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Morning Poem, Carlton, Winter, 25.7.25

  Morning Poem, Carlton, Winter, 25.7.25   It’s still, this morning You don’t hear the few birds caroling As much usually Must be nearly Spring I must admit the ducks The other day Were looking very fresh & crisp Like they’re growing their fashionista feathers     Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2025.  
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Poetry Infinity & Work

  Poetry Infinity & Work   Knocking on the door of infinity To ask something finite in return The folly of courting Or is it stalking poetry   The best words happen automatically   Poetry refuses to become work & infinitely recedes Beyond your reach Like a loss of faith   Through too much self     Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2025.
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Short version of a Bangin day!

  Short version of a Bangin day! (for Yaru) How are ya cobber? Had a bangin day today on a wild goose chase to see my doctor.  He cancelled at the last minute But I got a fresh shucked oyster & a Tasmanian & an Irish whiskey for free for 3 people, a bangin conversation with a Nepalese guy who said, we both agreed, that God is in everyone. Love the train. Love Melbourne. Finally to cap things off, I met a beautiful woman who has a rare condition whereby she has no sensory memory. We really clicked. The beautiful irony is she won’t remember me 😛❤️ Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2025.
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A fuckin GOOD day!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thank you!!! (love hearts I’m throwing rose petals While not native Which is bangin! (comma) Is still bangin!!!!!)

  A fuckin GOOD day!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thank you!!! (love hearts I’m throwing rose petals While not native Which is bangin! (comma) Is still bangin!!!!!)     Now once coming to the realisation that I’m not a sic kunt I don’t even know if I exist A flow of energy that’s tidal & some days the high tide is HiiiiiiiiiiiiiGGGGGHHHHH! But still with a thorn With a chip   I digress, by way of introduction, Here begins the tale, as much prose as verse:   An ethnically Chinese man After a lovely gentle loving exchange Gifted me an oyster shucked Straight to my hand As fresh as it gets Opened 5 seconds before it was down My cakehole Full of pristine brine It was a good time   “God is in all of us” A Nepalese commuter & I agreed I held my hand to my heart & we smiled au revoir   3 minutes later Beautifully salty mouth I supped some water & soon after a Gangnam style Hotel bo...
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A happy thought

  A happy thought   A small partly grey, partly white Fairly still cloud That looks like it should Amongst the blue winter’s morning sky   A happy thought     Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2025.
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The counting machine

  The counting machine   My muse is eclipsed by a feeling, hearing Murders of sacred beings discussed By ‘clever’ people as numbers,   Same as slavers talking of their ‘cargo.’   We’re so used to hearing it We do not think it strange,   Till someone we loved becomes a statistic – Unnamed, unpictured, life untold,   Just a number.     Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2025.  
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Heaven

  I’m paraphrasing Father Bob Maguire (RIP): That friendship between creeds & shouts/songs of joy Resound in Heaven Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2025.
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