Mel From Melbourne - Music & Words

  post fact crumpled in a heap trying a chemistry experiment with only a vague hypothesis gettin too old to ram the world out of control the shapeshifter happens without conscious intention what is an I? fuckin intense prison man no wonder nonbeing has moments

  landings of 2 landing is difficult when the drift is temporal b/w the 2 worlds you are so beautiful i get lost in ur radiance though i hadn't seen u since i lost face what is a face strange contract mask of commerce & war social & yet in/from ur eyes i feel love -- i so wanna kiss u bring u hot tea & wipe ur flu away

  mfad goin wibble drink vent splendid peruse behind the breast of the bookshop guard passive aggressives tsk tsk consciousness as plato black man assault as the commitments proved our civilised barbarians kept europe alive through the burnings who gatekeeps kulture is it smythe or erskinebrown slaves in knitwear & headphones that fly away from the deafening ear the screams beeped out by delivery cans my books arrive on the street like donuts pension arrives in the night waking for cigarettes smoke 3 packs millionaire for a day

  55 & counting "greed will eventually consume itself" Kev Carmody & a new epoch ----- limited resources unquenchable wants to want means to lack what do u lack? do u know what u want? no u don't u turn to the latest fashion ----- i just wanna smoke drink eat music books & write poetry & a bitta sugar would be the icing on the fuckin cake ----- this is a poet i am poor but ok ---- i feel passion  intrinsic driving me not fame poets are not famous ----- but to write a great fuckin poem like an anonymous medieval artisan building his part in a cathedral honour faith doubt work ----- bout time u respected me i'm as good as anyone else in any job & the job of a poet is to rejuvenate a badly damaged language & unscrew competing masks of war ----- i seek to remove persona i is a pronoun a construct of language ---- the self is socially constructed instrument of discipline & punish ---- there are no ideas ---- resonance ---- a poem is an object --...

  the night of the cannibals' laugh the night of the cannibals' laugh thst strikes terror into every loving father & mother which one one of them will be taken? maybe all? the night of the cannibals' laugh & behind darkened doors women & men eat up time squabbling about the price of the latest school excursion "she can tell em she's been sick" the night of the cannibals' laugh dressed in the latest fashion straight from the spa & indulgent conversations as to which one is cuter the poor, the striken hide at home in silence in the dark unable to distract themselves the night of the cannibals' laugh Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2026.