Skip to main content

This poem is called 7

 

This poem is called 7

 

What a funny time

I want to burst out laughing

Half the time at least

I’m having fanciful thoughts about clouds

Milkshakes bringing me to the yard

It’s actually extremely lonely

Wild & weird

Life unbearably beautiful to behold

I’m beside myself with spring fever

& it’s autumn

I’m wowed

I’m awed

I’ve had my head turned 476 degrees

Now I’m really sad

That it’s too intense

I grow too childlike

My 7th child

I have to go into the void

To escape the pain of the overwhelming pleasure

Of being an orgasmic man

Life turns me on

Like a 1950s computer

A room full of flashing lights

A spaceship full of green men

The day the aliens landed

& called it Good

& spunked all the 7th day

70 times 7

This poem is called 7

7th Heaven

But it in its own way

Is Hell.

 

 

Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2024.

Comments

Post a Comment

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
2 comments
Read more

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
Post a Comment
Read more

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
Post a Comment
Read more