Skip to main content

& so I work for a future time

 

& so I work for a future time

 

& so I work for a future time

When the depressed conditions of the present

Will become more acute & desperate

Perhaps then some unity for the people

A chance for real structural change

That unlike the mistakes of the past

Doesn’t create gulags & newspeak, (we already have a surveillance state)

& doesn’t interfere with the freedom of the mind

Where universities will again be public

Where we'll have enough hospital beds

Where no corporations own God’s rain

Where people feel less under attack from one another

Where working is not so coercive

Where people are less alone

Where there are homes for everybody

& enough to eat & drink

Where people are warm in the wintertime

Then maybe, we can work out what it means to be human

So that we can better cooperate

That we can better, more intimately, communicate

Where we are allowed diversity of ideas

Where we are allowed freedom of speech

Where it’s no longer dog eat dog

Where we’re no longer divided & conquered

& communities are given a chance to grow

We must hold out hope

& promote universal rights

No more silos as the titanic sinks

No more fighting over lifeboats

No more second class citizens

No more use of our population

As economic units

Thanks Max, credit where credit’s due

This poem wouldn’t written today

Without the chats between me & you

My sister

But it's gonna get worse before it gets better

So here's to poets who care about more than their careers

& warriors who care about more than money

& mothers & fathers who teach not every stranger is a danger

& getting off ya phone & earbuds

& walking outside of your isolation pods

We gotta stick together

The dance ain't over

It's only just begun

Sing wisely for the future 

For the young & those to come


 

 

Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2024.

Comments

Post a Comment

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 ...
2 comments
Read more

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...
Post a Comment
Read more

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.  
Post a Comment
Read more