story of my lives

its already 2010
i got a friend called ricky
and one called donald
and one called nelg
and one called trevor who is also church lighting man
i live in bondi north bondi if you like
my friends come to my house
we and the fambley plus
amble off to the beach for a swim
we get there
the beach is closed because of
a) electric storm
b) jellyfish
c) tsunami
d) big sharky
e) all of the above
can you imagine
a lightning bolt strikes
a sharky bites
a jellyfish stings
the tsunami drowns
all at one time
we eat mexican n it starts to rain
cant pull a trick
do yoga this morning in the hot sun
i drift off into reveries of lives
i remember faces dimly in the interior mists
i remember nineveh
i remember albion
i remember rome
i was a slave boy
captured from somewhere else
i must have been a slave there
where i was before because i didnt mind being a slave here
we were outside of rome now
i worked in the vineyards of our owners whom we rarely saw
one day our mistress turned up in our midst unexpectedly
she looked rich with her jewelry and her robes
rumours swirled around the place about her
she had been sent home from rome
for misbehaviour nonetheless
she was suntanned and deliberate
as she made her way up the treelined avenues
of her splendid country home
they said she worshipped egyptian gods
they said she was a priestess of astarte
they said she had had an affair with some emperor
they said her husbands had been powerful men
they said she owned a house in africa
one day i was surprised to be called into her presence
what did she want with me?
would i be ever be a freed man?
would i be poisoned or promoted?
would i be flayed or fucked or fired?
it was with some trepidation therefore
that i approached her villa.....

the painter and the painted

do another sitting for andrew h today
for the big art prize
hes got 3 big pictures of me going n
small portraits of me all around the studio
andrew is one of the nicest guys i ever met
a true artist no matter what
the real deal
authenticity
his place is light n breezy
ocean zephyrs blow thru the white rooms
i discuss my face with andrew
he says "theres lots of concave isnt there?"
hed been doing me too big n hard
i point out small things to him
but hes doing a nice job
interesting to see how he works
painting in a drab greeny brown
swishing it all away with a turpsy rag
he does portraits the way i do
he starts with a very rough thing
and then he refines n refines n closes in n in
its nice to see my face emerging from the canvas
(only its board not canvas)
people walk in n make comments
an old scottish guy makes some funny cracks
ha ha
art n music
we listen to some spacious piano music by old whatsisname
ah youd know who i meant if you heard it
the french guy in the twenties monsieur whatsisname
anyway
(satie!)
deadline this friday
must go back for one more sitting tuesday night
only i mainly stand
andrew is such a lovely man
i wish he would bloody win the big prize
nah!
thatd just be too damn unlikely, wouldnt it?

deadmans hand ep

been working on deadmans hand ep (duh!)
out at tims
sorry no blog yessaday ...i was knackered
got 3 really good new songs ready for ya
gonna be giving this away at gigs in u.s.
really u#23 ish songs
they said it couldnt be done
you know what
i found me a new singing style
a new way of writing words
tim n me what a pair
what a modus operandi
we sculpt songs from the living rock itself
words fly to me outta i know not where
who whispers all these words to me
we worked on these songs
the gardener
stardust
dakota
the kicker
mellotron
guitarama
i played pedal bass today...its a huge sound
tim changes things all the time
i write n write n write
now i'm tired
now i need to replenish my thoughts
now i need to relax a little
its been a long day
wow i worked hard
gee me n tim are good
the weathers nice too
see ya tomorrow
sk

vapourised

somedays i feel there is nothing left to write
you know it all
you know me through n through dont you
you read about how i single handedly saved rocknroll
but as i was about to claim my rewards
some strange quirk undid me
i was robbed
if only if only if only
if only once
i sold my lies to you and charged you for poetry
who me....nah....i never done any of that stuff i said
wrestling boas in some mayan jungle...who me....?
i been sitting here all along
look i never ever left canberra
i just made it all up what i wanted
and somehow you the audience came to life
with lives you imagine youre having
look theres nothing out there but a soft quiet afternoon
the house is empty and mercifully silent
i alone with me
all of us sitting here
on the other end of some computer
the real steve kilbey died in a horrific crash
they have a contest to replace him
you dont see him for a while
suddenly they bring on this new geezer
a spritely old coot bearing little resemblance
to his supposed former self
suddenly there he is everywhere
with his white beard n floaty hair
whatever happened to the real guy?
he must of written loads of po before he go, you kno?
i mean thats the stuff theyre dishing out now kilbos old stuff
i mean i'm saying i'm not him
it was a different man etc
even tho those are not my words or anybodys
kilbey was a construct designed by engineers
but they got the ratios wrong
too much malarkey not enough "oooh mama its satday nite!'
anyway i must be raving on again
i'm glad they let me use this ancient computer once a week
in here
in my tower where i am imprisoned within my own life
i never did yoga
i never wrote songs
i never smoked dope
i never even kissed a girl
i'm a doctored photo
i'm a whole pack of lies for a poker hand
i'm a guess at what a real kilbey may say
things are going wrong up here
sometimes they forget to feed me
sometimes they forget to lock me up
and i wander freely through the cities of these worlds
but like all cagey birds i cant fend for myself
i need my keepers to feed me
i need their assent
i need the stern hand of the system to guide me
i need my 3 square meals and my 2 round abouts
ha ha ha
whatever it is it aint gonna happen here
typey typey typey
should do something used full
bye-i

the gas .....but whos laughing ?

finally i meet my dental waterloo
my four front upper teeth reduced to pins
to accommodate my new crowns
(what a king)
i spend 3 hours in the chair
after a bit of an argument
my dentist gives me the maximum gas
while he drills my teeth away
and takes impressions etc
meanwhile where do i go...?
i recede away from this world as is my wont
i breathe in the gas and i evaporate behind my screaming teeth
i finally realize ...just like the walrus said...
theres nothing to get hung about
action seems unnecessary
all my wriggling jiggling where will it get me but the grave
i dissociate from myself
whoever i am today
wherever i was
its 2010 the distant future
my mouth is full of chemicals
pre-anesthetic
anesthetic itself
impression paste
my old n rotten teeth as they are drilled
glue and cloves and god knows what
the gas mask is hurting
pushing down on my partially numbed nose
inside my head
i think of one thousand things
my old lives yes
or my old lies i cannot tell
i was a soldier who laid waste ilium
covered in other mens blood
i hooked charioteers with my barbed spear
i burned heifers to lord zeus
who seemed to answer my prayers
i raped the women in the city
i looted the houses
and i sat back drinking red wine
while some quack stitched up my leg and my arm
miles away somewhere the dentist
is drill drill drilling
my mouth is open
my lip is split
the assistant sucks the saliva out of my mouth
the city of sydney looms around grey n faceless
my face hurts in every world
i must write this down in my blog i say to myselves
but what was it i wanted to write?
music from a terrible radio station filters through n down
down in my head where i'm drowning in gas
i walk the streets of russia
i live in my little apartment where i drink tea
i am quite mad
but i write lovely music on my piano
its cold today
i'm freezing in here
the music i write turns into birds that fly away
the snow falls down outside and i am quietly sad
i see myself in the mirror
some shadow in the candlelight
the sound of horses and sleighs
the taste of stale bread
no firewood left
the grate grows cold
i retire to my bed to keep warm
even sleep does not come
i lie awake in some confused reverie
when the drill interrupts my life
the dentists is saying
can you open a little wider please
i long for it to end
all of it
the lights in my eyes
the noise inside my mouth
resonating in enamel
the sensation of helplessness
finally its over
i stumble out into cold daylight
and walk about 5 kms in a daze
i take codeine when i get home
more drugs
more haze
more daze
less days

far q

postcard from heatwave
palms clouds turbulence
red roofs green trees white flowers
dogbark birdsing catcreep
i am hurting hurting hurting
dont read on if you dont want to hold my breath
oh i feel 1000 years old
the dying summer has flared up into a burning ball
ive fled sleep
i left it aching on the bed
i pull on my mansuit
and its all torn n damaged
my lip wont heal up
my heel giving me lip
my bones feel like they been x-rayed by fire
i'd eat lethargy on toast but i ran outta bread
dont read on if you dont want to read on
dont complain of my pain
dont threaten me now i'm in beyond
doctor my I's
sea accept me
sky why wont you cry
i accomplish nothing
i wish for nothing
i long for nothingness
remove me from the constant this or that
i thought that life was a bowl of cherries...once....
flyscreen rips off in the wind
one more bill
one more call
one more message
one more waiting
one more life
one more universe
one more infinity of infinities
i been myself so many times
i want out
i want in
i want it all n i cant wait much longer
what do you want me to want
i'll tell you what i want
energy
i want energy all youve got
give it to me ha you cant
all your energy couldnt touch my sides
every word i think of is 1 million calories
think of me as angelic beast
my appetites are the purest dew
from the dirtiest puddle
but i'm a wingless beast (now)
i cant fly except in somebody elses stupid dreams
a bedraggled hide cages an eternal strength
when i say look out you better look out
but i wont say it today
so go away
yes go away and leave here in this silvery heat
i am ulysses 4 granted
i sailed away baby
i am on my voyage now
my voyage round the traps and dips
my journey to the east
the eastern suburbs i mean
whatever happened to whatsisname anyway
and all the other whatsisnames
oh i grow tired just reckoning them
as countless as the molluscs in a stale pool
as hopeless as all the fucking muggles with their beer n tv
as oafish as a cartoon buffoon or paltry paltroon
the hoi fucking polloi
the nouveau stupid
the modern zeitgeist heist
some call me faustus
some call me steve
some call me nothing
which do you believe?

biff jerky

nebulous flimsy

saturday night i sit by the open window
the banished poet at summers long end
lights of the city say twinkle twinkle
its quiet tonight
somewhere out there may rage wild festivities
but not up this street
the wind blows lonely
it whispers wickedly of winter
it implies some sad finality without saying a thing
doors rattle n bang in its wake
the curtains are blind
the windows see nothing
the palms nod out in the orange crescent moon
the clock becomes loud
oh god my pulse is racing away
i feel cold despite the balminess
my head feels heavy
anxiety and anger fuck with me
i have exacerbated my fieriness
i have energy yes
but sometimes it whips me on before it
today i sat for my portrait for the archibald prize
australias big portrait prize
andrew h is doing this 2 metres high painting of moi
i try to pick his brains about art
i ask him many complicated questions
i must have been distracting him
he is a truly lovely man
a gentleman in the real sense of the word
a proper artist who sells paintings in galleries
6 years of art school
but today he couldnt get me
he couldnt nail me in that painting
im going back next week
i believe in this man
i believe he will paint a marvellous picture of me
i know my face so well
because i have done so many self portraits
and because i'm a narcissistic fool
i can see where andrews going wrong
and then i do what i joked early i would never do
i offered suggestions
my nose isnt that long etc
i'm supposed to keep shut up
but i talked the whole fucking time
i realized today that picasso was the only major painter
who switched genres or created new genres all the time
i mean most guys from rembrandt down to rousseau
they get their trip n then spend their lives improving on it
but picasso was like the beatles
he invent a thing
play around with it for a little while
then get a new trip
leaving all the second tier guys to forever remain
in that one new thing he'd figured out
eg career cubists....
wow i really like andrew
softly spoken and humble to a tee
i ask him curly questions as hes trying to grok
the proportions of my face
dragging him out of the spatial n into the verbal
finally i say to him
do you ever think youre a genius ?
and he finally laughs n shakes his head
its a release for us both
i point out to him the idiosyncrasies of my face
he keeps saying
youre very chiselled
now that i've been a vegan
my face has become angular again
andrew said
is it that you look young
or are all the people your age looking old?
yes the latter it is
i do not look young
i have the wear n tear of 55 years on my old dial
but guess what
i finally feel happy with my face
i feel at home in it
what you see is what you get
you can have a look at me n see the kinda geezer i am
i'm quick
i 'm sharp
i'm a bit proud n cruel
but i'm a bit sympathetic and naive too
i am an old boy
you see the discipline of yoga has somehow
done something to my face
time and drugs have fucked it up in one way
and yoga n veganism n swimming
have altered it another
sometimes i am surprised to see myself
sometimes i look so goddamn old
its ok fuck i'm coming on 56
i become old with a naive wonder
and if i continue to grow old like this well i dont mind
i put a lot into yoga and i reap the rewards of long hours
when other people are watching tv or sleeping in
or down the bloody pub
i'm on my balcony whether its hot or cold
i'm out there doing my practice
and if you did something as much as i do yoga
youd expect some results wouldnt you
its a fucking ongoing experiment to see where it could take me
its a miraculous process
it is a type of magic
the transformation of the regular old geezer
into something a bit more souped up
so now i really contain visual contradictions
someone wrote of one our shows
that i oscillate onstage between ancient and youthful
i reckon i got a bit of female mojo in me too
i aint no fucking clown drinking beer n watching tv
i'm the sensitive bloke
i got 5 daughters remember
so there you go
you paint me
you gotta get the young n the old
the masculine n the feminine
the genius n the fool
the rockstar n the nobody
the saint n the sinner
the ascetic n the hedonist
yeah i fucking fascinate myself dont i?
its understandable but its unforgivable
believe me i have more contempt than admiration
i been lucky
n most of my wounds have been self inflicted
if i ever suffered it was me who did it to me
i never been abused
i never been abandoned
i never been really sick
i been undeservedly lucky
especially in the last year
3 good men who are good at what they do
have stepped in n helped me out
i guess they like my music enough
to understand me n see
that i could certainly use some guidance
that when it comes to business n stuff
i am a bit hopeless
i want those gentlemen to know
i am very very grateful
and a fourth gentleman too
whose been helping the cause a long long time
i cant believe that our fans are often
doctors pilots scientists lawyers teachers professors
i'm glad that at the end of a long day
they can lose their brilliant minds in my work
i put a lot of secret compartments in my songs
and these guys enjoy finding them
i try my hardest to avoid cliche
i write songs for clever people
if you really like my music you must be pretty clever
otherwise you wouldnt dig it
thats why i can never be hugely popular
i yearn for great popularity n money
but in truth i knew that by doing what i do
by having my ridiculous ideals
by working with the other guys in the church
who can be scathing with criticism if i fuck up
so i..... yeah.... yeah....
more about kilbey by kilbey
nebulous flimsy
nonsense n whimsy
simultaneously important n utterly irrelevant
my songs will not change your life
they will enhance it
i have some good records waiting in the wings
i got an angular face
i'm getting some new teeth
i got some good friends
with whom i get by with a little help
i got a beautiful bass
i can speak a bit of swedish
i got tv appearances lined up
i get in the newspaper
i made over 50 records
i written a million songs
i did a million gigs
i been everywhere
i tried every drug
i been rich n poor
fuck it
i still aint happy though......
go n fuckin' figure....

notes on notes

well i was tired
and some other things going on
we were more evenhanded than canberra
but canberra had the oomph!
sydney i was just too spaced out to focus
it had been a long day
sometimes everything else gets in the way
the other guys thought it was good
i was just a bit underwhelmed with myself
i expected a secret cache of energy to fill me when i hit stage
but it never arrived
nevertheless
thats it
its over for a while
enmore theatre on 20, 21 march for rockwiz
a tour of perth/wa with ricky in early march
recording for down to cardboard n deadmans hand ep next week
getting teeth started on next week
trying to get everything else done before usa april
boy
today i am one drained tired worn out old rocker
in spades!!

nations capital

back to canberra
back to lyneham
where it all began
tilley devines a great venue
sold out in 2 hours
i arrive a little early
walk round my old schools
primary n high
my friend nelg has filmed me waxing rhapsodic
on the ill kept lawns
cant find any real nostalgia
its all dried up n moved on
we go into venue
a creature with a long blonde wig approaches me
the face of a man
breasts of a lady
voice not too ladylike
steve do you remember me?
uh ,...err no...oh god...no
you knew me before i was a girl says the person
i think: a girl is one thing you are not
the person twirls around in front of me
showing off the new bits
turns out i did know this geezer
oh god i say
the person was a musician who once played with peter k
nice to meet you again man i say
whoops i mean i dont mean man i mean....err... um....
how confusing!
we botch our soundcheck
technical issues etc
they let the crowd in n we slink off
nice tofu dinner on sidewalk cafe
eventually do gig
very small stage
hey we rocked
it was acoustic too
the crowd really erupts during 1st song
and stays a great audience all night long for us
we play well
i get carried away start jumping about
wow it was a good gig
afterwards i meet some old pals of mine
shouldnt have had that coffee for 3 hour drive home
get back home at 3 something n cannot sleep
tired like a donkey but cant sleep
well i got my second wind now
hope i dont sag tonite in sydney
notes in enmore
please come
this is a kinda one off show tonite
or stay home see if i care...
ok gonna try for some rest now
lotsa love etc
sk

understanding everything

we will never understand everything
every question opening a hundred doors
you adore the opening therefore
wherein time slows suspended in viscous nights
and i come marauding your hamlets
i lay waste your virgin meadows
i put your question to the sword
something has turned me red again
something has burned me dead again
but a brute dumb force makes me jerk around
and we both watch your face as you go under the hammer
going
going
but
never truly gone
not gone like time
not gone like sick sweet love
not gone like the forests of antarctica
not gone like atlantis who went down to the bed
with a crystal melodious keening groan
we both come back
we all come back
or maybe not
if some do not
then someone somewhere will understand that
if not you or i then someone must
there must be a reason for what happens
it is the only outcome
a servant to my old nemesis' opposite
dawn finds me on my side
my vitality and my will hold me together just
my will to go on
to be more
to see more
to explore
my face has sheered off into angles
i was some pretty prints but that was ages ago
in the red light of the naked bulb
i appear even redder than red and ready too
i see it all better through my blurry eye
the colours dilate in some plasmatic schema
white flesh with soft plummy bruises
turning purple and violet blue green
like a snowball gathering speed and size
your white waist flares into white hips
and the white clouds are absorbed in the white sky
i wonder which part of everything
all this will help me to understand
naturally there will always be loose ends to be tied up
the details irritate me however
bring out the things that i like
make it really good or really bad
the years are disappearing underwheel
mind and body need investigation
we are surely capable of more
the seer and the seersucker
the mother and the motherload
the farther off the fatherland
dont go back
stay right now on this very word until it is gone
not gone like the wind
not gone flake
not gone bad
not gone cheap
not gone forever
forever baby
they say in the songs thats a long long time
but nowdays forever is only ever a few minutes away
you can see it if you but have the eyes
the future parading around with its lovely ass hanging out
and forever is sitting there watching
watching watching
making small growling sounds perhaps
whats the time mr wolfe?
the big bad old wolf
christian wolf
whoever wolf
wolfgang amadeus wolf
yeah so forever is like mr wolf
and the future appearing as little red riding hood
and mr wolf is licking at little rrh
his big forever tongue
can you understand this part of everything my dear...?
he has eaten the childs milfish granny already
(who was the past, of course)
and now that slightly handsome angular wolf
with his snaggle teeth and nasty nips
with his lupine lope
with his devouring hope
mr wolf dressed in his mansuit
look his paws are really hands
and little rrh says where wolf?
she does not realize mr wolf is a real wolf
she thinks hes an actor auditioning for a part
what kind of film is this she says sitting up blinking
several men stand around handling the technical details
they laugh and smoke cigarettes and ignore her
the wolf forever however
he opens his jaws ready to swallow
when
the present as the axeman suddenly bursts in upon us
he cuts open forever to reveal the past
little rrh pulls on her pants sadly
the boys pack up n go home
and the cleaners come in
then we leave
though
still not understanding everything

rehearsal

i rehearsed
it was ok
i dont like rehearsal much
a necessary evil
i guess
see you round the traps
sk

sunday morning rain

suddenly its sunday
the sabbath day
the day they say
that olde jehovah rested after creating heaven n earth
i got this book "genesis" illustrated by r.crumb
wow!
i say it again
wow!
the illustrations are fucking superb
but
the story of creation n noah n abraham and all that crowd
how the hell they call this the good book...?1
i know i said it before
but wheres the goodness?
take old abraham for example
he wandered round the middle east
saying his wife was his sister
tricking his hosts
who may or may not have had their way with her
and then getting goats gold and slaves
when embarrassed pharaoh or whoever
realizes hes been doing abes wife
not only that
but him n his wife are already over 100 by this stage
and a load of other petty silly trickery
and daughters "knowing" their fathers
and all the blokes marry their frickin' cousins
and talking snakeys of course
dim references to the nephilim
(who the fuck are they actually?)
and a supreme deity who prefers to sniff burning lambs
than a nice dish of organic veggies
oh my socks
the western world which invents supersonic jets
is pretending to believe this stuff
this incredible allegoric mish mash of old stories
i mean why the fuck am i supposed to be on abrahams side
whats so good about him?
god keeps telling him he'll have millions of descendants...
why would that motivate you...?
god :here steve run around the middle east, pimp out your wife
knock up your slave girl, almost sacrifice your little sonny
and get involved in a load of malarkey!
me : but god ....i dont wanna....please...
god : dont you wanna have millions of descendants...?
me : NO!!!
god : well what were ya thinking of.....
me : ok...well...psychic powers, a few gallons of nepenthe
a nice tent with oasis glimpses in upper samaria etc....
aw
its just so hard to reconcile
the clumsy seemingly self-contradicting actions of jehovah
with the glorious universe itself which he supposedly created
he is all the worst aspects of a tyrant
narcissistic nepotistic arbitrary spiteful sadistic
no wonder with religions like this we have run amok
promised lands n chosen people
what about the rest of us?
why does a god who designed n created gazelles n cheetahs
care about grumpy old abe n his fleabitten camels?
it doesnt add up
every child feels the panic
on meeting this impossible old character for the 1st time
what are we supposed to learn from jehovah?
he sure doesnt take any responsibility for the mess he created
does he?
anyway
the rain is holding off for a while out there
its st valentines day 14 th of february
didnt this cat die a grisly death in some christian scenario?
now hes the saint of greeting cards (i just made me own!)
and roses (bought a bunch from ye olde corner shoppe)
shoppe owner to sk : theyre selling like hotcakes...
i normally charge 30 a bunch but for you 20...
today i'm judging a vegan bake-off in newtown
must remain hungry for that
the rain is threatening but not falling
leaving the world in an unsatisfied state
an expectation of fulfillment just hanging there
the humidity is hard to bear
everything is sticky and damp
at ten to nine in the morning
the fridge hums
the tinnitus rings
the clocks ticks
never tocks
the world feeling apparently still solid
they say we rush through space
our sun travels alongside unfixed
each and everyone of us pure stardust
as much as the trees on the stars
we have a right to be here

saturday morning rain

after a wild and tumultuous night
after the last lightning has bolted across the purple sky
and the thunder claps and exits quietly
and the men n women cease their ministrations
when the kissing ends and the dreaming begins
hands still touching
going where the other can never follow
we sleep together but alone we dream
the neon and the empathy still judder thru my system
in my dreams i soldier on through my mind
but whatever i do i never remember
when i wake up
its saturday morning very quiet
gently oh so gently drizzling
the odd car zings thru the wet streets
a cool rain has come
the city crouches beneath the clouds
docile and tamed
its hour gone at last
the clubs close up
the spades are spent
the hearts are all broken
and the diamonds are paste
the cold light of the warmish day
the clocks all ticking in the silence
the hum of the fridge
the rustling of blinds n curtains
this is my territory
as much as the nights confusions
the grim grey light
pale mirror
the creeping cumuli
i listen to my ears ringing on
trying to tune into a station they can never get
those yesterdays when i wasnt me
who were you then?
no i dont know
someone else somewhere else
luck ran out
as it does
life as they told you is brief
what stands on either side but rest
and the cold morning drizzle
the small stones and pieces of brick
holes in the mortar where lizards live
the tiny bits of glass and drifts of sand
and weeds scraggly raggedy ugly skinny things
strangling the daylight for their fix
emitting dull buds that flower dimly
things become unbearably still
i'm left here with my past n my future
on either side the deep gulf of unconsciousness
lit up by short dreams
in a series of lives

afternoon of a fawn

another day
4 p.m. circa february early 2010
dive down thru layers of personalities
another day
another storm
another time being
another point in the distance
on an afternoon when all stories merge
on an afternoon when all probabilities surge
on an afternoon before the urgent wind came
on an afternoon after no one
on a hundred degree day straight out of the futures
or straight out of the arabian nightclubs
the sky glowers
the skin cowers
embalmed in hours
thunder threatens to the north
weird little tree cover in milky pink flowers
towels hang agitating against the new storm
for god sake thunderer bring on the dark clouds
wash this fair city clean of all its sin
though that might take awhile
thunderclaps roll out towards the heads
the ants panic in long jittery columns
on an afternoon like this
just as you would imagine me
on the balcony surrounded by my little gang of shrubs
i jazz up the afternoon with my puffing, billy
some new thoughts enter my skull
some old ones fade away
old memories not what they were
new memories folded up
to be looked at on another afternoon
this afternoon which is almost over in its own midst
i invoke indra god of weather to pour down upon my city
and flash flood away the things that keep us bound
a fresh wind flies out of the mouth of the heat
like the cool tongue of a lover in virtual re-creation
the clouds are thick and woolly
and they hover ponderously on the sky
dogs bark far away
howling against the coming storm as if it could stop it
like men rage against their oncoming fate
which does not listen
youth does not need heed me
folly cannot comprehend the sublime nature of things
the ground still burns my feat
yes i say yes
there is always more than 2 choices
but thats all they give ya n thats all they got
the time being gives you multiple choices
its however you wanted it to be because thats it
right?
the storm seems to lose velocity
it seems to lose its intent
its terrible sitting here
waiting for that cleansing rain which may never come
a man of simple taste n origin
i eat almonds and sip tepid rice milk
i need to vibrate faster
i need to feel lighter
i need to be able to fly in to the sun
but the barometric pressures me to the floor
i eat some deeply purpled cherries
spit out their stones
maybe a cherry tree will grow in one of my empty pots
i remember other days and afternoons of course
the swirling currents of luck
the rise n fall n rise n fall
rags to ditches
ashes to ashes
hags n witches
look where the stitch is
the sun is so strong
i go down to hades to find some shade
the dead call out my names
hold out their fading hands to me
i see them all
rank upon rank
file upon mile
row on row on row
in the hall of the black mountain king
he says if you want those shades back sing!
and sing of the storm and its coming
i crave something salty
i crave something sweet
the heat has unravelled my plans
i must give in
i will sit in some cool spot and unconcentrate
unconcentrate on nothing

the approaching storm

i sit on the wall with my baby
whose just dressed in her faded knickers
her wild locks doth blow and bobbing in the ionized winds
we look out to the distant horizons
as the storm comes in upon us
oh storm come unto me
the old milky sun reduced to a joke
struggling to be heard over the rising tumult of the storm
my succulence and my heliotropes move by natures unseen hand
words flow to me in non mechanistic streams
words in other languages pour into english
my deep self reads it all
i let it sort it all out
up in the speed of thought
which is 666 times quicker than light
the words appear to me on old fashioned reels
in my head pyramids revolve flashing symbols and numbers
and glyphs and hieroglyphs
and pictures of nude blonde american women in b/w
baby runs inside to get away from the frowning sky
but i remain savouring the coolness
rejoicing in the miracle of holy life
and convinced more than ever
of some supreme fucking genius
who is behind everything
the marrow in our bones
the electricity that animates our flesh
our place within the big picture
the regulation of the heavenly bodies
the songwriter for the birds
the architect of mountains
the painter of skies
so huge and benevolent he is not seen
lord
call him zeus call him deus
call him vishnu
call him the unnamed
well this world
know well this world
this world which seems so ordinary
this world which seems so tame
oh baby baby its a wild world
full of yoga and magic
everybody contradicting everybody else
the experts disagree on EVERYTHING
each age disagrees with the last and the next
youth mocks age
age scorns youth
man and woman fucking each other over n up
everybody so convinced as they preach their left wing right wing
i cant tell the real from the unreal
i keep on swallowing more misinformation more disinformation
i cant tell
who can tell
so i feel it
i feel the storm
the real storm coming out of nowhere
across the sky and for a moment it seems it will blow over
my tiny fig tree grooving in the zephs
baby comes back out with her stormy eyes
little baby frowning like the february skies
late summer child careless in disarray
sitar music n incense
old white hippy drippy moses inculcating an atmosphere
of faux spirituality in his bondi pad/ dump/ shack/place
w.h.m. leading you back to the promise of land
the promise of rock n roll...thou shall be released
my box set of solo records will get you started
ignore the drum machine and watch the time just being
burn my music burn my eye
order me from eye tunes
order me to go on a quest
baby comes in and eats some grapes
she like some old time film star
with her improbable lip
curvy hip
and her eyes reflecting the stormy vault overhead
her teeth are big and white
and she moves like puck or ariel would
we are alone here together
on this unlikely afternoon
i am the impressionist poet
who writes the first thing that comes into his head
from his deepest self
to his shallowest manifestation
a voice guides me
baby herself is not to be guided at all
she plays with the shrubs n her little creatures
and bounces her head from side to side
she kisses my back as she goes inside
just once
just ever so lightly
come back out here i command in a gruff voice
no she says
no
i dont want to

con glomerate

my parents wanted a child so they named me beast
i slunk through the neon jungle
some toothy king i was with no crown
as the sly fox jumped the wine dark sea
i sacrificed other mens children
i gotta big in with some immortal bint
and i hid inside (the) horse
how i got my scars
wounded in love
wounded in hatred
some big shot trying to take me down (down, down)
yeah i can quote from the bible
still jesus has not touched me
except once in rozelle
when he was drinking with jim and lindy morrison
and then one day i overheard a man singing a song
it went like this..dum dum de de dum dum dum de
or was he singing dumb deii dumb deii
tho it has no further relevance
and thats how i came to be here
at marc and cleos sipping retsina
been pining for it
still there is the question of nineveh
nobody knows much about it
except that it was an extremely naughty town
well it was coz i was there
not like sod'em n gomorrah
where the citizens were trying to fuck angels
now thats bound to piss yer god off
but nineveh had no visits from the hebrew angels
we were just you know
1 cruel
2 proud
3 bloodthirsty
4 idolaters
5 all of the above
i myself was not that bad
a little vain maybe
a little lascivious perhaps
tho cherubim were not on my menu
nevertheless
until they do a computer keyboard
with the nineveh glyphs
then i wont be able to prove it
by telling you some easy to learn phrases
you might need to know in nineveh
such as
give way to chariots
bill posters will be executed
do you have amorite slaves for sale here?
which way is the temple of set?
do you speak babylonian? yes?
this dagger is not worth 3 pieces of silver!
good morning mr xarion...hows the concubine...?
etc etc
i am eternally indebted to old jonah who put us on the map
nineveh had its good sides if you knew who to ask
of course we ended up desolated
an empty downtown
full of pelicans and porcupines
and animals starting with p
the temple harlots dressed in red
bright red
their robes were dyed with the blood of rare alligators
and fixed with the feverish tears of infatuation
the soldiers dressed in black
implying death and destruction and not showing
too many marks
i mean robes get dirty fighting bedouins and sacking cities
and where to give things a good wash in the desert
nonetheless i am the ancient marinated
pickled n in a pickle
a picked a peck off a peacocks fevvers
the seven deadly sins
lateness rudeness silliness naivete stinginess sluttiness bullying
the seven deadly spice girls
sporty naughty posh dock baby-dopey sneezy n ginger
the seven suits in some decks of cards
hearts diamonds tridents arrows clubs bloods spades
the seven cardinal colours
maroon pink orangey-green brown puce mauve n ginger
the seven wonders of the world
the statue of the time being in sydney harbour
the hanging gardens of vaucluse
the great chicken of kiev
the pyramid of avon
the furfle of groon
the bewlay brothers tea rooms in dublin
mr n mrs fred dunballs sea breeze motel in wollongong south
still i am not convinced
2012 is approaching
everything we thought we knew is turning out to be
a bit of a fib
dont say i didnae warn you
i'm not gonna squabble with anyone anymore
i got my deckchair on the titanic and i aint moving
(down to the bed with a shining glass sound)
my band plays on
WE PLAY ON
yes
we played on
on into fulltime
over n above all penalties n sundries n such
no wonder i'm a con fused
con glomerate

nature strip

things add up n combine in mysterious ways
often stupidly
often like a badly written script
you'd say no too obvious but lo look at your life
coincidence on top of coincidence
synchronicity on top of sting
mumbled threats
fumbled promises
whos writing this stuff
whos making it all up as they go along
when do we get to stand n say
author! author!
i can dig any theory
can put almost none into practice
practice makes perfect sense
we are creatures who have lost their grace
we wallow n waddle and holler n hoot
we rarely glide or swoop or ululate or sing
you can lead your high horse to water
but you cant make it drink eat or be merry
and
i'm so tired of running from my own heat
i let the sound of my own wheels drive me crazy
i dont know what i want to say
undo i guess
undo this mess
undo
unlive
unlove
unbe
uninvited like the freakin' clouds
today australia is very warm w/humidity on the side
you gonna sweat you bet
get fucking set
i now have wireless
i have turned my airport on
i have thrown away the cables
full of their mysterious threads
i irradiate my home with a million more tiny daggers
electronic pollution giving us tumours
killing the bloody bees
so we can google bee
dont kill bees
dont kilbey
yeah i gone wireless
i got my tablet
i painty painty real good n finish it all off
always fresh conundrums for any killer
mostly at least me
thats beast not least
life is trickier than i ever imagined
just think what it must be like for bobby dylan
coz my life drives me crazy
and some nights are i cant turn off all those old songs
biting me on the arse from the past
fuck life then but what else have we got?
my battery moves into the red
my account is fuller
but my head is emptier
and my heart is heavy
and its beat goes
boom boom bang boom boom bang
bang shang a lang
my lungs go gaspetty gasp
my teethies crumble
and they were all YELLOW
life and time drag me down
random flux
disturbances in the fabric of reality
bad karma for an old villain
or what?
dont answer that, please.....

crestfallen

a lass a lack
shot gone shack
towing the line
keeping (on) track
your shrine to the sailor
your jim-jims yer jailer
my world (pop one)
your world (pop none)
where does all that money come from?
my jack was knifed
your tongue was forked
the spoon was full
my falcon hawked
oh my gold falcon with its beige plastic dash
full of poisonous fumes
and its plumes of smoke crash
my vacuum fucking sucks
my void must be worth a few bucks
my null is my skull is my dull ache
for god sake
for william blake
for adams little snake
waking up in march
the idols of march
the groves of larch
just think of em n it makes me parched
and sand everywhere
hand me your share
never been there
here there or anywhere
the midget and the shark
talking in the dark
the shark says ooh you nice little bite
the midget says that cant be right
dinner in five
luck e to b alive
things go better with coke
i come to find that aint no joke
some say i'm a slowpoke
yeah its true folks
i'm the sentimental bloke
crestfallen
west crawlin'
guest callin'
oh steve
what you got up yer sleeve
tell me something i want to believe
oh steven something only i believe in
even eve n aurora .....
the fauna n the flora
priest =fucking aura

steve the painter

there you can see something ive been doing
the cover for my boxset
its a painting of me back in the daze of whine and poses
surrounded by eyes
the eyes of the stars
the eyes of the beasts
the eyes of the worms
the eyes of the night (approx 1000)
i'm gonna call my boxset
monsters n mirages
isnt that what my songs are about after all
after all that now everything
everything after all is what my songs are about
everything you couldnt find
i have provided in my songs
all your lives you wished for these songs
you asked to see the monsters so i sang them to you
you wanted soothing so be soothed by all this
you became the audience and split into many many people
i soldiered on but i kept ambushing my self
finally a single smack stopped me dead in my tracks
now
i paint the astral body electric
i am at the union of cosmic and deep earth
my wretched body will return unto the dirt as ash
my souled out soul will turn into a million songs
i choose to return as music
i choose to return as colour
i am the prints charming
i am the evergreen silentest song
i see the target and nothing but the target
i slap on a bit of paint
i dunno what im doing do you?

2 days and nights of rain

well
the rain fell down down
on sydney town
and i
for the time being
dreaming mid the drops
so i close the door to my mind
lay down deep in sleep
while my body of otherness
at work on the wild world beyond
places eluding time
black wet thorns and wrought iron
leafy places and soft comfortable rooms
the furniture wraps around you in slumber
a fire burns
tho you dimly remember thats its summer
summer back there
this is your england you say to yourself
no england in this world tho
you smile to yourself steven
and you drink your milky tea
and the rain drizzles and dribbles
puddles surge with tiny ripples
oh its so quiet here beside the fire with your cat
your cat sits on your lap purring
your hat sits on the mat blurring
and the fire crackles
the wood shifts with a tiny lift
the flames are nimble and quick
the music is old time
the colours are the muted greens and browns of distant childhoods
everything is worn to a smooth burr
gently pointillistic like the cats fur
this is my england you say to yourself
and a someone is playing the piano forte in another room
and its a lady called jessie bellette
and she says why stephen what did you do to your eye...?
and i say oh jessie ....
and my eyesight is so dimmed in my right eye now
i say i hurt my eye when spring jumped out the back of time
and i say i hurt my eye in the long long war
what were you fighting for ? says jessie bellette
and she holds you close in her big strong arms
and she clasps you to her ample bosom
and she says
this is your england only for you
a knock at the door
oh its leslie....!
leslie comes in
his marine cap at a jaunty angle
the everpresent rothmans cigarette
the skinny loose limbs of youth
we just won the war mum he says
thats good dear she says and we all have another cup of tea
in the kitchen i find mince tarts and chutney
i find teddy bear biscuits and cream of tomato soup
i find yorkshire pudding and dolly mixtures
i find bread and butter pudding and custard
i find trifles and gollywog jam
the rain falls on and on
how could the thin air hold so much water
how could the morning contain such a night
how could the past stand such a future

please dispose of thoughtfully

ok ok
lemme get this straight
i steve kilbey
incarnated on this planet earth
and the date is february something 2010
anna domino
they say i'm a singer
and i'm singing with my band on 17 n 18 this munth
canberra n sydney
they say im doing america april to may
they say i'm gonna paint this picture n appear in this film
and talk to this newspaper
and be a good father
and get my mirror fixed
and find my license
and give up the bad
take up the new
finally hit the dentist
oh boy i need 5 crowns n a root canal
man my teeth are costing me my teeth
i look at em today
as dentist shows me photos inside my mouth
he uses words like crumble, chipped, holes, decay, brittle
5 new crowns X $1700 equals oh no change the subject
i get some gas at least today as he cleans my teeth with machine
he says you dont need gas to clean your teeth
i say hey you gimme the gas
i get the gas
i wonder how to define it when suddenly its all over
leaves me feeling kinda giddy n weird
i'd like to do my own experiments
(a la pd ouspensky)
well its raining in sydney
warm grey rainy day
finished notes for boxset
got back my facebook
and had 3 serfs executed for stealing adjectives
been listening to the supremes a lot
got new gb3 album but it wont go in my ipod
because i guess the pre-mastered gb3 album is in there
and it thinks theyre the same
oh boy i'm kinda worn out now
bye

region

eden
flowers
warm afternoon
new pink shrub gains foothold
port jackson fig green n leafy
raindrops keep falling
on my head a crown of cloud
at my feet a meeting of the rivers
black panther lying asleep at my side
the focus tightens
the subject moves
incredible shape shifting music starts up all around
we cut up guitars and from their seeds come ukuleles
and baby wo-mandolins
even sand is wildly fertile
the dunes sprout the egress and the lyre
the rumbling sea provides the nascent foam
and out rolls that cute little aphrodite
and her retinue of nymph o'maniacs
the trees are a buzz of the long dead bees
and the ponds are a blur of the long gone frogs
but no that is the future i keep remembering
those are the voices of the dead i hear in the empty corridor
these are shapes yet never to ever come
things that ought n ought not
wine yes drink yourself into your pleasant stupor
clothed in leaves you leave your clothes
the grey afternoon caresses your calves
the grey afternoon tugs at the snake
the grey afternoon seeps into the crack
the grey afternoon is found balled up in a fork
precious doves alight in flame
the cherubim is a man/woman/bird/thing
eat your delicious teeth
please dont handle the fruit
make your selection before opening
a woodland creature does the tigris bop
a faun at dawn wriggles on euphrates drops
with a spurned fawn and goldie n silver horn
marc is there too our wonderful brownskin man
and merry old jehovah
(for t'is He....!)
says
look
i am zeus
i am jupiter
i am woden
i am allah
i am ammon
i am i am not
i am He who am the only one!
you see
everybody just wants to get down
krishna on flute
chiron the centaur horses around saying hay you hay you
the gorgon arrives turning the guests into stoners
the great dragon Avarice is conjured by the secret controllers
the moon has been sold off...its official
donald (no) trumps signed the deal yesterday pacific time 13.13
the moon has been towed off to house a new radar station
it has been bought by a consortium of merchant bankers
please adjust your calenders now
full moons will be charged on a per view basis
february has been contracted yet again despite cooling off period
aurora lights up
eve eats her apple
scarlet is left in the red
the afternoon is tangible
it tickles your vain fancy
it relieves itself slowly emptying into a stormy night
the electrons in my negative ions are going bada bing bing bing
zing went the strings of my harp
ping went my empires engine
something was pinging like a voice singing
thats all thats it
all over
every bit

nepenthe

forget fullness
i sailed a long way to forget it all
night and day you may be
but now i want to forget both
why dont you harness your selves to the next big wind
i have no cupboards to contain your woes
one too many men
to not enough man
men themselves are mostly fools like me
we have nothing to teach you except hurt
a quick slap down when youre trying to get up
cruel wicked selfish...ha!...those are our goodsides
enough conundrums
enough hoops
enough second minute chances
you cannot eat your words
everything down here is bound to fail
everyplace down here will crumble and decay
everyone down here is temporary and on loan
and i really do have my books n poetry to protect me
and my disciplines
and my in with fate
and my luck of the poor devil
and if you call that luck
eat my dust, you insensitive fuck
oh i am the want
oh i am the deed
oh i am the end
om namah shiva
om namah shiva
om namah shiva
i got the shivas down my back bone
i'm shaking all over
well i see my face in the mirror
which one day you may never see again
no reflection on me of course
and i realise how desirable desire is
and i realize that sometimes i hate love
and i realize that i am alone
in some bizarre world where all the denizens are insane
and how they left me hanging in the gardens in babylon
and how i lost my part in greece the musical
and how about that
and how about this
osama obama bonaparte
melts down the poles
unleashes the kraken who gets crackin' crackin' skulls
my dad will be in some room playing a piano
he'll say : hey slim whatdid i tell ya?
dont martyr me matey
i'm too chicken to be christ or anti-christ
i'm cutting away the thorns of intrigue
i turn around angrily and i say
verily now i just wanted a quiet life
at this remark
canned laughter bursts forth upon the speakers
what speakers i ask surprised
i didnt know there was speakers...
at this juncture the host of the show appears
and says
and now some important messages from our sponsors
impatient lee you hit the remote
chop n change thru the chanels
the english channel and the vietnamese channel
and channel oh and channel won and channel too
a re-run of that hit comedy signed feld
(the mark of (co) cain)
an old war movie oh a bit non pc
(the cold steel they dont like it up em!)
a show about al o'saurus
(with the bits that steve took)
a re-run of bewitched
( mr n mrs stevens!?)
why doesnt old endorra go easy on poor darrin
(lord knows he tries....doesnt he....)
12000 leagues under the sea
(up from the murky depths the giants quid....!)
brave kirk douglas who begot michael douglas
who begot port douglas
who begot port and starboard sides
who begot a big river mouth
and raved on like a frustrated soul
in the house of the mad
boy you make my bubble tea in-plode
girl electric witch limp in societys ditch
where is my human childe?
and scarlet comes forth
and says
here i am
are you a child ? i ask her
yes she says solemnly
are you a human child?
yes she says seriously
i am a human child
good i say
good good
good

autumn soon/ temper trapped/ac/bc

2 good things however
autumn andel a filmmaker has made an
excellent vid to go with
all is one
by k/k
i had almost forgotten martin had mentioned that autumn was to do it
i had seen her whiskey marine and thought it was pretty good
and then i kinda forgot that there was a vid on its way
anyway today i get the link
oh wow
i didnt think anyone could interpret that song
but autumn has actually added poignancy to the whole thing
NO MEAN FEAT!
i am very very hard to make happy with stuff like this
i hereby declare best vid ever of one of my songs
part swirling van go go-ey liquid painting
part allegory
part tear jerker
part cosmic fable
amazing attention to detail
my wife watched it 3 times n cried everytime
so did i (believe it or not)
usually i cry in frustration
but this unusual and beautiful video
will make even the hardest heart soften
autumn here is your golden time being award for excellence
i think martin might put up a link real real soon
you gotta see this one!
meanwhile
the new tibor has non working cd player
no jack in for yer ipod
so i been listening to the radio
i heard a song i liked a few times
it seems to be getting a real caning
i found out it was australian group the temper trap
i know im pathetically behind the times
but i really love this band
downloaded cd from i tunes
its pretty good its pretty more-ish
its pretty uplifting n soulful n youthful
i check their myspace page
my lord these guys are already huge
playing 3 sold out nights at a big london gig
watch their video
the lead singer is an indonesian guy
not what i was expecting
but i can see how he could be a huge star
lovely high melodious voice
their vid has had almost 4 million watches
meanwhile bad thing
ac/dc
bear in mind i saw brian johnson play in canberra
in 1973
in some little club
he had a band called geordie n he wore a stripey jumpsuit
i believe he even in those days
wore that dreadful hat
that presumably covers either his bald head
or some weird growth (or both)
he was old even then he seemed to me
a nudge nudge wink wink hows yer father type
bloody orrible
i also saw acdc with their very 1st singer(dave evans)
in a tiny canberra pub
there were about 7 people there
malcom young was dressed up like a keystone cop
i kinda liked ac/dc with bon scott
he was a charming lovable rogue, eh?
but i cannae abide them as they are
so unbelievably silly
so silly that silly old sod
singing those silly old songs
and all those young boys watching them
freud would have a ball with the symbolism
his voice is like listening to calico tearing slowly
a screeching phlegmy cackle n grunt
his words are puerile obvious monotonous tripe
his look
is like hes lived on egg n bacon n beer for a hundred years
and yet
these guys sell out the megadome in 2 seconds flat
80,000 tickets in a moment
why?
its so fucking embarrassing with the cannon and stuff
all those teenage lads listening to some old grandad
boasting about some cartoon bawdy escapade he supposedly had
actually
i cant really see an ugly little old sod like him getting laid that much
can you?
am i too harsh?
i just cant understand how anyone could enjoy
this awful amateur carryon
but theyre the biggest band in the world
maybe i should buy a fucking satchel......

time for being

this illusion hurts so bad
i carry anxiety expectations insults n lies
i dish em out n i wear em
i love being fire until i get burned myself
i hold it all in
kilbey you liar
kilbey you bastard
kilbey you cheat
kilbey you fraud
kilbey you has been
kilbey you fool
kilbey you prick
kilbey you old
kilbey you brute
kilbey you coward
kilbey you motherfucker
i hold it all in
my heart n throat dont wanna talk any more love
my heart doesnt want to know
all my ups n downs arent getting me up or down no moor
i reach out
i lash out
i thrash about
on an impulse i go to see wendy the white witch
she can see whats wrong with me
does her magical thing for 2 hours which i can feel
witch i can feel
i come out much lighter
i still angry but now i can bear it
angry with who you may ask
angry with myself i have to answer
because of everything
i dont need no one else to ever be angry with me
i'm so angry with myself
thats the trouble with troubled geniuses
and its even the trouble with me
not a cheerful loving lovely ray of light
but a turbulent deep n shallow sea full of monsters n mirages
no use telling me to lighten up cos surely you got the wrong blogg
i am a hotblooded fiery creative self righteous brother
i like things my way or see ya later
when i heat up i burn baby i burn
when i cool down i ice baby i ice
i believe things arent as simple as they seem
i think we are duped and tricked n manipulated
all of us
by our leaders
by our children
by our parents
by our husbands n wives
by each other
i wish i could get my hands on some truth
i'm sorry
i dont trust no one
NO ONE!