Skip to main content

I need to read more and be silent but my soul's on fire like a burning man

 need to read more and be silent but my soul's on fire like a burning man. I sound political when basically I think it’s hokum. Really what I’m saying is that I think Politics is a con, in a world that demands we take it seriously. What my supposedly political writing is really saying is “SHUT UP everybody, you’re talking shite.” The world is owned by multinationals with the media it sponsors determining the governments it allows. As for us peasants, this media and these multinational owned institutions are hell bent on dividing us along class and race lines, with gender thrown in for good measure. But I am sick of hearing about it. Leave me out of it I don’t want to hear it, I’ve just lost all my picnic spirit, to borrow from Bob Dylan. I would rather focus on colours, nature and Turner and flavours of food, wine, whiskey & water. Leave me out of so-called serious talk. It’s a trick. Eat love and be merry. And no more guilt trips, else you fall for the same trick the Missionaries forced upon the naked Indigenous. Get naked people, Be your animal self. Human centred worlds are inevitably gossip. Get in touch with your dreams, not your ambitions. Listen to the air crackle and fizz, listen to the wind. I got no flies on me. And now I’m not angry, I’m just really uncomfortable and have difficulty breathing and so I shriek and buck and leap, coz I cannot stop. I’m possessed by a devilish fire. A redhead, until I’m dead. Then I have no wish for Heaven, I wish to stay on Earth, a child of the stars. Talk with people openly, not defensively. No more pointing of fingers, judge not lest ye shall be judged. Come inside my kitchen to borrow from Tiddas. Let’s not take things so seriously. One day in not so many years we’ll be put in a box. It's time to dance, eat & make love.

 

©Malachi Doyle 2022.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Earth To Malachi (After Basho after a fashion)

  Earth To Malachi (After Basho after a fashion) By Malachi Doyle.   1. If I would put my Ear to my tree —   --   Different cloud Masses & strata — Moving — tempos — Observing   --   The voice of my tree advised me — the tree’s friend — to listen to the live version of the Byrds’ ‘Lover of the Bayou’ with fresh ears — surprisingly garrulous — as a teacher sometimes must be with children.   2. On the contemporary Melbourne Middle Classes’ Neo-Victorianism:   I’ve seen too Much To mince words   --   Sometimes, when the world is spinning too fast — a notepad on my knee & a pen brings calm   --   My mind is swirling With insults & hits Over the years — (Space, silence & PTSD & grief)   --   I needed to clear my head & go outside for a long bush walk. It was good. When I warmed up, off came the beanie, the scarf, the jumper & eventually my t-shirt.   --   The second

Anagram Schizophrenia In a Numbing Society/Oppression

  Anagram Schizophrenia In a Numbing Society/Oppression   This has gotta come off this band aid’s gotta come off. I’m exhausted. After 52 years of struggle. “Bent out of shape by society’s pliers” to borrow from Dylan. Violence in the womb. Violence from birth. Violence in school. Going to live in the place with the highest murder rate in Europe. Living in a flophouse there. Putting out fires. Literally & figuratively. The literal one that saved everyone’s life in that house. 10 people's lives I saved. Being around generally. Being around. Getting to know people at the bottom. Getting to know people on the ‘wrong side’ of the law Getting to know people on the ‘right side’ Who all jammed together. Rival gang members at my house. Being given a black bandana. A 'hood pass'. Protecting a teenage boy being beaten up by his 6ft 6 Russian stepfather. You know… Friends getting beaten up Friends getting killed   Then what was d

Upwards from the clay towards the Heavens

  Upwards from the clay towards the Heavens   She was transitioning The whole shack shimmy Plumb a swim Born again Birth as adult Benjamin Button Chemicals a swimming Learning to BE again To walk, To talk I was a brick wall Only 3 times Had I fall I was a stage set The bricks papier mache I should have put her up But she would’ve walked right through me & talked all night & the drug binges House inspection Wednesday Plus my feelings Were not quite platonic, not quite sexual As the night intoxicated me, Angela Carter, & the myth of her life Which poet wouldn’t fall In love with a symbol? What a story Makes horny this poetry More intrigued More spellbound Like loving a god Met in the flesh Flesh, glands & muscle that is changing Man into woman metamorphosis I always loved Ovid Living outside nature’s laws Living outside of time How flesh can extinguish a former concept Image replacing nature