posted on July 27, 2008 at 9:08 pm

exponential increase
we adjust our range
kilbey turns off at his street
is that kilbey?
one foot in the past
one hand hidden
one eye larger than the other
one brainside firing
the other still
mondays childe is fair of face
it doesnt look like him
the mirror must have lied
a single black crow in the sky
a childhood spent sent
a bass guitar behind the door
jet black
lamp black
velvet black
blackest black of blacks
i need a black outline
my head in a halo of blue flames
colour my eyes gravestone grey
make my little fingers cold
make sure the fuselage is trimmed
apply freckle decals to back
make the nose sharpish
bring her round slowly
starboard starboard mr christian
one more knee to go
let him loose…!
kilbey appears
but we cant get a fix (on him)
aim for his heart
aim for his memories
aim for his lah-de-dahs
a bit of a chamedian
something of the jungle about him
his wife arrives to collect him
whats he done this time? she says in her soft southern accent
a policeman leads her to a cell
extorting money from his subscribers, i’m afraid ma’am…
they lead kilbey out
he looks tired and resigned
says ‘e’s the best lyricist in ‘istory sniggered pilate
dont look like much now…
the crowd obeying for blood
what does it all mean ? says your mom
its like rimbaud stumbling thru mozarts garden says crit-ick
yer husband says he cant sing
yer wife says hes de-pressing
yer conscience says confess confess
yer clock say tick tick tick but never tock
yer dog says wow but never bow
yer canary goes cheap
yer beatles go yeah yeah yeah
yer wallet says dont give
yer feet say walk away
yer eyes say we are the whores of the senses
yer ears cant say anything they just listen
yer heart going boom like a big bass drum
tim powles lazily grips the steering wheel as he rides down route 66
the nz born drummer peers thru the rain
killer he asks
the man next to him stirs
killer ?says tim
the man called killer awakes
were you asleep ? says tim
no…yes…its ok…where are we now?
his accent is hard to place
tim applies tiger balm to his temple
tim says that was the lemuria turn off back there
christ! the killer sits up
his brain is squirming like…like…like a …frog
if we keep going this way we hit el dorado at 4 oclock
in time for the soundcheck
whos on with us?
the low swinging dicks
didnt they just drop a member?
oh ha ha ha
whats for dinner?
waffle king…..
how about ma n pas vegan kitchen?
scene inside cafe
olde lady stands writing an order
so you want legless mayo and tempeh ribs
the kyoto accord sesame dressing with quorn dip
the loganberry cobblers and the stupid dill
knocked up mock hare with jugged bimbo sauce
and soya-goolies on the side…
can i get some not-pork buttons?
they come with the water sir…free of charge…
subscriber writes
if i buy you dinner do you promise to not put on weight?
another subscriber writes
i already gave at the office
another writes
my first born should be hitting your paypal tomorrow
no kidding i sigh
the police arrive and arrest the killer
his children beg for clemency
the leglessman begs for alms
the beggars beg for forgiveness
the police chuck ‘im in the lockup
bail is set
his wife opens her purse and its full of confederate money
the south will rise again someone offers hopefully
the west will never learn
the rest will follow
follow me says the killers killer
who are you? i ask
time he says

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