The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

another day
4 p.m. circa february early 2010
dive down thru layers of personalities
another day
another storm
another time being
another point in the distance
on an afternoon when all stories merge
on an afternoon when all probabilities surge
on an afternoon before the urgent wind came
on an afternoon after no one
on a hundred degree day straight out of the futures
or straight out of the arabian nightclubs
the sky glowers
the skin cowers
embalmed in hours
thunder threatens to the north
weird little tree cover in milky pink flowers
towels hang agitating against the new storm
for god sake thunderer bring on the dark clouds
wash this fair city clean of all its sin
though that might take awhile
thunderclaps roll out towards the heads
the ants panic in long jittery columns
on an afternoon like this
just as you would imagine me
on the balcony surrounded by my little gang of shrubs
i jazz up the afternoon with my puffing, billy
some new thoughts enter my skull
some old ones fade away
old memories not what they were
new memories folded up
to be looked at on another afternoon
this afternoon which is almost over in its own midst
i invoke indra god of weather to pour down upon my city
and flash flood away the things that keep us bound
a fresh wind flies out of the mouth of the heat
like the cool tongue of a lover in virtual re-creation
the clouds are thick and woolly
and they hover ponderously on the sky
dogs bark far away
howling against the coming storm as if it could stop it
like men rage against their oncoming fate
which does not listen
youth does not need heed me
folly cannot comprehend the sublime nature of things
the ground still burns my feat
yes i say yes
there is always more than 2 choices
but thats all they give ya n thats all they got
the time being gives you multiple choices
its however you wanted it to be because thats it
right?
the storm seems to lose velocity
it seems to lose its intent
its terrible sitting here
waiting for that cleansing rain which may never come
a man of simple taste n origin
i eat almonds and sip tepid rice milk
i need to vibrate faster
i need to feel lighter
i need to be able to fly in to the sun
but the barometric pressures me to the floor
i eat some deeply purpled cherries
spit out their stones
maybe a cherry tree will grow in one of my empty pots
i remember other days and afternoons of course
the swirling currents of luck
the rise n fall n rise n fall
rags to ditches
ashes to ashes
hags n witches
look where the stitch is
the sun is so strong
i go down to hades to find some shade
the dead call out my names
hold out their fading hands to me
i see them all
rank upon rank
file upon mile
row on row on row
in the hall of the black mountain king
he says if you want those shades back sing!
and sing of the storm and its coming
i crave something salty
i crave something sweet
the heat has unravelled my plans
i must give in
i will sit in some cool spot and unconcentrate
unconcentrate on nothing

i sit on the wall with my baby
whose just dressed in her faded knickers
her wild locks doth blow and bobbing in the ionized winds
we look out to the distant horizons
as the storm comes in upon us
oh storm come unto me
the old milky sun reduced to a joke
struggling to be heard over the rising tumult of the storm
my succulence and my heliotropes move by natures unseen hand
words flow to me in non mechanistic streams
words in other languages pour into english
my deep self reads it all
i let it sort it all out
up in the speed of thought
which is 666 times quicker than light
the words appear to me on old fashioned reels
in my head pyramids revolve flashing symbols and numbers
and glyphs and hieroglyphs
and pictures of nude blonde american women in b/w
baby runs inside to get away from the frowning sky
but i remain savouring the coolness
rejoicing in the miracle of holy life
and convinced more than ever
of some supreme fucking genius
who is behind everything
the marrow in our bones
the electricity that animates our flesh
our place within the big picture
the regulation of the heavenly bodies
the songwriter for the birds
the architect of mountains
the painter of skies
so huge and benevolent he is not seen
lord
call him zeus call him deus
call him vishnu
call him the unnamed
well this world
know well this world
this world which seems so ordinary
this world which seems so tame
oh baby baby its a wild world
full of yoga and magic
everybody contradicting everybody else
the experts disagree on EVERYTHING
each age disagrees with the last and the next
youth mocks age
age scorns youth
man and woman fucking each other over n up
everybody so convinced as they preach their left wing right wing
i cant tell the real from the unreal
i keep on swallowing more misinformation more disinformation
i cant tell
who can tell
so i feel it
i feel the storm
the real storm coming out of nowhere
across the sky and for a moment it seems it will blow over
my tiny fig tree grooving in the zephs
baby comes back out with her stormy eyes
little baby frowning like the february skies
late summer child careless in disarray
sitar music n incense
old white hippy drippy moses inculcating an atmosphere
of faux spirituality in his bondi pad/ dump/ shack/place
w.h.m. leading you back to the promise of land
the promise of rock n roll…thou shall be released
my box set of solo records will get you started
ignore the drum machine and watch the time just being
burn my music burn my eye
order me from eye tunes
order me to go on a quest
baby comes in and eats some grapes
she like some old time film star
with her improbable lip
curvy hip
and her eyes reflecting the stormy vault overhead
her teeth are big and white
and she moves like puck or ariel would
we are alone here together
on this unlikely afternoon
i am the impressionist poet
who writes the first thing that comes into his head
from his deepest self
to his shallowest manifestation
a voice guides me
baby herself is not to be guided at all
she plays with the shrubs n her little creatures
and bounces her head from side to side
she kisses my back as she goes inside
just once
just ever so lightly
come back out here i command in a gruff voice
no she says
no
i dont want to

my parents wanted a child so they named me beast
i slunk through the neon jungle
some toothy king i was with no crown
as the sly fox jumped the wine dark sea
i sacrificed other mens children
i gotta big in with some immortal bint
and i hid inside (the) horse
how i got my scars
wounded in love
wounded in hatred
some big shot trying to take me down (down, down)
yeah i can quote from the bible
still jesus has not touched me
except once in rozelle
when he was drinking with jim and lindy morrison
and then one day i overheard a man singing a song
it went like this..dum dum de de dum dum dum de
or was he singing dumb deii dumb deii
tho it has no further relevance
and thats how i came to be here
at marc and cleos sipping retsina
been pining for it
still there is the question of nineveh
nobody knows much about it
except that it was an extremely naughty town
well it was coz i was there
not like sod’em n gomorrah
where the citizens were trying to fuck angels
now thats bound to piss yer god off
but nineveh had no visits from the hebrew angels
we were just you know
1 cruel
2 proud
3 bloodthirsty
4 idolaters
5 all of the above
i myself was not that bad
a little vain maybe
a little lascivious perhaps
tho cherubim were not on my menu
nevertheless
until they do a computer keyboard
with the nineveh glyphs
then i wont be able to prove it
by telling you some easy to learn phrases
you might need to know in nineveh
such as
give way to chariots
bill posters will be executed
do you have amorite slaves for sale here?
which way is the temple of set?
do you speak babylonian? yes?
this dagger is not worth 3 pieces of silver!
good morning mr xarion…hows the concubine…?
etc etc
i am eternally indebted to old jonah who put us on the map
nineveh had its good sides if you knew who to ask
of course we ended up desolated
an empty downtown
full of pelicans and porcupines
and animals starting with p
the temple harlots dressed in red
bright red
their robes were dyed with the blood of rare alligators
and fixed with the feverish tears of infatuation
the soldiers dressed in black
implying death and destruction and not showing
too many marks
i mean robes get dirty fighting bedouins and sacking cities
and where to give things a good wash in the desert
nonetheless i am the ancient marinated
pickled n in a pickle
a picked a peck off a peacocks fevvers
the seven deadly sins
lateness rudeness silliness naivete stinginess sluttiness bullying
the seven deadly spice girls
sporty naughty posh dock baby-dopey sneezy n ginger
the seven suits in some decks of cards
hearts diamonds tridents arrows clubs bloods spades
the seven cardinal colours
maroon pink orangey-green brown puce mauve n ginger
the seven wonders of the world
the statue of the time being in sydney harbour
the hanging gardens of vaucluse
the great chicken of kiev
the pyramid of avon
the furfle of groon
the bewlay brothers tea rooms in dublin
mr n mrs fred dunballs sea breeze motel in wollongong south
still i am not convinced
2012 is approaching
everything we thought we knew is turning out to be
a bit of a fib
dont say i didnae warn you
i’m not gonna squabble with anyone anymore
i got my deckchair on the titanic and i aint moving
(down to the bed with a shining glass sound)
my band plays on
WE PLAY ON
yes
we played on
on into fulltime
over n above all penalties n sundries n such
no wonder i’m a con fused
con glomerate

things add up n combine in mysterious ways
often stupidly
often like a badly written script
you’d say no too obvious but lo look at your life
coincidence on top of coincidence
synchronicity on top of sting
mumbled threats
fumbled promises
whos writing this stuff
whos making it all up as they go along
when do we get to stand n say
author! author!
i can dig any theory
can put almost none into practice
practice makes perfect sense
we are creatures who have lost their grace
we wallow n waddle and holler n hoot
we rarely glide or swoop or ululate or sing
you can lead your high horse to water
but you cant make it drink eat or be merry
and
i’m so tired of running from my own heat
i let the sound of my own wheels drive me crazy
i dont know what i want to say
undo i guess
undo this mess
undo
unlive
unlove
unbe
uninvited like the freakin’ clouds
today australia is very warm w/humidity on the side
you gonna sweat you bet
get fucking set
i now have wireless
i have turned my airport on
i have thrown away the cables
full of their mysterious threads
i irradiate my home with a million more tiny daggers
electronic pollution giving us tumours
killing the bloody bees
so we can google bee
dont kill bees
dont kilbey
yeah i gone wireless
i got my tablet
i painty painty real good n finish it all off
always fresh conundrums for any killer
mostly at least me
thats beast not least
life is trickier than i ever imagined
just think what it must be like for bobby dylan
coz my life drives me crazy
and some nights are i cant turn off all those old songs
biting me on the arse from the past
fuck life then but what else have we got?
my battery moves into the red
my account is fuller
but my head is emptier
and my heart is heavy
and its beat goes
boom boom bang boom boom bang
bang shang a lang
my lungs go gaspetty gasp
my teethies crumble
and they were all YELLOW
life and time drag me down
random flux
disturbances in the fabric of reality
bad karma for an old villain
or what?
dont answer that, please…..

a lass a lack
shot gone shack
towing the line
keeping (on) track
your shrine to the sailor
your jim-jims yer jailer
my world (pop one)
your world (pop none)
where does all that money come from?
my jack was knifed
your tongue was forked
the spoon was full
my falcon hawked
oh my gold falcon with its beige plastic dash
full of poisonous fumes
and its plumes of smoke crash
my vacuum fucking sucks
my void must be worth a few bucks
my null is my skull is my dull ache
for god sake
for william blake
for adams little snake
waking up in march
the idols of march
the groves of larch
just think of em n it makes me parched
and sand everywhere
hand me your share
never been there
here there or anywhere
the midget and the shark
talking in the dark
the shark says ooh you nice little bite
the midget says that cant be right
dinner in five
luck e to b alive
things go better with coke
i come to find that aint no joke
some say i’m a slowpoke
yeah its true folks
i’m the sentimental bloke
crestfallen
west crawlin’
guest callin’
oh steve
what you got up yer sleeve
tell me something i want to believe
oh steven something only i believe in
even eve n aurora …..
the fauna n the flora
priest =fucking aura

there you can see something ive been doing
the cover for my boxset
its a painting of me back in the daze of whine and poses
surrounded by eyes
the eyes of the stars
the eyes of the beasts
the eyes of the worms
the eyes of the night (approx 1000)
i’m gonna call my boxset
monsters n mirages
isnt that what my songs are about after all
after all that now everything
everything after all is what my songs are about
everything you couldnt find
i have provided in my songs
all your lives you wished for these songs
you asked to see the monsters so i sang them to you
you wanted soothing so be soothed by all this
you became the audience and split into many many people
i soldiered on but i kept ambushing my self
finally a single smack stopped me dead in my tracks
now
i paint the astral body electric
i am at the union of cosmic and deep earth
my wretched body will return unto the dirt as ash
my souled out soul will turn into a million songs
i choose to return as music
i choose to return as colour
i am the prints charming
i am the evergreen silentest song
i see the target and nothing but the target
i slap on a bit of paint
i dunno what im doing do you?

well
the rain fell down down
on sydney town
and i
for the time being
dreaming mid the drops
so i close the door to my mind
lay down deep in sleep
while my body of otherness
at work on the wild world beyond
places eluding time
black wet thorns and wrought iron
leafy places and soft comfortable rooms
the furniture wraps around you in slumber
a fire burns
tho you dimly remember thats its summer
summer back there
this is your england you say to yourself
no england in this world tho
you smile to yourself steven
and you drink your milky tea
and the rain drizzles and dribbles
puddles surge with tiny ripples
oh its so quiet here beside the fire with your cat
your cat sits on your lap purring
your hat sits on the mat blurring
and the fire crackles
the wood shifts with a tiny lift
the flames are nimble and quick
the music is old time
the colours are the muted greens and browns of distant childhoods
everything is worn to a smooth burr
gently pointillistic like the cats fur
this is my england you say to yourself
and a someone is playing the piano forte in another room
and its a lady called jessie bellette
and she says why stephen what did you do to your eye…?
and i say oh jessie ….
and my eyesight is so dimmed in my right eye now
i say i hurt my eye when spring jumped out the back of time
and i say i hurt my eye in the long long war
what were you fighting for ? says jessie bellette
and she holds you close in her big strong arms
and she clasps you to her ample bosom
and she says
this is your england only for you
a knock at the door
oh its leslie….!
leslie comes in
his marine cap at a jaunty angle
the everpresent rothmans cigarette
the skinny loose limbs of youth
we just won the war mum he says
thats good dear she says and we all have another cup of tea
in the kitchen i find mince tarts and chutney
i find teddy bear biscuits and cream of tomato soup
i find yorkshire pudding and dolly mixtures
i find bread and butter pudding and custard
i find trifles and gollywog jam
the rain falls on and on
how could the thin air hold so much water
how could the morning contain such a night
how could the past stand such a future

ok ok
lemme get this straight
i steve kilbey
incarnated on this planet earth
and the date is february something 2010
anna domino
they say i’m a singer
and i’m singing with my band on 17 n 18 this munth
canberra n sydney
they say im doing america april to may
they say i’m gonna paint this picture n appear in this film
and talk to this newspaper
and be a good father
and get my mirror fixed
and find my license
and give up the bad
take up the new
finally hit the dentist
oh boy i need 5 crowns n a root canal
man my teeth are costing me my teeth
i look at em today
as dentist shows me photos inside my mouth
he uses words like crumble, chipped, holes, decay, brittle
5 new crowns X $1700 equals oh no change the subject
i get some gas at least today as he cleans my teeth with machine
he says you dont need gas to clean your teeth
i say hey you gimme the gas
i get the gas
i wonder how to define it when suddenly its all over
leaves me feeling kinda giddy n weird
i’d like to do my own experiments
(a la pd ouspensky)
well its raining in sydney
warm grey rainy day
finished notes for boxset
got back my facebook
and had 3 serfs executed for stealing adjectives
been listening to the supremes a lot
got new gb3 album but it wont go in my ipod
because i guess the pre-mastered gb3 album is in there
and it thinks theyre the same
oh boy i’m kinda worn out now
bye

eden
flowers
warm afternoon
new pink shrub gains foothold
port jackson fig green n leafy
raindrops keep falling
on my head a crown of cloud
at my feet a meeting of the rivers
black panther lying asleep at my side
the focus tightens
the subject moves
incredible shape shifting music starts up all around
we cut up guitars and from their seeds come ukuleles
and baby wo-mandolins
even sand is wildly fertile
the dunes sprout the egress and the lyre
the rumbling sea provides the nascent foam
and out rolls that cute little aphrodite
and her retinue of nymph o’maniacs
the trees are a buzz of the long dead bees
and the ponds are a blur of the long gone frogs
but no that is the future i keep remembering
those are the voices of the dead i hear in the empty corridor
these are shapes yet never to ever come
things that ought n ought not
wine yes drink yourself into your pleasant stupor
clothed in leaves you leave your clothes
the grey afternoon caresses your calves
the grey afternoon tugs at the snake
the grey afternoon seeps into the crack
the grey afternoon is found balled up in a fork
precious doves alight in flame
the cherubim is a man/woman/bird/thing
eat your delicious teeth
please dont handle the fruit
make your selection before opening
a woodland creature does the tigris bop
a faun at dawn wriggles on euphrates drops
with a spurned fawn and goldie n silver horn
marc is there too our wonderful brownskin man
and merry old jehovah
(for t’is He….!)
says
look
i am zeus
i am jupiter
i am woden
i am allah
i am ammon
i am i am not
i am He who am the only one!
you see
everybody just wants to get down
krishna on flute
chiron the centaur horses around saying hay you hay you
the gorgon arrives turning the guests into stoners
the great dragon Avarice is conjured by the secret controllers
the moon has been sold off…its official
donald (no) trumps signed the deal yesterday pacific time 13.13
the moon has been towed off to house a new radar station
it has been bought by a consortium of merchant bankers
please adjust your calenders now
full moons will be charged on a per view basis
february has been contracted yet again despite cooling off period
aurora lights up
eve eats her apple
scarlet is left in the red
the afternoon is tangible
it tickles your vain fancy
it relieves itself slowly emptying into a stormy night
the electrons in my negative ions are going bada bing bing bing
zing went the strings of my harp
ping went my empires engine
something was pinging like a voice singing
thats all thats it
all over
every bit

forget fullness
i sailed a long way to forget it all
night and day you may be
but now i want to forget both
why dont you harness your selves to the next big wind
i have no cupboards to contain your woes
one too many men
to not enough man
men themselves are mostly fools like me
we have nothing to teach you except hurt
a quick slap down when youre trying to get up
cruel wicked selfish…ha!…those are our goodsides
enough conundrums
enough hoops
enough second minute chances
you cannot eat your words
everything down here is bound to fail
everyplace down here will crumble and decay
everyone down here is temporary and on loan
and i really do have my books n poetry to protect me
and my disciplines
and my in with fate
and my luck of the poor devil
and if you call that luck
eat my dust, you insensitive fuck
oh i am the want
oh i am the deed
oh i am the end
om namah shiva
om namah shiva
om namah shiva
i got the shivas down my back bone
i’m shaking all over
well i see my face in the mirror
which one day you may never see again
no reflection on me of course
and i realise how desirable desire is
and i realize that sometimes i hate love
and i realize that i am alone
in some bizarre world where all the denizens are insane
and how they left me hanging in the gardens in babylon
and how i lost my part in greece the musical
and how about that
and how about this
osama obama bonaparte
melts down the poles
unleashes the kraken who gets crackin’ crackin’ skulls
my dad will be in some room playing a piano
he’ll say : hey slim whatdid i tell ya?
dont martyr me matey
i’m too chicken to be christ or anti-christ
i’m cutting away the thorns of intrigue
i turn around angrily and i say
verily now i just wanted a quiet life
at this remark
canned laughter bursts forth upon the speakers
what speakers i ask surprised
i didnt know there was speakers…
at this juncture the host of the show appears
and says
and now some important messages from our sponsors
impatient lee you hit the remote
chop n change thru the chanels
the english channel and the vietnamese channel
and channel oh and channel won and channel too
a re-run of that hit comedy signed feld
(the mark of (co) cain)
an old war movie oh a bit non pc
(the cold steel they dont like it up em!)
a show about al o’saurus
(with the bits that steve took)
a re-run of bewitched
( mr n mrs stevens!?)
why doesnt old endorra go easy on poor darrin
(lord knows he tries….doesnt he….)
12000 leagues under the sea
(up from the murky depths the giants quid….!)
brave kirk douglas who begot michael douglas
who begot port douglas
who begot port and starboard sides
who begot a big river mouth
and raved on like a frustrated soul
in the house of the mad
boy you make my bubble tea in-plode
girl electric witch limp in societys ditch
where is my human childe?
and scarlet comes forth
and says
here i am
are you a child ? i ask her
yes she says solemnly
are you a human child?
yes she says seriously
i am a human child
good i say
good good
good