Mel From Melbourne - Music & Words

  Where do I come from Lao Tzu? I come from order and chaos clashing I must use words Because my kiss of life Was into the blarney stone & it eclipses what it is eclipsed by Silence   Who broke from the whole A binary source Like a child of 2 parents Love and violence   Darkness begets Light   © Malachi Doyle 2021.      

  What’s a boy to do? (For Lorena Allam)   Lee Scratch Perry’s Afro-Diaspora Plays with genius madness & prophetic gobshite   Calling Out The End Of Days Rockin All The  While   Whilst First Nations Poets-in-being On Country   Still Project & Protect Eternity & Deep listening Against Th’ Incessant assault Of Corporate Greed On top Of & Under Every stone   Whispering We’re Always at the beginning & Here Is where .   So What’s A Boy To Do?   Does One tread lightly?   & Appeal To what’s most holy In Man?   Or sometimes Fire Up Da Bass   & B!tchslap The Bullies Back In their place?   (Btw The last bit’s Not a conclusion)     What’s a boy to do?   It all sounds light As if some kind of joke   That’s English for you The folly sounds serious & the serious sounds folly   What’s a boy to do?

  Lee Scratch Perry & Poetic Truth overcomes Defamation   Defamation Law prevents us from engaging with our politicians The rich are so easily offended it seems Why is it the hypersensitive are so prone to denying human rights? But of course the latter are now on the nose And the former are IN The politicians are silently dog whistling They stick to fighting through the courts And conducting blood ballets Off the record with their teams of accountants and lawyers So we have with poetry, music & art The Government of the tongue Spend more time with your artworks people Learn how to experience & read them You got to learn to dance Before you be too quick to judge There’s a BIG message In every brush stroke & every remix & every accented rhyme Lee Scratch Perry Apocalypse rider Psychic acrobat Madman in the marketplace Surfing bombora Nothing to lose More alive when dead Than most you sold meat on the street Scr

Hey! Enough misery gutsing & apocalyptic shite People Make a comedy Netflix Get real Dutton/Morrison, Stop throwing stones At a million man army In my name I don’t wish to be Represented this way Billionaires in Monaco Playing games With our lives Politicians both sides In the pockets of mining companies & multinationals Who escape taxpaying For destroying our planet OUR planet Not theirs Because if you Abuse a living thing You give up the right To possess it (I’m not even starting on questions Of possessing Living things It’s a no brainer.) I find you and your Government of swindlers & liars Delegitimised You incite Hatred & division This dangerous Course Has no place In a peace loving nation & if you don’t love peace Then “Go directly to jail” This monopoly game We need Peace loving People To lead Us Out of The nightmare Of history Forwards Towards Truly R

How to start such a week as this, as any?   A truly terrible way to start the working week. Why did I do it? Research the marches sweeping the cities of the world, but of course no one seems to know where the money is coming from? I guess accountancy is good like that, if you’re a fascist billionaire or network of billionaires. Divide the people, necessitating authoritarian governments to maintain order and your security forces and weapons and news outlets. Blah blah, as Joan of Arc, sorry St Greta says. Still, what a waste of a beautiful day. All that was achieved was that I am now miserable, which is no doubt precisely what the plot has been all along – to sew atomised discontent amongst the people. We amplify the threat and diminish the good. This is the definition of a production line of tragedies, where is Aristophanes when you need him? Why aren’t the production houses allowing comedies? This is also a question, is it? I understand the current love of instrumental music. A br

On Obscenity today   A previous piece contained obscene language. I wrote it while hot, but the written word quickly cools, and cools sober and impassive and unflinching . And after the post-disclosure anxiety attack, came the realisation that this anxiety had some basis in something that clangs false. It makes me think about what I read recently about the painter Patrick Tjungarrayi: that the Dreaming is listening. The ancient way is about wisdom, while modern man gets seduced by the sound of his technique and falls in lust with his own handiwork, and yunno, this is getting us closer to an endgame on many levels. There are better stories to tell than the one I told. The story was poorly selected from the psychic library of universal stories we all have access to. We should choose our stories more carefully, not from fear of others’ reactions but from the chain-reaction that follows each word we activate.   © Malachi Doyle 2021.

On Divide & Rule   I feel as if my students look at me As if I’m somehow responsible for the bad weather As if I have set it as homework With an unfair submission date   Last night we went to the beach And the great blue sky domed high above Maybe I could set that It’s so close to the end of the year No one would notice?   Imagine if we as teachers were trusted To gift our students the world & not mere texts If there were no prohibitive insurance policies & phobias of catastrophe Imagine if we taught within our community Maybe we could really sort out some stuff We could break that suspicion of others & un-divide the rule   © Malachi Doyle 2021.      

Frankly, we looked like friends   The shadow self while significant in times of heightened psychic stress is not the main player in a material time of great import. God is in the shout of the street. Irony, while useful to calm one’s anxieties when at their zenith, is no creed to live by, less one is to give in to radical complacency.   I am no William Blake, Ben Okri, but at times I touch his light & Yeats says In dreams begin responsibility. & today, if I can’t see humanity in a lotus or eternity in a wine glass, should I be allowed to write of flattened moods? Are such angles useful or should one’s tongue be stilled? Do we need more noise in a world that’s deafening? With no sign of short circuiting. As Okri said, maybe the exhausted should get out of the way, because there are others who should be heard.   We all ate today, at a gathering of strangers. This is good. This should be guaranteed. It was just one place in a many placed world, but shit that’s where we were. And i

I get well I get good I get great I get supergreat I overstep I look down I panic I self recriminate I worry I disconsolate For Days I rebuild I get mild I get well…   © Malachi Doyle 2021.

  The Substitute Teacher   Some might say I squandered my gifts & have little enough to show for it That I rode my luck & exploited my skin This might well be so   But I have dined with a King Literally & touched the light & saved 12 lives from a fire I have fought on the streets for the rights of others & I can speak with an opening tongue   Neither rich nor poor In this place But rich compared to most places I guess I’ve kept my mind Despite Tragedies Or only lost things I could afford to (Though I’d thought I couldn’t)     What advice then to give to the young? I have no advice to give But I’m happy to talk & happy to listen You’re bright, you’re wonderful Please believe that   You’ll be running this world When I’m long gone You’ll be counting what you’ve lost & gained And chatting to the next generation     © Malachi Doyle 2021.  

  All good brother, swimming in the sea and Hunter S Thompson is always wise. A good way to go Inside this rollercoaster pipeline. I'm enjoying my break from music. Not sure I like writing much, sometimes it’s fun, when I get in a Hunter like groove, but serious writing is truly awful. It is seriously unpleasant. It messes up your insides. While the World chatters as glibly and arrogantly as ever.   Have been meditating on suffering  And how too often people focus on the perpetrators of crimes against humanity And how rarely we focus on the victims/survivors. Is it because my lot are victors of History? And count victims/survivors as Other? Is it the structural biases of English? Is it mere habit of outlook? Of Practice? I lay on the bed crying about it all Sunday afternoon, It haunts me as I work in the Knowledge Industry, Contributing a lot of volume, But little that brings about anything approximating Justice And thought I SHOULD wri

  Nietzsche Backwards & Forwards   The isolated thoughts are sane for a time Before they become maddened The in the world thoughts are wise when they’re new But eventually jade to vacuity Life is a balance Time with the crowd Time on the mountain The polyglot’s is a beautiful path When handled with wisdom’s humility But you never were very wise, Friedrich   You could’ve played your hand And enjoyed the richness Bow when you overstep So would’ve said your loving Dad   You WILL sometimes It’s late perhaps Love & laugh Dance Tragedians Birth Yes perhaps after all It is early Our world?   & so you write a shopping list Over the climax of your magnum opus You’ve always had a sense of humour I just wish you’d ’ve known The gifts of Love You could’ve retired like Van Gogh You could have been Immortal & not mere Genius An arcade game for logicians You could have shared in human warmth & amazing stories