2009 ends in a sultry steamy day in bondi
i go up to bondi jnctn n buy some recording gear
so i can complete my new double album of solo songs
now its gonna be better than ever
i want to wrestle new music out of the universe for ya
it has be pulled out alive n screaming
i gotta get completely handson to to what i must do
no other person may come between me n the music
it will be pure time being
no traces of anyothers will be found with in it
i need to make every decision when i make my record
you have to understand its coming how nature intended it
but lookout honey coz i'm using technology
i always have
i always have utilized technology
i am no luddite
just lazy
i fell behind for a while
now i must step back up into total control over my own music
not the churchs but my own
willy paradise keeps goading me to make that perfect double album
yes i will try tho i will never succeed
but my failure will be gloriously executed ....one hopes..
after all this time...
my dear readers
the music i make from this point in will be extraordinary
an olde master now
in full possession of his faculties tho slightly delusional
my trials my tribulations my triumphs my trying
all have shaped me
it was necessary
i am a flower who will bloom in winter
in the white cold winter i guarantee an explosion
in my own winter
however long may it be
i hereby promise you some lovely music
thats all i can do
and now try to deliver on it
blah blah blur
yeah 2010 and ever since
i will lay my hands on guitars
with new understanding i will coax rather than force
but force it will be if necessary
i will force my bass to do things
i will force it into low and heavy places
and it will pump n writhe all it likes
and my bass guitar my familiar
charged with a million notes
drenched in sweat and tears and saliva and blister-water
baptized in smoke and booze
caressed lewdly
yet embraced like a child
so fucking heavy a load around my neck like a ton
eh whats that....?
i never felt a thing....
is mine the best bass in the whole world?
i do believe it is
i really do
and i really believe the wood has taken up my charge
and is like an energy battery
which discharges when the music starts to lift off
its been a fucking amazing decade for my b(r)and
we have released a number of very good records
like back with 2 beasts for christ sake
how good is that record?
only the church
could casually let such a pearl slip out there
to no reviews
limited to mail order
and yet
man thats a good record
as good as anything
better than most
of course
there is nothing left to be said about 23
its a classic its a classic its a classic
it scored 87% aggregate mark from all of its different reviews
but yes
vain as i am about our band.....
we should get that result
(although i think giving records scores is a bit schoolish isnt it
but i likey when i get top marks!)
unfortunately time is against us now
we are not spring soy chicken bits any longer
this week 2 aust legends pass away
its right on the cards
for you too not just me
so we gotta concentrate
make the most of the moments we have remaining in the game
maybe la church already in time-on.....
maybe we could kick on another 5 or 10
who knows?
we intend to keep going i guess
what else could we do now?
music is all we have
all we know
all we know we can trust
music at the beginning
music at the end
i wrote the soundtrack to my own life
and lo all my songs are always coming true
i threw em away carelessly but they took root n grew
all those songs
all those clues
all those arrangements
i thought it all through
i put myself into those songs
i caught em out there in the darkness where they were waiting
i was standing at the crack in the worlds
when my nightfriends would arrive bearing tunes
its true i have stolen songs from other places
songs buried deep in my memory but probably never mine
is this all too mystical for you?
where do these songs come from
well i'd like to know
because i written so many now
so many bad
so many good too
i created my own schtick
i mine my own mind now
but i sense occultish music all around
i am filled with song every time i....
an olde master
ha ha
its true
whooda thunk it
from snotty enfant miserable to ye olde master
good luck
bad luck
stupid choices
etc
read my book and weep gold coins
if youre rich shower me in money
if youre poor give me your blessings
if youre lonely
let my songs keep you company then
step into them
live them
love them as your own
there will be more to come
as i sit here
david neil weird frail ghostly wild shambolic pop
gb3 ; sleek ultraglide with a one micron edge
kk2 : this is turning out to be very good
(of course tho i would say that wouldnt i?)
down to the cardboard : ????????????????
new church album : someone tell me, i'm ready
and look for me on new one off internashional collaborations
and see me treading the boards in march with some showbiz stuff
what can i say
thanks for reading my thing
thanks for subscribing if you did
many hopes for a good year for all
some peace on earth
and more wine and gold.....
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
pink fluffy clouds
pink fluffy clouds with mauve tinges
they look like elephants let loose across my sky
a warm silence appears
something primitive about the light
we lay in our room touching
a lovely little breeze makes the blinds move
baby take off your clothes
the last days of 2009
soon pleasure will come
unlimited undying unendurable
its a lovely afternoon just like its brother
the day before
people inspect an empty flat
little lizards scuttle about in the sun
the ocean is warm and gentle
the palms nod only faintly
people drinking cold beer
2 more nights to new years eve
we hurtle headlong into a future
life speeds up n up n up
the past creates jagged fragments
the present offers up intriguing clues
but the future
ah none may know it truly
or else life would become unbearable
and we'd remember tomorrow as well as yesterday
they look like elephants let loose across my sky
a warm silence appears
something primitive about the light
we lay in our room touching
a lovely little breeze makes the blinds move
baby take off your clothes
the last days of 2009
soon pleasure will come
unlimited undying unendurable
its a lovely afternoon just like its brother
the day before
people inspect an empty flat
little lizards scuttle about in the sun
the ocean is warm and gentle
the palms nod only faintly
people drinking cold beer
2 more nights to new years eve
we hurtle headlong into a future
life speeds up n up n up
the past creates jagged fragments
the present offers up intriguing clues
but the future
ah none may know it truly
or else life would become unbearable
and we'd remember tomorrow as well as yesterday
Monday, December 28, 2009
fusty luggs
in the big mixup
in the great jumble sail
in the whirling whorl of pixilated cosmos
in the secret displeasure
in the vulgar words of the flightless birds
in the starshine shone here but there gone
in the alien tampering like farmers seeding a crop
in the melting ice
in the extinguishment of flame at the core
in the airport at pompeii
in the garden in new south babylon
i'm dressed as a mortal
none would suspect my true nature
a poor man, yer honour
dressed in a poor soldiers clothes
i find meself wand'ring up this poem at a quarter to 3
you wouldnt believe this weather
whoever ever you are out there
this weather is too theatrical
this weather provided by special effects
this grey ocean a beautiful backdrop
painted by mikey angelo or carry vaggio
the droplets of rain are too tiny to really fall
they hang suspended in the matthew mark n luke warm air
yes jesus returns to the streets of capri
to the streets of key largo
to the streets of surfers paradise
to the streets of port au prince
to the mean streets of bondi beach
where the parrots n boys n cockroaches n dogs
n chicks n shops n sunburn n rich n pubs n
palms n sands n rain n rain n rain rain rain
yeah jesus is a surfer man
see him balance on that spade
see him ride his watery trail
see him effervescent in the streaming surf
see him hang ten n ten again
see him carve up the sea of galilee
him n judas smoke a joint n sharing thickshakes
they drive a falcon panel van painted blue void grey
oh him n judas man
they thick as thieves
dont get me wrong man
they surf the beaches up n down the phoenician coast
the beach of miracles
the shining sea of joy
christ what a golden boy
with their yellow hair like cotton wool and their ruddy skin
they look like blond red indians in black wet suits
yeah jesus is back in australia
where he belongs
he disappears at christmas to his weekender
someone captured it on super 8
we project it on the wall for free at this time of year
and for one night
all the old people are released from their age
and until midnight
they return to youth
they return to perfect health
and they grow up in some enchanting evened
never notice how the time slip by
never notice how the minutes grow short
more like brief seconds really
well thats it thanks n good night you say
pulling on a coat that feels like a hundred years
the palms sway in the tropics but not for you
the breeze dances down marine parade but not for you
the traffic hums n the lights change but not for you
in the sauna you all sit there sweating
when jesus walks in
you nudge and point rudely
but he sits obliviously meditating on the eternal lord vishnu
the preserver of all worlds
someone chucks some water mixed with eucalyptus oil on the sauna
even tho its against the rules
theres a big gush of hot steam it almost peels off our faces
jesus glances up from his deep meditation
thats against the rules he says
and closes his perfect eyes which are every colour n none
i watch his six pack move as he breathes in deep pranayama
i watch his lovely biceps flex as he inadvertently moves a little
outside the pool is turbid
with my pink glassed goggles i swam thru the coldish rainy seawater
i only managed nine laps
a terrible weakening hunger overtook me
a sudden boredom or lassitude of inexplicable nature
i saw a crab struggling on the bottom of the pool
i reached out to save it
why i thought my lungs would burst
i swim down down down
now this crab will bite you
i say to myself 2 fathoms down
as my ears start to hurt n my eyes start to bulge
this crab will bite you says my voice in my head
i dont care i says i will save it
i reach down n the crab nips my pink soft finger
fuck you i says you can drown then
i swim up hastily to the surface
fearing rapture of the deep overtaking me
and lest i walk neptunes halls with my mermaid bride
a miserable skellington in davy jones locker
but i pop up in bondi alright
its some other bondi perhaps or maybe
the grey sky has changed little
its a good copy of australia
but some details are missing
jesus looks up at me
i know what youre thinking he says
jehovah never made australia himself
he nicked the idea from some other god
jesus smiles and gestures to the cafes all quiet cos of the rain
he gestures to the rainy horizon n the white new guinea like clouds
he gestures to the dreaming spired penthouses with the rooftop pools
he gestures to the mr whippy van parked on the pavement
he gestures to the dogs fouling the boardwalk
he gestures to the starfish goofing off in the rockpools
he gestures to that vicious old crab now sadly drowning in the pool
he gestures to the shags drying their wings on a sign
he gestures to the australian flag hanging listlessly in the cloud
he gestures to the parking officers dishing out their lil tix of sorrow
he gestures to the second hand furniture place
he gestures to the fruit shops n all their divers melons
he gestures to the swiss grande and its overpriced rooms
he gestures to the 28th of december with its holiday torpor
he gestures to the queue at the ribs place in the square there
hey man says jesus the son of man
all of this bondi is yours n mine man
no one can ever take it away from you
even if your accountant tells you:
you cannot afford to live here
thou shalt dwell by the beach all of thy days
seagulls and sunscreen shall follow thee
and the pines and the palms and the lifesavers and ice creams
and summer will be merciful with its seabreezes
and winter shall find you warm
wrapped in a comforting fog
like today
and yes
we looked out at this miraculous version of bondi
one hour from the airport in bad traffic
only two main roads in
bondi jnctn mall is biggest in southern hemis fear
north bondi
south bondi
old bondi
nouveau bondi
bondi a la carte
mondo bondi
i come back to my silent room suddenly
a lonely birdie calls out in the distance
i must have been daydreaming
but there in my hand
a swimming cap with tiny tiny thorns
wow
so it wasnt just a dream after all
in the great jumble sail
in the whirling whorl of pixilated cosmos
in the secret displeasure
in the vulgar words of the flightless birds
in the starshine shone here but there gone
in the alien tampering like farmers seeding a crop
in the melting ice
in the extinguishment of flame at the core
in the airport at pompeii
in the garden in new south babylon
i'm dressed as a mortal
none would suspect my true nature
a poor man, yer honour
dressed in a poor soldiers clothes
i find meself wand'ring up this poem at a quarter to 3
you wouldnt believe this weather
whoever ever you are out there
this weather is too theatrical
this weather provided by special effects
this grey ocean a beautiful backdrop
painted by mikey angelo or carry vaggio
the droplets of rain are too tiny to really fall
they hang suspended in the matthew mark n luke warm air
yes jesus returns to the streets of capri
to the streets of key largo
to the streets of surfers paradise
to the streets of port au prince
to the mean streets of bondi beach
where the parrots n boys n cockroaches n dogs
n chicks n shops n sunburn n rich n pubs n
palms n sands n rain n rain n rain rain rain
yeah jesus is a surfer man
see him balance on that spade
see him ride his watery trail
see him effervescent in the streaming surf
see him hang ten n ten again
see him carve up the sea of galilee
him n judas smoke a joint n sharing thickshakes
they drive a falcon panel van painted blue void grey
oh him n judas man
they thick as thieves
dont get me wrong man
they surf the beaches up n down the phoenician coast
the beach of miracles
the shining sea of joy
christ what a golden boy
with their yellow hair like cotton wool and their ruddy skin
they look like blond red indians in black wet suits
yeah jesus is back in australia
where he belongs
he disappears at christmas to his weekender
someone captured it on super 8
we project it on the wall for free at this time of year
and for one night
all the old people are released from their age
and until midnight
they return to youth
they return to perfect health
and they grow up in some enchanting evened
never notice how the time slip by
never notice how the minutes grow short
more like brief seconds really
well thats it thanks n good night you say
pulling on a coat that feels like a hundred years
the palms sway in the tropics but not for you
the breeze dances down marine parade but not for you
the traffic hums n the lights change but not for you
in the sauna you all sit there sweating
when jesus walks in
you nudge and point rudely
but he sits obliviously meditating on the eternal lord vishnu
the preserver of all worlds
someone chucks some water mixed with eucalyptus oil on the sauna
even tho its against the rules
theres a big gush of hot steam it almost peels off our faces
jesus glances up from his deep meditation
thats against the rules he says
and closes his perfect eyes which are every colour n none
i watch his six pack move as he breathes in deep pranayama
i watch his lovely biceps flex as he inadvertently moves a little
outside the pool is turbid
with my pink glassed goggles i swam thru the coldish rainy seawater
i only managed nine laps
a terrible weakening hunger overtook me
a sudden boredom or lassitude of inexplicable nature
i saw a crab struggling on the bottom of the pool
i reached out to save it
why i thought my lungs would burst
i swim down down down
now this crab will bite you
i say to myself 2 fathoms down
as my ears start to hurt n my eyes start to bulge
this crab will bite you says my voice in my head
i dont care i says i will save it
i reach down n the crab nips my pink soft finger
fuck you i says you can drown then
i swim up hastily to the surface
fearing rapture of the deep overtaking me
and lest i walk neptunes halls with my mermaid bride
a miserable skellington in davy jones locker
but i pop up in bondi alright
its some other bondi perhaps or maybe
the grey sky has changed little
its a good copy of australia
but some details are missing
jesus looks up at me
i know what youre thinking he says
jehovah never made australia himself
he nicked the idea from some other god
jesus smiles and gestures to the cafes all quiet cos of the rain
he gestures to the rainy horizon n the white new guinea like clouds
he gestures to the dreaming spired penthouses with the rooftop pools
he gestures to the mr whippy van parked on the pavement
he gestures to the dogs fouling the boardwalk
he gestures to the starfish goofing off in the rockpools
he gestures to that vicious old crab now sadly drowning in the pool
he gestures to the shags drying their wings on a sign
he gestures to the australian flag hanging listlessly in the cloud
he gestures to the parking officers dishing out their lil tix of sorrow
he gestures to the second hand furniture place
he gestures to the fruit shops n all their divers melons
he gestures to the swiss grande and its overpriced rooms
he gestures to the 28th of december with its holiday torpor
he gestures to the queue at the ribs place in the square there
hey man says jesus the son of man
all of this bondi is yours n mine man
no one can ever take it away from you
even if your accountant tells you:
you cannot afford to live here
thou shalt dwell by the beach all of thy days
seagulls and sunscreen shall follow thee
and the pines and the palms and the lifesavers and ice creams
and summer will be merciful with its seabreezes
and winter shall find you warm
wrapped in a comforting fog
like today
and yes
we looked out at this miraculous version of bondi
one hour from the airport in bad traffic
only two main roads in
bondi jnctn mall is biggest in southern hemis fear
north bondi
south bondi
old bondi
nouveau bondi
bondi a la carte
mondo bondi
i come back to my silent room suddenly
a lonely birdie calls out in the distance
i must have been daydreaming
but there in my hand
a swimming cap with tiny tiny thorns
wow
so it wasnt just a dream after all
Sunday, December 27, 2009
oceanian era
maybe all you are is your memories
said kilbey
to himselves
somewhere in the gold futures
somewhere in the silver pasts
because thats all you think about
he/they/you laugh
ha ha ha
and life is then unbearably random
and we all have to die
and life then is randomly unbearable
and all we have to do is die
youre in australia now son
have you ever been here before ?
yes i have but i remain in a tiny little part
called new south wales
well its very very beautiful in new south wales
this is the backdrop for all those adventures
all those beaches
all those trees
all those nights
all those conversations
all those arguments
all those drugs
all those orgasms and organisms
all those shots and shoots
all those songs and wrongs
my blog must be a form of self analysis
i'm glad its christmas n theres no one reading
i can pretend i'm on my own
and i can say the things to myselves
these things that churn through my minds
the way obsessions focus my thought till it burns thru black paper
and my callous and unforgiving virgo sides
and now i discover
as previously reported
my memories are all ..........um.........
gee i forgot what i was trying to say
my pest n nuisance must not have access to computer this xmas
because no insults for a few days
if youve never been to australia
you would just love sydney
younger than new york
cleaner than london
sexier than atlantis
more flesh n drugs than babylon
more wicked than nineveh
sydney raped me shaped me escaped me
i sit here in the town of n. bondi
a stones throw from the great cliffs and the heads
the tourists are up the other end
the swedes
the poms
the irish
the israelis
that would be my reckoning
i can fuckin pick a swede a mile off
its their body language and their posture
ditto poms n irish esp. the backpacker types
sorry
but some of the backpacker types are quite.....
a bit cro-magnon or something
only cro-magnon didnt consume gallons of beer
and walk down hall street bashing on garbage bins
the israeli guys always got these black curly mops
held back by these kinda girly headbands
they often are very darkly handsome n have an air of arrogance
a lot of our american visitors are the ancient couple
with the cameras and the loud voices
ditto the japanese only more cameras
and more intrusive with them
theres people searching your bags for alcohol
and a very amusing sign warning no booze on beach
so fuck it
the b-packers get sloshed then go down the beach
where they need rescuing
when they figure out
this aint fucking brighton
and the waves are a lot bigger up close
than from the shore
and some geezer got bitten by a shark up the coast
and even when its overcast the sun still burns
i see poms n irish frying every year
its an awful sight
of course the israelis n swedes seem to magically have suntans
rich italians too sometimes appear on our beach
our great australian icon
people in the steamy city dream of it
bondi beach
fishnchips?
need a surfboard?
need a fucking cold beer?
need some bikinis n board shorts
need a fancy hairdresser or three
need a convenience shop or four
need the nirvana beach liquor store
need sunday markets n evening markets
need a million pizzas n ice creams
need a million cafes serving up loathsome eggsnbacon
need doof doof doof
need the quiet back streets of n bondi suburbia heaven
need the frangipanis
need the bottlebrush
need the parrots
need the near silence on days like these
on days like these
amazing parties you n i will never get invited to
amazing gracious hostesses greet you
with fishbowls full of white sugar powder
and dressed as spirits as a theme
and you must be in vaucluse
but the clouds swing down reminding the reader of new guinea
in the amazing party
where you meet amazing people
people who do the most cool things
and the music gently emits
tick tick tick
the guitars agitate gently in a swampy sea of synths
tiny bells
a wah wah chuck a chuck a chuck
the sun finally pops out at the end of the stormy day
like a surprise ending to movie you fell asleep watching
the blue australian summer sky appears
just before it has to go to bed
the mozzies are in the wings itching to bite
and the backpackers are back in the hostels
with their back packs n lager n cigarettes
and their brief furtive summer romances
sean from dublin
meet
shazza from birmingham
and the swedes stay at some boutique hotel
and the israelis stay with their cousins n uncles
and they all come back out into the bondi night
suddenly as a plague of tablewaiters appears on campbell parade
and the rich n the poor mingle freely
the suntanned n pale n burnt livid celtics
and the moslems n christians n ones like most of em
who dont believe in nuthin'
and the handsome youths with their swaggering gait
and the ugly old coots with their staggering stumble
and botox meat that looks like trout
and the local russians with their bear tatoos
and the chemists that sell australias thinnest condom
and the sunglasses stalls
and its warm baby its warm
we got no cultchure but we got warm weather
by the bucket load
imagine no shirt no shoes no cloves if you want
we smoke dope
we drink bubble teas
we body surf
we goof off
we lug slabs up the street
we throw amazing n not so amazing parties
we get out of it
we get into it
we having a fucking relaxed old time
down here in this tourist mecca
this lovely little beach enclosed by two cliffs
with its pavillion where youll be swatting at the flies
and theyre got holiday doof doof doof
like always
listen says evie from a kilometre away
its the black eyed peas daddy
yeah
see ya round then
said kilbey
to himselves
somewhere in the gold futures
somewhere in the silver pasts
because thats all you think about
he/they/you laugh
ha ha ha
and life is then unbearably random
and we all have to die
and life then is randomly unbearable
and all we have to do is die
youre in australia now son
have you ever been here before ?
yes i have but i remain in a tiny little part
called new south wales
well its very very beautiful in new south wales
this is the backdrop for all those adventures
all those beaches
all those trees
all those nights
all those conversations
all those arguments
all those drugs
all those orgasms and organisms
all those shots and shoots
all those songs and wrongs
my blog must be a form of self analysis
i'm glad its christmas n theres no one reading
i can pretend i'm on my own
and i can say the things to myselves
these things that churn through my minds
the way obsessions focus my thought till it burns thru black paper
and my callous and unforgiving virgo sides
and now i discover
as previously reported
my memories are all ..........um.........
gee i forgot what i was trying to say
my pest n nuisance must not have access to computer this xmas
because no insults for a few days
if youve never been to australia
you would just love sydney
younger than new york
cleaner than london
sexier than atlantis
more flesh n drugs than babylon
more wicked than nineveh
sydney raped me shaped me escaped me
i sit here in the town of n. bondi
a stones throw from the great cliffs and the heads
the tourists are up the other end
the swedes
the poms
the irish
the israelis
that would be my reckoning
i can fuckin pick a swede a mile off
its their body language and their posture
ditto poms n irish esp. the backpacker types
sorry
but some of the backpacker types are quite.....
a bit cro-magnon or something
only cro-magnon didnt consume gallons of beer
and walk down hall street bashing on garbage bins
the israeli guys always got these black curly mops
held back by these kinda girly headbands
they often are very darkly handsome n have an air of arrogance
a lot of our american visitors are the ancient couple
with the cameras and the loud voices
ditto the japanese only more cameras
and more intrusive with them
theres people searching your bags for alcohol
and a very amusing sign warning no booze on beach
so fuck it
the b-packers get sloshed then go down the beach
where they need rescuing
when they figure out
this aint fucking brighton
and the waves are a lot bigger up close
than from the shore
and some geezer got bitten by a shark up the coast
and even when its overcast the sun still burns
i see poms n irish frying every year
its an awful sight
of course the israelis n swedes seem to magically have suntans
rich italians too sometimes appear on our beach
our great australian icon
people in the steamy city dream of it
bondi beach
fishnchips?
need a surfboard?
need a fucking cold beer?
need some bikinis n board shorts
need a fancy hairdresser or three
need a convenience shop or four
need the nirvana beach liquor store
need sunday markets n evening markets
need a million pizzas n ice creams
need a million cafes serving up loathsome eggsnbacon
need doof doof doof
need the quiet back streets of n bondi suburbia heaven
need the frangipanis
need the bottlebrush
need the parrots
need the near silence on days like these
on days like these
amazing parties you n i will never get invited to
amazing gracious hostesses greet you
with fishbowls full of white sugar powder
and dressed as spirits as a theme
and you must be in vaucluse
but the clouds swing down reminding the reader of new guinea
in the amazing party
where you meet amazing people
people who do the most cool things
and the music gently emits
tick tick tick
the guitars agitate gently in a swampy sea of synths
tiny bells
a wah wah chuck a chuck a chuck
the sun finally pops out at the end of the stormy day
like a surprise ending to movie you fell asleep watching
the blue australian summer sky appears
just before it has to go to bed
the mozzies are in the wings itching to bite
and the backpackers are back in the hostels
with their back packs n lager n cigarettes
and their brief furtive summer romances
sean from dublin
meet
shazza from birmingham
and the swedes stay at some boutique hotel
and the israelis stay with their cousins n uncles
and they all come back out into the bondi night
suddenly as a plague of tablewaiters appears on campbell parade
and the rich n the poor mingle freely
the suntanned n pale n burnt livid celtics
and the moslems n christians n ones like most of em
who dont believe in nuthin'
and the handsome youths with their swaggering gait
and the ugly old coots with their staggering stumble
and botox meat that looks like trout
and the local russians with their bear tatoos
and the chemists that sell australias thinnest condom
and the sunglasses stalls
and its warm baby its warm
we got no cultchure but we got warm weather
by the bucket load
imagine no shirt no shoes no cloves if you want
we smoke dope
we drink bubble teas
we body surf
we goof off
we lug slabs up the street
we throw amazing n not so amazing parties
we get out of it
we get into it
we having a fucking relaxed old time
down here in this tourist mecca
this lovely little beach enclosed by two cliffs
with its pavillion where youll be swatting at the flies
and theyre got holiday doof doof doof
like always
listen says evie from a kilometre away
its the black eyed peas daddy
yeah
see ya round then
Saturday, December 26, 2009
fortunado
december along the trail
christmas day comes on n then goes
it rains
a solemn grey sky is painted over the beach
the recorded sounds of gentle rain
the feeling of coldish wet water
the plants luxuriate out in it
the pink flowers drink it down n get tipsy
the thirsty earth
the sand all yellow
the pavement and the nature strips befouled by dogs
in the weekenders where the week is already ending weakly
people sit around glumly staring at their scrabble letters
mum makes toast and its fifty years ago
the children in the driveway
they chatter and squeal and bicker
raucous little birds brave the drizzle
the santa hats hang down sadly
christmas is this christmas is that christmas
55 christmases pick a christmas any christmas
wearing my green grandpa t shirt i snake through the
colonnaded light under the boardwalks
i park my cars in grassy lots and palmy nights
wandering in this vague fog where objects softly collide
ginger beer and christmas pudding with much rum
and jewish girls in surfers paradise
from rich families in the rag trade in melbourne
they stand on balconies dimly flickering
in scenes torn from my childhoods
in gardens of poor mechanics that have no lawn
ants marching in the cracked concrete
i realize my memories are corroded
faded
rusting into orangey blurs
my precious memories all empty and damaged
falling apart melting inside my minds
lets go down to the river she said
so we drove and drove and drove
under starry banks of cloud
caravan parks and mosquitoes
the magic far away trees
and discotheques held in the school
and in the laundry the cupboard that held the detergent powders
and on top of the wardrobe where mum hid the present
and under the bed where somebody kept the future
theres no one home said your girlfriends
as you padded down a hundred halls
you pulled back a shower curtain and a paisley chameleon stared back
you pulled off along the track and followed a path
leading directly to a secluded beach where a small fire was burning
yes sir it was australia
you were deep in the australian night
bats and cicadas
the insistent but gentle rain
the path takes you through the graveyard
yeah you shiver and shudder feeling that sandy soil underfoot
seals sit on the rocks
you can see know how they could mistake them for mermaids
as the rainwater mingles with the tears in your eyes
your one thousand grey blue eyes
your one thousand island nights swimming in tepid lagoons
and staying in those self appointed rooms
you are staying in the hyacinth lodge
you are staying in the palm court
you are staying in the tiki village
you are staying at stella and ralphs place at kirra beach
anyway dad will know where to go
you turn around looking for one of your dads
theres no one in the drivers seat
theres no one out in the shed
theres no one lost in the confusing streets of moorabin
theres no one watering the plants or smoking a cig
the reel suddenly stops with a jerk
a real little jerk
the stuff the memories are woven from and stored on
is all burnt
its all wet its all used up
the locations reveal a shadowless blank
you stumble around on boxing day
renting small canoes or ordering a thickshake at the kiosk
you knock on someones door too early
you knock on someone elses door too late
sit on a verandah
sit on a bench
sit on a prop
sit on a chair out the back while the roadies set up
smoke weed drink booze talk bullshit
too many mirrors make light work
you apply your stupid makeup
you apply your decals on your ww1 planes
you use cotton to tie tiny flags to the h.m.s. hood
you play at wineries
you play at factories
you play at distant cities having no real name
still your memory has congealed and all else is but to mask that fact
the things you write about in your books and blogs never ever happened
there was no summer
no christmas
no rain
there was no music
there was no wand'ring stars
still and you realize it doesnt matter
what you did n never did
where you were n where you never was
the beaches are all deserted
the deserts are all beached
theres barbed wired keeping us off the dunes
theres luna keeping us off the moons
theres your mum n dad who'll be here soon
i dont think fast enough
i jump the gunned pedal and drop it into second
i reach out to the radio
its christmas aint it
decorations n auld lang signs
the glow of the neon santas hypnotizes the dopey youth
they gulp tequila and vomit up the drains
you kiss a dozen drunken lips
you hold a hundred sweaty hands
you leave in a fleet of ford falcons
you tear up roads all the way up n down the eastern coasts
in hamlets with one hamburger joint
in villages with loads of idiots
in casinos where you roll big
and in milkbars where you buy a tin of tomato soup
in a limo arguing with the boys and getting all angry
zooming down that new stretch of road out beyond the limits
on the outskirts doing nearly 130
the blasted earth yields highway 10101
cruise by in the mirror
a car full of noisy women on their way to some private hell
they look for husbands among the flotsam of new years eaves
they lift up rotten logs looking for one good man
the biological clock has tick tick tick tocked
so they dress up in gladbags and handrags
and go dancing thru the rats
but its christmas in their minds
and the trees have not yet been tossed out to rot
and the boys maybe are still hot to trot
in the bars and in the cars of some summer
i swing in my hammocks
i stand in a field in pyrmont
i'm under some house in brisbane
hey i met grant mclennan walking down memory lane
and he said listen steven ive written this beautiful song
so we sat in his flat in bondi junction
where he had his one book and his two guitars
and he had his twenty peter stuyvesants and his two bottles of vino
and his 2 pair of jeans
and his secret hobby he kept in his top drawer
and i sit myselves down on all those beds
in all those flats
in all all those apartments and caravans
and astral travelodges
and motor inns that had gone out
and grant began to sing a song
a song about australia
about rain and kissing some person in some room
and about his missing father and about the traffic on the bridge
and he mentioned christmas
he mentioned mrs morgan
he mentioned the mornings after love had fled
he mentioned the views n the vistas and the paw paws and the sun
and the way my life had curled around itself
until i became quite sleepy
and i passed blissfully
out of memory
christmas day comes on n then goes
it rains
a solemn grey sky is painted over the beach
the recorded sounds of gentle rain
the feeling of coldish wet water
the plants luxuriate out in it
the pink flowers drink it down n get tipsy
the thirsty earth
the sand all yellow
the pavement and the nature strips befouled by dogs
in the weekenders where the week is already ending weakly
people sit around glumly staring at their scrabble letters
mum makes toast and its fifty years ago
the children in the driveway
they chatter and squeal and bicker
raucous little birds brave the drizzle
the santa hats hang down sadly
christmas is this christmas is that christmas
55 christmases pick a christmas any christmas
wearing my green grandpa t shirt i snake through the
colonnaded light under the boardwalks
i park my cars in grassy lots and palmy nights
wandering in this vague fog where objects softly collide
ginger beer and christmas pudding with much rum
and jewish girls in surfers paradise
from rich families in the rag trade in melbourne
they stand on balconies dimly flickering
in scenes torn from my childhoods
in gardens of poor mechanics that have no lawn
ants marching in the cracked concrete
i realize my memories are corroded
faded
rusting into orangey blurs
my precious memories all empty and damaged
falling apart melting inside my minds
lets go down to the river she said
so we drove and drove and drove
under starry banks of cloud
caravan parks and mosquitoes
the magic far away trees
and discotheques held in the school
and in the laundry the cupboard that held the detergent powders
and on top of the wardrobe where mum hid the present
and under the bed where somebody kept the future
theres no one home said your girlfriends
as you padded down a hundred halls
you pulled back a shower curtain and a paisley chameleon stared back
you pulled off along the track and followed a path
leading directly to a secluded beach where a small fire was burning
yes sir it was australia
you were deep in the australian night
bats and cicadas
the insistent but gentle rain
the path takes you through the graveyard
yeah you shiver and shudder feeling that sandy soil underfoot
seals sit on the rocks
you can see know how they could mistake them for mermaids
as the rainwater mingles with the tears in your eyes
your one thousand grey blue eyes
your one thousand island nights swimming in tepid lagoons
and staying in those self appointed rooms
you are staying in the hyacinth lodge
you are staying in the palm court
you are staying in the tiki village
you are staying at stella and ralphs place at kirra beach
anyway dad will know where to go
you turn around looking for one of your dads
theres no one in the drivers seat
theres no one out in the shed
theres no one lost in the confusing streets of moorabin
theres no one watering the plants or smoking a cig
the reel suddenly stops with a jerk
a real little jerk
the stuff the memories are woven from and stored on
is all burnt
its all wet its all used up
the locations reveal a shadowless blank
you stumble around on boxing day
renting small canoes or ordering a thickshake at the kiosk
you knock on someones door too early
you knock on someone elses door too late
sit on a verandah
sit on a bench
sit on a prop
sit on a chair out the back while the roadies set up
smoke weed drink booze talk bullshit
too many mirrors make light work
you apply your stupid makeup
you apply your decals on your ww1 planes
you use cotton to tie tiny flags to the h.m.s. hood
you play at wineries
you play at factories
you play at distant cities having no real name
still your memory has congealed and all else is but to mask that fact
the things you write about in your books and blogs never ever happened
there was no summer
no christmas
no rain
there was no music
there was no wand'ring stars
still and you realize it doesnt matter
what you did n never did
where you were n where you never was
the beaches are all deserted
the deserts are all beached
theres barbed wired keeping us off the dunes
theres luna keeping us off the moons
theres your mum n dad who'll be here soon
i dont think fast enough
i jump the gunned pedal and drop it into second
i reach out to the radio
its christmas aint it
decorations n auld lang signs
the glow of the neon santas hypnotizes the dopey youth
they gulp tequila and vomit up the drains
you kiss a dozen drunken lips
you hold a hundred sweaty hands
you leave in a fleet of ford falcons
you tear up roads all the way up n down the eastern coasts
in hamlets with one hamburger joint
in villages with loads of idiots
in casinos where you roll big
and in milkbars where you buy a tin of tomato soup
in a limo arguing with the boys and getting all angry
zooming down that new stretch of road out beyond the limits
on the outskirts doing nearly 130
the blasted earth yields highway 10101
cruise by in the mirror
a car full of noisy women on their way to some private hell
they look for husbands among the flotsam of new years eaves
they lift up rotten logs looking for one good man
the biological clock has tick tick tick tocked
so they dress up in gladbags and handrags
and go dancing thru the rats
but its christmas in their minds
and the trees have not yet been tossed out to rot
and the boys maybe are still hot to trot
in the bars and in the cars of some summer
i swing in my hammocks
i stand in a field in pyrmont
i'm under some house in brisbane
hey i met grant mclennan walking down memory lane
and he said listen steven ive written this beautiful song
so we sat in his flat in bondi junction
where he had his one book and his two guitars
and he had his twenty peter stuyvesants and his two bottles of vino
and his 2 pair of jeans
and his secret hobby he kept in his top drawer
and i sit myselves down on all those beds
in all those flats
in all all those apartments and caravans
and astral travelodges
and motor inns that had gone out
and grant began to sing a song
a song about australia
about rain and kissing some person in some room
and about his missing father and about the traffic on the bridge
and he mentioned christmas
he mentioned mrs morgan
he mentioned the mornings after love had fled
he mentioned the views n the vistas and the paw paws and the sun
and the way my life had curled around itself
until i became quite sleepy
and i passed blissfully
out of memory
Friday, December 25, 2009
a knight before christmas
there are good people in this world
like the fambley in buffalo who brought me sox n absinthe
(bands love sox n absinthe....you cant go wrong!)
like all the subscribers who pay me to right this stuff
look i thank you all for your contributions large n small
you didnt have to but you did
and everytime a sub rolls in i feel a little validated
like all the people who came along n donated some jazz
from homer in perth
to my whacky friend up in maine
and all the people in between
i thank you
i thank again and always klk who is there for us
and without whom there would be no U@23
no fy
no aent
no no no
klk merry xmas
of course my friend in ohio who spoils me hopelessly
in everyway
merry xmas know it all bitch goddess of antenna
and my friend in nsws second biggest city
who is a "boho" in "straights" clothing
merry xmas dave
and of course again and especially
a rather dapper chap in so-cal
who has verily kept the wolf from ttbs door
the wolf was about to keep on gnawing on my intellectual copyright
when suddenly
this guy appeared n immediately turned the tables on the fookers
and kicked their bum
(they only have one bum between em)
i could not have done it without 'im
knowledge is power anyway yes it is
now appointed the sk minister of justice
merry x-mas john
jesus man.....merry merry xmas
i'd like to thank the people who commissioned pictures
i agonize over these things
i know i dont always get em perfect
i know it takes much much longer than i promised
but i really do try for you
to people still waiting...they will come!
people who are thinking of getting one...go on...
i'd like to wish my mother joycie a merry xmas
her book is back on sale at karmic hit
its a bloody good read
and something every true sk compleatist should own
plus i get a 20 cents spotters fee if you mention my name
careful my mothers book contains strong language
and violence
(when she gives me the bloody wooden spoon)
merry christmas to my brothers too
merri christmas to people like
sue c who works as an autominous body
keeping our vibe permanently up!
arise dame campbell...!
thanks to kate away aka iseult
for filming and suggestions
now countess kate of the archives
merry chrimbo kip in tx
merry chrimbo hoffmen
merry chrimbo mr ricky n f'licity n mr o
merry chrimbo the english crowd
merry chrimbo the yanks
merry chrimbo the swedes n germans
merry chrimbo kurt n matt in nz
merry chrimbo annaki may-hem
merry chrimbo mal turnbull (HE'LL BE BACK)
merry chrimbo in darwin rb
merry chrimbo bon bon n hellbound heart
merry chrimbo johnny beyond in l.a.
merry chrimbo freddie.....you can call me lord..the black
merry chrimbo stephen judge a good guy at our u.s. label
merry chrimbo to perry whos got a damn good sk painting collection
merry chrimbo pablo
merry chrimbo to nigel the banker wherever you roam
merry chrimbo to queen h
merry chrimbo to veleska
merry chrimbo to cazziem
merry chrimbo to jazz-perina
merry chrimbo to bigsmiles kate
merry chrimbo to my pest n nuisance
merry chrimbo belfy in boston
merry chrimbo the crunch
merry chrimbo j cain n mister slay
merry chrimbo k/k...long may you run
merry chrimbo princey n mary n tim p
merry chrimbo gb3....new album coming soon
merry chrimbo david neil.....ditto
merry chrimbo richard lane...gee richard youre a cool guy
merry chrimbo drofstaw nelg....whos coming for xmas dinner
merry chrimbo...karin in sweden...a nice job you did with the twills
merry chrimbo mimi n marlon n logan...a nice bunch of kilbeys
merry chrimbo jon f n john c in the states
merry chrimbo cst coach
merry chrimbo everybody else
i'll be embarrassed when i realize i forget to say yer name
thats it
now bleat drink n be mary
sk n bondi xmas 2009
like the fambley in buffalo who brought me sox n absinthe
(bands love sox n absinthe....you cant go wrong!)
like all the subscribers who pay me to right this stuff
look i thank you all for your contributions large n small
you didnt have to but you did
and everytime a sub rolls in i feel a little validated
like all the people who came along n donated some jazz
from homer in perth
to my whacky friend up in maine
and all the people in between
i thank you
i thank again and always klk who is there for us
and without whom there would be no U@23
no fy
no aent
no no no
klk merry xmas
of course my friend in ohio who spoils me hopelessly
in everyway
merry xmas know it all bitch goddess of antenna
and my friend in nsws second biggest city
who is a "boho" in "straights" clothing
merry xmas dave
and of course again and especially
a rather dapper chap in so-cal
who has verily kept the wolf from ttbs door
the wolf was about to keep on gnawing on my intellectual copyright
when suddenly
this guy appeared n immediately turned the tables on the fookers
and kicked their bum
(they only have one bum between em)
i could not have done it without 'im
knowledge is power anyway yes it is
now appointed the sk minister of justice
merry x-mas john
jesus man.....merry merry xmas
i'd like to thank the people who commissioned pictures
i agonize over these things
i know i dont always get em perfect
i know it takes much much longer than i promised
but i really do try for you
to people still waiting...they will come!
people who are thinking of getting one...go on...
i'd like to wish my mother joycie a merry xmas
her book is back on sale at karmic hit
its a bloody good read
and something every true sk compleatist should own
plus i get a 20 cents spotters fee if you mention my name
careful my mothers book contains strong language
and violence
(when she gives me the bloody wooden spoon)
merry christmas to my brothers too
merri christmas to people like
sue c who works as an autominous body
keeping our vibe permanently up!
arise dame campbell...!
thanks to kate away aka iseult
for filming and suggestions
now countess kate of the archives
merry chrimbo kip in tx
merry chrimbo hoffmen
merry chrimbo mr ricky n f'licity n mr o
merry chrimbo the english crowd
merry chrimbo the yanks
merry chrimbo the swedes n germans
merry chrimbo kurt n matt in nz
merry chrimbo annaki may-hem
merry chrimbo mal turnbull (HE'LL BE BACK)
merry chrimbo in darwin rb
merry chrimbo bon bon n hellbound heart
merry chrimbo johnny beyond in l.a.
merry chrimbo freddie.....you can call me lord..the black
merry chrimbo stephen judge a good guy at our u.s. label
merry chrimbo to perry whos got a damn good sk painting collection
merry chrimbo pablo
merry chrimbo to nigel the banker wherever you roam
merry chrimbo to queen h
merry chrimbo to veleska
merry chrimbo to cazziem
merry chrimbo to jazz-perina
merry chrimbo to bigsmiles kate
merry chrimbo to my pest n nuisance
merry chrimbo belfy in boston
merry chrimbo the crunch
merry chrimbo j cain n mister slay
merry chrimbo k/k...long may you run
merry chrimbo princey n mary n tim p
merry chrimbo gb3....new album coming soon
merry chrimbo david neil.....ditto
merry chrimbo richard lane...gee richard youre a cool guy
merry chrimbo drofstaw nelg....whos coming for xmas dinner
merry chrimbo...karin in sweden...a nice job you did with the twills
merry chrimbo mimi n marlon n logan...a nice bunch of kilbeys
merry chrimbo jon f n john c in the states
merry chrimbo cst coach
merry chrimbo everybody else
i'll be embarrassed when i realize i forget to say yer name
thats it
now bleat drink n be mary
sk n bondi xmas 2009
Thursday, December 24, 2009
worst bloody thing you ever saw
i called out to the mrs
i said duckling i guarantee this is the worst thing you ever saw
what do you mean says the mrs
i mean the worst rocknroll thing imaginable
the mrs chuckles
its a tall order
we both think of all the shockingly AWFUL things we ever saw
i think of all the hair n metal bands
i think of all the schmaltzy boy band tripe
i think of all the "sexy" girl band tripe
all the tedious macho rap
still this is the grande cahuna of awful
not awesome but awful
my wife thinks of air supply....yes theyre pretty awful
but not as awful as this..
she says poison
but thats not as awful as this.
anyway i have to say
i assure you this is the worst
the most awkward silly thing
look i know a silly thing
ive been in plenty of em
you can see em on youtube i'm sure
tacky hopeless tuneless rubbish featuring moi
still this is beyond my many glaring faux pas
now look
i have no axe to grind with this artist
i have felt neutral
never begrudged their huge success
i dont understand heavy metal or whatever it is
i of course sound reactionary when i say its all been done before
and much better
modern heavy metal bands or whatever it is
go through the motions that sabbath, purple n zep et al invented
therefore they can never compete with the originals
because the originals were...errr...original
n theyre not
the modern ones got all the accoutrements
why not
rock is theatre
why expect authenticity?
so there you go
i stumbled across this on tv in perth a few weeks back
i was watching with mr ricky
we both immediately agreed this was the absolute nadir
the most out of tune
inappropriate
buttock clenchingly embarrassing thing ever in rock
by a big band anyway
i will be delighted if my readers can point me in the direction
of something else as bad
i do not say everything else this artist has done is awful
i saw him on telly one night on the quiz show
and he was pretty ok i thought within this genre i guess
so i was surprised to see this
check it out on youtube
wolfmother doing wuthering heights by kate bush
it doesnt matter that i am a huge kate bush fan
or that i recently had the audacity to cover hounds of love
with my olde n gruesome band the crunch
nope
i'll let you be the judge
i felt like i was at someones birthday party
and suddenly the host had talked his son into playing a number
a curly haired young aussie geezer
sandwiched between 2 bearded blokes
who strum away miserably on their guitars
murdering the songs subtlety
and looking downcast
presumably in embarrassment
looking like they wish the fuck they were somewhere else
or at least that they coulda talked him outta doing it
and there is mr wolfmother himself
earnestly singing these words" its me i'm kathy"
in some key known only to himself
warbling straining struggling
oh gosh
i guess i go on about containing contradictions and
reconciling opposites
so is that what he's doing?
go check it out on youtube
theres a few to pick from
lemme know if you think this is the worst moment in rock
or if not
what is?
i said duckling i guarantee this is the worst thing you ever saw
what do you mean says the mrs
i mean the worst rocknroll thing imaginable
the mrs chuckles
its a tall order
we both think of all the shockingly AWFUL things we ever saw
i think of all the hair n metal bands
i think of all the schmaltzy boy band tripe
i think of all the "sexy" girl band tripe
all the tedious macho rap
still this is the grande cahuna of awful
not awesome but awful
my wife thinks of air supply....yes theyre pretty awful
but not as awful as this..
she says poison
but thats not as awful as this.
anyway i have to say
i assure you this is the worst
the most awkward silly thing
look i know a silly thing
ive been in plenty of em
you can see em on youtube i'm sure
tacky hopeless tuneless rubbish featuring moi
still this is beyond my many glaring faux pas
now look
i have no axe to grind with this artist
i have felt neutral
never begrudged their huge success
i dont understand heavy metal or whatever it is
i of course sound reactionary when i say its all been done before
and much better
modern heavy metal bands or whatever it is
go through the motions that sabbath, purple n zep et al invented
therefore they can never compete with the originals
because the originals were...errr...original
n theyre not
the modern ones got all the accoutrements
why not
rock is theatre
why expect authenticity?
so there you go
i stumbled across this on tv in perth a few weeks back
i was watching with mr ricky
we both immediately agreed this was the absolute nadir
the most out of tune
inappropriate
buttock clenchingly embarrassing thing ever in rock
by a big band anyway
i will be delighted if my readers can point me in the direction
of something else as bad
i do not say everything else this artist has done is awful
i saw him on telly one night on the quiz show
and he was pretty ok i thought within this genre i guess
so i was surprised to see this
check it out on youtube
wolfmother doing wuthering heights by kate bush
it doesnt matter that i am a huge kate bush fan
or that i recently had the audacity to cover hounds of love
with my olde n gruesome band the crunch
nope
i'll let you be the judge
i felt like i was at someones birthday party
and suddenly the host had talked his son into playing a number
a curly haired young aussie geezer
sandwiched between 2 bearded blokes
who strum away miserably on their guitars
murdering the songs subtlety
and looking downcast
presumably in embarrassment
looking like they wish the fuck they were somewhere else
or at least that they coulda talked him outta doing it
and there is mr wolfmother himself
earnestly singing these words" its me i'm kathy"
in some key known only to himself
warbling straining struggling
oh gosh
i guess i go on about containing contradictions and
reconciling opposites
so is that what he's doing?
go check it out on youtube
theres a few to pick from
lemme know if you think this is the worst moment in rock
or if not
what is?
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
the city's empty and the crystal burns
the sky turns swiftly grey
from the sea a lovely soothing breeze emits sultry good times
the palms begin their sway in the wind
like inebriated women
so many things go through your minds
and i feel like rimbaud becalmed in africa
selling guns and coffee when the poetry dried up
and i feel like paul g who went to tahiti
where he painted those half naked belles in the sun
and in the tropical afternoons when the real lovers
tangled inside their world of mists and mysteries
and humphrey christmas on the christmas islands
and long nights stretched out around tables and chinese lanterns
and how christmas has amplified all our lonelinesses
it has not placated the gulf between us
it has not located the deepest emptiness
into which this warm afternoon will soon rush
i live my life like a fool in the mode of passion
aye there are 3 modes of conduct
3 modes of food
3 modes of everything concerning humans
mode of ignorance
mode of passion
mode of goodness
every everything is but an admixture of these 3
you can see it in us all saint all beast all fool
i succumb to passion
i fight and i yell
i become infuriated my fiery nature scorches me...only me
i lay wasted in the ruins of my angers
my lusts fill me with a lustre of dripping sweat
i attack music i attack sex i attack love i attack the words
i swell up in an unbearable flame
typically bursting and then slumbering like a mountain
for years and years
when i drift in some narcotic state and i should know
i have mastered all drugs and they have mastered me
the search for aphrodesia the search for unquenchable desire
the search for the deepest knowledge
in the most sacred and profane places and events
blasted idiots and loyal crew
on my long voyage they fall by the wayside
obviously i have offended some god
fate plays with me in the most obvious manner
stupid things get stupider
i rage and curse n i bluster n i fume
i let it all get to me
luckily my strict observance of yogas rituals
keep my vital humours balanced
else my spleen and bile overpower me
at othertimes
i am zen calm
in the gentle afternoons of summer this year
this year so come n gone
this year over scarcely had it begun
the breeze comes through my window now
it whispers of tahiti it whispers of hawaii
it whispers of other days and other times
when i was young
before my mother n father ever met
and before their mothers n fathers
before i was focussed through a thousand years of englishness
popping out the end of it all some spoilt little brat
never fought in a war
never joined the bloody army
well its true i wouldnt be like this
i might be a bit bloody tougher
i always wish i was tougher
tougher than discipline tougher than hardness....
the gardens around here in jerusalem on the sea are gorgeous
the flowers are every hue that could be made from the sandy soil
they bob in this marvellous breeze now
this is not life writing this
this is a hiatus
real life beckons beyond the threshold
grey warm windy weather
the balcony and the mats call out
my bonzai plant is flourishing because i loved it
the aliens fucked with me n gave me a homing implant
sometime tomorrow you will hear or see the proof of this
it will cross your mind...eh ?... its just like he said...
the city is silent
the vicissitudes of 2009 swirl in undercurrents
a solitary bus heaves n struggles in the distance and is gone
the olde n weary poet
sits shirtless in his untidy dirty seaside shack
he writes as the breeze kisses his back
he writes as the children ebb n flow around him
he writes in the long silences of christmas
that meanlingless hopeless stupid thing christmas
not jeshuas birthday at all
some winter solstice thing
get thee behind me santa
i dont understand it
i have not met one merry person today
ah the red roofs of bondi
ah the green leaves and bobbing flowerheads
ah summer
ah
and ah indeed
from the sea a lovely soothing breeze emits sultry good times
the palms begin their sway in the wind
like inebriated women
so many things go through your minds
and i feel like rimbaud becalmed in africa
selling guns and coffee when the poetry dried up
and i feel like paul g who went to tahiti
where he painted those half naked belles in the sun
and in the tropical afternoons when the real lovers
tangled inside their world of mists and mysteries
and humphrey christmas on the christmas islands
and long nights stretched out around tables and chinese lanterns
and how christmas has amplified all our lonelinesses
it has not placated the gulf between us
it has not located the deepest emptiness
into which this warm afternoon will soon rush
i live my life like a fool in the mode of passion
aye there are 3 modes of conduct
3 modes of food
3 modes of everything concerning humans
mode of ignorance
mode of passion
mode of goodness
every everything is but an admixture of these 3
you can see it in us all saint all beast all fool
i succumb to passion
i fight and i yell
i become infuriated my fiery nature scorches me...only me
i lay wasted in the ruins of my angers
my lusts fill me with a lustre of dripping sweat
i attack music i attack sex i attack love i attack the words
i swell up in an unbearable flame
typically bursting and then slumbering like a mountain
for years and years
when i drift in some narcotic state and i should know
i have mastered all drugs and they have mastered me
the search for aphrodesia the search for unquenchable desire
the search for the deepest knowledge
in the most sacred and profane places and events
blasted idiots and loyal crew
on my long voyage they fall by the wayside
obviously i have offended some god
fate plays with me in the most obvious manner
stupid things get stupider
i rage and curse n i bluster n i fume
i let it all get to me
luckily my strict observance of yogas rituals
keep my vital humours balanced
else my spleen and bile overpower me
at othertimes
i am zen calm
in the gentle afternoons of summer this year
this year so come n gone
this year over scarcely had it begun
the breeze comes through my window now
it whispers of tahiti it whispers of hawaii
it whispers of other days and other times
when i was young
before my mother n father ever met
and before their mothers n fathers
before i was focussed through a thousand years of englishness
popping out the end of it all some spoilt little brat
never fought in a war
never joined the bloody army
well its true i wouldnt be like this
i might be a bit bloody tougher
i always wish i was tougher
tougher than discipline tougher than hardness....
the gardens around here in jerusalem on the sea are gorgeous
the flowers are every hue that could be made from the sandy soil
they bob in this marvellous breeze now
this is not life writing this
this is a hiatus
real life beckons beyond the threshold
grey warm windy weather
the balcony and the mats call out
my bonzai plant is flourishing because i loved it
the aliens fucked with me n gave me a homing implant
sometime tomorrow you will hear or see the proof of this
it will cross your mind...eh ?... its just like he said...
the city is silent
the vicissitudes of 2009 swirl in undercurrents
a solitary bus heaves n struggles in the distance and is gone
the olde n weary poet
sits shirtless in his untidy dirty seaside shack
he writes as the breeze kisses his back
he writes as the children ebb n flow around him
he writes in the long silences of christmas
that meanlingless hopeless stupid thing christmas
not jeshuas birthday at all
some winter solstice thing
get thee behind me santa
i dont understand it
i have not met one merry person today
ah the red roofs of bondi
ah the green leaves and bobbing flowerheads
ah summer
ah
and ah indeed
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
dreaming of a wight christmas
another day
another being
sweet childe in time
i am a long haired youth on a motor scooter in newcastle 1970
i am a lover waiting in a garden
i am a crippled prince in a tower
i am the goat girl from the caucasian mountains
i am a fisherman in siam
i am a witch
i am a cardinal
i am an artist
i am a grave digger
i been so old and so young
so ugly n so beautiful
i had the most lovely voice...like velvet people said it was..
and i had an 'orrible voice when i was a bawling centurion
oh baby i had n been had
i died i wuz born i was nailed up i was carried in a litter
i delivered babies i delivered the deadmans hand
i know it
i can feel it
over n over n over n over
worlds without end
you dont know the half of it
the truth is wonderful n weird
and oh baby love is strange
i'm getting closer
i'm breaking through
i'm banging my head on this theoretical brick wall
i remember i forget
i'm repulsively magnetic
i'm kindly cruel
i'm cleanly dirty
i'm a stupid poet
i speak for every no one
i speak for the rioting plants
i speak for the tree i love
i speak for all the spokesmen
i speak for only my selves
i am wild i am inchoate
i'm as tame as a little kitten
i break your heart with happiness
i make you smile coz i'm so sad
kilbey kilbey kilbey
a meaningless mantra my man
ego id ego id
give me money
give me love
give me privacy
give me anonymity
give me advice i wanna hear
help me to understand all this nonsense
america shocks me......can i come n live there?
swedens winter worst....but summer best
my england doesnt understand me....nor does my australia
the fuckin' french dont buy my records
nor do the berbers or turks
the japs dont grok my groovy trip
the jehovahs witnesses didnt see a thing
that leaves just you
leaves you with the one million mes
which one did i deal out to ya?
i like yoga n vegan food tick
i like to strum my olde fendah bass tick
i like to take all (ALL) the drugz tick
i like them pretty daughters tick
i like a lazy life tick
i like nay love to talk about myself tick
i dont know much about anything mister cept rock tick
i started painting too late...i coulda been a contender tick
i know a bit about the ancients n their olde carryon tick
i like that blue god mr vishnu krishna shiva rama lama ding dong tick
i like l'amour physique tick
my clock goes tick tock but never tock tick
i like mangos and banana and date n strawberry smoothie tick
with rice and soy milk tick
i dont like ww1 tick
i dont like heavy metal or country or trad jazz tick
i like to make long meaningless random lists tick
i like it now my band coming back into vogue tick
but i dont really give a toss tick
but still it'd be nice tick
imagine if england were to finally embrace me....tick
tick tick tick
yep
none of the above
yep thats right
i'm just being me
i dig jaime r n his devotion
i dig big smiles kate n her determination
i dig andy n the dudes n i dig em NOW!
i dig davem cos he understands me
i dig dr n jt for expertise
i dig hj for making it happen
i dig nk for good good lovin'...the best ever actually
i dig as who is a lovely sister in law
i dig love
i dig luxury
i dig a hot n cold shower n i dig crisp sheets
i dig warm balmy evenings
i dig having all this energy
i dig a singer called iota
he sang at tims party and he blew my socks off my ears
WOW! iota.....what a singer......
i dig mwp n pk cause they can fucking play guitar like all get out
i dig tee pee because he is the thinking mans drummer
and we work well together
i dig rm cause he is like a son to me n i am oms godfather
so what do you ask?
nothing i answer
i just spout off a loada stuff whenever i want
hey i had over a million reads off this stuff
a million n a quarter reads....wow
if only if only if only
maybe its just a few people reading it over n over again
maybe the stats are wrong
maybe i just cant add up straight
or lie in bed crooked
or why cant i go gently into that good night
because i got apart to play in yer lives
i wont let ya down no no no never again
its all gonna be sweet sweet sweet
yeah uh uh huh in spades
for sure
i like to h
englands too blah.......why dont they like me?
another being
sweet childe in time
i am a long haired youth on a motor scooter in newcastle 1970
i am a lover waiting in a garden
i am a crippled prince in a tower
i am the goat girl from the caucasian mountains
i am a fisherman in siam
i am a witch
i am a cardinal
i am an artist
i am a grave digger
i been so old and so young
so ugly n so beautiful
i had the most lovely voice...like velvet people said it was..
and i had an 'orrible voice when i was a bawling centurion
oh baby i had n been had
i died i wuz born i was nailed up i was carried in a litter
i delivered babies i delivered the deadmans hand
i know it
i can feel it
over n over n over n over
worlds without end
you dont know the half of it
the truth is wonderful n weird
and oh baby love is strange
i'm getting closer
i'm breaking through
i'm banging my head on this theoretical brick wall
i remember i forget
i'm repulsively magnetic
i'm kindly cruel
i'm cleanly dirty
i'm a stupid poet
i speak for every no one
i speak for the rioting plants
i speak for the tree i love
i speak for all the spokesmen
i speak for only my selves
i am wild i am inchoate
i'm as tame as a little kitten
i break your heart with happiness
i make you smile coz i'm so sad
kilbey kilbey kilbey
a meaningless mantra my man
ego id ego id
give me money
give me love
give me privacy
give me anonymity
give me advice i wanna hear
help me to understand all this nonsense
america shocks me......can i come n live there?
swedens winter worst....but summer best
my england doesnt understand me....nor does my australia
the fuckin' french dont buy my records
nor do the berbers or turks
the japs dont grok my groovy trip
the jehovahs witnesses didnt see a thing
that leaves just you
leaves you with the one million mes
which one did i deal out to ya?
i like yoga n vegan food tick
i like to strum my olde fendah bass tick
i like to take all (ALL) the drugz tick
i like them pretty daughters tick
i like a lazy life tick
i like nay love to talk about myself tick
i dont know much about anything mister cept rock tick
i started painting too late...i coulda been a contender tick
i know a bit about the ancients n their olde carryon tick
i like that blue god mr vishnu krishna shiva rama lama ding dong tick
i like l'amour physique tick
my clock goes tick tock but never tock tick
i like mangos and banana and date n strawberry smoothie tick
with rice and soy milk tick
i dont like ww1 tick
i dont like heavy metal or country or trad jazz tick
i like to make long meaningless random lists tick
i like it now my band coming back into vogue tick
but i dont really give a toss tick
but still it'd be nice tick
imagine if england were to finally embrace me....tick
tick tick tick
yep
none of the above
yep thats right
i'm just being me
i dig jaime r n his devotion
i dig big smiles kate n her determination
i dig andy n the dudes n i dig em NOW!
i dig davem cos he understands me
i dig dr n jt for expertise
i dig hj for making it happen
i dig nk for good good lovin'...the best ever actually
i dig as who is a lovely sister in law
i dig love
i dig luxury
i dig a hot n cold shower n i dig crisp sheets
i dig warm balmy evenings
i dig having all this energy
i dig a singer called iota
he sang at tims party and he blew my socks off my ears
WOW! iota.....what a singer......
i dig mwp n pk cause they can fucking play guitar like all get out
i dig tee pee because he is the thinking mans drummer
and we work well together
i dig rm cause he is like a son to me n i am oms godfather
so what do you ask?
nothing i answer
i just spout off a loada stuff whenever i want
hey i had over a million reads off this stuff
a million n a quarter reads....wow
if only if only if only
maybe its just a few people reading it over n over again
maybe the stats are wrong
maybe i just cant add up straight
or lie in bed crooked
or why cant i go gently into that good night
because i got apart to play in yer lives
i wont let ya down no no no never again
its all gonna be sweet sweet sweet
yeah uh uh huh in spades
for sure
i like to h
englands too blah.......why dont they like me?
Sunday, December 20, 2009
home on the (st)range
back in sid-knee
warm luxurious overcaste whether
i swim in the sea
i walk with the family
i buy a pineapple soy punch (large) with
pearls
grape jelly
pineapple jelly
fig jelly
some kinda japanese chain selling these great drinks
oh deffo yer 'umble 'eros fave drink at the mome
the tour is over
7 sell out shows outta ten
#23 getting mentioned all over the plaice in end of year lizsts
show biz opportunities knocking at my flyscreen door
the last quarry was a great show
wow
its hard to review myself
people say i jump around like a kid
well thats yoga n almost-veganism for ya
and selected use of al k hol
ie i have one drink when i go on
i try to do yoga twice a day now
it takes lot of commitment n discipline
someone wrote on the comments about a way to improve
even as you grow older
yes it is
i have personified the results of swimming yoga n almost veganism
compare me pre 2002 to now
yet ive gone from 48 to 55
and yet
in terms of fitness suppleness and energy
i have defied the years
i pick up a bass which is heavy
i sing loud that makes you breathless
i run around bouncing n jumping
letting the music render me light as a feather
i am experimenting on myself
yoga twice a day
what will the results be
and at the end of 2010
instead of being heavier n tireder
i will be lighter n more energetic
at 60 years of age
i expect to be prancing n twinkling around the stages of this world
disgraceful but strangely graceful
you'll be laughing at me and with me
and i'll be laughing
because gee this feels better than bloated tired middle age
getting stiffer n stiffer locking up
feeling the flab expanding.....fuck it!
its a horrible feeling
when i was a kid i was always active
and i was always slim
slim on many levels ...yes...
so as adults we have to move
look i have no special genes or anything
apply yerself diligently to your diet n exercise
get a way to relax
get some self discipline
do something everyday whether you wanna or not
dont bullshit yourself
you gonna have to work at it
i tell ya pre 2002 i didnae skip around the stage
i was melted in a miserable puddle of blah
so i worked hard n diligently
wow yoga helps me write our breakthrough albums fy n u#23
yoga yoga yoga
do it you fools before its too late
wheres craig miller
is he basking in the glow of yoga
or suffering under the yoke of middle age
kooky kokky asks which asanas..the ones ya love or hate
i tell thee kokky those you hate you will love
and those you love you will adore
when i get into garudasana
my body just goes....aw thanks time being
anyway we get 3 encores a night in perth n most places
the head honcho at quarry says to me
your band has had by far the most passionate response
well its because I am back
thats right
completely insanely sane
i have NO answers
i recommend yoga above everything
i insist on vegetarianism
i guarantee swimming in the sea
i reckon orgasms keep you young
i think music is magical stuff..it remains a mystery
this year some people have stepped up to the plate for me
mr dr in newc-arse-l
i appreciate all your advice
its hopeless trying to get someone like me to see sense
yet you have persevered and i DO listen to you
mr jt in cal.u.s.
you have been of inestimable help
it would be frightening to see what woulda happened
if you had not been helping me ......
ms eeky who i trust implicitly
a lady soldier in the sk war on mediocrity
martin kennedy who has been a worthy collaborator indeed
the second k/k album should be all killer no filler
my subscribers who have kept this blog afloat
of course i thank you all for your generosity
believe me it is appreciated especially in hard times
thanks to the folks who donated their jazz music for the cause
i gotta go now n get ready for tims big birthday party
i'm singing songs n everything
a big a-list and an even bigger b-list
whatever
i'm off
sk in the last days of 2009
warm luxurious overcaste whether
i swim in the sea
i walk with the family
i buy a pineapple soy punch (large) with
pearls
grape jelly
pineapple jelly
fig jelly
some kinda japanese chain selling these great drinks
oh deffo yer 'umble 'eros fave drink at the mome
the tour is over
7 sell out shows outta ten
#23 getting mentioned all over the plaice in end of year lizsts
show biz opportunities knocking at my flyscreen door
the last quarry was a great show
wow
its hard to review myself
people say i jump around like a kid
well thats yoga n almost-veganism for ya
and selected use of al k hol
ie i have one drink when i go on
i try to do yoga twice a day now
it takes lot of commitment n discipline
someone wrote on the comments about a way to improve
even as you grow older
yes it is
i have personified the results of swimming yoga n almost veganism
compare me pre 2002 to now
yet ive gone from 48 to 55
and yet
in terms of fitness suppleness and energy
i have defied the years
i pick up a bass which is heavy
i sing loud that makes you breathless
i run around bouncing n jumping
letting the music render me light as a feather
i am experimenting on myself
yoga twice a day
what will the results be
and at the end of 2010
instead of being heavier n tireder
i will be lighter n more energetic
at 60 years of age
i expect to be prancing n twinkling around the stages of this world
disgraceful but strangely graceful
you'll be laughing at me and with me
and i'll be laughing
because gee this feels better than bloated tired middle age
getting stiffer n stiffer locking up
feeling the flab expanding.....fuck it!
its a horrible feeling
when i was a kid i was always active
and i was always slim
slim on many levels ...yes...
so as adults we have to move
look i have no special genes or anything
apply yerself diligently to your diet n exercise
get a way to relax
get some self discipline
do something everyday whether you wanna or not
dont bullshit yourself
you gonna have to work at it
i tell ya pre 2002 i didnae skip around the stage
i was melted in a miserable puddle of blah
so i worked hard n diligently
wow yoga helps me write our breakthrough albums fy n u#23
yoga yoga yoga
do it you fools before its too late
wheres craig miller
is he basking in the glow of yoga
or suffering under the yoke of middle age
kooky kokky asks which asanas..the ones ya love or hate
i tell thee kokky those you hate you will love
and those you love you will adore
when i get into garudasana
my body just goes....aw thanks time being
anyway we get 3 encores a night in perth n most places
the head honcho at quarry says to me
your band has had by far the most passionate response
well its because I am back
thats right
completely insanely sane
i have NO answers
i recommend yoga above everything
i insist on vegetarianism
i guarantee swimming in the sea
i reckon orgasms keep you young
i think music is magical stuff..it remains a mystery
this year some people have stepped up to the plate for me
mr dr in newc-arse-l
i appreciate all your advice
its hopeless trying to get someone like me to see sense
yet you have persevered and i DO listen to you
mr jt in cal.u.s.
you have been of inestimable help
it would be frightening to see what woulda happened
if you had not been helping me ......
ms eeky who i trust implicitly
a lady soldier in the sk war on mediocrity
martin kennedy who has been a worthy collaborator indeed
the second k/k album should be all killer no filler
my subscribers who have kept this blog afloat
of course i thank you all for your generosity
believe me it is appreciated especially in hard times
thanks to the folks who donated their jazz music for the cause
i gotta go now n get ready for tims big birthday party
i'm singing songs n everything
a big a-list and an even bigger b-list
whatever
i'm off
sk in the last days of 2009
Friday, December 18, 2009
hotel morning
wake up its a windy day
i got wall to wall indian sea
yachts and ships and sea gulls tossed in the air
the traffic q's up along the coast strip
gotta get into the office
move figures from one column to the next
the pool man is down there working on the pool
that damn ph balance....
and hes got a uniform he wears each day
as he performs his minor chemical miracles
i wonder if 'is wife says grrrr i love ya in yer uniform, daddy
and the surf instructors teaching people to surf
and the construction starts up
but im up on the 18th floor baby
i sky high
and i type type type
i got nothin' better to do except yoga
and when i do yoga gonna play something soothing on my computer
and i'm gonna lean into that yoga hard
like it was wind n i'm on a sailing boat
i'm gonna put all my weight into yoga
because yoga gives back what you put in
and yoga you can depend on
so what else have you got but yerself n yoga
yoke thyself ninny
yoke thyself to thyself or to yer god or to yer universe
i dont care if the void swallows my blogs
i am a perpetual type type type
i am a eternal frame putting yer world into perspective for ya!
hey merry xmas big smiles kate who fights and fights and fights
oh you are a true heroine
and i feel like screaming angrily why why why
oh if i could right every wrong
if i could underwrite every wrong
if i could bring back your loved ones
restore your precious health
lay a fortune on ya
my dearest ones around the world
these words are all i have
yes i am a fake and a fraud
but i am also me
and he cares about you all
all i have are my songs and my stuff
all of it yours*
*conditions apply
its eight o clock in perth
is it the 18th?
its 11 in sydney
elli n minna are 18
gee my daughters sure are fine
eve n aurora rocket up
scarlet kilbey gets into character
a cross between queen elizabeth the first and queen elizabeth the taylor
i mean my mum went to school with jean simmons
and she says scarlets a jean genie
and scarlets got a forehead bulging with brains
i think the aliens got the universe reclining in her hair
why so hard to count our blessings i wonder
i drink gatorade now to prevent dehydration
hardly anyone in the sea
in the indian sea
can you believe it....india?
my india where the hindu gods walking in beautiful jungles
and krishna waits in the forest of vrindavan waiting for radha
oh boy the sound of his flute will drop you in ecstasy
i look out again at the indian sea glittering in western southern summer
remember i am an ENGLISHMAN
so all this is essentially foreign to me
to all you pommies back in blighty
suffering in the grey december void
oh my dears then this is where you limeys wanna be
unless the sweet snow falls for ya
youre sitting in trains in the premature dusk
youre heading up the m13 to knightswater
im a half english/australian mongrel
good for neither
ostracized by both
not one thing or another
a half breed
like scarlet kilbey
she doesnt know how to talk
shes got the old michael hutchence transatlantic/pacific twang
shes got 3 types of pronunciation to choose from
so she does...chooses from em all
she gonna end up talking like keith richards or patti smith..
it just did it again
i tried to publish
it drops the connection
but for some reason half of it has disappeared
this stupid server at this hotel
nice going guys
fuck!
i got wall to wall indian sea
yachts and ships and sea gulls tossed in the air
the traffic q's up along the coast strip
gotta get into the office
move figures from one column to the next
the pool man is down there working on the pool
that damn ph balance....
and hes got a uniform he wears each day
as he performs his minor chemical miracles
i wonder if 'is wife says grrrr i love ya in yer uniform, daddy
and the surf instructors teaching people to surf
and the construction starts up
but im up on the 18th floor baby
i sky high
and i type type type
i got nothin' better to do except yoga
and when i do yoga gonna play something soothing on my computer
and i'm gonna lean into that yoga hard
like it was wind n i'm on a sailing boat
i'm gonna put all my weight into yoga
because yoga gives back what you put in
and yoga you can depend on
so what else have you got but yerself n yoga
yoke thyself ninny
yoke thyself to thyself or to yer god or to yer universe
i dont care if the void swallows my blogs
i am a perpetual type type type
i am a eternal frame putting yer world into perspective for ya!
hey merry xmas big smiles kate who fights and fights and fights
oh you are a true heroine
and i feel like screaming angrily why why why
oh if i could right every wrong
if i could underwrite every wrong
if i could bring back your loved ones
restore your precious health
lay a fortune on ya
my dearest ones around the world
these words are all i have
yes i am a fake and a fraud
but i am also me
and he cares about you all
all i have are my songs and my stuff
all of it yours*
*conditions apply
its eight o clock in perth
is it the 18th?
its 11 in sydney
elli n minna are 18
gee my daughters sure are fine
eve n aurora rocket up
scarlet kilbey gets into character
a cross between queen elizabeth the first and queen elizabeth the taylor
i mean my mum went to school with jean simmons
and she says scarlets a jean genie
and scarlets got a forehead bulging with brains
i think the aliens got the universe reclining in her hair
why so hard to count our blessings i wonder
i drink gatorade now to prevent dehydration
hardly anyone in the sea
in the indian sea
can you believe it....india?
my india where the hindu gods walking in beautiful jungles
and krishna waits in the forest of vrindavan waiting for radha
oh boy the sound of his flute will drop you in ecstasy
i look out again at the indian sea glittering in western southern summer
remember i am an ENGLISHMAN
so all this is essentially foreign to me
to all you pommies back in blighty
suffering in the grey december void
oh my dears then this is where you limeys wanna be
unless the sweet snow falls for ya
youre sitting in trains in the premature dusk
youre heading up the m13 to knightswater
im a half english/australian mongrel
good for neither
ostracized by both
not one thing or another
a half breed
like scarlet kilbey
she doesnt know how to talk
shes got the old michael hutchence transatlantic/pacific twang
shes got 3 types of pronunciation to choose from
so she does...chooses from em all
she gonna end up talking like keith richards or patti smith..
it just did it again
i tried to publish
it drops the connection
but for some reason half of it has disappeared
this stupid server at this hotel
nice going guys
fuck!
hotel midnight
its midnight in the hotel
the hotel by the sea
the big white hotel on the coastal strip
with the swimming pools and cock-tails
with the little bottles of shampoo
with the complimentary hors derves
with the bottles of water for 8 bucks
with the a/c ya cant switch off
and the internet costs a bomb
but the view ah the view
the indian sea rushes away in murky blackness
little silver points of light
a cop car cruises way down below there
i stand on my balc n blow a number
no one can see me
no one can touch me
no one even knows i'm here at all
i'm the time being whatever that means
the tampered one
the white hippy panther walking by moses side
hey i'm a footsoldier with my killers hands
i sit up here above the world
summer oh i in my element
summer my cloak
summer my apparel
summer my regeneration
summer night by the sea
the ghosts
the spirits
the stories that will not fade
18 floors high
18 floors high
wow
what a life
i turn up to this quarry
its like san diego
the houses all around are fucking gorgeous
i could live in em all easily
the yellow grass
the green lawn in the amphi-theatre
yeah my band rocked of course its a given
yes n my monkey rocked n its a gibbon
and the silent ones spoke in my head
now you will write a song they said
why me i cried
silence said a voice
it was a female voice
the voice of the future
you have been chosen
you have been frozen
you have been in nineveh and lemuria
you have sung the words of the silent ones who have no voices
no voices to sing
no wheels to ride
i should be stumbling down this highway on my boots of steel
time being came the reply
well i live all my lives in my songs
thats where i right my wrongs
but the summer night comes down and kicks out the evening
its black out there
suddenly the internet swallows up half my blog
and i can remember what im sposed to write
too bad
midnite comes n goes
what did you expect
nothing
good then
thats what you get
the hotel by the sea
the big white hotel on the coastal strip
with the swimming pools and cock-tails
with the little bottles of shampoo
with the complimentary hors derves
with the bottles of water for 8 bucks
with the a/c ya cant switch off
and the internet costs a bomb
but the view ah the view
the indian sea rushes away in murky blackness
little silver points of light
a cop car cruises way down below there
i stand on my balc n blow a number
no one can see me
no one can touch me
no one even knows i'm here at all
i'm the time being whatever that means
the tampered one
the white hippy panther walking by moses side
hey i'm a footsoldier with my killers hands
i sit up here above the world
summer oh i in my element
summer my cloak
summer my apparel
summer my regeneration
summer night by the sea
the ghosts
the spirits
the stories that will not fade
18 floors high
18 floors high
wow
what a life
i turn up to this quarry
its like san diego
the houses all around are fucking gorgeous
i could live in em all easily
the yellow grass
the green lawn in the amphi-theatre
yeah my band rocked of course its a given
yes n my monkey rocked n its a gibbon
and the silent ones spoke in my head
now you will write a song they said
why me i cried
silence said a voice
it was a female voice
the voice of the future
you have been chosen
you have been frozen
you have been in nineveh and lemuria
you have sung the words of the silent ones who have no voices
no voices to sing
no wheels to ride
i should be stumbling down this highway on my boots of steel
time being came the reply
well i live all my lives in my songs
thats where i right my wrongs
but the summer night comes down and kicks out the evening
its black out there
suddenly the internet swallows up half my blog
and i can remember what im sposed to write
too bad
midnite comes n goes
what did you expect
nothing
good then
thats what you get
Thursday, December 17, 2009
filling you in
the twillies arrived yesterday
very jet lagged i can tell you
scarlet cant believe shes got her big sisters after all this time
today i flew to perth
where i am ensconced in nice hotel
tonite 1st gig at quarry...open air gig
not many open air gigs in aust
(please bring jazz to me if you can
you will be handsomely rewarded.....with a kilbey knighthood
just tell em its jazz for olde sk...theyll put you thru
shame on punter who said that in 2006 in u.s.
n then had no jazz...no...not one single note of jazz)
looking forward to it
boy we gonna rock under them starry stars
we gonna raise the roof...except there is none
2 sold out shows
if my scars are stretch marks
or cuts from a toy car at preschool (really, iseult?)
then they are awfully 90 degrees n perfectly in place
for such random things
wow...maybe the aliens work in weird ways
who knows
gonna cruise on down to sound check
see ya
very jet lagged i can tell you
scarlet cant believe shes got her big sisters after all this time
today i flew to perth
where i am ensconced in nice hotel
tonite 1st gig at quarry...open air gig
not many open air gigs in aust
(please bring jazz to me if you can
you will be handsomely rewarded.....with a kilbey knighthood
just tell em its jazz for olde sk...theyll put you thru
shame on punter who said that in 2006 in u.s.
n then had no jazz...no...not one single note of jazz)
looking forward to it
boy we gonna rock under them starry stars
we gonna raise the roof...except there is none
2 sold out shows
if my scars are stretch marks
or cuts from a toy car at preschool (really, iseult?)
then they are awfully 90 degrees n perfectly in place
for such random things
wow...maybe the aliens work in weird ways
who knows
gonna cruise on down to sound check
see ya
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
strange scar from a distant star
when i was about 10 or 11
people started asking me where i got the scars on my back
there are actually 4 of them
about 3 quarters the way down my back
2 of them 3 inches long
perfectly bisect my spine at 90 degree angles about 2 inches apart
inside these 2 are 2 smaller parallel scars about 1 inch long off to the left side
my mother was surprised to see them too
i had no idea how they had gotten there
i immediately concocted a story about scrambling under barbed wire
one day as a bunch of us kids wandered round in the bush
i HAD spiked myself on some wire but it had been one jab...not this
however the barbed wire story was what i said everytime someone asked
i even mention the scars in the book earthed
but its neuman whose got them
the barbed wire story seemed to effortlessly pop into my head
i never ever asked myself how the scars got there
thats unlike me
i normally question everything in heaven n hell
why was i so disinterested in these miraculous scars
after a while i started to believe the barbed wire story myself
it felt good saying it...:
oh i got them crawling under barbed wire as a kid....
but the scars are inconsistent with such an injury
they are deliberate incision scars
the scars are perfectly over my spine in dead straight lines
they resemble caesarean scars i have seen
and the scar on my forehead which was walking into a door aged 3
lotsa blood n trauma
stitches n hospitals n crying mummies
but thats about half an inch long
another scar on my eyebrow from bicycle accident needed 6 stitches
about one inch long (much blood n anguish too!)
so the scars on my back would have needed many stitches
they look like cuts that have been stitched up
they are not random slashes
they are meticulous and precisely geometric as if...
as if i had been cut or operated on but
where was the memory?
where was the blood?
who stitched me up again?
why didnt my mother know anything?
so i been in some almost hypnotized denial
people occasionally asked
i always gave em the barbed wire story
until other day tim mentions his friend with mystery scars
and then like a veil had dropped
i admitted to myself
that i didnt know at all how these scars came to be on me
and i had been lying in a brainwashed way
i googled the subject
and found a questionnaire concerning this subject (alien scars)
i answered yes to many questions
including interestingly
the decision to become a vegetarian
it was like one day i became a vegetarian for no real reason
except that i just did
with no hardship or temptation or anything
it was like a brainwashing....
of the actual encounter itself
i suspect a time when i was around 7
over a series of nights i had vivid nightmares of an unusual kind
they were and even now remain indescribable
it wasnt like a dream or regular nightmare
it was absolute horror and confusion
in which time slowed down to hours n hours within this "dream"
some hideous strength
some bizarre and tiring thing was done to/ expected of me
this i wrote about in earthed too
the episodes left me vomiting n begging my mother
not to leave me or let me go back to sleep
of course i would fall back asleep eventually
she would leave
and it'd start up again
the closest thing to this horror
was the horror of the place that my recent collapse took me to
you cannot describe this stuff
even i with all my words
and i with all my druggy experience
am gobsmacked to tell you of the horror of these visits
and after that i changed
yes i did
i grew up fast inside
and i started to see things different
i have peculiar abilties
i have ALWAYS been different
i do not know if i was tampered with for good or bad
i have never been interested in aliens or abduction stuff
not a bit
which is strange for me
i just switch off n dont listen
i have had no opinion on alien abduction (again strange for me)
its like i was just switched off on a load of subjects
then the other day tims chance remark
got under the usual radar of the barbed wire lie
and went straight in n hit my heart
and i knew i did not have any clue how i got them scars
that would have caused pain blood and needed stitching
in a very unhysterical way now i ask you for possible theories
one of my own is just as unlikely :
a print through from a previous life?
think about under the milky way
where did i get that title from?
IT JUST APPEARED IN MY HEAD
I DID NOT "THINK" OF IT
is it actually an alien propaganda song to soften us up?
howcome everybody LOVES it so much...
way outta all proportion to its intrinsic worth or my other songs
where did it come from?
i dont know and i'm not joking
ditto day 5 n a load of other songs
its in there if you look
if aliens tamper with us
is it field work like we tag birds n fish?
is it to meld their race with humanity for evil purposes?
is it to meld their race with humanity for good purposes?
is it to kickstart a new age of homo superior?
i do not believe the people who did this to me
come merely from outta space
i believe they can traverse time and other dimensions as well
they can suspend time
they can spirit people in n out of places inexplicably
they did something to me
i suspect for my own benefit
i see my 5 daughters and each is unnaturally beautiful n talented
so i see no sign of alien evil in them
but certainly they are lovely examples of female humanity
but all fathers are biased so who do you believe
anyway
this aint nothing
i may be mad with delusions of cliched national enquirer nuttiness
yet
the scars remain
they almost had me back together without a trace of themselves
but human skin being what it is
the scars remain
they are there
a confronting question
how the fuck did they get there???
sk n bondi 2009
people started asking me where i got the scars on my back
there are actually 4 of them
about 3 quarters the way down my back
2 of them 3 inches long
perfectly bisect my spine at 90 degree angles about 2 inches apart
inside these 2 are 2 smaller parallel scars about 1 inch long off to the left side
my mother was surprised to see them too
i had no idea how they had gotten there
i immediately concocted a story about scrambling under barbed wire
one day as a bunch of us kids wandered round in the bush
i HAD spiked myself on some wire but it had been one jab...not this
however the barbed wire story was what i said everytime someone asked
i even mention the scars in the book earthed
but its neuman whose got them
the barbed wire story seemed to effortlessly pop into my head
i never ever asked myself how the scars got there
thats unlike me
i normally question everything in heaven n hell
why was i so disinterested in these miraculous scars
after a while i started to believe the barbed wire story myself
it felt good saying it...:
oh i got them crawling under barbed wire as a kid....
but the scars are inconsistent with such an injury
they are deliberate incision scars
the scars are perfectly over my spine in dead straight lines
they resemble caesarean scars i have seen
and the scar on my forehead which was walking into a door aged 3
lotsa blood n trauma
stitches n hospitals n crying mummies
but thats about half an inch long
another scar on my eyebrow from bicycle accident needed 6 stitches
about one inch long (much blood n anguish too!)
so the scars on my back would have needed many stitches
they look like cuts that have been stitched up
they are not random slashes
they are meticulous and precisely geometric as if...
as if i had been cut or operated on but
where was the memory?
where was the blood?
who stitched me up again?
why didnt my mother know anything?
so i been in some almost hypnotized denial
people occasionally asked
i always gave em the barbed wire story
until other day tim mentions his friend with mystery scars
and then like a veil had dropped
i admitted to myself
that i didnt know at all how these scars came to be on me
and i had been lying in a brainwashed way
i googled the subject
and found a questionnaire concerning this subject (alien scars)
i answered yes to many questions
including interestingly
the decision to become a vegetarian
it was like one day i became a vegetarian for no real reason
except that i just did
with no hardship or temptation or anything
it was like a brainwashing....
of the actual encounter itself
i suspect a time when i was around 7
over a series of nights i had vivid nightmares of an unusual kind
they were and even now remain indescribable
it wasnt like a dream or regular nightmare
it was absolute horror and confusion
in which time slowed down to hours n hours within this "dream"
some hideous strength
some bizarre and tiring thing was done to/ expected of me
this i wrote about in earthed too
the episodes left me vomiting n begging my mother
not to leave me or let me go back to sleep
of course i would fall back asleep eventually
she would leave
and it'd start up again
the closest thing to this horror
was the horror of the place that my recent collapse took me to
you cannot describe this stuff
even i with all my words
and i with all my druggy experience
am gobsmacked to tell you of the horror of these visits
and after that i changed
yes i did
i grew up fast inside
and i started to see things different
i have peculiar abilties
i have ALWAYS been different
i do not know if i was tampered with for good or bad
i have never been interested in aliens or abduction stuff
not a bit
which is strange for me
i just switch off n dont listen
i have had no opinion on alien abduction (again strange for me)
its like i was just switched off on a load of subjects
then the other day tims chance remark
got under the usual radar of the barbed wire lie
and went straight in n hit my heart
and i knew i did not have any clue how i got them scars
that would have caused pain blood and needed stitching
in a very unhysterical way now i ask you for possible theories
one of my own is just as unlikely :
a print through from a previous life?
think about under the milky way
where did i get that title from?
IT JUST APPEARED IN MY HEAD
I DID NOT "THINK" OF IT
is it actually an alien propaganda song to soften us up?
howcome everybody LOVES it so much...
way outta all proportion to its intrinsic worth or my other songs
where did it come from?
i dont know and i'm not joking
ditto day 5 n a load of other songs
its in there if you look
if aliens tamper with us
is it field work like we tag birds n fish?
is it to meld their race with humanity for evil purposes?
is it to meld their race with humanity for good purposes?
is it to kickstart a new age of homo superior?
i do not believe the people who did this to me
come merely from outta space
i believe they can traverse time and other dimensions as well
they can suspend time
they can spirit people in n out of places inexplicably
they did something to me
i suspect for my own benefit
i see my 5 daughters and each is unnaturally beautiful n talented
so i see no sign of alien evil in them
but certainly they are lovely examples of female humanity
but all fathers are biased so who do you believe
anyway
this aint nothing
i may be mad with delusions of cliched national enquirer nuttiness
yet
the scars remain
they almost had me back together without a trace of themselves
but human skin being what it is
the scars remain
they are there
a confronting question
how the fuck did they get there???
sk n bondi 2009
Sunday, December 13, 2009
the panther in december
ohm at last
safe n sound
2 shows in newcastle
1 show in sydney
the newcastle venue is incredibly nice
the staff are numerous n extremely helpful
i could suggest some dinners without cheese might be nice
but what i did have was pretty good
more veg options tho
the people at the shows seemed to genuinely like us
we had 2 encores both nights
a few of my jokes didnt make em laugh so much
ok...my humour is not for everyone
it takes a while to figure out my particular peculiar loopiness
the band play well in acoustic mode
peter koppes n tim powles play 2 instruments at once.
can you believe it?
during all i know pete plays mando n harmonica
n tim pays piano n shakers
look its hard enough playing one
but these guys can do 2
mwp of course can certainly play his axes
the 3 of them are super musicians with individuality
absolute 1st rate top shelf players
intuitive knowledgeable innovative...you name it
to play together is a joy
like being in the hands of experts
the band at a very harmonious phase
inside n outside the music
now everybody realizes we dealing in a rare commodity now
you cant just whip this up outta thin air
anyway we acquitted ourselves well
we adapted ourselves to our surroundings
which is what any sensible organism must do
(so they say n evolve...!?)
sydney last night
was good gig
not absolutely transcendental
but nonetheless a solid good
the factory in marrickville in syds inner west
a bloody cool venue
itd be great to see anyone there
the bjm played there one night
we are very tired
i arrived home at 330 am previous night from newy
couldnt sleep almost at all
before n after soundcheck i do yoga
and it pulls me through
allows me to detach a bit
allows me to relax
allows me to focus
outside in the warm night
one of the opening acts : belles will ring
they stand outside talking n smoking
i drift off in shivasana ....the pose of the corpse
the band have a soft harmony rehearsal
n i drift in n out of focus listening to their sweet voices
in my reverie it was crosby stills nash n young
when i finally snapped out of it
i was surprised to see it WAS belles will ring who was singing
out in the concrete n wire courtyard
under the leaden white sky of mid evening summer sydney
anyway
we had more payers this time than last time
we are on a bit of an upwards curve
just a bit
i take nothing for granted
no smugness in our current good fortune
i just accept it n try to let it go
just like failure
just like life n love too
i try to remained unmoved
basking in success or thrashing in failure
fuck it it just derails you from yer mission
the church hit the stage only 15 minutes late
we are notoriously dependably slightly late
backstage is some wives some friends etc
quite quiet
do our usual set
the energy picks me up
my body has been softened up by yoga
i do not creep or shuffle around the stage
i do not stagger though i often stumble
my joints are opened
my muscles are ready to rock
im loose like a long legged goose - ball
so thats yoga in action helping me rock more efficiently
can you believe yoga helps me to rock?
is it yoga that makes us rock?
i expect myself to be able to rock hard
n lo n behold i do verily rock hard
ie
i give it my whole body n mind n spirit
my fucking leg starts bouncing
my fingers start plucking
my throat sends my voice out over the crowd
same olde same olde but different
i let my own music possess me
this bunch of disparate songs that makes up our set
welded n melted with extreme volume
the crowd has its input as well
the gig is the crowds as much as us
the gig is for the crowd
a swirling mass of grey n black n white
sings jagger on salt of the earth
we got about 7oo people maybe
not as good as the glory days of 2 enmore theatres
but things are not static
a long hard dedicated commitment to excellence can pay off
people notice
eventually
but eventually is better than never
nevertheless
we stuck to our guns whatever that means
now we reap the modest rewards of our long harvesting
voice in the next room : what are they...?
they are better sales for u#23 n tickets n merch
they are more kudos from press n general public
it is a very nice warm feeling yes
but i am not complacent, expectant or smug
(a real estate company name?)
i am enjoying it in a relaxed fashion
after all i am kinda olde....simply no point in denying it
in human terms 55 is kinda olde
its ok to say it
i not afraid of the "o" word
why should i be
last night i show you n the world or whoever
that if you wanna stay in tune with the une-iverse
you can rock into your grave with the guitar still strapped on
but not old mans rock
just like we werent young mans rock neither
we just are
we came out this way
its what the church accidentally is
so i can rock for hours so what?
im just showing ya
you can decide how you want it if thee but truly knew it
i made the thing
i fucked it up
now im remaking it
i cant ever get that olde steve kilbey back
hes gone into some frozen yesterday
he can only be recalled via those old songs
if you want 'im back at all...
well we played well
they enjoyed it
thats that
and thats all too
until perth on thursday
under the stars in the summery sky
safe n sound
2 shows in newcastle
1 show in sydney
the newcastle venue is incredibly nice
the staff are numerous n extremely helpful
i could suggest some dinners without cheese might be nice
but what i did have was pretty good
more veg options tho
the people at the shows seemed to genuinely like us
we had 2 encores both nights
a few of my jokes didnt make em laugh so much
ok...my humour is not for everyone
it takes a while to figure out my particular peculiar loopiness
the band play well in acoustic mode
peter koppes n tim powles play 2 instruments at once.
can you believe it?
during all i know pete plays mando n harmonica
n tim pays piano n shakers
look its hard enough playing one
but these guys can do 2
mwp of course can certainly play his axes
the 3 of them are super musicians with individuality
absolute 1st rate top shelf players
intuitive knowledgeable innovative...you name it
to play together is a joy
like being in the hands of experts
the band at a very harmonious phase
inside n outside the music
now everybody realizes we dealing in a rare commodity now
you cant just whip this up outta thin air
anyway we acquitted ourselves well
we adapted ourselves to our surroundings
which is what any sensible organism must do
(so they say n evolve...!?)
sydney last night
was good gig
not absolutely transcendental
but nonetheless a solid good
the factory in marrickville in syds inner west
a bloody cool venue
itd be great to see anyone there
the bjm played there one night
we are very tired
i arrived home at 330 am previous night from newy
couldnt sleep almost at all
before n after soundcheck i do yoga
and it pulls me through
allows me to detach a bit
allows me to relax
allows me to focus
outside in the warm night
one of the opening acts : belles will ring
they stand outside talking n smoking
i drift off in shivasana ....the pose of the corpse
the band have a soft harmony rehearsal
n i drift in n out of focus listening to their sweet voices
in my reverie it was crosby stills nash n young
when i finally snapped out of it
i was surprised to see it WAS belles will ring who was singing
out in the concrete n wire courtyard
under the leaden white sky of mid evening summer sydney
anyway
we had more payers this time than last time
we are on a bit of an upwards curve
just a bit
i take nothing for granted
no smugness in our current good fortune
i just accept it n try to let it go
just like failure
just like life n love too
i try to remained unmoved
basking in success or thrashing in failure
fuck it it just derails you from yer mission
the church hit the stage only 15 minutes late
we are notoriously dependably slightly late
backstage is some wives some friends etc
quite quiet
do our usual set
the energy picks me up
my body has been softened up by yoga
i do not creep or shuffle around the stage
i do not stagger though i often stumble
my joints are opened
my muscles are ready to rock
im loose like a long legged goose - ball
so thats yoga in action helping me rock more efficiently
can you believe yoga helps me to rock?
is it yoga that makes us rock?
i expect myself to be able to rock hard
n lo n behold i do verily rock hard
ie
i give it my whole body n mind n spirit
my fucking leg starts bouncing
my fingers start plucking
my throat sends my voice out over the crowd
same olde same olde but different
i let my own music possess me
this bunch of disparate songs that makes up our set
welded n melted with extreme volume
the crowd has its input as well
the gig is the crowds as much as us
the gig is for the crowd
a swirling mass of grey n black n white
sings jagger on salt of the earth
we got about 7oo people maybe
not as good as the glory days of 2 enmore theatres
but things are not static
a long hard dedicated commitment to excellence can pay off
people notice
eventually
but eventually is better than never
nevertheless
we stuck to our guns whatever that means
now we reap the modest rewards of our long harvesting
voice in the next room : what are they...?
they are better sales for u#23 n tickets n merch
they are more kudos from press n general public
it is a very nice warm feeling yes
but i am not complacent, expectant or smug
(a real estate company name?)
i am enjoying it in a relaxed fashion
after all i am kinda olde....simply no point in denying it
in human terms 55 is kinda olde
its ok to say it
i not afraid of the "o" word
why should i be
last night i show you n the world or whoever
that if you wanna stay in tune with the une-iverse
you can rock into your grave with the guitar still strapped on
but not old mans rock
just like we werent young mans rock neither
we just are
we came out this way
its what the church accidentally is
so i can rock for hours so what?
im just showing ya
you can decide how you want it if thee but truly knew it
i made the thing
i fucked it up
now im remaking it
i cant ever get that olde steve kilbey back
hes gone into some frozen yesterday
he can only be recalled via those old songs
if you want 'im back at all...
well we played well
they enjoyed it
thats that
and thats all too
until perth on thursday
under the stars in the summery sky
Friday, December 11, 2009
warm breeze
stumble home from high school
along the old road by the quarry and
through the bush beside the beach
roaming among the rockpools
full of green starfish
and little bearded lizards scuttle around on the stones
yeah the beach shack is cool and still
hidden in the palms and the great oaks
take off my clothes
i lay down in the warm afternoon
i put harvest on
on the little record player
neil youngs lonesome old voice
the wide prairie spaces in the music
the melancholy simplicity of the rhythm :
think i'll pack it in n buy a pick up
move it down to L A.....
a fly drones on in the shack
possums scratch scratch scratch
the cicadas sing outside like the summers tinnitus
a constant deafening ring
but the sounds all melt in with neil
a tractor miles away purrs along like an organ
the parakeets overhead a brief twittering fanfare
the faraway traffic like swelling cymbals
the surf pounds like a drum on the skin of the beach
then in wormholes in my mind that connect me
to the cosmic all
i hear the rush of the planets
i hear the moaning moon bound to this green blue earth
i hear the thoughts of the citizens in their hondas n jaguars
i hear the songs of memorial drive
i hear music from biblical times
oh i tell you it was a fierce and wonderful racket
i hear gilgamesh turn on the radio in his spacecraft
he tunes in fm 69.69
a blast of incandescent sound
behind it all i hear neils weary trembling falsetto
i hear the clash of great empires in the orchestra luna
i hear those fucking egyptians scream as the red sea engulfs them
i come down from my mountain where i have talked to a god
i am in an asylum in france
antonin artaud has smuggled in some 'ash'ish
look theres van go go
look theres freddy nietzche
look theres poor old willy reich
and all of em talking in my ears
i shake my head in disbelief
i wander out in the back yard for a piss
ants rush at me
black heads n abdomens
scarlet thoraxes
ok ok
i back off elsewhere
on the line hangs a wetsuit
theres a fishing rod n a couple of broken surfboards
neils voice fills the surrounding bush
and goes floating through the leaves
and the pedal steel gets caught in the blue sky
its perpetually the day before christmas dec 24
the day before jesus is to be born
agAin
the day you get the house to yourself
mum n dad n brothers n sisters are going to grans do
but you borrowed a car and made your own way across
the burning sands
and now youre here
where you always wanted to be
and ok
youre alone
but at least youre here
and you know what it means
and you know what you mean to say
but instead you singalong with neil
live alone in a paradise that makes me think of 2
while youre out there
you see a car pull up n theres 2 girls from school
theyre friends of someones in town
theres the pretty one n the other pretty one
gee uh yeah come in ....you say
as you open the gate
oh hi says the pretty one and gives you an unenthusiastic hug
yeah says the other pretty one
popping her cassette out of the car stereo
we were listening to credence she explains
oh ..?..you say....but can think of nothing more..
the girls come in and sit cross legged on the floor
we smoke some bongs of potent east shore pot
the smoke curls up the rays of light like serpents
the girls have a stoned conversation
that brendas such a bitch....
such a bloody scrag.....
shes a little bloody slut
yeah n so's her friend diane
diane moody...?
no...diane percival!
mick percivals sister?
yeah.....of course....
i was going out with his mate tony crooks...
yeah you told me...
oh did i...?
yeah...a few times....
i tune out their conversation
i exist in multiple locations simultaneously
i'm a dim receiver but receiving nonetheless
receiving and returning what i receive
this is how my travel begins
i stretch out on the floor in shivasana
my body fills at once with golden light
i begin to inwardly shudder n vibrate
next thing i'm out there somewhere
flying the walls n aircraft hangars n factories n mansions
music leaks from other universes
worlds adjacent to ours in the strangest of ways
where we invisibly lock into each other
leaving no trace of our existence in our opposites reality
i scavenge around
at the secret corners n edges for their old hits
i beam in great chunks of fantastical music
youve never heard the like
like the trumpets of phoenicia
and the shrieking madwomen of madagascar
and the sighing strings of sumer summer
and the hanging gardens and the quaint back yards
back in the shack
where its always 24th of dec
the day before every hero is unleashed to die
die for you n me
because the hero will always return
burn
then
return
and in australia its summer
its the day before christmas
the girls drink their cans of coke n rum
they smoke alpine cigarettes
neil young sings on obliviously
it doesnt matter
none of it
its all crazy n sad n mixed up
but it doesnt matter
and
it never ends
along the old road by the quarry and
through the bush beside the beach
roaming among the rockpools
full of green starfish
and little bearded lizards scuttle around on the stones
yeah the beach shack is cool and still
hidden in the palms and the great oaks
take off my clothes
i lay down in the warm afternoon
i put harvest on
on the little record player
neil youngs lonesome old voice
the wide prairie spaces in the music
the melancholy simplicity of the rhythm :
think i'll pack it in n buy a pick up
move it down to L A.....
a fly drones on in the shack
possums scratch scratch scratch
the cicadas sing outside like the summers tinnitus
a constant deafening ring
but the sounds all melt in with neil
a tractor miles away purrs along like an organ
the parakeets overhead a brief twittering fanfare
the faraway traffic like swelling cymbals
the surf pounds like a drum on the skin of the beach
then in wormholes in my mind that connect me
to the cosmic all
i hear the rush of the planets
i hear the moaning moon bound to this green blue earth
i hear the thoughts of the citizens in their hondas n jaguars
i hear the songs of memorial drive
i hear music from biblical times
oh i tell you it was a fierce and wonderful racket
i hear gilgamesh turn on the radio in his spacecraft
he tunes in fm 69.69
a blast of incandescent sound
behind it all i hear neils weary trembling falsetto
i hear the clash of great empires in the orchestra luna
i hear those fucking egyptians scream as the red sea engulfs them
i come down from my mountain where i have talked to a god
i am in an asylum in france
antonin artaud has smuggled in some 'ash'ish
look theres van go go
look theres freddy nietzche
look theres poor old willy reich
and all of em talking in my ears
i shake my head in disbelief
i wander out in the back yard for a piss
ants rush at me
black heads n abdomens
scarlet thoraxes
ok ok
i back off elsewhere
on the line hangs a wetsuit
theres a fishing rod n a couple of broken surfboards
neils voice fills the surrounding bush
and goes floating through the leaves
and the pedal steel gets caught in the blue sky
its perpetually the day before christmas dec 24
the day before jesus is to be born
agAin
the day you get the house to yourself
mum n dad n brothers n sisters are going to grans do
but you borrowed a car and made your own way across
the burning sands
and now youre here
where you always wanted to be
and ok
youre alone
but at least youre here
and you know what it means
and you know what you mean to say
but instead you singalong with neil
live alone in a paradise that makes me think of 2
while youre out there
you see a car pull up n theres 2 girls from school
theyre friends of someones in town
theres the pretty one n the other pretty one
gee uh yeah come in ....you say
as you open the gate
oh hi says the pretty one and gives you an unenthusiastic hug
yeah says the other pretty one
popping her cassette out of the car stereo
we were listening to credence she explains
oh ..?..you say....but can think of nothing more..
the girls come in and sit cross legged on the floor
we smoke some bongs of potent east shore pot
the smoke curls up the rays of light like serpents
the girls have a stoned conversation
that brendas such a bitch....
such a bloody scrag.....
shes a little bloody slut
yeah n so's her friend diane
diane moody...?
no...diane percival!
mick percivals sister?
yeah.....of course....
i was going out with his mate tony crooks...
yeah you told me...
oh did i...?
yeah...a few times....
i tune out their conversation
i exist in multiple locations simultaneously
i'm a dim receiver but receiving nonetheless
receiving and returning what i receive
this is how my travel begins
i stretch out on the floor in shivasana
my body fills at once with golden light
i begin to inwardly shudder n vibrate
next thing i'm out there somewhere
flying the walls n aircraft hangars n factories n mansions
music leaks from other universes
worlds adjacent to ours in the strangest of ways
where we invisibly lock into each other
leaving no trace of our existence in our opposites reality
i scavenge around
at the secret corners n edges for their old hits
i beam in great chunks of fantastical music
youve never heard the like
like the trumpets of phoenicia
and the shrieking madwomen of madagascar
and the sighing strings of sumer summer
and the hanging gardens and the quaint back yards
back in the shack
where its always 24th of dec
the day before every hero is unleashed to die
die for you n me
because the hero will always return
burn
then
return
and in australia its summer
its the day before christmas
the girls drink their cans of coke n rum
they smoke alpine cigarettes
neil young sings on obliviously
it doesnt matter
none of it
its all crazy n sad n mixed up
but it doesnt matter
and
it never ends
Thursday, December 10, 2009
leaden sky
under a summer leaden sky
oppressively hanging down
wake up in darkness of a strange room
pull open curtains
we in some weird motel
people work on the gardens
theres a tennis court
theres a pool
theres a little bridge
i walk out over the grass
an ant immediately bites my big toe
and a bindi gets stuck in my foot (a small thorny weed)
all around australian nature presses in
omniscient omnipotent
omnidirectional
the cicadas wail away in the trees
i feel rough
old and achey
check the internet
no internet
i watch tv for a while
a tv show about a bondi vet
and a dog who swallowed a whole ham
n threw up until its eyes popped out
(i kid you not)
and dogs peeing on the xmas tree
(great balls of fire!)
last night....
last night was hard work
crammed together on a tiny stage
we bump into each other incessantly
we dont feel like we're loud enuff
my monitors start playing up
n i feel like chucking the whole thing in
a long way from the glamour of the big shows
but
like a showbiz trooper i persevere
(what choice did i have?)
we get thru
no second encore tho
i immediately go downstairs n have a nap
until its all over
n we drive off in the quiet darkness
to find our strange hotel
tonight
is a lovely venue in newk-ass-hell
2 nights sold out...big deal.....
meanwhile a new showbiz opportunity has arisen for yer humble hero
man the offers are flowing in thicknfast
will let you know more as it comes to hand
gee i wont have to be a postie just yet
that will disappoint our obsessive pest i guess
sitting backstage
waiting to sound cheque
whatever
see ya 2morro
killa
oppressively hanging down
wake up in darkness of a strange room
pull open curtains
we in some weird motel
people work on the gardens
theres a tennis court
theres a pool
theres a little bridge
i walk out over the grass
an ant immediately bites my big toe
and a bindi gets stuck in my foot (a small thorny weed)
all around australian nature presses in
omniscient omnipotent
omnidirectional
the cicadas wail away in the trees
i feel rough
old and achey
check the internet
no internet
i watch tv for a while
a tv show about a bondi vet
and a dog who swallowed a whole ham
n threw up until its eyes popped out
(i kid you not)
and dogs peeing on the xmas tree
(great balls of fire!)
last night....
last night was hard work
crammed together on a tiny stage
we bump into each other incessantly
we dont feel like we're loud enuff
my monitors start playing up
n i feel like chucking the whole thing in
a long way from the glamour of the big shows
but
like a showbiz trooper i persevere
(what choice did i have?)
we get thru
no second encore tho
i immediately go downstairs n have a nap
until its all over
n we drive off in the quiet darkness
to find our strange hotel
tonight
is a lovely venue in newk-ass-hell
2 nights sold out...big deal.....
meanwhile a new showbiz opportunity has arisen for yer humble hero
man the offers are flowing in thicknfast
will let you know more as it comes to hand
gee i wont have to be a postie just yet
that will disappoint our obsessive pest i guess
sitting backstage
waiting to sound cheque
whatever
see ya 2morro
killa
Wednesday, December 09, 2009
flux 55
the long drive thru sydneys northern suburbs
struggle to stay awake
whose driving
past the posh houses and the brick boxes
christmas trees
other days
i go into my reverie
dad tuning in the radio
i hear my sweet lord for the 1st time
it was already #1 in england n america
mum in the back seat with the boys
on our holiday
we pull into a caravan park
i get a caramel thickshake
i eat hot chips with vinegar
reverie warps a bit
memorys all in one
kathy n david neil run the place
we are in canada walking through the pines
in some brief summer
david and i take acid in the northern light
we swim in a dam with some other people
crazy davy and lazy jane
we build a fire
drink beers
david plays us his songs
i close my eyes n i drift off
listening to his words
in his song hes jumping a train to saskatoon
i feel the outside go past
i hear the track and the clacketty clack
i hear the whistle
i wake up in a swiss hotel over looking a lake
i bought some dope at a dope emporium
i had been dreaming of our holiday
we had when i was a kid
dad had really laid a lotta money down
a big holiday he had said
we stopped in at places on the way there
i heard george harrison again in the caravan park
i heard ride a white swan too for the 1st time
it seemed i had reached a fork in a road
dad was smoking little cigars to get off cigarettes
he didnt like my sweet lord so much
my parents were very wary of gospel singers
the hallelujahs put em off
if they listened n heard the hare krishnas
they would have hated that even more
last thing my dad wanted to hear on his radio
was an ex beatle singing an ode to a blue hindu god
years later when heroin had truly becalmed me in my own house
when my day was trying to scrape money together
i found krishna in my library before i sold all the books
on a hot overcast day i tried to save a beautiful weed
growing in the gutter
a lovely pink lotus like flower had appeared
in filthy grey rozelle a pink lotus bloomed outside my house
in the gutter
it was sign from krishna to me surely
but the idiot from the council cut it down
in that single act lay the madness of the western world
perhaps i have told you of that before
yeah dirty old rozelle full of rust n fleas
full of terrace houses full of hippies smoking dope
full of pubs and working class geezers quaffing ale
blokes walking greyhounds
fly backwards n forwards round australia
check in
do sound check
find veg meal
have shower n shave
do my hair
do gig
meet the locals
go home
get to sleep
get up
pack your suitcase
aw it wont fucken close today
jump in the cab
you dont stay anywhere long
your own breathing wakes you up in pitch darkness
where are you?
struggle to stay awake
whose driving
past the posh houses and the brick boxes
christmas trees
other days
i go into my reverie
dad tuning in the radio
i hear my sweet lord for the 1st time
it was already #1 in england n america
mum in the back seat with the boys
on our holiday
we pull into a caravan park
i get a caramel thickshake
i eat hot chips with vinegar
reverie warps a bit
memorys all in one
kathy n david neil run the place
we are in canada walking through the pines
in some brief summer
david and i take acid in the northern light
we swim in a dam with some other people
crazy davy and lazy jane
we build a fire
drink beers
david plays us his songs
i close my eyes n i drift off
listening to his words
in his song hes jumping a train to saskatoon
i feel the outside go past
i hear the track and the clacketty clack
i hear the whistle
i wake up in a swiss hotel over looking a lake
i bought some dope at a dope emporium
i had been dreaming of our holiday
we had when i was a kid
dad had really laid a lotta money down
a big holiday he had said
we stopped in at places on the way there
i heard george harrison again in the caravan park
i heard ride a white swan too for the 1st time
it seemed i had reached a fork in a road
dad was smoking little cigars to get off cigarettes
he didnt like my sweet lord so much
my parents were very wary of gospel singers
the hallelujahs put em off
if they listened n heard the hare krishnas
they would have hated that even more
last thing my dad wanted to hear on his radio
was an ex beatle singing an ode to a blue hindu god
years later when heroin had truly becalmed me in my own house
when my day was trying to scrape money together
i found krishna in my library before i sold all the books
on a hot overcast day i tried to save a beautiful weed
growing in the gutter
a lovely pink lotus like flower had appeared
in filthy grey rozelle a pink lotus bloomed outside my house
in the gutter
it was sign from krishna to me surely
but the idiot from the council cut it down
in that single act lay the madness of the western world
perhaps i have told you of that before
yeah dirty old rozelle full of rust n fleas
full of terrace houses full of hippies smoking dope
full of pubs and working class geezers quaffing ale
blokes walking greyhounds
fly backwards n forwards round australia
check in
do sound check
find veg meal
have shower n shave
do my hair
do gig
meet the locals
go home
get to sleep
get up
pack your suitcase
aw it wont fucken close today
jump in the cab
you dont stay anywhere long
your own breathing wakes you up in pitch darkness
where are you?
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
spotless dalmatian
today i dont know what to write
things seem unreal
extremes swing wildly to extremes
extreme pleasures
extreme pains
extreme joys
extreme griefs
life keeps coming with both barrels
shooting me with its surprising bullets
my band is enjoying a mild resurgence
its not surprising ...we are pretty damn good
but there again
we should be...shouldnt we
we are one of the best on the planet i guess...
this displays no modesty but i have to call a spade a spade
(in spades)
we have enough thrust n lift to blow the roof off
we're intuitive and we're wildly chaotic
but we know our music
and we know how to do it properly as well
paying no lipservice to any time or place or ideology
we are 4 musicians hell bent on transcendence
and our music can be of any style or intention
we are continually innovating and improving
whilst remaining true to our high standard guarantee
its a pity we are so bloody olde
because we are playing the best we ever played
a variety of reasons
my voice is now easily thrown around the room
i sing in key a lot more now than i used to
my lyrics are brilliant, of course
look they just are and you know it
its boorish of me to mention it i know
i'm just trying to cheer myself up a little maybe
tomorrow night is lizottes on the central coast
if you live in england or europe
it might be hard to picture lizottes
like a big restaurant with all mod cons
in like the country almost
people come from miles around
they come from their charming bungalows n apts
(the central coast is very picturesque)
and drive for miles through all the towns
the fishnchip shops
the lagoons
the little bridges
the motels and the white vans
the new apt blocks
the olde beach shacks
and all that
and they sit down n have dinner
watch a whirled class act like us
and all in comfort n ease
nice weather
green lush fields
horses
used car dealers with little flags
nice wine
nice company
the church almost in their very living room
a good deal i reckon
the church acoustic a good little package
whooda thunk it?
we strive to master all genres
even as time runs out
anyhow
if youre coming
it will be a very good show
you lucky devils
you gonna enjoy yourself
things seem unreal
extremes swing wildly to extremes
extreme pleasures
extreme pains
extreme joys
extreme griefs
life keeps coming with both barrels
shooting me with its surprising bullets
my band is enjoying a mild resurgence
its not surprising ...we are pretty damn good
but there again
we should be...shouldnt we
we are one of the best on the planet i guess...
this displays no modesty but i have to call a spade a spade
(in spades)
we have enough thrust n lift to blow the roof off
we're intuitive and we're wildly chaotic
but we know our music
and we know how to do it properly as well
paying no lipservice to any time or place or ideology
we are 4 musicians hell bent on transcendence
and our music can be of any style or intention
we are continually innovating and improving
whilst remaining true to our high standard guarantee
its a pity we are so bloody olde
because we are playing the best we ever played
a variety of reasons
my voice is now easily thrown around the room
i sing in key a lot more now than i used to
my lyrics are brilliant, of course
look they just are and you know it
its boorish of me to mention it i know
i'm just trying to cheer myself up a little maybe
tomorrow night is lizottes on the central coast
if you live in england or europe
it might be hard to picture lizottes
like a big restaurant with all mod cons
in like the country almost
people come from miles around
they come from their charming bungalows n apts
(the central coast is very picturesque)
and drive for miles through all the towns
the fishnchip shops
the lagoons
the little bridges
the motels and the white vans
the new apt blocks
the olde beach shacks
and all that
and they sit down n have dinner
watch a whirled class act like us
and all in comfort n ease
nice weather
green lush fields
horses
used car dealers with little flags
nice wine
nice company
the church almost in their very living room
a good deal i reckon
the church acoustic a good little package
whooda thunk it?
we strive to master all genres
even as time runs out
anyhow
if youre coming
it will be a very good show
you lucky devils
you gonna enjoy yourself
Monday, December 07, 2009
melby X 2
yeah
the chrunch hit melby
one night at corner electric
one night in fitzroy acoustic
gee electric nite sold out
like many of gigs on this tour
the zoo
the 2 perth gigs
melbourne
the 3 lizotte gigs on central coast n newk
(hi my good mate davey run-dell)
my mums coming to 1st lizotte gig too
so if you sit next to my mum
be nice to her...please.....or else....
she still wields a mean wooden spoon
anyway
the corner hotel was a great night
we rocked baby we verily rocked
usual caper
lotsa sweating n shaking n singing dem debils words
i pluck my bass
i emote my lear-icks
i send em all home
i put the whole thing to bed
tim pounds
marty n pete strum n roar
craigie wilson on keys does a sterling job
his band streetlight song are AMAZING!
3 guys making a lotta sound
didja realize sammy bright on guitar is tims son
in a family explosion we also have petes daughters in the kicks
who played down mean lean n dirty rock too
we were pretty good ourselves
not 100% but about 85
we often " choke" a little in syd or melb or new york ...
we choked just a little little
3 encores
i was dripping wet with sweat
my cold was pounding me
but rock got me thru
fitzroy gig another thing
we loose n funny
acoustic fun
lotsa jokey jokes
lovely audience
a few different songs
a few the same
we still manage to "rawk"
many men calling out that they loved me
i mean...isnt that sposed to happen in sydney...?
we did 2 encores
pete a great night on piano
blah blah blah
terrible news before we go on
that a good friends sister had passed away
dampened things a little
now to fly home
with jorden brebach the 5th member of the church
see scarlet kilbey n the gang in n bondi
if you came...thanks for coming
if you didnt.....thanks for nothing
if you couldnt...too bad
whatever
next 3 nights at lizottes
acoustic
central coast n nuke-arse-l
better be quick
lotsa love etc etc etc
the killer in me
the chrunch hit melby
one night at corner electric
one night in fitzroy acoustic
gee electric nite sold out
like many of gigs on this tour
the zoo
the 2 perth gigs
melbourne
the 3 lizotte gigs on central coast n newk
(hi my good mate davey run-dell)
my mums coming to 1st lizotte gig too
so if you sit next to my mum
be nice to her...please.....or else....
she still wields a mean wooden spoon
anyway
the corner hotel was a great night
we rocked baby we verily rocked
usual caper
lotsa sweating n shaking n singing dem debils words
i pluck my bass
i emote my lear-icks
i send em all home
i put the whole thing to bed
tim pounds
marty n pete strum n roar
craigie wilson on keys does a sterling job
his band streetlight song are AMAZING!
3 guys making a lotta sound
didja realize sammy bright on guitar is tims son
in a family explosion we also have petes daughters in the kicks
who played down mean lean n dirty rock too
we were pretty good ourselves
not 100% but about 85
we often " choke" a little in syd or melb or new york ...
we choked just a little little
3 encores
i was dripping wet with sweat
my cold was pounding me
but rock got me thru
fitzroy gig another thing
we loose n funny
acoustic fun
lotsa jokey jokes
lovely audience
a few different songs
a few the same
we still manage to "rawk"
many men calling out that they loved me
i mean...isnt that sposed to happen in sydney...?
we did 2 encores
pete a great night on piano
blah blah blah
terrible news before we go on
that a good friends sister had passed away
dampened things a little
now to fly home
with jorden brebach the 5th member of the church
see scarlet kilbey n the gang in n bondi
if you came...thanks for coming
if you didnt.....thanks for nothing
if you couldnt...too bad
whatever
next 3 nights at lizottes
acoustic
central coast n nuke-arse-l
better be quick
lotsa love etc etc etc
the killer in me
Saturday, December 05, 2009
just another stage
yeah i type type type
i climb in n out of planes
i fly to adelaide
i fly to melbourne
i getta terrible cold
my head like concrete inside
feel weird achey n dizzy
take codral cold relief
mm pseudo-ephedrine
codeine
its a speedball gonna knock yer cold for six
but last night
im feeling weird real weird
i have a smoke n a wee drink
man im out of it by the time i hit the stage
the cold makes me feel kinda hollow n numb
i play a good gig
tim has a good night
we whip up some enthusiasm
i feel giddy and strange
i keep seeing things outta the corners of my eyes
i sing pretty good all things considered
we get better n better as the night goes on
by the time we hit the encores
rocknroll has healed my cold
lordy be praised the power of rocknroll
we're loud
we're brutal
we're whatever you like
and thats about it
i climb in n out of planes
i fly to adelaide
i fly to melbourne
i getta terrible cold
my head like concrete inside
feel weird achey n dizzy
take codral cold relief
mm pseudo-ephedrine
codeine
its a speedball gonna knock yer cold for six
but last night
im feeling weird real weird
i have a smoke n a wee drink
man im out of it by the time i hit the stage
the cold makes me feel kinda hollow n numb
i play a good gig
tim has a good night
we whip up some enthusiasm
i feel giddy and strange
i keep seeing things outta the corners of my eyes
i sing pretty good all things considered
we get better n better as the night goes on
by the time we hit the encores
rocknroll has healed my cold
lordy be praised the power of rocknroll
we're loud
we're brutal
we're whatever you like
and thats about it
Thursday, December 03, 2009
maker
the endless summer rolls on devouring youth
your days on the beach
your nights in a car
the lights of some city in the distance
the motels clustered along the coast roads
that disappear in mists and lemurian jungles
as the companions dwindle
as the accommodation becomes scarce
as the neon blurs into one red dull furry glow
as you brush the sand out of the sheets
the waves crashing on the shore
the breeze rustles the curtains
suddenly they billow out into the room
and you flinch against your pillow
in a load of freezing darknesses
inside the nightmarish world of your dreams
in the morning
in the early morning
crawl out of bed
no reflection in the mirror
nothing good anyway
the pale sea pounds away softly on the shore
music faintly from somewhere
you have breakfast alone facing the sea
no one up yet
the heat is fantastic even at this time of day
gulls screech and carry on in the carpark
the a.c. purrs along
a motorcycle roars past disturbing your thoughts
you yawn n you sniff
you make mental calculations
in your mind you assess the given take
and the taken give of course
try to figure out where all the money goes
try to figure out where it will all come from
a bunch of noisy green n red parrots streak overhead
the palm trees stand sombrely as if awaiting your decision
the granola is soggy
the toast is limp
you pay the bill in whatever currency it is in
euro dollars and chinese pounds
swipe your card
start the car
winding along the ocean boulevards
through summer after summer
summers only differentiated by songs
summer songs
while you were waiting for your milkshake and chips
while you were waiting for the waitress
while you were waiting to be seated
while you you were waiting to be served
while you waited for a friend outside his work
coz he said he had something for you
down in the shadows
where all the white concrete meets the green sea
where the old wooden garage doors are all deteriorated
where the old jetty lies half rotted in the sea
and some old rusty hulk off the coast
and her drunk captain pissed in every pub
and the sponge diver who found a pearl
and the demolition man who wanted to be a builder
and the girl juggler and her moving tattoos
and the tramps living in luxury out in the forecourt
of the ruined motel
and the coloured lights twinkle merrily at xmas time
stupid dog yelps repeatedly miles away in reverb
yeah we drink a beer as we sit round a table
we play cards
you lose some money n you slink off furious
someone gave you a pill and so you took it
you feel kinda relaxed
you lie outside on the balcony
dizzy and dazzled by your own life
as it arcs like a star thru existence
your days on the beach
your nights in a car
the lights of some city in the distance
the motels clustered along the coast roads
that disappear in mists and lemurian jungles
as the companions dwindle
as the accommodation becomes scarce
as the neon blurs into one red dull furry glow
as you brush the sand out of the sheets
the waves crashing on the shore
the breeze rustles the curtains
suddenly they billow out into the room
and you flinch against your pillow
in a load of freezing darknesses
inside the nightmarish world of your dreams
in the morning
in the early morning
crawl out of bed
no reflection in the mirror
nothing good anyway
the pale sea pounds away softly on the shore
music faintly from somewhere
you have breakfast alone facing the sea
no one up yet
the heat is fantastic even at this time of day
gulls screech and carry on in the carpark
the a.c. purrs along
a motorcycle roars past disturbing your thoughts
you yawn n you sniff
you make mental calculations
in your mind you assess the given take
and the taken give of course
try to figure out where all the money goes
try to figure out where it will all come from
a bunch of noisy green n red parrots streak overhead
the palm trees stand sombrely as if awaiting your decision
the granola is soggy
the toast is limp
you pay the bill in whatever currency it is in
euro dollars and chinese pounds
swipe your card
start the car
winding along the ocean boulevards
through summer after summer
summers only differentiated by songs
summer songs
while you were waiting for your milkshake and chips
while you were waiting for the waitress
while you were waiting to be seated
while you you were waiting to be served
while you waited for a friend outside his work
coz he said he had something for you
down in the shadows
where all the white concrete meets the green sea
where the old wooden garage doors are all deteriorated
where the old jetty lies half rotted in the sea
and some old rusty hulk off the coast
and her drunk captain pissed in every pub
and the sponge diver who found a pearl
and the demolition man who wanted to be a builder
and the girl juggler and her moving tattoos
and the tramps living in luxury out in the forecourt
of the ruined motel
and the coloured lights twinkle merrily at xmas time
stupid dog yelps repeatedly miles away in reverb
yeah we drink a beer as we sit round a table
we play cards
you lose some money n you slink off furious
someone gave you a pill and so you took it
you feel kinda relaxed
you lie outside on the balcony
dizzy and dazzled by your own life
as it arcs like a star thru existence
Wednesday, December 02, 2009
nostalgic drivers use the memory lane
a lot of things i remember never happened to me
none of my songs are true
i never rode on a comet
or plucked my harpoon from the thousand eyed phoenix
i never visited timbuctu or conquered parts of gaul
i never really knew hannibal that well
but you know
he and i looked alike
hannibal barca that is of course
well i remember a million summers in spades
yeah the yellow burning sun
the dunes
the nights
the castles the kings the banquets
the loneliness
alone on a summers eve
the gentle hum of the city around you
alone in this midnight blue
in an ultra modern apt
in a beach shack
in a tent or caravan
on the shore
in the back of a car
walking along alone by the side of a river
the quiet country around me
suddenly one summer
on a warm canberra night
i walk thru her streets
i walk thru the warm dry gloom
i walk thru the sprinklers and hoses
magic out there in the night
like the end of the rainbow i can never quite find it
hop on a bus
i can almost feel the bus ticket
i can smell the people smoking up the back
yeah you could smoke up the back on the bus
oh some friends on the bus from school
waldo n mick
come to a party they say
come to a party in some new suburb out west
we catch a few different buses
travelling and travelling never arriving
we come to a stop
we all jump off
we trudge thru the quiet suburban streets
mick is a surfer
hes got blonde hair like cotton wool
hes permanently tanned
surfing is everything to him
waldo is an athletic type a footy star
we go to this party in this blonde brick house
inside theres a loada kids from different schools
loud music plays
led zepplin 3
we open up our tins of booze
scotch and coke i always choose
the party is intimidating
a lot of handsome girls n pretty blokes
the pace picks up
immediately some girls coming on to ya
some guy is grabbing your shirt
mick n waldo calm everyone down a bit
out the back
some kids are having a joint around the pool
its an above the ground pool with a deck
we have a smoke
i lay back n look at the stars
wow
i feel like im falling backwards
the stars seem to lose their moorings n drift
i get up n strip down to my undies n dive in the pool
i stay under so long in the liquid blue black darkness
the water is deliciously warm
it takes you in almost silently
down under the water
you turn over n see the lights above
refracted thru the surface
yeah they sparkle n glitter outside there
you hear led zep thru the water
the hammer of the gods drives our ships to new lands
you feel like you dont need to breathe
you feel like youve never breathed
and you remember the aeons where you didnt breathe one breath
when you were potential
between your lives
you might say
between the living n the dead
you wonder what waldo n mick will say
when you finally come up
up from what you think somewhat dreamily
and in your daydream under the water
namor the submariner
with the fins at his heels
where hermes had wings
and the submariner breathes the ocean fresh
through his lovely complicated gills
and it seems the most natural thing to do
to breathe in that blue water
so you take some in
and
next thing
you know
i'm climbing out of a pool
coughing n spluttering
and a bunch of guys
why i realize at once
its my band
the other guys in my band
the guys sit around drinking smoking n laughing
i take the lift back to my room
i take a hot shower despite the heat outside
we're playing on the silver coast strip tonight
at the coconut club on the main drag
i feel vaguely confused
the beach boys comes on again
the lush strings
the distant beating tympani
the percussion sounding like hoofs n woodpeckers
my tight black pants
my black boots
my transcendental op shop shirt
its a hot saturday night on the silver coast
everyones jammed in there on their holidays
no parking spots
we circle the club
i jump out of the car
n leave the others to park it
i feel numb as i see the crowd lined up to see us
suntanned blond headed holiday crowd in thongs n sunburn
i feel suddenly tired as i push my way backstage
out the back of backstage
theres a set of stairs leading into a sandy garden
beyond the garden is a fence n then the ocean
all white n black from where i stood
on one side this scene of utter tranquility
on the otherside of the stage door
stood 800 noisy drinking festive people
waiting for the band to go on
i hang suspended between the 2 worlds
the loveliness of nature in summer
the writhing churning yelling crowd
our intro music comes on
we hit the stage
fuck we make a lot of noise
i play so disconnected from it all
so far away the words i sing seem to come from another world
i see the mob sway n pulse
i see them push n shove n dance violently
couples kissing savagely
fights break out
my fingers are permanently sore
my nose is sunburnt from yesterday
and the yesterday before that
the coconut club drinks champagne and cheers and claps
bouncers wade in n remove nuisances
and more punches are swung
the bouncers jump in n kick some guy
whod been flailing around hitting people
in some stupid dance obliviously
and now the bouncers were softening him up
cos he had resisted ejection
i see it all from a distance
i see it all from my safe n hollow haze
the violence takes the breath away in the pit of my stomach
i play n sing on mechanically
afterwards
blokes and girls push their way backstage
in a cloud of cigarette smoke n perfume
i hear all the specious talk going on around me
i sit there lonely in the crowd in the room
blah blah blah they scream over the disco now raging out there
i see the sunburn up close its red and surely sore
i see the ocean bleached hair and the stoned red eyes
i smell the beer on their breath
outside
i stand on the steps
i walk down into the garden
over the fence
across the silver sand of the silver coast
the silver coast with free colour tv air cond pool
with its pinball and its amusement places
and the palm trees from somewhere
was it florida or mexico....
and i see the ocean
i just wanna cool off
i just wanna wash it all off
the beach boys twinkle on even out here
those are my windchimes they sing sadly
and i walk across the silver sands
the wind really is in my hair
and i think of the summers of my dad
and the summers of my mum
and the endless happy endings that always come to an end
because as you enjoy this lovely night
someone out there is being born
n another is out there dying
while you stand there
in your sweaty shirt and sweaty jeans
you take it all off
you are in darkness now upon this prehistoric beach
deep in the shadow of the deluxe locations just near completion
and you feel the foam surge around your ankles
and its so soothing n cool
just like in that song you wrote
all your songs set in some summer night
just like now
just like tonight
this oh so lovely evening
you plunge under a wave
you open your eyes
and you can see absolutely nothing
none of my songs are true
i never rode on a comet
or plucked my harpoon from the thousand eyed phoenix
i never visited timbuctu or conquered parts of gaul
i never really knew hannibal that well
but you know
he and i looked alike
hannibal barca that is of course
well i remember a million summers in spades
yeah the yellow burning sun
the dunes
the nights
the castles the kings the banquets
the loneliness
alone on a summers eve
the gentle hum of the city around you
alone in this midnight blue
in an ultra modern apt
in a beach shack
in a tent or caravan
on the shore
in the back of a car
walking along alone by the side of a river
the quiet country around me
suddenly one summer
on a warm canberra night
i walk thru her streets
i walk thru the warm dry gloom
i walk thru the sprinklers and hoses
magic out there in the night
like the end of the rainbow i can never quite find it
hop on a bus
i can almost feel the bus ticket
i can smell the people smoking up the back
yeah you could smoke up the back on the bus
oh some friends on the bus from school
waldo n mick
come to a party they say
come to a party in some new suburb out west
we catch a few different buses
travelling and travelling never arriving
we come to a stop
we all jump off
we trudge thru the quiet suburban streets
mick is a surfer
hes got blonde hair like cotton wool
hes permanently tanned
surfing is everything to him
waldo is an athletic type a footy star
we go to this party in this blonde brick house
inside theres a loada kids from different schools
loud music plays
led zepplin 3
we open up our tins of booze
scotch and coke i always choose
the party is intimidating
a lot of handsome girls n pretty blokes
the pace picks up
immediately some girls coming on to ya
some guy is grabbing your shirt
mick n waldo calm everyone down a bit
out the back
some kids are having a joint around the pool
its an above the ground pool with a deck
we have a smoke
i lay back n look at the stars
wow
i feel like im falling backwards
the stars seem to lose their moorings n drift
i get up n strip down to my undies n dive in the pool
i stay under so long in the liquid blue black darkness
the water is deliciously warm
it takes you in almost silently
down under the water
you turn over n see the lights above
refracted thru the surface
yeah they sparkle n glitter outside there
you hear led zep thru the water
the hammer of the gods drives our ships to new lands
you feel like you dont need to breathe
you feel like youve never breathed
and you remember the aeons where you didnt breathe one breath
when you were potential
between your lives
you might say
between the living n the dead
you wonder what waldo n mick will say
when you finally come up
up from what you think somewhat dreamily
and in your daydream under the water
namor the submariner
with the fins at his heels
where hermes had wings
and the submariner breathes the ocean fresh
through his lovely complicated gills
and it seems the most natural thing to do
to breathe in that blue water
so you take some in
and
next thing
you know
i'm climbing out of a pool
coughing n spluttering
and a bunch of guys
why i realize at once
its my band
the other guys in my band
the guys sit around drinking smoking n laughing
i take the lift back to my room
i take a hot shower despite the heat outside
we're playing on the silver coast strip tonight
at the coconut club on the main drag
i feel vaguely confused
the beach boys comes on again
the lush strings
the distant beating tympani
the percussion sounding like hoofs n woodpeckers
my tight black pants
my black boots
my transcendental op shop shirt
its a hot saturday night on the silver coast
everyones jammed in there on their holidays
no parking spots
we circle the club
i jump out of the car
n leave the others to park it
i feel numb as i see the crowd lined up to see us
suntanned blond headed holiday crowd in thongs n sunburn
i feel suddenly tired as i push my way backstage
out the back of backstage
theres a set of stairs leading into a sandy garden
beyond the garden is a fence n then the ocean
all white n black from where i stood
on one side this scene of utter tranquility
on the otherside of the stage door
stood 800 noisy drinking festive people
waiting for the band to go on
i hang suspended between the 2 worlds
the loveliness of nature in summer
the writhing churning yelling crowd
our intro music comes on
we hit the stage
fuck we make a lot of noise
i play so disconnected from it all
so far away the words i sing seem to come from another world
i see the mob sway n pulse
i see them push n shove n dance violently
couples kissing savagely
fights break out
my fingers are permanently sore
my nose is sunburnt from yesterday
and the yesterday before that
the coconut club drinks champagne and cheers and claps
bouncers wade in n remove nuisances
and more punches are swung
the bouncers jump in n kick some guy
whod been flailing around hitting people
in some stupid dance obliviously
and now the bouncers were softening him up
cos he had resisted ejection
i see it all from a distance
i see it all from my safe n hollow haze
the violence takes the breath away in the pit of my stomach
i play n sing on mechanically
afterwards
blokes and girls push their way backstage
in a cloud of cigarette smoke n perfume
i hear all the specious talk going on around me
i sit there lonely in the crowd in the room
blah blah blah they scream over the disco now raging out there
i see the sunburn up close its red and surely sore
i see the ocean bleached hair and the stoned red eyes
i smell the beer on their breath
outside
i stand on the steps
i walk down into the garden
over the fence
across the silver sand of the silver coast
the silver coast with free colour tv air cond pool
with its pinball and its amusement places
and the palm trees from somewhere
was it florida or mexico....
and i see the ocean
i just wanna cool off
i just wanna wash it all off
the beach boys twinkle on even out here
those are my windchimes they sing sadly
and i walk across the silver sands
the wind really is in my hair
and i think of the summers of my dad
and the summers of my mum
and the endless happy endings that always come to an end
because as you enjoy this lovely night
someone out there is being born
n another is out there dying
while you stand there
in your sweaty shirt and sweaty jeans
you take it all off
you are in darkness now upon this prehistoric beach
deep in the shadow of the deluxe locations just near completion
and you feel the foam surge around your ankles
and its so soothing n cool
just like in that song you wrote
all your songs set in some summer night
just like now
just like tonight
this oh so lovely evening
you plunge under a wave
you open your eyes
and you can see absolutely nothing
Tuesday, December 01, 2009
conspiral carpet
shuffle thru the me's
move on up to the absolute present
where my unending pack of words is
everything has its 2 sides
duality mirrors singularity
constantly faced with dilemma
everything is good and bad
justify every fault
explain every inconsistency
born and die
right and wrong
a judgement is required
relativity
people what do you want from people
where do you go when you go
and when you do go, where you go then
and by the time you know the rules
the game is over so
i'll try to keep it simple
we are deceived
we are deceivers
we are deception
beware of maya
beware of foundations
beware of the dead certain
beware of right n left wing
beware of too high or low
beware of promising you can land on the moon
or moon on the land
or manipulate the hoi polloi like puppets
beware of everyone else
they dont exist outside your head
life is cruel
old age is brutal
childhood is gone
and youre running down the travelator the wrong way
you try n grasp at memories
but theyre corrupted by 50 years in your mind
theyre faded distorted tattered n blank
they wont play in todays mind
i think of kids from school
but their names n faces are all wrong
beware of remembering everything
beware of forgetting everything
beware of not forgetting everything
yes
something lies between forgetting n remembering
but what is that?
music
music you cant forget
music you cant remember
beware of smart axioms that mean nothing
beware of arch-cute self referential malarkey
beware of darkness and beware of light
oh the middle path is the path to take
but what lies between life n death
and what lies between man n woman
and what lies between sea n sky
and what lies on your eyes like a spell
making you see everything
with yourself at the centre
we know what we see
but we dont always know when we see it
i mean
could i possibly be wrong?
i mean
i'll put it simply
life is complicated
life is a situation comedy with canned tears
life is a bitch a bastard and a blast
life is a cabaret my friend
life is rigged
life is good when its good
what else have you got....?
they say we all gonna die
a foolish voice within us rebels
not yet not yet ...it whispers incessantly
i meet so many maniacs
every one convinced
beware of messiahs
beware of crusaders
beware of wars on people n things
we now know war is bad
all wars are bad
for everybody
even the ones who are getting rich
even tho they knoweth it not
beware of biblical language
beware of j.hovah and al r
beware of g sus
beware of money for nothing n chicks for free
beware of spades because they are power
beware of diamonds because they are avarice
beware of hearts because they are lust
beware of clubs because they are brutality
beware the win beware the loss
beware the dealer and the cards
beware the time
beware the time being
beware of bewaring everything
youve got to let it all in
and let it all go
grow up n stay young n hurry up n wait
wait it out
wait around until you die
you got somewhere better to be?
look at me type type type
here i am surfing the present into the future
like i got any choice
like i got another booking elsewhere or something
an appointment with the past
a date with destiny
summer suddenly turns cold
it was too fuckin hot n now its too fuckin cold
i/we exist in margins
in borders
in slight spaces that support our existence
we are walking contradictions like they were dogs
we are driving bargains like they were ford falcons
we are saving time like we save ourselves from drowning
time time time
well it takes time to save time
you spend money to save money
you give so you can take
am i getting through now?
in every sphere there is great good n bad
but it all depends on perspectivity
stop
beware of made up words
beware of pointless rants
beware of surrealistic dribble
beware of lists of things masquerading as a poem
beware of experts
beware of novices
beware of white n black
be where the acion is
beware the money is
the time being
copyright 2009 bc
move on up to the absolute present
where my unending pack of words is
everything has its 2 sides
duality mirrors singularity
constantly faced with dilemma
everything is good and bad
justify every fault
explain every inconsistency
born and die
right and wrong
a judgement is required
relativity
people what do you want from people
where do you go when you go
and when you do go, where you go then
and by the time you know the rules
the game is over so
i'll try to keep it simple
we are deceived
we are deceivers
we are deception
beware of maya
beware of foundations
beware of the dead certain
beware of right n left wing
beware of too high or low
beware of promising you can land on the moon
or moon on the land
or manipulate the hoi polloi like puppets
beware of everyone else
they dont exist outside your head
life is cruel
old age is brutal
childhood is gone
and youre running down the travelator the wrong way
you try n grasp at memories
but theyre corrupted by 50 years in your mind
theyre faded distorted tattered n blank
they wont play in todays mind
i think of kids from school
but their names n faces are all wrong
beware of remembering everything
beware of forgetting everything
beware of not forgetting everything
yes
something lies between forgetting n remembering
but what is that?
music
music you cant forget
music you cant remember
beware of smart axioms that mean nothing
beware of arch-cute self referential malarkey
beware of darkness and beware of light
oh the middle path is the path to take
but what lies between life n death
and what lies between man n woman
and what lies between sea n sky
and what lies on your eyes like a spell
making you see everything
with yourself at the centre
we know what we see
but we dont always know when we see it
i mean
could i possibly be wrong?
i mean
i'll put it simply
life is complicated
life is a situation comedy with canned tears
life is a bitch a bastard and a blast
life is a cabaret my friend
life is rigged
life is good when its good
what else have you got....?
they say we all gonna die
a foolish voice within us rebels
not yet not yet ...it whispers incessantly
i meet so many maniacs
every one convinced
beware of messiahs
beware of crusaders
beware of wars on people n things
we now know war is bad
all wars are bad
for everybody
even the ones who are getting rich
even tho they knoweth it not
beware of biblical language
beware of j.hovah and al r
beware of g sus
beware of money for nothing n chicks for free
beware of spades because they are power
beware of diamonds because they are avarice
beware of hearts because they are lust
beware of clubs because they are brutality
beware the win beware the loss
beware the dealer and the cards
beware the time
beware the time being
beware of bewaring everything
youve got to let it all in
and let it all go
grow up n stay young n hurry up n wait
wait it out
wait around until you die
you got somewhere better to be?
look at me type type type
here i am surfing the present into the future
like i got any choice
like i got another booking elsewhere or something
an appointment with the past
a date with destiny
summer suddenly turns cold
it was too fuckin hot n now its too fuckin cold
i/we exist in margins
in borders
in slight spaces that support our existence
we are walking contradictions like they were dogs
we are driving bargains like they were ford falcons
we are saving time like we save ourselves from drowning
time time time
well it takes time to save time
you spend money to save money
you give so you can take
am i getting through now?
in every sphere there is great good n bad
but it all depends on perspectivity
stop
beware of made up words
beware of pointless rants
beware of surrealistic dribble
beware of lists of things masquerading as a poem
beware of experts
beware of novices
beware of white n black
be where the acion is
beware the money is
the time being
copyright 2009 bc
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