Mel From Melbourne - Music & Words

  out of the shallows i lost touch with my fears & flew blind out into the night exile nowhere i'd ever been before but found new doors the more we bottle things up the more inevitable bloodshit bloodshed these days we're all presumed guilty then forever tarnished the con -- takin about jokes with blakfella an old French saying with a 92 year old from post War: "no problem mate" what has been lost in the singular i dentity wars bullshit one needs to acknowledge all that we are not only the bits we prefer otherwise quit poetry & go into advertising -- our lineage is mixed now here we must move beyond our ancestors coz we're elders now us Fauves us wild beasts liberating our spirits from masks shields & swords give me the poet's pen man's only protection against Mammon's warlords -- us blokes & sheilas on the street gotta say gday! friend or foe the basis of moral philosophy -- but back to poetry fuck ur infantalizingdesensitizing trigger...

  & yet William Blake is it impatience laziness greed? that has me talk this way about the Spirit of the Land isn't it only blackfella who can do that?! but as someone once said to me "Malachi, there aren't enough of us" & so i overcome great trepidation lacking initiation & now just waking from disturbed dreams pointing me against continuing but as most people suspect our balance is out & for some reason i was born a shapeshifter there may well be kickback as the ancestors wrankle against it but i see them, hear them, feel them constantly why else do they appear to me? other than they know i have honour who are u to trust me? strange line comes to me & yet i'm being entrusted with something so inconvenient i think man i'd just like a nice date  take up concreting & ignore words but for some reason i've been chosen as i first was in childhood when the country around me lit up through my being & all was united nothing divided wha...

  i sense a sense of humour next to the tumor which might be nothing but i'm not going to a bloody hospital i've seen Charlie's Country i wanna die vomiting bleeding crying shitting & laughing in my own bed like a man  not a slave hallucinating  the spirits who are a united nations now enough constipation Queen Victoria! this is our great southern land & stop mining her, junkie! suk a dik!

  poet i'm an Eireainn Aussie bitsa standing alone in the air Wurundjeri Country a singer poet man checked & spat out  from every side still i smile & engage in a yarn which is the only way to live in Democracy we might partially disagree on somethings but we can all see the writing on the wall

  Democracy must serve Human Rights   This is where it stands now. & I would argue it is falling. The Universal Declaration of Human Rights (1948) protects Free Press, but now Google’s Blogger platform is introducing new censorship measures, for their AI bots to enforce what they call “Community Standards.” It’s happened before sure, & I’ve had poems blocked from free viewing before. But the new guidelines are another reducing concentric singular circle, further restrictions on Freedom of Expression. This is where it’s come to: poems banned, under the guise of protecting young people. Poems! In an age where children watch live beheadings on video & hard core porn, poems which give people emotional & cognitive skills to cope with the ever desensitizing effects of the modern state, while 10 year olds are held for 20 years in adult prisons, authoritarianism, genocide & war befall us, too numb & filled with hopelessness the 2 informing one another, po...

  ring a ring a rosy a pocket full of posies a tissue a tissue we all fall down!