the truth aint out there somewhere

sitting like a continent waiting to be dis-covered

the truth is so elusive

appearing in is myriad disguises

at funerals at bars at the going down of the sun

why do you do the things that you do ? says someone

someone in another room

who am i? i turn to say

i was hoping you could tell me

until i meet up with someone so sweetly complete

perhaps this reflection i see will belong to me

my blood throbs in my chest

my thoughts course thru my brain

part beast part star part stupid oaf

we are series of reactions to external stimulii

resolving contradictions

i am destined to believe only in chance

love from life to life

life from star to star

beast star oaf

is zero sacred?

nothing would look good on you

you understand it effortlessly

good beyond good somehow you remain quite bad

bad to the bone apart

in a fickle world you remain mercurial

in good fridays happinesses and sadnesses

the day they murdered such a gentle man

the hammer the nail the splint’ring wood

the screams of man

this part i still dont understand

humanity torturing itself

oh and i hope margot has met jesus by now

i hope shes talking his reddish-blond lovely curls off

i hope shes made a few suggestions about some more bottle shops up there

and sought out some famous dead guitarists and demanded a chord progression

i hope shes just like our margot but without the pain without the fear

i hope shes just like our margot with strange gorgeous words escaping her lips

i hope shes just like our margot walking and talking with jesus

next day margot deep in the forest round vrindavan

she hears krsnas flute drifting from the hidden lake

oh margot i can see you

your eyes filled with delight

you so pale in your sari

you so glowing in your sartori

and margot sings along to the divine music of india

her voice fills the glades in its mellifluous wordless singing sigh

so i leave her there among the swans

i leave her there amongst the lotuses and her companions

far from the crematorium at the edge of the eastern suburbs

far from the coffin and the flowers

little sister we did all love you

your poor family, little singer

could they understand your torments and obsessions

i turn angrily to my jesus who stands here on good friday

my jesus that i painted with the gold guitar back in the imperial avenue days

my jesus with the groovy hair and beard of  stars

my jesus with tears in his eyes maybe i see

yeah i loved margot smith too he says in his most beautiful voice

i love all of em he says nibbling on a cadburys hollow chocolate egg

whats with all the rabbits n eggs ?  i ask him

symbolism he smiles and sighs …kinda obfuscated things a little

i always felt rotten having a holiday the day they nailed ya up…..!

confusing isnt it……jesus and his beatific smile

suffer the little children …did margot ever sing that?

it was a lovely day for margots goodbye

goodbye goodbye goodbye

sunny but with a cool wind

out here in this windswept southern coast

far from england far from ireland

margot no more DTs no more morphine patches

no more assaults when you were using the bathroom

margot no more hospitals no more disappointments

margot fly away from this earth now

oh you are free beyond freedom

oh your songs now fill the future and your words are winged like birds

yet i feel your presence in this room

bereavement on multiple fronts

i grieve for nazareth for venice and vienna

i mourn my babylon i mourn my mornings in distant melbourne

in an english garden crying like a phantom in the sun

in america the new world bargaining a million acres for a mirror

a rich roman widow sobbing amidst her vines

you are lost my reader lost in this tangle of inklings

so you switch on your new sat-nav machine

you have a choice of voices but you choose the one marked SK

the machine come on with cough that clears a throat

how are ya ? says the voice

refuckingcalculating says the voice

oh boy youre really lost arent ya? says the voice

its good friday too says the voice

and i dont quite frankly fuckin’ know where you are says the voice

left or right its all the same to me says the voice

it good friday and the tourists are pouring into bondi says the voice

wanna avoid the future its undergoing repairs

wanna avoid the past…theres been an accident ….

take the present until you reach the end

the end aint the end i’m sure says the voice

then you go on n on n on n on

you will change

you will grow

you will encounter unbearable pain n pleasure

until……says the voice

until……

until what ?! you angrily ask

until….fuck i dont know…..! says the voice

but by then youve turned into the drive

and youre safely home

and youre just a tiny tiny child

so safe in the familys bosom

and good friday

lingers dreamlike seconds slowed down

something you will always remember