posted on August 19, 2017 at 10:32 pm

oh steve smokins so bad for ya

fucking cold n hideous wind

the water is delish tho cold n green

becalmed and ready to fly off

all them ions in the fire ya know

and all the iron in the spinach

and all the tea leaf readers in china

bored by my brilliant mind im trying to switch off soon

an hour to kill on a saturday night before being engulfed

the line suggests a melody and if you listen you can hear joni singing it

or my dad and my sister kathy….remembering then

today was not a healthy day for me

last night i could have died i guess

random stupid coincidental work

none of you know me or each other dont presume it..!

think of your individuality there

you are singular

you will go out in a spectacularly singular fashion

we all will..

rockets in some laughing giants sky..

wow the sea doth fucking pound the cliffs

and the night doth fucking pound the day

but for two fucking pounds you could download andromeda Cicciolina

in that hotel room with the message on the mirror that appears as ya having yer shower

the cars roar by outside oblivious to any of it

like lions roaring in the arena having a st paul burger

like the arrows that pierce st steven leaving pools of his glamorous blood

i was on a tv show and the techies were all pushing me around

putting their hands in my pockets and jostling me about

trying to get me to throw a punch so they can all jump on me at once

following me around jeering at me

you aint so fuckin famous now are you you fuckin idiot they sneer and leer

fortunately this merely is a happening in a close by by invitation only address

i was taken in a car to a chilly windy high street and thrown out in my stupid paisley shirt

they sped off leaving me only this descended evening as my conscience

yes i am a tame beast but time has bested me

invested with gravity and weight the years are sucking me down

fuck that shouts the two bit poet in some I-bravado

im sitting outside at a cafe and my nephew walks by

hes tall and thin with a mop of blond hair and we embrace and talk

when i die i wish he could download all my tricks

i think he could be the heir to this kilbey way as well as lou lou

but as females their take is different

i wish i could put my music knowledge on a memory stick for this guy to access

theres no need to grope in the dark the method is established and could be transmitted

instead i will go out in a blaze

and all this intuitive blather ive waited so long to acquire will be gone

someone should benefit

it should be a download available for one million pieces of red kryptonite

that will be the day the day you plug in to dead geniuses modi operandi

with all the right accessories you can paint like beethoven

and sing like T Lautrecs did

i am a knight but i move in diagonals

you see y’can win easier that way when they dont see that coming

in five seconds you can take in picassos 90 years and spit it on prepared paper

you can buy mansions by the bay and impress bimbos with facelifts

youll be befriended by famous cricketeers n everything

ive just mixed up some mahler some rodin and some frank lloyd wrong

furniture music on a discus

discuss discus compactly and move on to section 3 of paper if you were born on earth

apparently we are stardust and golden

but i am moon rusted and silvery old

youll miss me when im a gone

the closer it gets the faster it goes

why the morning whirled by in breakfast and seawater and now

aftershave and tequila and going to bed and a bag of lollies

the sleeping pills are good for you a mixture of antihistamine and mandrake root

the waking pills are just some vitamins and some old style third reich speed

the tequila is good for you its made from a fucking cactus c’mon

the pure white sugar of the cane toad cut with the milk powder of human kindness

let the valkyries swoop down upon my fallen body for verily i have died in battle

on the beach at Utah or Sword my d day finds me incoherent wounded by the wind

the gulls form their arc

the rainbows in the blowing surf

the golden boys buying fish n chips

the sea not giving a toss or a horse

why are you all looking at me i hoarsely scream

in my jesters outfit with the death sceptre

my music comes on in the supermarket

and the cordial bottles unscrew themselves spontaneously

and the bananas shudder in their bunches

and remember when we added raspberry cordial to riccadonna wine?

and one thousand girls with a banana unpeeling it with their bored indifferences

like tonight with tasty dutch lolly

and last night with mrs mortality

and tomorrow night im doing a gig youre not allowed to ever even hear about

huge money keep quiet or we come round n visit your grandmother and break her vase

oh now i feel sick from all the booze and lollies and talent

oh how my head throbs and my toes curl

how my veins corrode and my feet protrude

how my glands pump their lube round my brains

how my nipples get sore under my rashie

how my ears sing in steel voices of music made 40 years ago in a fuckin garage

how the stimulants stimulate and simulate the simian simple simon says

and the frosty ones in the boot for robbo and the boys

and those tricky red lights when you just planted your foot

and those neon bars with all those young fuckin idiots screaming over the disco glare

and you crash into the scene backstage with yer hashish and yer opium opuses

and they squeeze up for their photos with you and the other half blitzed celebs

and the husbands touch you with wonder and the wives grab your lyrics

and the roadies pack up the shambles

and the merch guy fucks off with all the cash

and all the fuckin drum cases must weigh a ton but ya swan around with yer champers

and all the blokes are competing for the invisible bitch as thin as air

but shes looking at you now boyo and she wants to repay ya all yer hits

but then the babysitter at home has discovered yer mushies and is tripping with all the twins

the fire brigade pulls up to put out yer ardour

and you come to face to face with that fuckwit from that band you fuckin hate

hes being nice to ya now but can ya feel it thru the johnnie walker and the jimmy reed?

nico fell off her bike

and chet baker fell off a balcony

but you fell off your own resolutions n crushed your vertical hold

and you sold your already stolen soul for a few sous to some sale

now you merely exist in the memory stick figures imagined by your blind fans

in the kind of night like this

where my dreams are dictated by the banging windows in the fuckin wind

turn up the music to drown out all the sailors drowning

ten couples courting nine crimson doves and keith partridge in a pair tree

to all goodnight i bid you adrift

you motherless wankers and maidens of ire

the cars screaming up these foreign streets

the music i still havent written

the fruit i still aint bitten

the comfy chair i still cant sitten

the life i deserved is reserved

i has reservations anyway

the indian winter is brutal on the balcony of the hare krishna restaurant

all those gulab jamoons and sucking on my lassi furiously

the last straw was blocked

i cocked my fuckin trigger for the (b)last time

to lay down all my arms in your veil

just then a huge whale breached a hundred miles out to sea

the crows multiplied and the doves disappeared and they were crying, yes!

the magpies cawed and the silver chords that i believe bind us to the other

the immensity of this undertaking and its consequences

the velocity a body of light must hit

the rattling panes that try to keep out the night quite unsuccessfully

oh i could go on and on but thats the me you know you wish you love

yes i wish you all love

and with those words

the transmission fading

















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