The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

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imagine yourself in some lonely dark city

the windows all closed and the doors painted black

nobody knows you or has heard your name as

you wander beyond these  sad afternoons

was it vancouver or wasnt it melbourne

i cant remember because of the rain

huddled in taxis we dreamed up the streets

hidden in winter we could never get warm

the calendar stopped at june 74

the electric blanket is  still switched on 2

a foil of dope with half of it gone

a copy of playboy wow look at those girls

davids guitar has got a cracked neck

the moon in the chimney blue in the black

the cars on the highway that never come back

the polite small yawn that gives it away

the day has now come and gone with the night

dont ask me for details my memories unravelling

feels like somebodys walking over my grave

we walk on the stage and the audience claps

but  alone that night we all want to cry

theres no justice in the courtroom  nor in the prison library

theres no mercy in the brothel nor in the infirmary

my mind has been hacked

david walks down the track

forever it seems forever and back

the overseers seer

i guess david neil is now in his afterlife

its getting confusing to tell it apart

and the wind blows like murder behind saskatoon

and the jolt of the shot as it reaches the heart

and i dream that hes lying just there in the wreckage

and i dream that they pulling him out all alive

and i see that theyre giving him some kind of treatment

and i see david smiling so sad he says no

no to the future no to the pushers

no to the widows no to the fun

no to the fate that tried to engulf him

no to the scenery that now held him in

and it seemed  as he leaving this vale of tears

in his mind he was in a motel somewhere else

motel on the outskirts on some lonely town

and a fog had come in

and the night just fell down

oh fuck hes feeling such fucking sadness

the walls in this place undulating so thin

oh desperate den of deprave and deformer

oh hard to be good oh easy to sin

now where is the girl with the number for heroin

now where is the cat with the needles and claws

where is the groupie that sleeps with his ghost

and follows it round as it goes  town to town again

and swallows it down where it wont make a sound again

n the tv was flickering n david was shivering

the rain outside him was burning the air

someone from dakota had called the police

but  the police couldnt come cos they dont  have the man

and a planes falling out of the sky somewhere else

david asleep in the purplish afterglow

a thousand new eyes open up in his mind

his delirious mind with the heart of a fool

his foolish young heart with the mind of its own

and you watch as david fades into the reverie

and you listen as david goes down for his fall

his poor old mother arranging the ceremony

his poor old dad who carried the box

the brothers and sisters who wept so profusely

the elegant man who was driving the hearse

the drummer was smoking some stuff when he heard

maybe now davids happy was all that he said

but all these events were still off in some future

some future thats coming but yet to arrive

and in the motel room the players are playing

and the game is so deadly its quickly divine

the rain in the carpark freezing  in puddles

reflecting orion and anatares above

the singular feeling of midnight around us

the moment of truth is forced out with a lie

and all of the planets that once guided david

had forsaken his luck as they veered off thru space

the snake eyes he rolled the beanstalks he climbed

but the giants had caught him and taken him down

and into the evening the passengers went

with their hardly goodbyes and their tears for the sky

up in the cockpit the captain fly anxious

the moon on the wane as it catches his eye

and dave in economy where joe lyons is sitting

nursing a pistol under his coat

cos david was seeing his wife on the side i guess

i guess that he found out n ran out of the house

and all the caresses she laid on his shoulder

and all of the kisses she laid on his lips

and all of her sweetest words he’d ever heard

they couldnt persuade her husband to stay

as david ponders a song hes been working on

a song called the cockpit the last that he’ll write

and the air rushes over the surface of wings

and the night moves along singing its own song

and its song is so sad that i feel i belong

and david could hear it you know its alright

he knew what he did when he got on that flight

that death came three times is hardly surprising

his life lived in triplicate

the end was the same

mystery tramp

the moon king is coming in shadow of shame

tethered his horse to a star

the milky white monster rushed through the sky

and the thought of light is faster than light

and the knight of nights is a single black cat

who crosses your path as you move on through time

while the party tricks and the parlour games

have all become a burden to me

the line that defines us is just like yon river

it wanders oh baby the way that it flows

my head is an instrument needing restringing

my heart is an ache that wakes up my head

in the middle of dreams

in the cold light of green

the way that the water whirls in a pool

the masquers arrive in a swarm of intrigue

and the moon king comes

riding an earth

avarice n lust

was an angular evening

all edges and corners

and the light spiralled out of the dark sky like glass

and the palms and the pines stood sullen and cold

as the driverless cars approach through the night

as we wait in some kitchen to weigh up the powder

as we stand all in line to check out our stuff

as we walk in the light of the blue neon cross

as we crunch up the numbers that add up to nothing

as we pull off our clothes lie listless in bed

i separate into all of my being

i overtake then the speed  i am moving

but i veer to the left

and i swerve to the right

and all of my songs start to turn round and bite me

and all of those words start to throb in my head

i remember it all

like it was yesterday

it was yesterday says somebody else

i turn around theyre calling my number

i come around theyre paging my book

i  look around the deserted hot fleshpots

i puff for a while on the residue of love

i reach in my pocket and pull out a hand

i empty my eyes of the things i have seen

the jealous thoughts that all manifested

the anger and violence so blindly released

the way that a star shines in the sea

the way that an enemy waits till your weak

the way a morning screams in your ear

when you wake with a stranger giving you hook

when you walk with some bastard some animal jack

when you play with some lowboy and give him the lot

when you go to the city where nobody lives

and you go to the sleep where nobody dreams

and hearing the song that no one has sung

and your making up things that pull things apart

and your hunger for starving yourself of all  things

and you dance like a fool in the light of regret

and you prance like an ass for the fools you attract

and you terminate time with a sweep of your arm

for the pain in the past was never your blame

and the fire consumes us

and the waters still rise

and the jackals all out there

and the dragons are back

some man inventing hideous creatures

he just dreams em up and then they can fly

the six headed wrath

the one fingered rip

the semi-accordioned old bag of bones

the salt water wimp

the classic usurper

the ogre who took you back to the cave

the stupid one with money to burst

the gruesome one with the nose of a boar

the boring one who helped you out once

and the one you promised some of the moon

and the important one who owned a cafe

and the little one who had a big car

and the one with the degree in idiocy

and the one that you met as youre on your way home

and the one with the name you cant bear me to say

and the one with the magic that brings us undone

and the words that were whispers

and the gestures imbibed

and the places it happened

and the way it went down

as the snow fell and fell

as the stuff did its work

as the people around you step back and stare

as the morning thats coming turns right around

as the impossible horror of reading your mind

as the spirit blazed a trail north through your life

as the old evil burn that drives men insane

as the increasing pressure of madness on metal

as the feeling of slowing down in mid fall

one day you look up and theres nobody watching

so you take everything thats not nailed down

and you travel a path that takes you away

yes you visited lots of the stories you told

and you talked about london and you talked bout new york

and you talked about anything

and nothing taboo

you said youd been hired to play acute nightmare

you said youd auditioned for the saturday crowd

you said someone wants you to fly his new planet

you said someone offered you cash for your heart

you said someone lovely had just picked you out

you said someone wealthy had paid for your kick

you said someone awful had accessed your oh!

you said someone strong had weakened your grasp

and the evening was angular

all window and mirror

and the colours were smeared on the glow of the fog

at the edge of the high way  rushing by liquid

and a dip in the road

and an end of a line

the crooked sky

i come down hard

i crash through into next day and it burns

a fugitive from reality i tried to escape

but reality tracked me down

its parked outside my house in a big black car

its bugging my muse

it tries to bribe me in subtle ways to adhere to it

but i came unstuck as a child in the hive

and some clueless anger ate me alive

and a sense of dread gnawed on my days

and i read what some dead magnificent poet once wrote

and i heard what some magnificent dead singer once sang

and as i plotted and planned my escape

in terms of reality my thinking was becoming outside of it

and using all the same tricks of other would be escapees

but probably more and probably more often

i ascended descended and went sideways in a flash

i communicated with nature

i was absolutely cut off and frozen

i sat in satori at the edge of a rippling lake

i tramped up and down the aisles of purgatory

i wanted a vision

i wanted a dream so vivid that i could park it in a garden like a caravan

a door into another world a door like music or sex or drugs

a door like having a fever a door like almost losing your life

the doors are all there but who wants to go through them

and them that do what do they bring back?

so few of them tell me what i am so anxious to know…..

almost everything seems like its not meant for me

some impossible boredom numbs me at the very first word

i cannot concentrate on a simple instruction

but my reveries are peopled and filled with rich detail

i feel like i belong somewhere else

but i cant tell if everyone feels like that

1967 was an exciting year

it seemed to me that reality might in fact be ruptured or cracked

something was afoot i guess but i was only a kid

i knew that before that someone somewhere had turned off the good times

i knew theres gotta be more than i was getting

nobody i knew could understand me

it seemed there was a revolution coming

the summer of love? oh i wanted to be there

in london hanging out in a club in soho

smoking hashish and a threesome with some german girls

their long blonde hair hung down their white backs

man we were eating strange mushrooms and having a groovy scene

it seemed so obvious to me a twelve year old uber-virgin

that had never been fucked or fought in a war

that we could just replace combat with incredible orgies

like in those old greek days in groves and in glades

bring on those voluptuous nymphs

and get rid of all the generals and tanks

i imagined myself cavorting in the moonlight

(probably with my undies on i was really still quite shy)

the summer of love

a love-in in this time of love moves me

playing guitar and flushed with cash

combining young heroes from film and fiction

dressed in the vogue and fashionably thin

but i was a freckly boy in his first year of high school

stupid in most things except for greek myths

and the lives of popstars who were rising and falling

the myths and the stardoms  seemed intertwined

they all seemed like extraordinary people

beautiful brilliant and tragically doomed

yeah thats the world i wanted to be in

theres been some mistake this isnt me

inside i’m sure i’m somebody else somebody more

i’m always disappointed to see that its only still me

i ran from myself but i always caught up

i avoided myself but we always collided

i hated myself so i loved myself more

i was so awfully real such an ordinary boy

not one girl had never looked at me ever

i was a poet yet to write a word

i was yet to take shape in my cocoon of childhood

i was unable the breakthrough to a deep sublime well

anyway now

what seems like a million days later

and my play probably nearing the end of its run

half in and half out of this current version of  life

saner than ever and mad as any raving hatter or march hare

i sit and i write whatever comes into my head

i walk round this world a bull in a china shop

a teacup in a storm, a babe in the woods

averting disaster only by luck

the bravado of fools who dont know any better

still i yearn and i burn and i yearn some more

for this other dimension of meaning and pleasure

ive stumbled in and out of it from time to time

doesnt matter what the zeitgeist says

it is possible to get out of this world

and still come back a bit unscathed

course the price you pay is in time and in money

course the price you pay is in madness and in turmoil

or you can do yoga and the price is still high

in dedication and in discipline and in determination

sometimes madness and turmoil seem quicker i guess

the search for a groovy enlightenment sure takes it toll

in your body and face and worse in your soul

you meet lots of devils and poor martyred angels

how can this not affect the 12 year old boy within?

that boy is my connection to my muse

i must not blow his mind tho i have once or twice

that childlike wonder must not be extinguished

in tv in society in nights at the pub

its lonely being a lunatic its lonely being an ugly duckling

almost certain that you’d never be a swan

but every creature on earth has its burdens

mine seem so trivial

the luxury of these times

actually i dont remember what i came in for

i guess i’ll catch ya later

when i have more to say

as the night begins for one

black pull of the past

persuasive fickle chance

things at their very source

sub-atomic yearning for union

electric impulse and flow

the chemical necessity that all things endure

time which both nurtures and destroys

the organic quality of thought

luck plays a part

relative space and space untouched by time

nebulous forces of what we call destiny

that we are fated to be and that we are fated to not be

distant planets move and we falter on our paths

some die some born

some grow some wither

no one can take everything into account

god or the lack of one

precipitation in foreign lands

sudden glitches in reality

if impossible things happen

laws broken

sometimes science is wrong

melancholy of sunday

unexplainable not inexplicable

needing something you cannot name

wanting something you have forgotten

saying something you never expected

remembering something that you never did

regretting an opportunity that you never had

life you can only live

you cant have it

you cant touch it

you cant keep it

life meanders on like a river through sunday

life languishes there yet slipping through all our fingers

life like love

crucial essential so easily lost so easily squandered

changeable mercurial inflammable

gone

my eos

the night is weird and wild

i enter it on tippy toes

i find it via a map of evening

the night is tonight

the night of long knives

the night of the panther

daylight long since gone

i appease my hunger with shadow

i fill my throat with echo

i go down to the night waiting offshore

the night is freezing and rubbing its hands

the dirty wind is full of cold grit

the night whistling up some alley

the night wide awake and dressed up in stars

the night is out back of a bar

the night squeezes in under your door

the night in the house where everything moves

the night in the house where everything still

the poet is nervous

his anxiety crushing

the night is more than his poor head can take

the white icing of moonlight falls on his pillow

the eyes of the night one thousand in all

the flowers expire their breath in their vases

a cat screeches outside but drowned in the wind

nothing tastes good in the seaside cafe

the waitress seems like shes got the moon in her eyes

a man comes in he looks like a monster

another man comes in he looks like a freak

a third man joins them with the face of a crab

something strange has come down on this city

and it walks abroad flagrantly real

the end of the road and the end of our fun

i smash at the hands clinging to me

i go to a doctor who gives me a needle

i go to a whore who gives me an hour

i go to a bakery and blow all my bread

i go to a nightclub as plain as the day

i go to a meeting hi my names steven

and i am addicted to the night so dark

and i lurk in its belly and i run through its prism

and i watch the minutes turn into years

wee small hours linger in crystal

and the children grow up

and the summer is gone

doctor dee reveals nothing

an old book still haunting me

there were these children

maybe it was london

and a black cat in a garden

a doorway back in time

time standing still

the dead still living in the past

its not that easy to talk to them though

the living seem like shadows here ago

the moon moves like the sun

and the buildings are not straight

as you stare the faces blur

the streets resist your feet

under a palm tree

where a spell is cast

the children find another way out

a stranger still place not far from their own

a place so heavy and sad and still

the liquid air elapses in gulps

the black cat can talk in some world

some world they get into away from the slow place

the black cat is a magician being punished by a king

and he wanders the planes assuming animal forms

and he lives by the rivers and he follows the streams

the children promise him a favour if he can get them home

their mother is cooking their tea and they should be there soon

but the black cat tricks them and returns to our earth

and the king pursues him to the end of time

and a witch caught inside a tree

screams

i shall eat you all if i ever get free

and the little people who live in the woods

well some were quite bad

and some were quite good

the bad ones were wicked dreadful little things

with curved fingernails and dragonfly wings

they didnt mind which imp they got behind

and suddenly the angry king appears outside mothers house

with his men all in armour he could easily harm her

with his barbarian bride and his snake charmer

oh the children are sure this will alarm her

but the children have forgotten mothers gold heart

that hangs round her neck both day and night

a picture of father gone off to the war

true love that reaches into the past

and she walks cross the lawn slaps that king round the face

and all of his one hundred warriors gasp

but the king is impressed and he gives her a wish

and mother says bring back my children and their father to me

and the king doffs his armour and then  she can see

he says

madam it is I who stands before thee

back from the dead in another world a king

come with me now we will rule yesterday

and the black cat comes forward and says with a purr

that he could magic the children all back

if the king will forgive him and the king says

I will

and it all ended well

like a dream

melting on your mind

so far away