posted on May 3, 2009 at 1:19 am

outpouring of joy
outpouring of passion
outpouring of grief
thus life is and always be
strange things are so afoot
who am i in contact with?
who tells me to write these things
how reality opens up like a woman
how time bears down on you like a man
how youth is a caress n then gone
everything i do is some massive reverie
i dream up my life as steve kilbey
my paintings paint themselves
the greek myths
medusa waves from sydney/lemuria
a faun leads a procession of the mysteries
but in a lemurian jungle not arkadia
calypso in her crimson dress strokes odysseus
sitting in a deck chair
been sitting here calypso
7 long years
but the hour of my release
steadily nears
gee somehow odysseus looks like….me….
oh hes got the ionian blues alright
and the cobalt blueprints
and that calypso
i mean how do you paint a nymph
the paper whispers
i’ll show ya how to paint a nymph
and the pastels say
i’ll show you how to paint a nymph
and the processes take over
yesterday in pittsburgh someone bought my
the internet is a naked woman with a tigers head (in flames)
good choice!
you see
you walk in
you put on the headphones
you stick in the cd
you walk up to a painting
press the corresponding button
hear kilbeys voice
like michael hutchence
i have no fixed accent
it meanders between a soft posh soothing declamation
and some arrogant cockney geezer hassling ya
to a wide eyed aussie naivist
wow! my wife in lemuria…thats so cool
that old hippy declares
as you stand in front of
nk in lemuria
and her eyes follow you round your doom
nk all intoxicated n strange
waiting for you in this blue midnite jungle
and theres her husband
sk in lemurian pink
oh by far my best self portrait ever
gazing out sad n solemn
the full fucking weight n sadness of my 54 years
the mangy panther in the autumn of his life
a king with no kingdom
a count of no account
a regal royal loyal wasted idiot tripper
and theres elektra jansson kilbey in lemuria
like a stained glass window
and me n eve leaving sydney
(please sydney dont turn your back on me ..i whimper
as strings stolen from garage band pile on the melodrama)
next painting another voice
another reverie
no explanations
no interpretations
just my dreamy reveries musing
all my creamy thoughts oozing
wherever my cadillac mind wants to cruising
what little genius i am
what little genius i have
a little wonder for a wonderless age
if yer sick of pizzas n tv n botox n fashion n gossip
n sport n war n eating meat n politics
then you always got
poor old steve kilbey
with his greek myths
still stubbornly holding out
still ludicrously battling away
many many hours after his fifteen minutes came n went
painting singing writing
doing only what he knows
no better or worse
its all meaningless to the stars baybee
its all meaningless to the future and the past
oh i got the movements down, pat
i am a curmudgeonly old geezer
i am some spirit trapped in him
i dip into everyman
voices from the deep past inform me
the pull of the future still excites me
yes i will be rocking at eighty
the last oldman in a world of perpetual plastic youth
a museum piece
hear him sing about troy
hear him sing about ilium
hear him sing about herod and pilate and his astral plane
hear him sing about the heroes and monsters of olden times
hear him cram an angel in a buick
see him paint a vision of naivety
kilbeys childish world
dont you love to go there?
and when i finally disappear
will my world disappear with me?
no it will linger on n on
as people remember little snatches of things i said
someone will see a print of mine
hanging in a dusty attic
and marvel
at the naivety and love that created that objay dart
i want to prevail
i want to succeed
i want to change the world
i want to banish the incessant chatter n clutter
i want to live in an elegant way
i will become a constant gardener
i will shape my world
i will exclude the mundane dross
i will speak in terms of wonder and awe
i will dedicate everything to god
the original artist
who works in maya
the way i work in paint
i will continue on my merry way
oblivious to the fucking filistynes that surround us
no one can label god
he has every quality n then some
he is so much more than we could ever dream to suppose
he is behind every mystery
every coincidence
every lucky break
and the universe is a huge huge place
and its so much bigger than the bullshit they feed us
and the stupid stories they tell about their made up gods
petty tyrannical stupid little tent gods
invented ages ago by some prehistoric geezer
riding a fucking camel
you reckon that dude had the full picture of god
oh ha ha ha
now i am white hippy moses
my connections to god are apparent enough
if you but care to see
my god
who is the opposite of that old frumpish jehovah
my god aint jealous or vengeful
he dont have a chosen people
(what a fucking joke!)
he loves us all
hes detached from us all too
whatever you friggin want…you’ll get it!
you cant write his history in some little book
you cant tell bullshit tales how he killed the youths
who laughed at elishas bald head
by having em torn apart by bears
my god dont think like that
my god would have a laugh at old chrome dome elisha too
and then hed paint the fucking sunset an amazing golden glow
i pay no allegiance to anything
i have emerged fully formed
trumps in suits with bible belts holding up their short pants:
i am their very opposite
i represent the haphazard and gentle journey
into my own heart
and thus everyones heart
there is only one
all is one
and god has said to me
this is the most important journey i can make
and i said why?
and he said
oh….you’ll find out…..

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