Skip to main content

Nietzsche Backwards & Forwards

 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 we could have shared

Reminding the world

That Man’s greatest Highs are transitory…

 

The multicultured dance

Is the wildest test of wit

You alluded to this at times

It is the best mix of climes

You could have flowed tai chi flexibility

To smooth out your peaked acoustics

You could’ve loved

Had you not sought to possess

That most ill-suited to your spirit

And conservative aspect

 

The trills of the thrills

Grow truly Uber

Higher than the Matterhorn

Rejoicing with the Heavens

And your 6 years old Friedrich

Rapturous in Handel

In every child’s nativity barn

Animal and man in arms

Hindu, Buddhist, Muslim, First Nations

As Time is born and melts into dreaming

Waves rise and fall

In Sound and Light and All

Like a Berlin dancefloor

Had you lived to the 20s

You would’ve dropped the act with the Bohos

And a better 50s you would have got medication

& found one more redemptive work in you

You could’ve truly broken through

The wall inside me & you

 

©Malachi Doyle 2021.




 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

“I didn’t know!”

  “I didn’t know!”   Don’t get me wrong In a Two Party preferred system  I have no choice but to give preferences to Labor The Coalition are scum But Jacinta Allen, Victorian Premier Claimed in a Truth Telling Commission that she never knew about massacres Of Indigenous people in the state She’d never looked up The history of her country The history of the state she leads She’s Premier! She leads a department that ‘manages Indigenous affairs’ We are currently in the process of negotiating a Treaty What did she think happened to all the Aboriginal people?! They went up to live up the Magic Faraway Tree? “No one told me!” No one ever told me either I fuckin researched It was really easy Took 10 minutes There’s this new thing called the Internet & you search stuff up Like History A subject no longer taught in many schools past year 7 I deduced a lot from observing the place & how allergic we are of looking at ourselves ...

In a very unorthodox way

  In a very unorthodox way # (For Max Sometimes) In a very unorthodox way, I’m an Irish Catholic. Of course, in terms of Belfast politics that MEANS something. & while that maybe true – in Australia, for different reasons, as Fr Bob Maguire put it – when Mary first saw Jesus walking out of the tomb on day 3 of his death, she exclaimed “JESUS!!!” – the first time his name was used as a swear word. In that way of an irreverent joke, REVERENTIAL & ORTHODOX are not my way to the Sacred/Love*. For me – I’m not really into Theology – as Max Sometimes quoting me, quoting my mate Richard, quoting Bob Marley, quoting Rasta elders, said today “who feels it knows it.” & I believe that if I am to write my Mass/Symphony of Hope/Love, I must include at least one blasphemous hymn, else the vision depicted be simplistic, like George Handel’s Messiah. The Hope/Love represented or perhaps alluded to (if you prefer) must include genuine despair, dejection, transgression else it...

Though it made me a poet

Though it made me a poet   This is a superior microwave to the last if  everything has to be a competition I guess it does! In the Kafkaesque vortex Where one is trying merely to ask a question Instead one is sold something I’m monastic or have acute anxiety Anxiety is pretty cute Like a decapitated bleeding brain Covered in snails turned carnivore By the wrack & ruin of a child’s innocence The fist in the sister’s face The knife in the wall Did I imagine the latter, dream it or see it? Who threw it? Must have been the bowie Still life goes on So I went to school the next morning & got my mouth taped up For being a chatterbox Such is the life of a privileged 5 year old It made me a poet     Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2025.