The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

reboot

glory to god on high

architect of universe world planner

lovely god lovely pet lovely garden

oh the day shows the way

dew and drop and shell and brook

the web shudders and vibrates touch sensitive

as all things come and go

as all things exist and fade

yet each is registered and has played a part

the flight of the crane

the path of the comet

the way of the lion that fears nothing

let me follow you oh god wherever you are wherever you go

to your sanctuary which is warm and dark like a shop in the old days

there you will turn back time

and i as a child enveloped in that smell of lollies

and i as a free spirit before all this stuff held me down

and i will follow you through groves of sunlit oaks

down to a pounding grey sea where we will defeat the enemy

and amidst crystal pools of golden fish meditating on serenity

i swoon at the mention of any of your secret names

i see your hand in the explosion of luxuriant bloom

i mark your number down and i call it often

sometimes you just don’t answer and i wonder why that is

but i leave a message and sometimes it seems to make sense

good things happen often and bad things only rarely

eventually tho’ we all must suffer

the necessity of this will be clear one day ( i’m sure )

i dunno

a mystery unravels before our eyes

paradoxes are reconciled

and dear lost friends will be reunited

may it be so for everyone!

may good things come and let all have respite

wouldn’t that be nice….?

zed shiva iao lingua dei

appearing near you soon

a god of your own understanding

children listen to me

there is god

not a god not the god but god

he is kind enough to appear to you as you may understand him

my god is a he

he has a ravishing female consort

a gorgeous hot mama of cosmic proportions

why the beauty of her ass would stop universes in rotation!

i tell you one kiss from her would enflame eternal bolt uprightness

her exquisite motion her pleasured movements upon us

she comes down from heaven like black cat

she arcs in wonder as you bridge her skies

for an eternity then you fall through her cloud

you drown in all that rain within

high in the highest sky nevertheless you drown

my god is a masculine genius creator

he spits out universes

he fucks only the finest goddess

he shows me films he has made of her in my reverie

that is why my mind is blown

that is why i care only for sex and drugs and rocknroll

within these ecstasies i have found god again and again

fuck you blasphemer ! is anybody bothered to say?

but my stupid hedonistic theistic narcissistic carryon is a hoot

and i’m glad the god of your own understanding got me for the part

i am hamming it up for you now

i am a complex and warped structure

my monstrous superiority complex

my hideous inferiority complex

my self absorption my self loathing

between them have pulled me into this previously unfilled place (oooh er)

a raving compassionate ratbag raggletag rishi frooti

touched by god and goddess

loving and hating them

denying them believing them

my language is masculine and feminine

the two opposites that create unity

why would my god not be a man who loves women?

my god who knocks off little planets like earth

why he needs to relax with some right on pleasure or what?

well my god goes to his consorts place

and shes like getting herself ready ..and you know what i mean

and my god is relishing this because he can

and my god though he loves his consort very much indeed

it would be a joke to conjecture this love that could stop time

yet still he is her master still he is even her lord

though he now will serve her most diligently and ardently

and in becoming her servant he can relish serving his beloved

for this is the sweetest task

and he relinquishes his control and his crown for this time

for though he created all things that are

he did not create her

for she is eternal and  is his equal

but in some matters he must dominate

and in other matters it is her who must decide

he tends towards anger

she ameliorates this with galactic caress

he tends towards pride

but he finds humility in the wonder of her prowess

as i move through time god has hewn me into shape

i stand before you now as a messenger of my god

my god says look what my messenger has created for you 

so you can see he speaks my truth

my god says i have an important message for you :

everythings ok !

New! the church on Google+ 

happy easter from the 2 SKs

time of forgiveness

time of love

time of calm

time of renewal

jesus christ was a beautiful cat

he preached tolerance

he preached giving people the benefit of the doubt

he preached even -handedness

he preached going the distance

this was revolutionary then

it still is now

open up your hearts

understand each other

treat each other how you want to be treated yourself

dont worry about the finer theological points

ignore the religious bullshit

just actualise all your love

love love and more love

thats all i can say

doesnt matter if you “believe in” jesus or not

still its an ideal

a way to try to lead your life

be gracious

be nice

go on

the other thing has never worked, will never work…

this then is all we have

love and peace and understanding

sk bondi 2012

hey guys

sorry i havent written anything for a while

feeling demoralised and sad

alcohol is taking a terrible toll on someone i care very much about

i cant seem to get much done

will try and get back on track

no comments asked for or necessary

thanks for yer patience etc

steven

this chiming man

old light on a new day

cold morning dark room

melbourne flattens out in all directions

the play is over

the sets come down

the scripts left somewhere behind almost carelessly

the actors and players have a small celebration

they talk and laugh out there

travel arrangements

settling of accounts

ticket baggage arrival departure

whats yer next role?

i dunno

where you goin’?

home

how’d ya feel?

tired

the church supports awareness of Autism.

darkest hour of the night

i’m staying here in melbourne at these apts

and my first apt was a dungeon n i asked to be moved

so they moved me to this apt upstairs

but this backs on to gay disco thingy

which starts pounding ‘orrible bleeding music

coming thru the walls

an unavoidable and irregular bang thud bang thud

that sometimes picks up momentum and resembles

a construction site

its impossible for me to sleep tho my ladyfriend can

3 in the morning the lowest point of the day

i am so tired but i could no more sleep thru this than a blizzard

one can only imagine the ferocious volume at its source

such a joyless racket so unmusical

oh i have had lotsa time to consider what this sleep depriving row is

it has but 2 bits in every song

a boom boom boom 4 to the bar kick drum sample

which sometimes turns into a stop

suddenly theres this stupid predictable little drum roll

then the whole hideous mechanical cacophony starts up again

one piece can go on for 15 minutes unswerving from its purpose

to repeat itself over and over like a replicating virus

it does not deviate for variation or originality or grace

it goes on imitating a demolition jackhammer

(at least they stop for lunch)

this is music untouched by human hand

it contains no love sustenance or life

it is dead and ennervating

its equivalent in ballet would be

someone just jumping on the spot

its equivalent in painting would be

someone flinging purple dollops at a pink sludge

its equivalent in film would be watching the same 5 frames

over n over n over then it stops n then starts over n over n over again

all at a crushing earthshaking level

that would drown out a fucking boeing 727

this is surely orwells awful future we live in

what a sad lifeless gigantic din all for nothing

a waste of electricity

a genuine dismal unbearable useless horror

not music at all actually

it has a beat but so does a dripping tap

stupefying idiot sounds rendered at a titanic volume

my idea of hell

good night all

a blow for the cause

baby take off your riverboots

and dont forget to eat up your filmshoots

a cannibal isle bee

the cooked booker his fried fee

hooker looks at hook says call smee

my galleon is running a ground says he

a door ajar of mouses

a floor above the haunted houses

we see she espouses certain forbidden n hidden fibs

she ridden a kitten out of a fog

surprised the reprisals began with a dog

hogged the logos  rhythm in spasm in a prism

ma’am the RAM is full pull the hard drive

honey the musics all runny its dripped

i ripped it and burned it and finally i sipped it

my lips were chapped and charged and all chipped

my voice was a little brittle ‘mongst the wattle

a grotto in the ghetto where gepetto fashions pin ok oh

electric conga line eel shorting coke

milk whitening fleshed enmeshed crash

micro soft surge urge my stash to ash

i cant find my mind here ..will it appear sincere…?

up the wooden hills to bedfordshire i now wearily tread

goodnight one and all

yeah

thats what i said

mechanistic deluge

hopeless and forlorn ere long i sailed  upon

your body of water

madam oh sell me something knew something blew

alienable wrong i was farmed for my dna

i was hunted because i was game i guess

i was corroded by times friction

there is no where to hide from yourself

or is there ?

a door opens and you take it

you dont ask any questions

you imagined anything better than before

you thought you had nailed it but it clobbered you

you think

even though this thing has unseated every rider

you think

ah i will be the one to master it

with hubris we carry on into the mountaining storm

deny everything

deny your reflection

deny your bleary eyes

deny your red hot ears ringing like bells

deny your thieving itchy fingers callused and hard

deny your shiftless limbs deny your listless spirit

defy the good in you by denying it somehow

you figure out some lies to patch it all together

but then you fall in love with the lies and delighted to tell them

songs are lies too

or exaggeration to say the least/most

more than music more than words

what does it all mean

why is it so hard to write a good song

lotta people out there trying at any given time being

finally it can be revealed as flowing from an unknow source

we search the terrain but we never can see it

some vast cold lake of beautiful ideas up to the brim

a lake of graceful wonder and elegant simplicity

ruffled by flute like zephyrs deep as a bassoon

in this lake full of inchoate masterpieces

we pluck the tiny various elements

with which we plead our case before the universe

why should we exist at all without originality

more than a recombination of some previous jive

we see the potential far away like the eagle sees the calf

we glimpse third and forth possibilities in the 2 sides of each story

we travel with eyes open and we are vulnerable to everything

everything is work

the sorting out never stops

i construct it my facade and my background carefully

i nervously admit characters into my novels chambers

on warm nights i’m in the garden drinking iced green tea

among shrub and twisting fern elephant ear hyacinth rose

my mind gleams like an instrument under strange crested moons

in crescent myriads the effulgence of stardust orbits thrown up

andromeda swings by in her whorl amidst flower and star

something out in deep space wakes like a kraken in the darkness

our puny cities brace for annihilation

in our last hours we lie in bed drinking as time ebbs out

and you say

i been having the craziest dream