kilbey peers into the mist
i painted a picture it sang me this song
oh everything is easy now
oh everything is nice
if only you do fix me good
i’ll really fetch a price
(remember…it was a painting singing)
(and dont be stupid)
there was something quite wrong with this
i needed freedom
i needed to let all things flow
and reach that place inside us
where everything verily doth come
source of light
sauce of dark thoughts
the jungle in my room has swallowed me whole
round milky sphere where i scry the angel of the future
little i-droppers filled with flew-ids
a load of coins n brushes n reeds n trees n rivers of paint
my room my room
i call out from the eastern marshes
a hundred miles from the door
an avalanche of postcards covers my tale
i swim through ancient verona with my piggy bank safely guaranteed
hey mum n dad thats me on the beach in london
thats me n oswald lee harvey skiing in dallas/st paul
dear me isnt that the outskirts of alexandria
and we stayed at the ithaca hilton n the thracian travel lodge
and we camped on the fields in flanders…fido digging for bones
and we rested in the long mornings out in hammarby
and the circus disappeared
we ate dinner on the porch with m krall
when no one knew our number
and no one knew our name…..
but i am still lost in this room
self portrait on the wall opens up his little mouth
no i dont need YOUR advice i say to him
spiders….daddy longlegs…bob in the distant corners
the ceiling is the sky
n the sky is the limit
n the limit is one person per ticket
so i’m afraid i cant guarantee you re-entry
cant you see me stumbling around here
my ego weighing me down as usual
muse: and contributing very little….
god kilbey where do you come up with all this rubbish
its not rubbish …its…..
anyway
anyway what
anyway what i mean is…
youre lost
i’m lost
we’re lost
we’re lost n unprepared to pay the cost
the room looms
my room has finally taken me down
pushing up the scree of gold paint chips
unopened packages n bits of string
little boxes of …tiny parts for something
stencils n pencils n flashing controls
the pastel dust settles
sometimes mimicking a navaho sand painting
the blinds open out into pale mornings
the lightest blue sky n ribs of white clouds
pine trees n palm trees no breeze
buildings catch the timid sun
white and gold light up
i shiver in my mansuit
i pause with my paws n my clause
williams radiotronics stuttering iacocca staccato
an astralnaut lost in my room
a cosmos unto itself
i am the drifter
i paddle up the dreams streams and reveries cul de sacks
i am the salmon deep in the cave
hiding from odin
my room with its mountains of guitar cases
my room with its million memories before me
my rented room
my minutes ticking out inexorably
my chilly room
silent room
early morning room
no sign of kathy or mr weird
no sign of terri or terry
walk through the early morning streets
“air blows cool hurryin’ on my way”
some imaginary life i lead
still in my room though
my foot on a box of books
dreaming it all up
conjecturing
living room
thoughts like veins crossing the surface
summer has stalled
we change our plans
re think it out
look a head
choose more
want more
get more
nick more
take away
get off
get on
get lost n forgotton
forget yourself?
sure