posted on February 4, 2009 at 8:31 pm

who am i?
i was born in 1954 in england
my mum n dad were called mum n dad
i was an obnoxious little childe and had no friends
at the age of three i took up the bass guitar
and penned many songs that were……yes?
steve kilbey!
no…i’m afraid youre just guessing now…
but…uh….i thought steve kilbey was….
no no no
steve kilbey is not the correct answer…
who am i?
who are you…who who….who who…?
i really wanna know…..
well who the fuck are you?
i say i
cos i is used to saying i
but who am i really?
am i who i was?
am i who i will be, kilbey
i’m sometimes so sick of olde kilbey
yes i look good for a very olde codger
but i want some real youth
i want the agenda-less day of a faun
i want the raining pleasure
i want to get drunk n you wear the hangover
i want stick my fingers in white chocolate
while somebody else can lick them clean
i want reckless thoughtless aimless nights to arrive
i want more than that
i want to see my past lives all trailing
like a distorted afterimage on a huge screen
kilbey will weep to be a mere shadow one day
another ex-life
oh you heard of steve kilbey
yeah…i used to be him…
oh how was he to be?
ah….ok…up n down i guess….
yeah…i heard that…
a grumpy olde renaissance man
renaissance man my arse
jus’ cos he wrote some same stupid songs n did some ropey paintings..?
well err yeah thats as good as it gets these days…
so in the lack of vinnie van google
and leonardo di caprio-vinci
i guess guys like olde kilbey move up
i guess so…
like best of a bad bunch..
dude…it is a bad bunch out there..
how many blokes could explain the iliad to ya?
how many could explain the mahabharata or the kalevela
kilbey could…
how many blokes can merge a diary into prose poetry
how many blokes appreciate space noise AND frank sinatra
how many blokes do so many good and bad things at once
how many….
this endless list of what i can do does not define me
this also endless list of what i cannot do does not define me
who the fuck is inside here now dictating this to kilbey
this is the sanest question a mad man can ask
all my life people say
steven youre this
steven youre that
steven you should be a lawyer a priest a rear admiral a star
steven you should see yourself
steven youre a handsome/ugly bastard
steven youre so young/old
so masculine/feminine
so friendly/rude
so stupid/brilliant
how voyeuristic you all are to witness this breakdown…
the centre is not holding
does anyone have a tranquillizer….?
ah thank you….a glass of brandy
let me get my breath
oh the years catch up with me
oooh i am a poor old man
down on his luck
misunderstood by the philistine hoi polloi
who wouldnt know a renaissance man from a removal man
and anyway
i know who i’d rather have on my side
when i finally have to quit this fire trap
and relocate to infernal melbourne
where it buckles in the rail
and there are no shadows
whispers reach my ears
i am locked in a tower cooking up my exhibition
i slap on paint like a tart slapping on make up
i smudge n i rub n i stand back n say
fuck thats fucking awful
i make records like you would make toast
stick in a song for me, ta
thats it a little jam…and …presto
dont you ever get sick of reading about me?
because in reading about me youre reading about you?
do you really believe that?
does everything end in a question mark?
does it?
tell me who i am
tell me in less than fifty four words
why you think bondi beach would be a great vacation spot
for you and your family
and you may win
3 weeks at my place
my family n i waiting on you
in spades baybee
a dream vacation
complete with me as your servant
bringing you the sydney morning herald every morning
and rewarming up your hot water bottle every night
just tell me in your own words
your own words mind you
or even
send your comments to
time being
15 nefertiti street
west nineveh
i will moderate them carefully
with my big olde moderator
(it makes me feel much greater)
(in austrian accent)

47 Responses to “does my ass look big in this mansuit?”

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