posted on January 31, 2009 at 11:15 am

deep n dirty
the wind burns
my eyes are wild
hurtling headlong
friction ripping off my layers
i re enter an atmosphere
i plunge downwards towards the end
i fall apart all over the place
look out now
when ya gonna learn
i achieve velocity with mere words
put the petal to the metal
i explode in your mind like a balm
i am all over the shop excuse me
i blast out my raquet in the omni friggin’ present heat
i wobble before i pick up speed
i overheat so easily in the marshes
soon we are lost on the highway in :
trees wave limply in the still air
something slips into the water
every move brings more stalemate
i randomly string sentences together
and pretend its a blog
or a poem
or an impressionistick diary
barry came down the pool n punched my head in
dutch peter n lightfoot dragged him away
covered in my blood
barry slipped into the sea
he was immediately snapped up by a nasty sharky shark
which masticated him agonizingly
sorry bout the grin then
in my dream
im singing some song
in the heaty heat
and i
look out n there is my accountant david r
now a knight of the garter snake
and i think
i’m glad he gotta good seat then
and then
i wave my eyes around
i open my arms
good god….i’m ascending…thru out…
i twinkle
i hover
i disappear
away from the hoi polloi
who couldnt dig my deep trip
in the swamp of my life
i flail i flounder
i tread on dangerous things
i put my hand in the wrong places
i trust my voice which whispers wordlessly
it says
only when youre dead
i enter samsara
check in here
the voice warns me guides me guards me
the voice in my head talks in a dead language
the voice in my head instructs me to do unspeakable things
the voice in my head keeps mentioning some stupid name
i begin to lose my temper down the long black hall
i imagine all the tiniest details of some room
i dont think ive ever been or wanna go
i turn on the radio and out jumps that voice again
the voice gives me addresses
it gives me messages from our beyond
from our far flung beyond over yonder
from some dead painter wanna use me
let me see
he says in some flemish cafe
as he counts out twenty ducats
the summer day has dazzled everyone here
we sit around languidly drinking n smoking
we celebrate the moon by strictly observed rites
kilbey types away
the painter has a sleep
the farmer grows his stuff
the dealer slings his bags
the singer sings things better left unsung
the junkie misses the vein
the driver misses the train
the lion misses the lamb
the lamb is jammed in a jamb
maybe it should ram
yeah i do my best
yeah i wander abroad
yeah i don a disguise
go amongst men as a beggar
please pay me for my bloggs
i shout feebly into the dust of caesars wanking chariot
i am whipped down by the mercenaries
who ride in empires wake
you dont know the half of it sunshine
kilbey has nearly had enough
time to close up shop
time to hunker down
time for private life
time for the trees that speak to me of their properties
time to muse on everything that ever happened to me
time to straighten it all out before i lay me down in slumber
leave me then
no where else to go
but wherever i want
but i dont believe it
not all the time

25 Responses to “man grove”

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