frost byte

this september
ttb will be writing exclusively about music
opinion fact fiction reviews and memories
screening unseen excepts from the t.t.b. vaults
recording live new songs on my web cam ...while you watch...
yes thats right
september will be total music month here at t.t.b

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ttb management and staff

riding a letter

from the moment that wriggling sperm
hits that deep ovum
and somehow you manifest
and you get a name
and you get a number
and you get a mummy n dad
and you get a school
and a dog
and a friend
and some more friends
and a girl
and a car
and a bass guitar
and you get some words
throw it together in a song
and you sing your song
and you get a fan
and you get a audients
and you get a big cheque
and you get nice car
and you get a holiday
and you get a hit
and you get a miss
and you get another miss
and you get a habit
and you get a bad reputation
and you get bad teeth
and you get arrested
and you get clean
and you get better
and then get going again
and then you get another habit
you get more bad reviews
you get dropped
you get left
you get dumped
you get ignored
you get in debt
you get used to losing stuff
you get on a losing streak
you get forgotten
you get dismayed
you get depressed
you get way behind
you get angry and angrier
you get bitter
you get careless
you get fucked over and over
you get down
you get stoned
you get drunk
you get problems
you get sick
you get remorseful
you get lost
you get it all mixed up
you get a no
you get a negative
you get a short straw n a long face
you get yourself into more hot water
you get a new place
you get a new wife
you get some new kids
you get a chance
you get a blog
you get some readers
you get some comments
you get some exercise
you get some yoga
you get some blah blah blah
riding you a letter
i shoulda known better
my autoblography

lassitude

spring arrives in shivers n blusters
here on the island in the sea
this isle is full of noises
the screeching of small things in the canopy
the parrots chatter all the lazy day
the river winding away
i am becalmed in my head
i have run aground on some stupid reef
i stare out to sea for a ship that can never arrive
the white englishman against the blue sky
the black crab against the rock
the yellow sand against the deep sea
i can neither sleep nor stay awake
all my body seems to gently ache
and my dreams torment me with hopeless struggles
i shoot into the blackness
i fight off the pillows in the night
the afternoons try to secede greedily
the afternoons which refuse to end
leaving me weakened and exhausted
my brittle nerves all dangled n jangling
and apprehending everything into saturation
i do feeble deals with myself....
if only this
or
if only that
i mutter to myself
and i envy distant people in faraway times
and i daydream about a solid darkness
that warmly enfolds me
and banishes the hounds that dog me doggedly
my shoulders sag under the weight of my heavy dead head
so full of lonely thoughts and confused tourists
so empty now of joy or peace
anger wells up in a dry compassionless desert
everything i see or hear stings my dry cold skin
i must be finally turning into a snake
i lie in the sun
and it only makes me dizzy
so i stagger into the briny ocean
which shocks me senseless
the weather suddenly changes again
the clouds race across the sky
a warm wind starts to breathe
respiring relentless gusts of sand and grit
i blink and cannot think
my voice is cracked and discoloured
my songs have faded
my words are uneven and melting
i wait for some wonderful pleasure
i wait for some miraculous evening
i wait for some heaven to swing low n pick me up
i wait for krishna to come n take me for a stroll
i wait for jesus to put his holy hand on my bony shoulder
i stand at the cross and angry roads
my sign says : will work for hedonism....
no one stops
no one travels these unbeaten paths
where the asphalt beach meats the neon jungle
where the rich italian guys drive up in their immaculate jaguars
where lone sharks aimlessly drift
and the warm but heatless wind sings in the window
near the room for rent cafe block with the empty fashion tat
and i feel myself slipping
not into dream
not into consciousness
not into blackness
but some nauseous universe all warped and sliding
every point unfixed
no certainty no attachment
may be you are mad i say to myself
but then i'd be talking to myself i hear myself say back
imagine i can read peoples minds
but my own has been locked up
and all my stuff chucked out
and exploded all over every universe
there is no where to hide
no where to go
still i await pleasure
even as the ship goes down down down
down to the bed with a shining glass sound
the palms sway in the damn wind
the fingers dance against the keyboard
type type type
type type type
type type
type

lord cryonics fabulous collection of strange devices

the written word

the written word
slips from your fingertips
like sand
through the hands
of old father time
you see
before you
the mirror
the screen
the could-be and the has-been
comedy
tragedy
cocaine or heroin
every opposite merges in itself
the old and the young
male into female
negative and positive back n forth
children sometimes laugh n cry
at the same/time
so close are all opposites
lofty mountains turn out to be deep ravines
tears of joy
tears of contrite sorrow
my western world has warped
the coincidences have become jokes
like a pawn moving on jagged diagonals
risking everything on a handful of nothing
cant trust love n hate...
at the extremities they feel almost the same
like cold water feels scalding
like being burnt by ice
like day jar voo
like premonitions
and the telekinesis of the losing streak
oh i give it to you straight
only there is no straight
only circles
only the revelation of emptiness at the heart of everything
another paradox....some see this as the null n void
to others the blissful extinguishment
upson downes
round n round
truth out of lies
fact beyond fiction
this is my area
i mine this vein
it is mine to mine even if in vain sometimes
i absolve my self from responsibility
to anything other than my work in any medium
the mediums i have mastered
the mediums i have not mastered
i put my name to it
i put my face to it
its a song
its a picture
its a little video
its funny
its sad
its mediocre
its inspiring
its silly
its hilarious
its prophetic
its pathetic
its bathetic
its ripe
its tripe
its old
its bold
its this its that
its a load of old hat
ive heard it all
still you wont deflect me
praises or blames
a hundred biographies
or a three second pan in the gutter press
all the bitter old cronies
all the gushing young nongs
all the phony symphony hogwash n shite n bollocks
i am kilbey
i am everything you all say i am and more
in spades
and in hearts
i persevere and i prevail
dont you see
i am a charlatan who also happens to be the real thing
thats why you gotta love me
thats why i need you to love me
but understand this
my one virtue is this:
i dont easily succumb to the zeitgeist
and my mind stretches out to all perspectives
and you can call that a grandiose sickness
or you can call that astral quickness
its just dusk in the window to me
get your head around it
come to your senses
this is not a poem
this is not a film
this is not some broadway impro try-out
this is not a slow dissolve or a backwards fade
i swallow the same life as you
but i sing it back as a song
my songs career thru this world
your world is your world
but your world is one of many to me
and from those worlds
those almost worlds
i bring you back things
crude unfinished chunks
and finely wrought beauty
and traditional forms
and clumsy artifacts
and halfdone dreams
and polished knives
and all the rest
i have always existed
i have always existed outside
yet i have always existed inside
i can say anything and i probably wont
we are all looking through different lenses
i love you i hate you i care i dont care
i'm good....i made some people happy
i'm bad....i made some people unhappy
i'm confused
yes, thats it
i'm confused
tell me
who ever told me the truth
i cant believe everyone and
everyone listen
theres so many everyone in my life nowdays
look in everyone
the genius n the fool
in most mixed up
in me separated
in two congealed blobs
each wresting control
but both harnessed by my work
i indiscriminately let that fool run amuck
because , well, to tell you frankly
it amuseth me
and well
i tried all that mystery malarkey and
to use a boring word it was boring
after a while
and as i approach uncertainly certain death
as do we all of course
and knowing that is our heaviest burden
therefore
and in light that this is my scrapbook
my impressionistic diary
my confessional
my noticeboard
my little chatty bullshit lounge
my little chapel where my followers mayest come
actually its whatever
whatever whatever whatever
and i am the time being
you know what that means to you
you may not know what it means
but you know what it means to you
you dont have to read or watch
you dont have to agree or disagree
i am a medium level artistic freak
i am constantly improving
i will make mistakes
i will make great strides
i will continue
insult or injury
rewarded or acknowledged or no
no dice
no sugurlamp
no cigar
i have read several reviews of u 23 that say
its the best album EVER made
i read others bitching n moaning about it
me myself......fuck...ive already moved on
i'm still plotting my compleat lyric book
and editing together my jackfrost movie
or my next blim blam blom
you like my little films...?
you see me manipulate my elements
a true jack of all trades
a true jack of diamond geezers
tricky with words
handsome to boot
velvety voice
old n revered
who cares
not me
i never lost control....
ground control to major time being
TELL MY WIFE I LOVE HER VERY MUCH....SHE KNOWS!!!
expect the unexpurgated unexpectable
i stumble on regardless
tomorrow guest singing on some record
the next day abusing my illusion of disillusionment
i am all over the shop
but i am gloriously me
me me me
ha ha ha
wo wo wo
i rock to the east
i rock to the west
every body here know
my heart is in the right place
or how else could i have arrived here
here among us
among us brothers n sisters
among us, the living and the loving
the loving made
made mad by loving love
or whatever
yeah
and thats for sure

steve kilbey
antarctica
south X south

apres midi avec ricky

a tuesday weld

music by alien skin
(isnt it great??)

lost blog

postcard from bondi

i candy

early spring day, 2009

let those zephyrs in
spring has begun to flow and
i want to be carried away
oh scent of the angelfruit in bloom
who sent by god on high
a merry golden monarch arching upwards
and upwoods where the fledglings tumble into old reynards jaws
and inwards
where spring lights the dark places in mens hearts
the lovers deep in fucking love
they ache and pierce the pink glow of candles
the wine is spilt
the ash of the incense falls carelessly
kisses are pressed home with an urgent vehemence
love makes you angry love makes you content
love makes you blinded
on a warm afternoon like this
women disrobe and lay about like cats purring
the breezes come licking and probing
now here
now there
i, the poet
my job to record all this
i drift in imaginary hotel corridors
i stand on phantom balconies making little films
i take trains out to distant beaches and i listen to the whisperings
i stand outside silver windows and i gaze through
i haunt look-outs and picnic spots dressed in clouds
i type type type as i sit in the sun
people come n go through my thoughts
men hammer me down
women crash my cars
children watching me fall away
still i am the poet with my hands tied
i walk through your zoo
i gawk at the beasts of your mind
i notice
i embrace
i shrink from
i get dazzled
i recoil n burst
surrounded in the cage of doubts
still it is spring
and i return to the verandah
out in the country
when you were my widow
and i turned up a hired hand
living in the spring livid woods
i had a dog named bonus
i had a frog named bill
i used to do magic in a clearing
and i summoned up a springtime sprite
a fat little baby lumpkin
stamping her feet and fuming with anger
everything i offered her she screamed and hissed and bit
her little wings buzzed at 5000 beats a minute
but she was too angry to fly
little lumpkin ...i pleaded....
there was a crashing in the forest
a procession of drunken fools celebrating spring
little lumpkin grins in complicity
shes got big blue eldritch eyes
she speaks in a strange voice
still it is spring she says
and the streams are full of fat trout
and theres cream in the dew
and the flowers get me stoned
and i fly amongst the towering stalks of dandelions
down by the river xanadu
where sleepers slumber in softish sunlight
and the trellis sinks beneath the grape
and one awakens with a tingle
to travel in that fair place
north of the wind
west of the world
spring forever in those glades
walk within the groves of oaks
passing mortal days and years
lying in your sundrenched dreams

13th dream

in spades

sales of oblivion/at my head

but lets not think about...the passing time....
i fly to melbourne, victoria
a city of nearly 4 million on the banks of the yarra river
always my spiritual home in australia.....
i spend sunday in the company of martin kennedy
and then a bit of time with sam sejavka at his gig
i realize as i write this that the 2 men are like polar opposites
mk is ultra calm rational and logical
he doesnt drink smoke or take drugs
he thinks things out thoroughly
he looks before he leaps
ss is the opposite of all that......
mk and i have a very creative day
his music fits my words like a hand in glove
he has a modus operandi which allows him to generate endless variations
of his gorgeous instrumental tracks
at the heart of all of em a soft sadness
he puts it all together like a scientist
manipulating the elements within his system
kennedys stuff is precise and poignant
he plays me a new track and i immediately start to sing on it
we get halfway through a second track too
a guy comes from the age and we do an interview
over soy lattes and vegan muffins
(oh how civilized!)
and a photographer turns up n snaps us in the rainy back yard
mk n his wife n i go for a walk in the then sunny but cold melbourne sunday
i keep brainstorming ideas about k/k until my brain hurts
we want our show in melbourne to be ultra-special
its at the toff in town thursday 10th of september, melbourne
i urge you overseas people with the $ to come and see us
we will be performing our entire first album (in its entirety...ha ha)
we will have michael evans-barker from album on percussion
we will have the incredible (evil) graham lee on pedal steel guitar
we will be crooning n looning in the gloaming
so get foaming combing and roaming
cos it will be a good show
think bel-frank sinatra
think dean martin kennedy
think a dry martini ,kennedy
think roger suave with the best cocktail tunes ever
anyhow
i turned up at the ss gig
not knowing what to expect
greeted at the door by ss himself
who looks like a cross between the thin white duke
and some eastern european ambassador
hes always been one of the handsomest guys ive ever met
im madly jealous of his good looks...ok?
his hair is turning silver so subtly
it sits in a man who fell to earth cut perfectly
he is tall and slim
with a body most 25 year olds would envy
yet he does no real exercise
his face is smooth and relatively unlined
he is like a cheetah or a fox
he is graceful and also grateful
hes in a spot of bother with the law
and this gig is a benefit to raise money for his legal funds
i mean
you cant put a guy like ss in jail for growing a bit of pot
hes a fucking national treasure
like australias mervyn peake
his use of language is extraordinary
his plays are dark and convoluted and brilliantly strange
anyway he was also the singer in a new wave band called the ears
who are reforming for tonite
1st gig since 1981
backstage i joke around with greg fleet the comedian n mc
he thinks he n i should fly to alice springs
do a gig there n then get our teeth fixed up
(alice springs is a town in the centre of australia...kinda)
why alice springs?
uh...not sure...but he thought it would be a good idea
his teeth looked worse than mine
but then again
he'd pull more people to the show, i guess
you see we get our choppers fixed from proceeds of show
then lie around in the outback
convalescing or waiting for our crowns to be hammered in
backstage also a member of a now defunct famousish band
looks at me sheepishly n apologizes
for what ? i say
uh...such n such festival in 03 or 04
oh....god i remember now...
good god man!...i exclaim..what were you on...angel dust??!!
nah ...just too much whisky ...sighs the remorseful rocker
ok ok i say...no offence taken... i say...
wow! the last time i saw him
he was swearin' n cussin' n throwin' punches at everyone....
there was some argy bargy with you n your wife ..he says sadly
no problem at all ...i say doubtfully...hey thats rocknroll..i say
hugo race is backstage ...another extraordinarily well preserved rocker
he looks much better now than 20 years ago
very chiselled n slim...like a young max von sydow or something..
howcome all the wild guys are so well preserved...?
huh?
it should be the opposite
anyway
i have good gig
i do the usual old suspects that i always do
i should learn some newies
i play with confidence and an assured intensity
i'm good and the audients like me
good!
sejavka n his band come on
some of the stuff is obviously dated
sam is ridiculously hammy n theatrical
hes like a melburnian new wave vampyre or something
some of the songs are pretty good
good lyrics which is what you'd expect from him
he certainly has the moves
and/but he gets puffed out pretty quick which is kinda funny
(running round n singing requires a certain match fitness!!)
i stand in the audients with the little lord
who is also an old friend of sams
we gasp and giggle n chortle n cheer at his antics
he disappears from sight
because hes too knackered to get up off the floor
simon polinski pulls a great sound
and cathy mcquade looks like a youngish sophia loren
as she sings away beside sam
the band is good n tight
and the whole spectacle is very entertaining
theres quite a few people there so hopefully theres a few $
for his legal fleas
you can check out michael hutchence playing sam in dogs in space
seeing sams moves
one wonders if hutch and even nicky cave were influenced
by sams extravagant onstage malarkey
had a great time
prominent fiends present : amanda princey n mary
john whatsisname who looks like a hasidic jew
and melissa m
who i didnt see
but who passed on 2 very lovely pre birthday gifts
melissa....thank you...i know i will enjoy them...
i stayed the night at the little lords castle in prahran
she served up roast veggies
i chatted with her dog, piper the staffy
and danny her boyfriend
and i got on a plane early n was back in the emerald city by 10 am
i just seen (get it?)the eye quack today
he says bad news is eye will always = blurry
good news is other eye will eventually be the same
as old father times fingers
undo this conglomerate of material
you know
and love
as steve kilbey
the time being

the wilderness

music by david neil (from the forthcoming "the wilderness years"

steve kilbey show

some one will remember us

short film about .....ME!!!!!!!

sorry if you cant watch it
sorry if you can
sk

mouth like a torn pocket

a guy called richard sent me some music a while ago
and i sang some stuff n sent it back
it wasnt quite my cup of tea
but it had a certain joie de vivre that i liked
it seemed very eighties
but i didnt understand that that was its trip, did i?
i was listening to it at my daughters place in sweden
when their ears
pricked up
"daddy,THIS is really cooo-oool" they said
this is...? i say
(you see sometimes i dont know what i'm doing or
what anybody else is either)
listening to it thru a new set of ears
its a perky poppy feelgood little thing
its still got words like "inevitably " in it
so its not a total pop out
but you know
its catchy n singalong-y
if you like that kinda thing
sometimes we all do, dont we?
so richard gets all these weird mixes down n stuff
and he asks me to help do a vid
oh the wonders of the modern age
casting my mind back twenty years
the pain n drudgery and yes
the outrageous expense
of making a video
if richard had suggested this twenty years ago
i would have to have found a camera man
a lighting man
someone to synch it up
a caterer and blah blah blah
then have to shoot it
process it
edit blah blah blah
get it over to the u.s.
blah blah blah
but wow
i did my bit last night
richard did his thing while i slept n went out for a walk
come home its already up on you tube
pocket featuring steve kilbey "hear in noiseville"
go n take a look
(warning: if you hated anchorage from th'other day
you may not like this!)
but lighten up
hey richard
i think you did a marvellous job!
the song and the vid are a real gas!
good on you, my man!
stealing a feeling a feeling
revealing a feeling i felt!
oh ha ha
the eighties live on forever
thats rocknroll, children
and everythings possible

kilb your enthusiasm

been having one of those days
minor irritants
silly emails
annoying conversations
my blender packs it in
in a spectacular display of soymilk all over the place
the dvd player is dead thanks to scarlet forcing it open n closed
ive lost my glasses...you know the old crooked ones
the ones i wear now are blurred
i had an eye exam
i need blah blah blah lenses at twice the cost
a massive electricity bill arrives
i have things to do but i cant get em done
i look at my unfinished painting ruefully
got no mojo to start
and i need to start....
my ears ring
my right eye like fuzz
ive become very attracted to watching larry davids show
curb your enthusiasm
i know its been out a while
but im a philistine when it comes to comedy i guess
i just accidentally watched some in sweden n i got hooked
he reminds me of me
all those molehills turning into mountains
everything getting harder cos you wanted easier
white lies turn into black holes
a chance stupid remark gets amplified
ridiculous unlikely combinations of events seem to frame you
you bang yer head
you stub yer toes
people misunderstanding when you trying to be funny
and you trying to be funny to much too hard
and nobody understands ya
and you dont understand nobody else
everybody ready to blame ya or get angry
good old larry david
his young wife even has a vague resemblance to nk
larry should be happy but everything kinda goes predictably wrong
im even starting to talk like larry
i mean do ya think i'm a schmuck, c'mon!
and yet
theres gotta be a moral
theres gotta be an answer
where is that smooth life larry should have...?
why cant everything just work out.....it should do...?
theres a reason this show is so incredibly funny
theres a deep lesson of life to be learned here...
for us larry david types
the ones always ruffling feathers and getting embarrassed
the ones who dont know where to draw the line...
the ones who act like a real goose even tho theyre ostensibly "clever"
surely the answer is close at hand if not already apparent...
in the meantime i watch larry negotiate every hurdle
with his usual bad luck n bad timing
he resists the universe at every turn even if only subtly
his life should be a breeze
but hes so caught up in it all
he cant see the fucking wood for the trees
we spend all our life fussing n fighting my friend
wow its hard to count your blessings
many a guy says to me
wow! they voted your song the best of all time n space...
how you feel now, maaan?
i say
its like an icon i'm dragging into my i-tunes or something
and the icon just refuses to be there
just flies back to its original spot
thats how stuff like that is to me
i cant appreciate it
i can see but cant count all my blessings
some of which are blessings in disguise..
yeah i really love watching curb yer enthusiasm
watch it and think of me
only a bit more hair
not so jewish
a beard
with aussie accent
not nearly as wealthy
and with kids
other than that you got a kilb-ish thing
go!

AUTISM

i start this blog with a sincere thanks to the blessed lord
who has showered blessings and second chances on my foolish head
since i first got involved with this planet in 1954
*
i been spending a lot of time with scarlet kilbey since i been back
i marvel to see her grace and beauty and charm
she comes up with funny stuff
she figures out ways to manipulate every situation
she is sly and charming and obstinate and sometimes plain stupid
i try and do yoga
she comes out
demands my mat
does a whole load of hilarious faux yoga positions
and then when i try to get back into it
she sits behind me kissing n massaging my back
saying
does this feel good dad....?
2 things always amaze me
one is aeroplanes
the other is humans
when you think of all the tiny little things can go wrong
all those unseen unforeseen things
the valves
the links
the lines
the air
the water
the moving parts
the vision
the communication
the electrics
the bits n pieces
that no one person can understand
there is not one living person who can understand ALL the systems
and i look at scarlet kilbey
and god its a miracle
her little fingers n toes
shes bitten through her lip in a nasty fall
and miraculously
it all begins to heal up
her outrageous springy curls
her big dopey smile
and yet
and yet
i have to stop and remind myself
i have to take a pause and reflect on my good fortune
because nothing will ever break your heart like
something happening to your child
and then theres my nephew
man his behaviour pissed me off
until i finally could comprehend what aspergers was
and i guess i needed to be aware n educated
and even possibly
possibly i say
having a very very mild form of it myself
(this may explain somethings to you about me)
anyway
another very good friend i know has a totally autistic child
and this is quite another thing altogether
because the child is in some incommunicable place
like living in some kinda dream you cant get out of
isolated lonely forlorn
because all the bits n pieces are there
everything SHOULD work
but ....
but what...?
whats the reason......?
well no one really knows
everything can be a possible cause
all the usual stuff
that causes most of our problems
chemical n electromagnetic overload
vaccinations
pesticides
stress
genetic stuff
etc
theres been a steady increase in autism since 1980
or is that because the doctors started to diagnose more people
as with it
like having a child behind glass almost unreachable
no one can agree much on autism or what to do about it?
and all these people all on a sliding scale
from someone like my friends child
who is locked behind her autism like a wall
and i think of tommy singing see me feel me touch me heal me
and you imagine what it would be like if you can
and then theres the aspergers the famous ones like the guy in the vines
you can see the intensity with which one can focus his obsessions
you see australias rainman on rockwiz in the vid my brother made
this almost blind friendless aspergers guy
he has a knowledge of rock records second to none in this world
he slew em!
now some people say aspergers n autism aint a problem or syndrome
its just a way those people are
they say maybe its just to accept em like that
it aint a problem as such
but as you move further down that sliding scale
from aspergers to autism
it gets darker and murkier
and really
i think its true to say
that medical science and society in general
has not completely got a fix on this autism thing
n everything under its umbrella
to have an autistic child
to be an autistic child
would be hard graft
sobering
painstaking
and often unbelievably frustrating
we all need to know about it
we need to understand it a bit better
and our great medical minds have gotta suss it out
because
quite appropriately
we are all a bit in the dark
we gotta reach the people
thats why the church donated a little bit of its merch money
on the last u.s. tour
theres a lotta good causes n charities out there
i donate to greenpeace and the heart foundation
i donate to kids with cancer
and i donate my time to the vegetarian cause
i wanted to write a song about autism
but just like vegetarianism
somehow the gravity of the topic
derails my good intentions
so i wrote this here today
i am no expert
maybe there has been some recent breakthrough
i hope so...
but i know autism is a real heartbreaker
be very thankful if you are not afflicted or affected
we hope and, yes, pray
that some relief is on the way
sk cold dark winters day north bondi august 2009

(w) anchorage

poem

i would like to know how many people cannot
for whatever reason
watch these videos
sk

the book

superimposition

how to get in
how to begin
how to unravel and travel beyond
how to penetrate to the heart of the start
where it all comes bubbling out like some geyser
the story
the one hundred years war
the guns to the left of em
the shields and the javelins
the net and the fork
the shot the strike the hit the vein
the rush of black death flying up to meet you
as you fall out of life
i been born
i been killed
i been you
i been me
i feel the quiet movement of this island
this prison colony
this settlement somewhat east of eden
in the short day of man
in the west of the darkening sky
clouds lit up like red gold dragon
the psalms black in shadowed outlining
crash the staggered margins of night
the dying sun shrieks out in a final scarlet orange burst
black breaks thru the purple
out pop the starry stars
like beacons in the nightie night
as the birds shut their traps
and the spiders fold their legs
and the swirling motes of dust suddenly vanish
the orange fire gone from the skies
twinkly twinkly lights come on
in cosy warm places all up in down the hills
groovy people kick back looking at glossy coffee table shots
i inhabit every room briefly
my antennae fix on each place splitting seconds
sydney flits through my mind
i drag sydney into my head
and i pull the individuals into my memory
i erase some memories to fit in the new ones
and accidentally find my childhood inaccessible
i open the page
but it is blank
in its place is nothing
let it go
nothing really you could know
i rapidly roll into my childhoods void
i reconstruct myself from a biography i red
i reconstitute august and everything after
(but ask davem not to be counting any more crows)
these are my familiars
the black crow in the mourning sky
the mangy panther with south american jesus
white hippy moses
the reluctant powerful vain confused old unprofitable prophet
struggling to lead his people to the promised blogge
given from on a high
written in pixels
transmitted all over this world instantly
as if by magic
blah blah blah blah blah
i zoom out the airport in a car
groovy music blasts from the darkness
in a little room david bowie neukoln plays
a heater pumps out hot air
all the wars i fought in
the blood pumping
straining up a ladder into an arrow through me eye
my brain babbles on even as i'm kicking the bucket
accumulation of images
sudden longing for ....ah...fleeting sensations....
a finger comes down on a symbol
type out my life in the english language
oh england neverfar
never far from my mind
like in hastings on a sunny sunday morning
and that smell of toast and eggs that hotel smell
and we just won the blimmin' war didnt we
and our dads come home
and mums got her bloody hair done
and we go down to hastings
and we play cards at night and eat lyons family brick and...
the phone rings!
dvd burns and high quality transfer intrudes
england vanishes into the david bowie night
the tower flashes red on black blankness now the sky
this is australia mate
get over it
get into it
get downunder for stealing a loafers bread
yeah i'm a lime eating limey sublime in the limelight
yeah i'm a pomegranate eating pommy pow wallop snap
i got products coming down the pipeline
oh my black boxed set of prints and my voice
19 virgins of me and my little reveries
my so called reveries
i paint quaint in saintly pane
i speak squeak creak peak antique
i play my lay my day lay au fait le faye so frayed yet unafraid
au soy lait
perhaps i am really totally ok
and it is all of you who are
contagiously insane.....!

the mirror of winter

we adjourn to some white room
life flashes past lightspeed
(note to performers : should be done fast)
a child in mine own image
electronic symphonia
the elegaic sweep of sand n strings
the drums sombre rattle
the mournful echoes of the french horn
the women sing of fire
the men sing of ash
the world cant listen anymore
winter sunlight bleaches everything dazzling titanium
the old snake in eden would have loved the sun today
he coils around liliths black waist
he probes the air with his forked quickened tongue
he sizzles in the lovely light
in his dreams where he strangles the world
in his scales complex patterns
in his liquid eyes of evil
winter mr winter old man winter
the lion in winter
mangy moses in white hippy winter
father what is that thou holdeth?
ah childe, surely it bee the mirror of winter....
then the music stops
the ears ring on n on
listening to something from twenty years ago
now a constant electrick whine
all i have is that sunshine for now
a late burst on some winters day
falling straight into spring soon
the apple blossom in eden is lovely this time of year
maybe i am one spell away from real magic
maybe i am one asana away from real yoga
maybe i am one mile away
barque up the wrong tree
like alfred the great in the olden days
c'mon wessex !
england all ways on my mind
can we still be reconciled...?
the moors
the restaurants
the rainy streets of cambridge and sheffield
the leylines and stoned henge
how distant they seem in the colonies
in these antipodes like the south icy pole
in these obvious ends of the earth
some bizarre outpost i got exiled in
pretend and temporary cities in some old lords imagination
complete with freakish animals and hidden monsters
we look into the mirror of winter
scarlet kilbey her life all before her
me.....
maybe im one life away from you
maybe im sitting here in the sun
like in the ice of the pool
my mind goes pleasantly blank
the winter of mirror
the fleeting sun
as darkness gathers on one side
the clouds like little flocks of wandering sheepies
the moon appears like a white hole in the sky
what do you see in the winter mirror, old man?
i see that everything is how its s'posed to be
and that at the heart of everything
is something
called
nothing

i write these words secretly
for i know that none will read them
the year is 2009 in the reign of her majesty queen E2
i have escaped beyond the mirror
shattered the myth which cracked open to reveal....what?
nothing at the heart of everything
thats right
can you dig it?
theres nothing at the heart of everything
and double nothing is......what?
double nothing aint gonna get you fat
double nothing aint gonna get you into trouble neither
the executioners think me mad
and i have feigned madness while captive on this island
if i ever get back to england.......
ah....england....a green blur at the top of some world
sent here
in this bleak colony (for now t'is winter, here!)
where i broke my heart trying to get back home
voice in another cell: home....?
yes home....a home i feel in my heart
voice in another cell : yes...with a lovely garden...
i gaze out through the bars of my jail
i see the sea and beyond
i see a lifetime lived in the sun
i see a morning thats never coming back
i see the sound of scrawny gulls fading in a grey sky
i see the ships bound for barbary
voice in another cell : silk and salt and musk...
the time passes like a hood over my eyes
i drink the wine they give me for my delusions
i take the opium for the fever
i eat fruit they bring in on the canoes
i dream i am someone else
i dream i trapped in a tight cave the water rising
my skin blisters and fingers freeze
the water is icy
i hit it with a shock
i lose my breath
and my heart beats on in its darkness
inside the waves
the screaming of eels
i find peace at last lashed to a mast
my mask at half mast
god sits high in heaven
with baby jesus by his side
they shoot me dead
they hang me like a dog
my tormented soul
crashing into my skull
trying to get out of it
the labyrinth was closing
i had 5 minutes to find my way out
there was ten shillings on my head
2 gold dollar coins on my eyes
to pay the ferry, man
i say theres been some mistake
bullets whistle past my tears
a door marked oblivion...but how to reach it
the collapsing shore
life over so suddenly
just like that....

images of illusions

the crowd in their seats
i see them all
i take them in
a voice emits from speakers
the music is loud up here
the electric piano is real loud
what am i thinking about
i see the places in the song
i think about london
as an outsider
a necessary point in the arc of this show
everybody putting their different things in
interpreting kevs great songs
over two hours of great songs
now its over again
for a while
cmon its gotta do the rounds, right?
it truly is the feel good summer smash hit blokkbuster musical
its an amazing show from beginning to end
tender country
to shattering rock
good show!
me.....somehow i surrendered to the moment
sk shut down a bit
and let the other guy out
it was a relief....
feeling much more rested today
after early night
no partying n drinking for me this time (if ever)
back home in the early afternoon
in time for.....

images of time being

steve steve
a worried stagehand is looking for me
its ok
here i am....can i go on this way?
mate you can go on anyway you like now ive found ya...
sit on the sofa if you like
i sit there waiting to go on
i hear my music start up
and i stride on
i pray to the god of show biz for good luck
but i dont forget the words
but i dont forget to move and groove
you know what
i was ok
ok
thats good enough
i felt like it was you know kinda good kinda ok
i can never really tell
i felt it all flow thru and around me
im glad i didnt forget the words
or trip over
or anything weird or strangely embarrassing
i acquitted myself...did my thing
several of the others congratulate me...thats nice...
and yes
i had some conversations today
i could talk again
the bad magnets lost their pull for a while
oh i wanna get home now
too much going on
see old school friend bronny
whos now a professor up here
she enjoyed it anyway
ditto graham nunn
was the prime minister there...?
the weather was excellent
the other players n singers a marvel....
the show a huge success
i happy at last
to be a cog in a mechanism
amen

brisbane 333 AM

life
isnt it strange.....
i spend the day walking in the botanic gardens
then hanging round at riverstage
which is a big outdoor gig within the gardens
all day long i been plagued by a vague panic
like the universe is stepping up the ante
i sit and chat briefly to some performers
but i dont have much to say...."er...i'm jetlagged.."
of course i should be schmoozing n boozing
and getting my name around
but i'm like an energiless gormless blob
my conversations go nowhere
it begins to get cold and i brought nothing warm
i sit there freezing and tired and quite frankly bored
i wish it would be my turn soon
but i wait n wait n wait till its quite dark
i walk on
keep my eyes closed
go thru my rehearsal of images of london
mix up the words in the first verse
quite a wooden version
it doesnt matter
its just an early run through
i walk back home about 20 minutes
and turn the ac up to full heat
and struggle to stay awake
be back at nine they say
i wake up at quarter to nine
feeling like the mother of all jet lag just gave me a TKO
when the phone rings
its cath from production
you can stay there...no need to come back...
wow...a reprieve....
i go straight to bed
where the strangest n most horrible dreams
gnag n gnaw at my brain
even in rest
i get pulled over the coals
on some dreamed up distorted riverstage
my sleeping outta control confused mind has invented
where everything is wrong
where everything is chaos
and in my dream i struggle n i struggle n i struggle
i am old and invisible and hopeless and wanting
wanting something so bad
crying n weeping n sobbing in the dream
so stupid
i do not realise i am trapped between the pains of a dream
do not know i am asleep on the 31st floor in a soft bed
in some generic apartment
in amongst thousands of other generic apartments
all around the lights flash n glitter
the windows reflecting the night
while in my dream
i go to town on myself
amplifying the days tepidity
into a morbid stumble thru a catalogue of fears
the people in my dream avoid me
or gaze on me with impatient pity
while i thrash around in my own bad karma
and fry in negligence
and still i wonder even in the dream
what is causing all this?
so i decide to get up
i'm an old rocker with jet lag n bad dreams...get over it!
suddenly the glamour seems awfully thin
and i wonder what i'm doing here
here in this twenty first century...
the twenty first century since what....?
here on this computer
i take for granted
an aluminium one stop shot for all your needs
it can take your picture
it can play chess with you
its got pictures of naked ladies if you want em
its got the temperature and the time
its got endless advertisements and messages
its got all the info on everything that ever was
and yesterday
i see a hundred computers all like mine
the same exact model
all doing their gigs backstage all joined up
all lined up
hey we didnt have this when i was a kid
we didnt have this when i was thirty three n a third
am i any happier......? no!
just more stuff to take you down into its web
is that what you want?
but now we got it...it can never go away....
so in the very act of bitching about it...i'm using it...
my feet are cold again....
my future will be coldness
feeling raw and cold
thats where i'm heading
if you think this blog is too much
try to think of it as you would sartres nausea
i merely observe my self
going up n down
one minute puffed up with his own importance
the next
deflated and anxious, grasping at strawberries
this is the stuff the others cant give you
and really you might not even want it
i have made up my mind
when i am re-stabilized
to write about nothing but music
for the month of september
when i hit 55 wailing n gnashing my tooth
fripp n eno play on in the darkness
this darkest hour before the dawn
i guess yoga is my only option
tho even it fills me with no enthusiasm
some shadow has laid me low
and i just gotta wait......