Mel From Melbourne - Music & Words

  I’m cut up   I’m cut up like a collage. My head’s where my knee should be. At least the mouth is. My nose is fixed like a cap to my neck. There’s a saxophone instead of my left foot. And Elon Musk’s space ship is where my heart should be. Should be, that’s if the whole thing wasn’t a moving trainset going over a series of cups and jigsaw blades set amongst a 17 th century rainforest, with the Indigenous trading with aliens for a concert hall in place of what? Did I say it was an artwork racist at its heart? It belonged to Herman Goering who modified it with a team of concentration camp child slaves. But you know it’s hot amongst the Monaco set and is projected onto some IMAX-like cinema screen as background entertainment for old billionaires, while they are fed from the bellies of beauty queens sourced by a former president of some country you’ve never heard of but probably declared war on through your giraffe-headed-rainbow-footed popularly elected leadership bottoms, ...

I don’t know man, the weather? I don’t know man. Issues seem to be being fed to me in a way where I can no longer see the Buddha’s lotus. Constructions of reality by organisations. I can’t see the forest for the carbon offset. But the forest speaks. It has many voices in concert with one another. The bird’s call is not an alarm. Nature speaks. It is a beautiful call. Not all good nor all bad. It might have nothing to do with man-made concepts like morality. Life is rich and way too short, to borrow from all people Sir Mick Jagger. Don’t tear me up. Don’t poison my blood. Again Sir Mick. Strange that rocknroll should make sense, but you know there are times when it really does cut through. Songs are important. Singing is important. If we’re honest with ourselves, the soundtrack to our lives is at least as important as the passing news cycle. That’s much like the weather. Sometimes the weather is brutal. But if we have a song in our heart and a song on our lips, we can endure, while poss...

  Historical Materialism says that it is the conditions of our existence that give rise to our ideas. Or at least the widespread adoption of our ideas. The creation of the practice of farming gave rise to the adoption of the belief that the animals were actually lower than human beings, no longer our siblings/parents/ancestors, justifying this with stories of God loving man highest and giving us rule over the other ‘beasts’ as they were now known. But what if we could, through the reach of the internet produce more sustainable ideas and through this change the conditions of our existence. Is this mere fantasy? You might seduce some it is argued, but under the microscope of business and government policy, they will be seen as impractical. Not holding water, as they say. And so, it seems our pens must come second to our behavior and in our daily lives we must enact what we wish to achieve, we must be models for a new humane civilization. Our lives must seek out more sustainable p...