posted on April 8, 2007 at 10:01 am

what do i care if some silly sods done a new version
of utmw?
what do i care for all the constant reappraisal
the experts pontification
let em dissect me
i cant feel it
let em say what they want
or let em ignore me if they want
i am what they say i am
well theres show biz
and theres the time being
why would i be here otherwise?
do i chart the everyday for everyman?
do i navigate the safe waters of the mundane planes
like everybody else…?
no no no
the being is your vanguard
the being does the things with his mind
that you dont dare to anymore
the being is in a permanent state of arrested childhood
the being is still open to the spirits of the mineral world
the being with its past lives flowering like a damaged parachute
i have reached this position….
a strange position indeed
its my niche
now let me occupy it
it so easy to be even half-good
in this half-bad world
a bit of this
a bit of that
oh the easier it gets
the better it is
cant you understand i am torn between great confidence
bordering on obsessive vanity
and a terrible doubt
a terrible feeling of failure
i need to master everything
i pick up a fucking ukelele …
if i aint written a song in 2 minutes
i furious
fucking uka -laylee
gimme my 4 string bass
that heavy little mother aint never gonna run outta riffs
oh my sweet sweet bass
best bass in the world
rolls royce of basses
organic bass
pure bass
warm bass
you gotta love warmth baby
i donta wanna mah bass to sound cold n clanky
i dont want no zingy rickybacker bass
i dont want no dirty gibson neither
i want the king
the leveller
the definitive instrument
i want the straddy-various of basses
mister im talking about the fender jazz bass
it just is alright
yeah yeah
people play others
but they know jazz is best
smoke jazz n play jazz on my jazz n all that jazz
oh its the feeling of the best…
oh bass still a mystery to be unravelled
im just getting started
my fingers think of stuff themselves
and my heart plays all the sharps n flats
and my mind figures out the interweave
and my spirit tries to keep it simple
but my brain wants to chuck everything in there
im under a spell
a good spell
an improvement spell
you wait
youll see
youll say
most improved of 2007
the time being
good boy steven!
because i can
i do this
because i can
yeah you could come up with a dumb comment
that lasts one line
you may even come up with a smart comment
if ya lucky
but can ya sustain it baybee
day in
day out
knocking it out
just because i can
we aint got dylan thomas no more
we aint got arthur rim-bo or william s.
who we got
i dunno
martin amis?
a few fiction writers
john crowley (yeah!)
i dunno
whos trying to reconcile all this stuff?
fantasy magical realistic mythological
surrealistic beatnik bohemian hindu
rocknroll hodge podge of pure bullshit
yessir that’ll be me
thisll be my stop
im live to air here
i done all those things youve dreamed of
and i lived your nightmares too
at least some of them arky-types
i aint easily defeated by impossibility
i mean i wanna hear sideways music
i wanna see sculptors sing in steel
if you resisting this
im puzzled then
do i feel resistance?
the proof in the pudding
with the brandy n the currents
ive had so much field experience
sitting here
listening to yellow6/portal
thanks ricky miami
another innately grroovy guy
i have to admire
even tho im old enuff to be his farther
ricky miami youve hidden so many gems in my pod
every days a musical mystery tour
so sitting here
i think of all the hotel motel make you wanna die
i think of all the notes ive plucked
all the words i sang
all the arguments i had with pricks idiots n ratbags
sometimes all of the above
i think of the flights
cold sweating in a cramped seat over some icy ocean
or middle eastern hotspot
all the hands i hadda shake
all the babies i hadda kiss
all the promises i hadda make
all the rehearsals
all the cars n limos n vans
the helicopters n the ferries
the unions n the managers n the roadies
n the deelers n the heelers
n the crews n the audiences in spades
screaming for the time beyings blood
expecting something no one could deliver
anticipating something so sublime yet…
failure is built in to it im afraid
gotta keep trying
barking up wrong alleys
running up dead end trees
running up bills
running up the shops for energy drinks n a packet of tally-ho
kidsa saying where you going king rude daddy?
go daddy go
somebody rings me up
they say are you stevie kilbey oh boy
i say yes i am whose this boyo?
they say oh stevie kay kay im your number one fan
i say whatdya think of uninvited
they say scuse me?
i say can you name me any song other than under the milky way
they say under the what?
i say do you know any song at all?
they say oh no i guess you got me good with names
i say what you want?
they say nothing
i say who are you
they say no one
i say where are you
they say yeah you guessed it nowhere
howdja like that?!
so does that ever happen to you
i m really living this large up to the hilton
im some pathetic peter pan with ‘is white beard
poncing about on a stage in buda-pest
or maybe penrith panthers
cept in budapest kitty kat coulda gotten in
but they shoo’d her away at penriff
poor kitty kat
up in darwin
no gw
no ir
she gotta keep hopin ole sk keeps on keepin on
imagine if you send in a neggy comment n i die nexta day?
oooh eek a mouse might come round n find ya!
but if you can blogge on the otherside
poor kitty kat
then i’ll send ya a sign
like yer ipod ll throw me on shuffle 13 times inna row
or i’ll make ectoplasm appear all over yer cubicle at work
people be nice to me now
im olde
i deserve some tlc
no no not slavish sinko-phancy
back off there you weirdos
ha ha
ah now you may approacheth…..
just consider my delicacy you see
i am the delicate bricklayer
and a whole string of oxymorons
all self aggrandizing my puny self
now projected on yer multi-screen
in all its pixellated graininess
im just letting off steam
i cant shut it down
it wants to stream
it wants to get out of my head
it craves the internet
it craves instant transmission
im sitting here
somewhere ya cant really imagine
but in five minutes
some dude in cairo’ll be reading this tripe
im drunk with that power
that icon thats says
” publish this mess right now!”
that feeling ya get when ya let people
all over the place read yer fuckin’ mind
well now my lifes a soup opera
jus’ like they always said it shoulda been
you read about the doodles n the bumper
boy there some characters for sure
in the finer focus of dopes trance
where i sift thru my one inch thoughts
and decide it couldnt be done
this is it… cyber poems for a buncha blog fiendss
whatever ya wanted
whatever ya thought you gonna get
i should be doing the washing up
i should be packing my soup case
and chequeing my geemails n oh boymales
i should grow up
cut my job n get a hare
come outta my silver panelled cocoon
earth to kilbey
earth to kilbey
can you hear me mayja killa
can you hear me
can you hear me…….

27 Responses to “because i can…”

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