Mel From Melbourne - Music & Words

  AI art is an end The day begins Expression comes from infinity Too much today is inanimate T is undrinkable & taste comes by dance Which contains accident It is not pastiche It gives birth to triplets Each unique & sacred AI heats up the planet The planet is dying I have no faith that AI cares It is programmed by misanthropes Who regard Who do not feel people's gifts They number them in 1s & zeros Neither ellipsis nor flow are starts & stops Else we are filled with surface No depth I'd rather see an elephant's painting They cry They are not psychopathic They love Love is not self Which AI doesn't even have Just a piece of crap that does not biodegrade This poem was made in Carlton The pepper tree is flowering Coz it's Spring not Autumn

  too many of my peers talking of the past perhaps i too often fixate on the future but love in the past present future is warts & all

  chemist shut meds withdrawals full moon working through 48 hour manic anxiety attack a couple of goals a couple out on the full fear sleep dream in the morning pick myself up chemist open meds received calmer back to poetry still learning

  flaneurist moment skint vegemite broth for dinner & dry toasted muesli no milk left waiting for Pension Day alone in a room with Mozart 100,000s of years of human evolution to index finger only on an expensive tablet made of non renewable stolen minerals at the entrance to the NGV Fed Square art games for kids sponsored by an insurance company at NGV International a highend retailer of blood diamonds the major exhibition for the year all major art shows in Melbourne are pop art now dumbed down shorthand reductionist entertainment perhaps inevitable post God the saving grace the bark paintings sans descriptor a cathedral to trump St Pauls i floated the room lifts one's being off the floor beyond suspension of analysis another stranger concurred hence we should discuss what we are looking at with fellows local as a Democracy best requires yet so many voyeurs seemingly apathetic & passive strange life

  Orpheus' song will not vanish xx O Eurydice forgive the furies who turn my neck in seeking evidence you are no apparition  O a poet's love malady xx madness

  right man left woman genocide the peabodys en vacances