road songs

 

as to /

what you see - the surface (of another) is hardly it / you always see beyond your focus ) outwards ( and beneath is what you already know up front / like the clothes worn on a body (it's called the showing) get that for a turn around - there is nothing beyond (Wittgenstein tried this one on) so why would you bother to inquire? at the heart of things / everybody kneels and pants / the hunger is immoral (and insatiable) so you have to divert / Darwin was on the track here - make planes (not the flying machines) for to throw off the stench - and there assemble the structure (the world) in Venice it's called a mask - in delirium the end of sickness (for mathematicians it doesn't really exist however to keep you quiet they will concede function / though really why would you bother to turn your gaze from delight / the rest of us they will tell you have been looking in the wrong way) / what is the absence of (?) - and you wonder why it is ingrained - so // there have always been beings who structure unique (only as a defence against the metaphysics of solid things) and you can learn there is no place - so anywhere will do nicely thank you very much or like my father you can reach transcendence a spiritness (completely hidden by the appearance)

what is behind / what is behind / the eyes (the field of action you might say physicists like to think they've got it cold - in fact they don't see that you can't see the seeing / OK back up Shorty / imagine little wire like figures (without minds) moving in relation to (there is no substance to these things) they are pictures that have no referents / lights (that are never seen) so / at least there is happening and it has no hold on itself / (blind as Saturday night) yeah OK so why the anguish as if nailing it would stop the sweating and dreaming with no logic the point is moot

(I was going to say it's about separating out what's already separated out like saying what happens when you distinguish one colour from another / you draw a line that must already be there)

there are some women who only have intelligence left. they are skinny boney and brown as berries it's when you come to gardening as the only thing that makes sense / they have large eyes / harbouring a wisdom as cold as fruit / children gone as never had or hadable (it must be a relief) carving anger into a figure that stands on the window sill hollow eyes seeing only the outside (the last demon eating from a bowl on the kitchen floor) and men as if they never were shadows passing in the flicker of light down / through Autumn trees

the leaves on the path alone / true consolation

dissatisfaction is any movement away / therefore time is a deduction / in the logical and economic senses positions are held in / and let go the point is everything falls (not just you) and the next world into place (don't sweat it you haven't lost your mind just a step or two) and you had all that space in that one instant? hard to imagine hey - and some want to tell you it's cause and effect where do these people come from I ask you the rubbish heap is just bits that survived the world's loss of itself and it's replication - there's always a cost / the skinny white girl says opening her legs and her smile is already died for (so when do you start paying?) the way of things is an illusion there is no change beneath the days (it's only light that gives the appearance of corruption and birth) in a dark room you have a chance to review / the crime was the beginning / (full stop) and the thing is no-one did it / and so entirely by accident you've stumbled on the origin of laughter / (is the fire of light) / drunk eyes see with delight

and the sickness? - always before and after just the way of it if you watch from the farm house the road the line where nothing comes / whoosh or goes / a solitary tree in the dry dirt / like there's a reason for something (legs can only hold it together for so long) and then the other world closes up tight / you never really know how to get out / not to worry Murray you don't appear to have suffered at all / that is from the inside out / as to - well we won't go there now will we -

and there is an image it could be everywhere and it just connects to one girl (no wonder she took to the night and the hopeless attempt to shed pride) and after years on that corner only the light burned brighter

we know everyone has reasons / and everyone knows there is no reason / imagine if the truth did not flicker (what a state we'd be in) Jesus only the dogs would know (it's called a joke) you see the point is not knowing / so your biso would just be the same / with the same cunts beings cunts and Saturday night at the local with Myrtle (true love_ it would seem withstands every configuration of plagues / God only knows where that door leads to last time it was the street but that was before the stars were shut down / Maurie said it's finished but then he might be right off his head I would bet the dream ended in the last century and you just stopped wishing / strange calmness in the Burra / no more poker night they tell you at 6.00. p.m. / now there's a sign (and like them all sign-ifying nothing) I say stick it (what the gang at the bar have had to face is eternity) light as a touch

perhaps we just fold down for a time and by chance the drugs start working again - or some such mistake occurs you see the idea of it staggering to a / or dissolving itself into a what? is too much of a stretch in this day and age of wire like things behind the curtain making picture shows you think you're watching (the facts are quite simple) Lulu tap dances at the Ritz at 4 in the arvo and only Benny the taxidermist turns up to watch so there's never really been a last days / show closing (though it's in someone's mind) / and yes it's not good to be trapped like that / but hang it all who can bear the cross let alone the hanging (around) / and as if leaving means anything at all - some people are sick in the head / they think death is an opening like there's a difference between things yeah right

horror shudders down the street (the world is unaware)


yeah

who would have thought the brace / the chain-mail of text - as hard as bark really hides the dancing - (the beauty of it is inside you see) the imposition of it is not a closing a trap a shut down to the floor nailed - the secret is this - this grid of syntax is the gateway to the mind's delight it is what happens beneath the signs and their constants - the possibilities released like a plague and the wind is without scarring - or heart sinking regret it is the spirit released / this is where you live when you walk outside / and madness is

every delight / I know the price is sanity / and yes the logic of it is three dimensional the journey into the outside the outside turning itself back to - what we have is the fluidity of water it is not subject / object vertical looking into space - the great horizontal - I mean who is to say that's it otherwise no one would paint or do numbers - and it's just not that how it appears is the background to what will be / there are innocents that are capable of the most horrendous crimes of the heart and spirit / and they play as if nothing has happened / I love the music of old men and women / down the autumn boulevard

the streetscape is just a cover for the great motion that is beyond order and disorder /a point of light / still / eternal (anything else?)

I keep thinking of splints - wooden splints tied to legs as if this is a metaphor for lives splintered - the terror of being destroyed is quite simple - it can happen before you loose your mind with grief those sunny days / there is in fact no crime - the actor just walks off - the stage is dead the audience gone there is nothing left to say and so we make a mythology to give some significance to everything / and it is rather necessary / there is the backdrop of stars and their implications just setting / context really for our peculiar affairs / the killers walk free the dead never leave the miracle is without choice / and that is the point

to be embraced denied forgotten trashed left on the roadside by a desert cafe it's footsteps really just mind marks on paper or ground sky or water and nothing to be found beneath or beyond really this is the great mystic river - you see there just is no dilemma where did I get that idea from as if you have to try and work it out and live a life of epistemological misery either that or go completely immoral leaving bits and pieces of your mind on the broken days / (like an insect collector) mirrors reflect the intrusions across light and its variations to absence / there is always the poker game upstairs at Fat Tony's (hey its a point of focus / saved lives / just going up those stairs each Tuesday since 1954 is reason enough) / there's not much to it I hate to say / apart from the waves of colour behind your eyes

I remember the caress of tress down the convent road the park just sitting to the side always a place of peace / and for young lovers to be free (those trees against the sky) there were years I wandered gentle in their gaze

what has happened to that space and every other time I had the luxury of - is it all still there layers on layers and always the new one face up and ready for imprint perhaps the odd detail changed in case an inventory needs to be taken latter / this is to say there are objective marks to time though some will tell you esse est percipi (it's the seeing that makes the world you can be cursed with such a lover) the rest is imagination / but the real question is how to describe anything / like what is to count as final / or for that matter is there an initial state? It's a carnival and you just go from one tent to another the wonders increase with each step and the laughter is without awareness /

so there is a purity of act we cannot grasp / on reflection - it is the directness of being qua being as they say at the Bottom Bar / (and it becomes a longing to be intensified / you see the tragedy is you never forget / the forms are eternal / and life / your life - the introduction to essence

with each person / or really any event - it is as if everything was begun again - and a new direction taken / like repetition is impossible and the link is difference/

(not drinking can be perilous)

God / it's just a question of art really / something is behind it all and it makes the things and the wires necessary to hook them up to work / and the workers necessary to electrify the things and these workers are really just things-plus / the fact is though it's all got right out of hand / (and I mean big time though no one's really saying just how bad it is yet) look we know any project can go off the rails / and it's not that it has a life of its own it's rather that in this case the knowledge got lost and now every thing is moving without any reason at all (strawberry fields forever) / and this is what some have always longed for / and others will tremble

look / it's either all in or all out / that's logic (writ large; small is 'either / or') / erotic dancers have an identical movement but they can only show it / they have no way of saying it in words (as Wittgenstein demonstrated) the point is it doesn't matter one way or the other / you are / whatever you want to call it (or) however you wish to dress it up / or whatever name you adopt or give // if you think / and have some courage you will always be beyond definition / (hanging out there with the wild ones) therefore anguish and delight / OK enough said / the stools are up / the lights are going out the door / the night is waiting /

down the street go dreamers full of madness


I went down

into the shadows) the wings of logic (soundless Icarus denied / to fly in the absence of forms / a moment of retreat the only ecstatic possible / a trick of dispersement / or the seeing between every thing / on the street bright as day / the pure appearance of light is no covering / rather the illumination of its darkness / Molly the bar maid in skirt and leggings comes to be (around the corner) her face // all the stones and sky (even traces of the spirits / come and gone) aspire to be / her lovely legs the beginning of the world (as we know it) every thought and touch from and to / the magic of the ordinary / is impossible to grasp with eyes or numbers we dissipate in pursuit of completeness / Pythagoras drowning /

silver screaming through the light the blue sky still // the continuous relentless tragedy renews / so I like to read books or poems that barely make sense / like hanging from a balcony by-your-finger-tips / the shut down begins day one / ask any rag trader / it's either / or - a cruel sanity the sinking to the knees / (or) / the release / the rush of madness - something beyond mind - perhaps just star dust from your skin / yes I remember the disconnect was complete the river was inside / a ride into bright darkness (I lived in two hotels and was looking for a third?) the thing is you are better to look out / there is nothing beneath - to see to grab to listen to / (the illusion is you) I hate to be the one - but there I've done it / you can wander off now (the outside is where the dreaming goes on)

Spinoza returned / as an itinerant preacher /(Panama hat / baggy pants) how to recover from the ravages of spirit / in prison the inmates tell him / from the point of view of eternity (means) who gives a fuck? / there are tribes that wander the alleys and meet on the steps / rituals of cleansing and abstinence / directions are never true / the light deceives / (you have no hope) only the illusion of front / like the actor and the eternal question / a good script? / or Beckett (the idea of what is between the words) that is the place (you never get out of) therefore the escape of language is sinful / God does not express / I would like to believe / the only truth is wood / I have seen it everywhere / and I was never looking / so / behind every act of design was the absence of form / nothing is the real deal / and this but a throw away (you think everyone knows at some level the voices stop saying / and what is left is all we have / ask the ex-weather girl at the esplanade market / it's tense / and Jesus the bar has disappeared as if the world started again (from scratch) / should anyone have to stand in the wind in a dead man's suit / juggling dreams / for all the world to see?

the tragedies go to bone / mind is a bird of flight / the days an eternal reflection repeating (the absence of substance the passage of light) and time a picture of space / the irresolvable connection is just ways of speaking (the idea of tense and position) necessary for locomotion (from a point of view of consciousness) it happens anyway and so the great superfluousness / nevertheless the source of every emotion (the climate reflected in your heart) / an exquisite / the essence everywhere and way displayed in your eyes // it just goes / it just goes / on down Fitzroy St. right into the mouth of the sea / we have no status in the cosmos - there is no differentiation / vitality a perception / perception - the lake reflecting in the sky / the sky back to the lake / it goes on / it goes on / creatures have self asserting biology / just a question of wiring / and God is the shadow / in the darkness / dancing / we can't help ourselves / there is just no end to the embrace / the trick is to forget / the problem of reason / wrap yourself in colourful / apparel and focus on your hands / the journey is just a distraction / (at best all the attributes of a feast) / nothing is left once you go / memory is the trick / we are the makers of assertion and denial / machines with hearts / 010101 /etc. / etc.. ....... (but oh the beauty of eyes)

down at the pier there are two old men who fish in a spirit sea they speak the ancient dialect of recollection and are mad with joy / only the wind can see them / they have /clouds for eyes / they leave stories on old newspapers / and people ponder the signs left / the question of meaning / you can hear them dreaming at the break of dawn / it is the sound of light / whether they come from time or not is impossible to say we must have an open mind on creation / the essence of form is anarchy / only time puts in the fix / and we all know how that goes / so perhaps the best picture is the horizon (at least infinity is self-consistent) so relief there - and the hills provide a buffer - a point of view / time for the sandwich by the side of the road / and then the walking on / the dust / defies design / we walk in absence / beyond the trees there are mind places / with ancient bearings / and young people reinterpret

I became a direction for accident / fixed from an arbitrary point / (as if there is an opposite - this is where the madness begins) and so the artwork is displayed (from no hand) in every act and thought / it comes to nothing (it never leaves the blackness) despite the illusion of Sun (at best out of this poverty a stream of figures / signs posited as meaning / the world is just a making of itself (ex nihilo) - and for all intents and purposes everything just is what you believe / and what you look at / is what is there / here is the miracle / the true beauty of nothing behind / the great storm of the heart / (is the only presence) a silence of force and fury / (we are all mute) and every color through your eyes / of course you must pray in the cold house of marble and wood where God fearing men come and go / and the great fraud of St. Augustine was just this / (the decision to bow) / the garden scene made for television / we are all dressed in pictures of the mind / and so to the true state of affairs / chanting and incense / and the deep symphony of shadows / and you will leave / never to find / (it is just the argument for stillness) that is impossible to recover / and this from before / the beginning of things / a thought that has no grounding / of course the flight is light itself (and substance but the illusion of self)

my heart / is a myth of history lost to breath // there is no sound / only the space of possibility / poets imagine a place of joy or pain - I know the fields of everlasting / the moment of birth / is not where anything begins / it is the playing out of the great argument / here is a way to see / that will set you free

down every road on every path / delight


ah yes

the point of view: you could say the individual breathing / always / a product dash function of existing structures / systems - that is above and beyond - the beauty of small dreams and salutations // and this we say holds like a fish bowl in God's hands // yes what to do? - you can be one with the great nothing of forms or stand apart outside the old movie theatre / in the darkness and the lonely lights (talking to the girl in the ticket box - who could just be you a chromosome or two removed) / so / in logic action is based on negation / this is the pure deal / no content or substance to glug up the works (clear vision has nothing to do with existence)

if so / the rational / ethical / and the only move in nature is against / (this does not answer your question) the emptiness is the source the place to return to of spirit - it is the ground of not

the responsibility for the world is in your fingertips / beyond / there is no account - the sky has only colour / you cannot touch

and to this dilemma of being conscious - of what cannot be embraced - you can only adopt a character for the play and watch from the back row how it goes / the careless heart is a great defence and for the most part fool proof / the seeker of knowledge is always deluded and well received at the moment / contempt the lasting impression out in the farmlands where every face is welcoming / hey there neighbour // the possibilities are quite endless good and evil just the different forms nature uses / for the pointless endeavour of continuance (fortunately from the inside we are all drowning in significance)

universals are concrete and have no centre of consciousness - so / the quaint think they can vote in or out the powers that be - and the disinclined imagine a glory of destruction / the revolution starts now - only to find after the party the masks have just been swapped or somewhat re-drawn / new divisions where there were once old enmities (you can get really sick of the whole story especially the puppet heads of history)

on the other hand the idea that you have control over anything but your thought is one of those necessary illusions that makes sanity a reasonable prospect / and every one can enjoy the street party - well let's face it who wouldn't step into the bar and stay for a decade?

don't mean to Ryle ya but category mistakes are necessary / to keep various continents of reality semi-connected - otherwise it would just be the chaos of windowless monads and girls with no morals

first up pain / you would imagine / is indubitable (ought to stop the slide into nothingness very quick smart ) - and but for an argument of necessity or recurrence this would be the end of it / a foundation for consciousness and a definition of evil - the two for one option (just think of the 3d geometric contortions your soul has been put through or you put it through over the years of faces and limbs and tell me you don't believe in cause and effect sweetheart)

and so the beast / the horror in sunlight (beauty is indefinable and black)

at any point // space / time co-ordinates - the mesh / the matrix / the grip -

as if to make order // - the imposition you know is false (before any dream)
the fix on eternity for every thought and action (necessary)

in desperation / always

a way forward
a road / through


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