatever the fuck i like here on my blog
if im wrong i’ll apologise
who cares anyway?
its all just dust in the wind
let it all go
ah….
thats better

my day beats your year
voices in my head
nag nag nag
just say no
oh ha ha ha ha ha
kilbey you born to travel
kilbey your job is was and always will be to travel my son
a sham man
or
a shaman
i am i am i am
all lions are cats
all cats are lions
blah blah is a drug
all drugs are bad
i know cos the govt told me
i read it in the paper
i sit next to terry stamp in the sauna today
im sitting next to terry fucking stamp
watching the mellifluous green pacific roll in
unroll and travel
containing its bream and sharks and bluebottles
its whales and rays and weeds
tell the ocean not to travel
tell the ocean to be careful
terry meets julie every saturday
terry stamp
oh terry terry talk to me
lemme be yer friend terry
one soft infested summer me n terry became friends
terry looks at me
terry cmon talk to me
oh those pale blue eyes terry
did lou write that about you
terry come home i’ll play you the collector
terry yer brother managed the who
terry sits and does alternate nostril breathing
terry has the aura of a roman senator
his aged dignity even outflanks his youthful beauty
and kilbey
look at you look at you
why the aya has aged ya and youthened ya
kilbey those lines and cracks and hollows
kilbey those planes and angles of your face
the lovely line of your jaw
the bags under your eyes
the silvery whiteness of your beard
your yellowing cracking teeth
your perfect pink nose
your thin fine hair which floats around
medium fleshy lobed ears with golden rings
the price of my own burial
whats coming up in the future, kilbey? the man said
death …..
terrys in the shower
i declined to check out his tackle
that would make me as bad as the omni-present school kids
clogging up the change room
n weeing in the pool
last night
my daughter aurora
with the devil in her eyes
cmon dad cmon
we passed a real estate sign
the agents were danny and bart doff
immediately i remember their brothers
jack doff
nick doff
piss doff
lay doff
aurora thinks this is hilarious
that night we hit the sign
bugger doff
jerk doff
terry looks at sea and sighs
hes talking to another english geezer
oh whatta voice
oh whatta accent
if terry was a car hed be a classic jaguar
last night after nk n girls go to bed
i work on my painting
the vegetalista
i start with the biggest paper i got
eekie bought me every size they got
i got little up to big
i paint the paper black in gouache paint
not velvet black
not lamp black
jet black
black as night
black as coal
i wanna paint it paint it black
i see terry go by dressed in his summer clothes
onto this black void
i take a special sponge applicator
i take my new pastels which are not sticks
but little pots of pastel
and a loada different applicators
this stuff so easy to use
so intuitive
so hands on
make up yer technique baby
you can get it real organic
i do a heart shaped white thing
in the middle which will be the face
i rub away at it with my faber-castell knetgummi
art rubber
my process is to add and subtract constantly
one must avoid any stiffness in art
nature flows in certain ways
the trees
the ocean
the clouds
humans and other creatures
our dimensions
our ratios
they have a flow and pattern
easy to recognize
hard to replicate
you gotta get in the flow
you gotta see that trees move in certain ways
that eyes are shaped in others
no human heavy handedness
few lines few squares few definite lines
you gotta figure out shadow
just like in music you gotta figure out reverb/echo
thats right, not only the the object and /or sound
but its shadows and echoes
terry looks at himself in the mirror
who knows what he thinks?
aurora and eve and the woofle stand on the footpath
im up the wall writing all the funny doffs i can think of
and putting moustaches n specs on the doff boys ugly mugs
aurora n eve are beside themselves giggling screaming
daddy quick theres someone coming…
MAN ARRESTED FOR DEFACING A REAL ESTATE BILLBOARD
TWINS AND WOOFLE ALSO NABBED IN NTH BONDI RAID
POLICE NOW ASK : COULD THIS BE THE SAME GANG
WHO WERE PUTTING GUM ON THE NOSES OF REAL ESTATE GUYS
AND MAKING THEM LOOK LIKE KOALA BEARS IN UNSOLVED EASTERN
SUBURB REAL ESTATE AUCTION SIGNS CRIMEWAVE
eventually my face appears on the black paper
next a forest a jungle springs up all around me
vines and lianas
flowers and fronds
then
fuck it
i let the jungle grow right into me
a border of eyes
the thousand eyes of the night
a thousand and one nights
a hundred and one voluptuous days
terry walks off into bondi
without saying a word
i put a little crystal piece of bark into my pipe
on a bed of ash
let me take you to dmt place
i flick the lighter and inhale
as i inhale i watch the flame
caressing the tiny tiny piece of crystal
australias national tree
illegal only if you smoke it
are they protecting our health?
oh ha ha ha
you
you intelligent people believe
they are protecting you from something
yes its so hard to believe isnt it?
anyway i have transformed australias national acacia tree
into an A class drug
merely by smoking it
what is it they dont want me to see?
and it is simply this
that this here
this stuff agreed loosely upon as western reality
is but one of an infinite aspects of something else
once upon a time
they at least left ya alone to ponder yer own inner space
but now
well look at leary
and the THOUSANDS of people in the u s
in jail for smoking pot
ha ha ha
anyway
im watching the flame
as it undulates
and the smoke hits my lungs
a high pitched whirring and clicking
the room alters
everything vibrates
i have gone from zero to a thousand in no time flat
this is the stuff the aboriginal medicine men took
gee lucky its now illegal…
anyway my portrait starts pulsating
the vines start curling and strangling
the flowers bloom
the thousand eyes wink
im doing a gig at the opera house friday
i wrote a beautiful song the other day
aurora screaming getting more high pitched
theres someone coming
the doff brothers somewhere saying
oh kilbey we heard it all before
a package arrives yessaday
its from mem
now mem never sends boring gifts
uh oh
a dazzling kaleidoscopic journey through the quixotic
hinterlands of consciousness, crop circles and ancient prophecy, as
well as an intriguing and deeply personal odyssey of transformation
2012 the return of quetzalcoatl
cmon mem
why do ya think i’d like that
when i got me beer
i got me autopsy (turvy) tv shows
like the young coroners
i got me gossip rags
and i got me just say no
mem also sent me a houdini comic (YES!)
and some cds or dvds i aint even unwrapped
terry lemme introduce you to dimitri
inside my mind
dimitri has changed things
the very bits n bytes of reality are composed here
mathematics geometry music art medicine yoga
all revolving on cone like pyramids
the digits and paintings calculate and compute
the machines revolve and upload and down load
lovely towers swirl out of cartoon coloured landscapes
small playful beings appear
laughing and waving
yes yes you you kilbey here we are
come in mr silver oh we been waiting for you
daddy theres someone coming
the vines growing right out of my head
hey ricki come back
daddy theres someone coming
theres a high pitched babble
my tinnitus has gone haywire
percolating like flute
terrys gone
the girls laugh
the vegetalista stares back at me smirking
the buddhas wriggle
kali grimaces with her necklace of skulls
the islands of the dead
as above so blow
let me take you to the islands of the dead
the warm sun
theres someone coming daddy-o!
fuck doff

once there was this
and there was that
this was not that
this was everything
that was nothing
this was intelligent spirit whole
that was void empty null
but this could not experience that
and it could not experience itself
this which was everything
became everything else
this imploded
and permeated that
this fragmented into tiny tiny parts
sparks fly from a flame
a flame from a fire
a fire from an inferno
this saw itself
and did not know it was this
its memory shattered into infinite fragments
each bit of this is but an aspect of the big this
every aspect unique
every aspect that had to be what it is
so everything could be fulfilled
as it must
for how could it not be?
paradox entered the world
spirit took on matter
numbers had words
words had numbers
male contained female
female contained male back
paintings were also songs
songs all had paintings
the mountains could only be seen from the valleys
the day was welcomed after the long night
the night was welcomed after the long day
the flowers breathed out and the people breathed in
and the vines sang
and the coca plants whispered
and deep within poppies the opium crooned
and the marijuana called out
and the mushrooms quietly laughed
and the grape slurred
and the tobacco gritted its teeth
and the iboga tree shouted harshly
and the acacia tree whistled
and the ephedra plants bawled out
and the tea trees yawned
and the ergot sniggered in the rye
and the mandrake spoke out: it said careful
and the belladonna said how beautiful
and the datura cackled
and the coffee beans said wake up
and the valerian said cool down
and the ginseng said be a man
and the sage said going sideways
and the guarana said hurry up
and the hops said whose round?
and the soma said you will forget me
and the people and the vegetal kingdom
were hand in glove
and the people communed with the vegetals
and cultivated them
in return for their powers
each with its own power
each with its own price
each with its own personality
and they learnt much
and people were free
to do as they pleased
until one day
some people
decided
that
there was only one way
and it was their way
and they said
there has been a mistake
nature has produced these monstrous plants
and people were locked away
hounded
and even killed
for daring to invite these plants in
the people in control
liked to be in control
they were unimaginative
they were obstinate
the were brutal
they did not want the others to have their vegetal communion
they did not want free thinking
it frightened them
they perceived that they would lose control
if people listened to the plants
they did not want visions
they did not want travel between the planes
they wanted prisons and executions and war
they wanted control
they frightened the people with their hysteria
with their misplaced zealotry
but these controlling people
attracted the stupid and vicious and ghastly
the manipulated the weak and easy populations
they took away natures medicine
and concocted their own
and they gave the world sleeping pills
tranquillizers
amyl nitrate
sugar whitened with bones
and thalidomide
and agent orange
and nerve gas
and oxycodone
and xanax
and monosodium glutamate
and gelatin
and the controllers said
take these things
for we made them ourselves
and people believed it
and though the controllers
lied and hurt the people over and over
the people believed until they could not think for themselves
and the controllers feared the vegetal knowledge of certain plants
and it knew that the knowledge the plants contained
was what their god had said to adam
that if you eat this you will become as gods yourselves
and their jealous old god didnt want that
and the jealous old controllers didnt want that either
so they made healing plants the enemy
or they chemicalized them and made them harsher
and stronger and more vicious
and you can tell the controllers
by their love of war and weapons and meat and power
they are stupid and ugly and afraid
they hit first and ask questions later
they have given you the coliseums
and the world wars
and the vietnams
and the assault rifles
and the cigarettes
and the gossip rags
and the radiation
and the electro-magnetic pollution
they gave you jfks assassination
and his brother
they killed marilyn n dr winston o’boogie
they do whatever they like
they dont love us
they dont lead us
they just control us
the same old bunch
the very worst
the most ignorant
the most xenophobic
the ones who dont love the sick and the poor
the ones who dont like the singing and dancing
the ones who dont like you dreaming your own dreams
the ones who dont like anybody else
but themselves
epitomized and personified in george bush
the anti-vine
the anti-vision
the anti-love
the anti-life
the cage
the trap
the brute
the claw
the end

about 10 minutes after drinking the aya
i began to feel light
i began to vibrate
things started to flow
i got a tiny tiny glimpse of the magic
my ego was babbling like a fool
ah you see, im not going to get sick
now heroin had made me sick
and morning rose seeds had made me sick n weep n sob
and now the lady (and she is a lady)
the lady said (but not in english)
my old friend,
if you want to raise your self up into the sky
first these ruins
these griefs must be demolished
like the dentist who must fill the decaying tooth
like the doctor who must excise the necrotic flesh
like the sculptor whose chisel must dig into marble
to find the venus de milo contained within
like the builder who bulldozes the old structures
to build the new skyscraper
you must get rid of this accumulated rubble
the parasites, the insults
oh i so willingly threw up
like a woman must have a baby
i pushed it out
i tried to let it go
but
deep deep fears
deep deep grief
i let go my surface pain
i let go my disappointments
the countless rude and ignorant things i have done
oh that is so easy
yes i am a fool
ah thats better
ha ha said the vine
oh that is the beginning
this is one treatment in an ongoing metamorphosis
i realised it was now 2 late 2 stop
the vine was in my guts
im a virgoan
everything happens in my guts
the kid that fucking biffed me when i was 12
its in my guts
all the times something happened which humiliated me
in my guts
my shame
my guilt
my incredible sadistic cruelty
my inadequacies
my failures
my conflicts
my doubts
all that steve kilbey junk
that steve kilbey garbage pit
just outside steve kilbeys lovely mind city
where they do the songs y’all like
you see they generate a lot of waste in there
the people been trying to ignore it
but they cant expand until the garbage is dealt with
the human race faces this on a macro level
this struggle to face our shadow our darkness our refuse
the wars the slaughter the damage
the obstinate cruel bloodthirsty ignorance
of bush n iraq n whaling n flanders field n the crucifixion
n the pollution.n the witchtrials n the romans n the israelites
n the crusades n the inquisition n the executions
n the tortures n experiments n burnings n destruction n slavery
n oppression
how we fucked the indian indians over
how we fucked the red indians over
how we fucked the aborigines over
how we fucked the women over
how we fucked the children over
how we fucked the old and sick over
how we fucked our friends over
how we fucked our enemies over
how we fucked the dumb animals over
WE WERE SENT HERE TO LOVE
AND WE FUCKED IT ALL OVER
and then
WE FUCKED OUR OWN PLANET OVER
AND NOW SHE MIGHT DIE
yes my friends
read it and weep
and steve kilbey
that personality reincarnated in this body
is a mini-human race
no better no worse
intent on his learned ignorance
desiring and getting blood and pain and triumph and defeat
comparing himself
imposing himself
withdrawing himself
never part of the universe
i mean
theres the universe
theres kilbey
a pimple
an addition
an accretion
a congealed mistake
an anomaly
wrong wrong wrong
ugly ugly ugly
wicked dirty little boy
shut up
go away
drop dead!
the vine says
kilbey you are a part!
not apart
you are a cog in this big machine
you have a right
you have a place
you have a reason
you are nothing
you are everything
you are love
you are loved
right now you are
a sweating vomiting hallucinating sobbing mess
BUT GODDAMN IT KILBEY YOU BELONG!
ok so kilbey gets rid of kilbeys stuff
his dad
the paintings
oh i cried for 2 minutes over my paintings
why for the money?
nope
cos i had put so much love into em
i couldnt let it go
the new church album
already had a song i’d just written the words for
and the refrain
and i cant let it go
and i gotta get up
and i gotta get off
and i gotto get in
and i gotta get out
but i cant i cant let it go
yep i wrote those words pre aya
the vine was already talking before i drank it
she had warned i would be nauseous n fearful
because nausea and fear
are my greatest fears
face them like a man
my friend matty c
undergoing chemo for a year
every day for a year
this man has chemo
he vomits n vomits n vomits
how did he do it?
how could he cope?
i guess he faces it
he accepts it
he gives it no more strength by fearing it!
fuck it all fiendss
i no longer fear nausea and fear
i dont want em
i will try to avoid em
but i aint gonna give em any substance
by revering em with fear
let it come
let it come
the lady who was hosting the night told me
how in an aya vision
she had died
she was dead cold lifeless
who wants this?
no one
this is our greatest fear and horror
alone dead lifeless
her body
began to rot
horror of horrors
the worms who are not worms
but maggots
the putrefaction our flesh contains within itself
the maggots ate her
she could feel it
this is the lowest you can go
you face this
you face this horror
this nightmare
why why why
where are the golden visions
the animal spirits
the revelations….?
not this
but
after the body was reabsorbed in the earth
ashes to ashes
dust to dust
back to the natural compounds
our bodies are cobbled together with
so we as immortal spirits may experience separation
because as spirits we must experience everything
ok
then you let go
she let go
i let go
all night
the keywords people mutter
let it go
so easy to say
but she did i guess
and oh what victory in that surrender
youve faced it
that worst thing
i had faced the crippling nausea
the fear
the freezing
but something underneath that
refusing to come out
get it out aya
i plead with her
i plead with my nausea
this horrible omnipresent tension
this shadow
this ANXIETY
out out
rip it out of me
sorry said the vine
i dont rip it out
you gotta let it out
and thats it for your session
but what is it what is it what is it?
its grief
grief from long ago
grief you never let go
you hung on to it
youve been born with it
it has accumulated round your soul
like a black pearl of doubt
and
ha ha
poor you
you must come back and see me again
soon soon soon
and the fever broke
the nausea abated
the horrors melted
it was a nice morning
i was in a mess
but i felt new and shiny
i felt light
my anger had faded away
my anxiety was a distant ache
rather than an urgent agony
my friend that i went with
had
contrary to me
drunk his medicine
they call it medicine
oh yes it is
not a kick
not a thrill
not a high
not an A class drug
but sweet sweet medicine
given by god to mankind
for those lucky enough
brave enough
stupid enough
desperate enough
do you wanna face yer demons
hell yeah
bring em on!
stuff my own mind has manufactured
stuff my soul has accumulated
anyway
my friend
had lay there all night
peacefully blissfully dreaming
while people threw up
and people played gongs and cymbals
and sang to hold onto themselves through the journey
while the host and hostess
empty the buckets of bile
my big happy friend dreamt
and in the morning
he was so blissful
he was so overcome
with the sheer random delicious love
the beautiful garden
with its vegetal message
all the trees n leaves n shrubs
vibrating with love and joy
drinking the sun and rain and moon
oblivious to humanties obscenities n struggles
gary was in communion and baby he was gone
3 or 4 grown men had to drag his limp body in
cos he was gone
out there
at one
a part
not apart
he is a real gentle man
although maybe not a gentleman jim
the vine was showing him the beauty
the permanent light
always shining above the turmoil of the temporary clouds
his own personal vision
his own place
his own take
everybody was smiling as i left
on the way home
my car overheated continually
an atm swallowed my fucking bankcard
and shut down
but i did not panic or despair
i wasnt happy either
as my car reached boiling point in the tunnel
i risked my life more in that journey
than i ever have with drugs, mr lehbrino
these drugs dont harm us
these drugs are not drugs
they are ancient ancient ancient
beyond your just say no
beyond the 1950s and prohibition
beyond nancy fucking reagan
beyond tim learys persecution
beyond morals
beyond america
beyond babylon
before even lemuria n atlantis
where me and you lived
at the beginning of it all
there was this loving mother
the vine is her language
i must talk with her again
it is going to get worse before it gets better
there a whole lotta hurt
before i get to the bliss
im gonna get me some of that bliss
the pain is temporary
the reward is eternal

s j kilbey
n bondi autumn 2008

last night i drank ayahuasca for the 1st time
(google it!)
please dont bother with your anti-drug baloney
this is not a recreational drug
this is not lsd
this is not mushrooms
this is not ketamine or laughing gas
nor pot or hash
or even ibogaine
this is something above and below all of these
and more
i drove with a friend
who has drunken mother vine a few times before
a peaceful house
far away from the city
near the sea
surrounded by the bush
beautiful vegetation
oh how i have been loving my trees and flowers
and leaves and shrubs and fronds and …
after virtually ignoring it most of my life
i am beginning to attune to this spirit
it was already happening before
yoga blah blah blah
steering me in the right direction
there is something i have hated in me
unknown
shadow
darkness
secret
horror
fear
nausea
pain
ache
sorrow
grief
out out out you vile fucking spot!
oh boy you dont evict the very fabric of yerself like that
just cos ya wanna…
otherwise life’d be a breeze
but ya cant let it go
even if you knew what it was
and you dont….
i knew instinctively the vine would help me
and it did
not in glorious visions
or realiasation
but i vomited for about 6 hours
out mercury
out cadmium
out fertilizer
out ddt
out weedkiller
out electro-poison
out evil thoughts
out thwarted ambition
out this and that
out worms and parasites
all the while baby im tripping
a horror
just quite bearable
shot through with encouragements from the vine
that they said loved me
i said lady, mother vine be gentle to me
she said oh my childe i am i am
i purged i purged i purged
everybody did to some extent
me more than most
but i have more baggage than most i guess
mine will be the higher point
if i can ever stand to get there
it was like a heroin withdrawal
cold sweat, the horrors
the freezing freezing coldness
i was under 4 quilts and i was still fucking freezing
my feet like cold wet blocks of ice
i’d stepped in water and my wooly socks were wet
the people facilitating this event talked to me
gentle encouraging things
all the people there
were bona fide seekers
all with different levels of experience
the guy called the magician
was a crazy mad professor type
who arrived rubbing his hands with glee
and wearing a kind of obstetricians light on his forehead
in the darkness we pounded up the fresh vine
a south american strain grown in a secret aust location
that this magician had travelled by plane n car a long way
to obtain
he had also obtained acacia which was now dmt crystals
in the amazon the vine is served with the local dmt equivalent
i was too nauseous to try n get this down so i declined
the dmt
thus cutting out a large visual component
i didnt mind the taste
but everybody else seemed to hate it
the magician most of all
someone said the vine likes you steve
and the magician seemed to chuckle softly
sometimes he was to pass by me in the night
and whisper
why dont you let it all go?
or did i imagine that?

part 2 tomorrow

walk to pool listening to peter hammill
the silent corner and the empty stage
dark words and music
“like the inmates of asylums
all the citizens are contagiously insane”
a solemn organ sweeps in, funereal
guitars warp and howl
accoustic guitar creeps in brittle arpeggios
strange soft moaning sounds
things moving backwards
things picking up momentum
something like dr whos tardis takes off
into horrible biblical ages
the music is full of torment and strife
sirens call and fade
the guitars become discordant
playing doomy harmonies
hammills voice
intelligent articulate mocking
suddenly piercing
suddenly becoming soft and beautiful
“atlantis is strange the explosion of an age
no one really knows what to do and the city is a cage”
the waves wash over us
the music takes us down to the sea bed
hammill brings back jericho
“maybe the people are waiting for trumpets”
he sadly suggests
why cant rock music be married to this ancient history?
to me there is no contradiction
everything is there for me to plunder
everything
magic
science
alchemy
drugs
sex
yoga
history
language
breath
exercise
literature
art
music
religion
philosophy
hammill destroys christianity on the lie
the organ summoning the mysteries of the latin church
the swinging censer with its sandalwood smoke
the reverb suggests the empty cold churches
where hammill was tormented as a boy
“benediction…fiction or fear?”
then on red shift
hammill bewails the universes move into the red
“once constellations were holy,
now darkness pervades all the older ones”
“hope is a word with no space for meaning”
oh sounds like something i might have written
johnny rotten even loved peter hammill
on red shift some sibilant snake like rattle
wriggles from speaker to speaker
hammill sounds like hes heartbroken
as the galaxies float into the redzone
mmmmm
gotta email from my fed ex agent
investigating my “case”
she says bondi junction fed ex need to “revert to respond”
hmmm…
yeah i bet they do….
tonite im doing something very interesting
something quite cosmic
maybe dangerous
maybe changing me forever
maybe not
will keep you informed
love
etc
me
ps vanguard hotel newtown 27 mar
toff in town melby 6 apr
be there!!!

wake up
write a blog
kids get ready for school
i have some shredded wheat for breakfast
weather wilde and woolley
everyone must get a big kiss goodbye from the woofle
set off
doodles usually enjoy a quiz on way to school
or they enjoy it
when i shut my eyes
n gotta guess which ones hand im holding
(the twillies liked this one too…
and were much harder to tell apart)
sometimes they like 20 questions as well
anyway i say hey doodles
what does the word eerie mean
something to do with your skin? says one
ah its a ….er…i dunno a kind of cat ? says the other
no it means spooky i say
oh…they both say disinterestedly
ummm i say
what does basalt mean?
i dont know and i dont care ! says eve
uh dad, i don’ wanna be a walkin’ dictionary …says aurora
ok you little gooseballs im gonna listen to my ipod i say
good! says eve
aurora shakes my hand like its a done deal
and the doodles converse amongst themselves
about something interesting…
strangely enough
they both wanna hold my hands
so im walking along listening to ipod
with a 8 year old girl in school uni-form on each hand
nattering away across me…
drop em off at school
get a kiss
over the road
down towards the beach
across the lawns past the palms and pavillion
the usual tramps and groups of sweaty wives working out
all dressed in their leotards
stepping up in down on a kerb
or boxing with the instructor
on the boardwalk im listening to
horror of horrors…stevie nix
jesus
stop dragging my balls around
i used to sing back in the day
ha ha ha
there was a girl in a band in canberra
who thought she was stevie nix
and when her band did rhiannon
the chick’d run around with the little cloak
just like stevie did
only it was ok in the mega dome in la
but it was hilarious in the harmony-german club in canberra
have you ever seen a women taken by the wind?
thats why i always say
blow me down!
anyway im listening to stevie n don henley
by time i get to pooley
reflecting on love songs
i mean the girls in all the old sixties songs..
i mean the “she” who was just seventeen
in 1963s i saw her standing there by beatle-boys
shes gotta be 63 or 64 now right?
is her look way beyond compare still?
(maybe, if shes a vegan)
did he ever dance with another?
maybe…
i get to pool
into sauna
theres always some characters in there
today an anxious looking skinny chick
and her boyfriend
who looks like he came straight from amazon jungle
they whisper to each other but cant hear language
gee its hot in here tho
its like a bloody….sauna
the sauna looks out over the pacific
and north bondi headland (i dont live there!)
which is real pretty
grey overcast sudden glimpses of sun flashes of blue
surfers traverse the deep
people in pool go up n down
body builders in gym
women do yoga
people sit on balc drinkin’ cappo bloody -cheenos
people get massaged
a school turns up
and its funny how all the little boys
stand in the changeroom gawking and giggling
at the grown-up mens wedding tackle
occaisionally a teacher rushes in saying
hurry up jared get changed
or
liam, i told you not to do that
or
jack, miss boom-boom is looking for you
i jump in pool
i swim up n down
breast stroke one way
freestyle the other
it alternates between boring and mesmerising
i jump out have another sauna
do qi gong on the deck
walk home buy some bananas n dates for my smoothie
we decide to go up the junga
the junga is bondi junction
which sits about a mile or 2 away from the beach inland
and up a big hill
the easterns subs are very hilly..
it has the largest mall in the southern hemmy-sphere
gee
and also has fed-ex kinkos office
wherein yon slacker fucked up my tube
we park in underground bunker which gives me horrors
i take woofle to fed ex
natalie goes to do grocery shopping,
at fed ex office woofle sits patiently on counter
for about 2 mins
before she gets down and runs around
dismantling the little displays of stationery n stuff
meanwhile i explain my story to guy there
he tries to understand and care
i tell him i have 6 paintings in a white tube
he goes and finds a picasso print
is this it ? he asks hopefully
then he rings a number
aha
a heavily accented lady comes on
aha
natalie had told me a heavily accented lady
was looking for a mr “kibley”
from fed ex…investigating my case…
gave her my email address etc
hello steven i m looking after your case
yes…i say ..but i didnt get your email i say
i sent it she says
this lady is quite good at english
i say quite good
because im sure english is a hard lang
for people from wherever shes from
(i say where are you anyway?
she says im offshore…….!?)
but she is not the person
i want handling my case
i tell her all the details
how i had the tube
how the slacker said hed put it in the fed ex tube
he said but there werent any right now
yeah yeah sure sure hed do it later he said
i had a premonition as i started the car outside
that he’d already forgotten
everything….
going into great detail
and an impassioned plea for their return
halfway thru my speech
i get the distinct sinking feeling
that shes non comprehendo mosta what im saying
why cant people who do these jobs speak english adequately?
surely thats not asking too much…
half the customs officers in the us cant speak english properly
well i could hardly communicate with em any way
and im english so i guess that means something, right?
look i dont care if the cab drivers or the shopowners
or the restaurant guys or the whatever cant speak inglese
but if you dealing with folks on the phone
re important details like immigration or sending documents etc
c’mon…!
anyway
although she called me steven
she had sent my email to sevekilbey@gmail.com
not stevekilbey@gmail.com
she couldnt see anything wrong with that
i realised my paintings were doomed
look just put all in email she says
i wanna speak to your superior (i think to myself, but dont say)
then i imagine
i could get
someone even worse
ah harro seve i am supelior…what is plobrum?
so
i say ok
but
still havent re”seve”d email
so…..
blah!
took woofle round junga with me
shes getting increasingly stroppy
culminating in a display of yoga right in front of escalator
thats right as people were getting off a crowded escalator
the woofle was going between dog position n upwards facing dog
while her confused and bothered old daddy tried to get her to move on
one guy stops and has a real good laugh
shes actually really good he says
and i start laughing too
seeing the funny side at last
the woofle
to cap off her performance
takes the bottom of her t shirt in her mouth
and pulls it tight
while having a maniacal expression in her eyes….bravo!
then its mostly tears
as i drag her to an art shop for a can of fix
finally down all those other escalators
to find mummy on the lowest level
its more and more crying
till finally
as we got off the last escalator
i put my foot on her foot
i pull her hand upwards…giving her a stretch
and i stumble over
with my woofle my cans of fix and radiator coolant and stopleak
what a sight
woofles really crying now
when nk appears from grocery shop
she flies to mummy glad to escape the brutal imbecility of daddy-o
and is spilling the beans on how i hurt her and where it hurts
we come home
i have a sleep
wake up feeling real groggy
a can of berry v wakes me up
nk goes to school get doodles
woofle wakes up
angry to find shes woken up
with dear sweet soft mummy gone
and angry busy stupid old daddy left
nk n doodles come home
only thing to silence angry woofle is to put on a dvd
she is insistinging on the wiggles
which i absolutely abhor despise and revile
but hey
its still better than woofles guilt trip and recriminations
that im not her mother…
then at 6 30
the twillies swan in for dinner
the twillies have evening jobs now
and it gives them a slightly new swagger
i have to watch what i say in front of twillies
cos one olde fogey type remark will have em up n at me
they insist on swearing and talking about gory films theyve seen
going into lurid detail about murders n blood n guts
the doodles eyes are like plates
im trying to get the twillies to tone it down
ahem…girls please ..this is the dinner table..
but it goes from worse to worse
recounting all kinds of things in colourful language
reminding me of myself at 16
trying to shock and somehow proclaim my indy-pendents
but at same time seeking approval
its complicated
anyway
i didnt blow it tonite with my
“im not having that in this house” malarkey
they come in my room
elli prints out a load of stuff she doesnt take with her
minna gets out my art supply stuff
wants a “good” bit of paper
and then never finishes it
they both swan off into the night
beautiful self centred teenage girls
you gotta take what you can get and let em flow
cos you cant impose yer own aesthetic or ideals upon them
doodles go to bed amidst teethcleaning and protests
i read to them from northern lights
which is one zillion times better than hairy potter
and nk n i watch an episode of the american office
in which michael n jan levinson go public with romance
its squirmingly embarrassing n very very funny
but when its all over
the woofle is still stubbornly awake
she aint going gently into that goodnight
so we 3
me nk n woofle go to bed earlyish
woofle is still gently carrying on as i fall asleep
and shes up first thing this morning when i wake up
good on you woofle
24 hour surveillance service
we’re watching you daddy
eventually everyone is up n about
ah
another day

its a thundery morning in north bondi
my 4 girls sleep on
elli n minna sleep on round the corner too
am i lucky?
sure
i am
i am a very lucky man
my daughters
my wife
my friends who are all of you
im always so touched by your concern
im sitting here wearing a krsna/vishnu long sleeve t shirt
given to me by ms x
who has also given me some of the most amazing art supplies ever
stuff i never heard of, never woulda bought
all picked out with originality and flair
always exactly what i needed
even if i didnt know it
plus
she sends my kids wonderful art supplies too
which ALL children love
she sent me these new pastels called pan pastels
applied with different applicators
its enough to get me going on a new painting spree
i wasnt real happy with my last lot of paintings
not the ones that went missing…they were good
just the ones before that
its like songwriting periods
sometimes you churning em out
sometimes youve been inspired
well now
im inspired
and im inspired about music
and im inspired about words
and im inspired about the rich knowledge
that flows to me in my fifties
the fruit of years of struggling and yearning
let me tell you being fifty three is not all bad
dont fear middle age you younger fiendss out there
i have no desire to be 23 no no no no
only for the time it would give me
but each man gets only one life as that man
and as painful as it must be
we will have to relinquish our masks….
i am learning about paint and pastels at a rapid rate
oh all those wasted years…
music too
my voice….
learning how to use it
what it is capable of…
yesterday after all the money baloney
i drive out to tims
when i get there
we worked not on new church album
as i thought we would
but we finished up work on the shriek soundtrack
the churches soundtrack for the book “shriek”
a weird fantasy by jeff vandermeer
people
tim and i had such a blast
we locked in our intentions
we secured a modus operandi
and we nailed it
using passages from the book
i sang screamed whispered pleaded ranted and raved
over the top of the churches roiling boiling music
guitars flutter and float and shake and shudder
we added some strings and leslied piano
tim jumps in shadowing my voice perfectly
almost everything we do is right!
that happens with painting too
everything you do is right
like some hand guides you
like some intelligence feeds you the clues
sometimes you can do no wrong
i play some accoustic guitar
it changes the angle of the tracks
my basslines are sexy and snaky
i go in the laundry and bang tims washing machine
with mallets
and all the drum bits hanging up in there
and tim does what sounds like a looping sample
of some old egyptian guy praying or something
and i go in with some chanting and grunting
very maori says tim smiling
we just add and add
tim does his studio trickery on the computer
work on into the night
i had a goodtime
and we finished it
the long lonely drive from tims to home
in the rain
listen to kate bushes aerial and rocknroll animal
although not an extreme fan of twin lead guitar harmony solos
the guitar playing on this is gloriously celestial
intertwining and climbing
steve hunter and dick wagner these guys were called
and the arrangements on here are almost classical in detail
in 1974 this album knocked my socks off
it makes the drive back to bondi more bearable
over anzac bridge
down the tunnel
up in rushcutters bay
up the hill in belvue heights (however ya spell it)
down the other side into vaucluse
then bondi
the rain abates
not a bad days work
things arent so bad
just financial…
its still a worry tho’
not for my sake
i can live on literally nothing
and i have
but fambleys need money
and ya gotta get that soy bacon on the table
ok
nose to grindstone!