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| untitled
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poem
about a poem |
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poetry
by steve kilbey
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| published 21 february 2008 |
| originally
published by retort
magazine |
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verse
live | volume 1 •
number 5
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"Poetry
is the music of the soul, and, above all, of great
and feeling souls." -Voltaire
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| published
since April 2007 | Verse Live centers on the publication
of new poetry. |
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| Songwriter,
singer, bassist, guitarist, keyboardist, producer, poet,
actor and painter Steve Kilbey
(blog)
was born in England in 1954. After moving to Australia,
he formed The Church, in 1980, and has since released over
30 albums (including solo and side projects), achieving
gold records in Australia and the U.S.. |
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| In
1986, Steve released his first book of poetry, Earthed,
which went on to sell over 2000 copies. There was also an
album of the same name, a sort of soundtrack for the book. |
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| In
the late nineties, Steve released his second book of poetry,
Nineveh/The Ephemeron, which also sold out its initial
run of 500 copies. In 2004, the two books were combined
and a hardcover version was published. In 2005, Kilbey released
Eden, an insightful, profound and unique journey
through the ethereal land of the Tigris and Euphrates rivers.
All books are available from Karmic
Hit. |
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Kilbey
now lives in Sydney with his wife and daughters and no cat.
The Church will be releasing their 19th studio album in
early 2006. |
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GMB
Chomichuk
(eMail •
Web
site • MySpace
page) is a writer, artist, and founder of Alchemical Press,
in Winnipeg,
Manitoba
(Western Canada).
He is a proponent of illustrated, sequential, novel-length stories
that are equal parts prose and picture. Current creative endeavors
include: working as art director on two feature film projects
with Absurd
Machine Films, CD design and art direction with the band Tele,
and writing/illustrating two novel-length projects for Alchemical
Press. GMB has been part of the TBA staff since May 2007.
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untitled
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hey
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i
heard Gill Gamesh
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| was
back in town |
| i
sure remember the last time |
| he
was here |
| he
was wearing a suit of flesh |
| covered
in mouths which whispered direction |
| he
had a little place up in Everywhere |
| man,
what a setup |
| he
had singlehandedly invented civilization |
| and
the royalties were coming in, in lumps |
| that
reminds me |
| of
the reason i am here |
| i
come to warn you |
| absurdity
has breached the outer membrane |
| dignity
has fled |
| and
the pale twilight hovers |
| throwing
an illusion of mystery |
| black
blanket nightfalls |
| the
protagonists are restless |
| waiting
for us |
| out
there in the dark |
| the
mansion’s grounds are impeccable |
| a
photo wonder in contrasts |
| a
permanent color scheme blow out |
| harvest
of the stars |
| Gill
Gamesh is on the prowl |
| i
see his nebulous hand in all of this |
| the
ants have left their nest |
| the
clouds are gone from the skies |
| the
rats have jumped into the sea |
| the
king has abdicated |
| wearing
sack cloth and ashes |
| oh
to walk again by your side |
| far
from this place |
| far
from this time |
| far
from this poem |
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poem
about a poem
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| i
read this beautiful poem |
| it
used words like 'absolute' and 'redolent' |
| it
spoke of the glory of the spirit |
| it
described the dark arc of human evil |
| some
bits meandered through forests |
| of
delicious adjectives |
| other
parts were short. concise. |
| the
poem began with a volley of the |
| most
amazing hyperbole ever |
| broken...up...fragments |
| vainglorious
latinate flourishes |
| anglo
saxon starts and ends |
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