Mel From Melbourne - Music & Words

  Sister  I saw your eyes In Pepper’s eyes  Similar relationship  Respect, Love, Candour, Cutting, Gentleness I need some gentleness sometimes  I don’t always feel gung ho & nor do you I need to learn To say when I’m down “Go gentle please” I learned to control my pain Too young I might never unlearn it It’s ok if we piss each other off: We take a recess We built the fire up too high So let’s just relax & it’s my turn to talk now I said I wasn’t gonna send my poem to you But you always say “They don’t have to READ it” I’m just sometimes frightened (often? Not sure) That you’re gonna hurt yourself  So I send you It’s scary I want you to be around  I want you remember watching Bunjil  In 4 & the wrens & finches & yesterday you patted Pepper & it made me feel so happy Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2024.

  Your Brother   When we “talk” You & I Are just witnessing ourselves talking to Life, God, Ye Gods, Occult They’re all masks Traditions I follow Jesus You don’t But you talk with Him He likes you Like Mary does We spoke about you & He says “I ain’t mad at ya!” Dude school welcome  You’re welcome to reply xx Love, Malachi  Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2024.

  The plum blossoms   The plum blossoms Rear up in the wind gusts Like spring stallions   Then when the wind calms Like two naked bodies first familiarizing   In between They walk the beach with Seaweed hair Distorted faces   It’s been a windy Spring so far & it’s still Winter Those infidel 4 seasons Don’t apply here Soon it will be the first ever Winter & the crying clowns Will descend from the clouds Striking matches & hitting cymbals Like roses Like brambles Like the blue sky Like the booze bus Like nose pus Like the museum Like the corrugated iron fence Instant joy     Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2024.

  I draw a camel   I draw a camel I dew adieu I spend days with sparrows My nose blew confused Whether to sneeze or not I got fixed to the spot I remember when a kid The treasure hunt was real Never grow too old for magic I draw a gnome I draw a tortoise teacher I was without a teacher Lost with the grim reaper But now I draw a camel I dew adieu My hair blew off my head Most disconcerting when not wearing a rug Or even Davey Crockett     Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2024.

  Hello (For Sally)   Hello. What is it then? It’s flowers. What are flowers & what business is it of mine? Ok it’s champagne. I don’t sail. A flute. Ski either. Can I come in? Of course! It’ll be a pleasure to see you. How are you my dear? Gee I read that wrong. I haven’t read that. You must tell me all about it. Oh? I thought I was just a foil to your monologue? I didn’t realise. So it’s all in the second person, like Camus’ The Fall. How is it that I’ve already adopted the passive role. What hope do we have for this relationship? I can see where this is headed. & who is what. & why we’ll break up. Double headed like a Tasmanian. That’s not nice is it? Nice is chicken rice with soy sauce. What’s your favourite brand of soy sauce? I just recently consulted a friend about this. I like Black n Gold, IGA’s home brand, over the more expensive fancy pants. Fancy I’ll say, to have jungle themed wallpaper art rather than pictures… err paintings,

  Ice Queen   Gee, she’s great but a bit rough! A million times a storm in a bath Like the pith of the Grapes of wrath The wine for the winos 2 dollars a bottle Gonna give you a headache From splitting the atom No room for compassion & this is where we must diverge & though I’m speechless with awe Of you genius sister whore Like the archangel of old Beautiful for God to behold This morning I feel too much tenderness & desiring to hear & say less Love afterall is doing Not explaining & so leave me for a while in peace please & peace I wish to you Even if your path Is chasing by cheating death My path must be to sit & listen to life a while & nature’s tender voices To be & not be You’ve given me the rocket To steer me back to Earth & I thank you for your sacrifice A Sisyphean life Of a thousand thousand trials To effect those you’ve loved To turn them back to life Catch you up the

  Maybe it’s just the ads   Ripping of the obfuscating down the river you head friend my slovenly aspidistra your license is revoked when the daisy choked the leaf blower insecticide dog whimpering at the door doing my head in bottle of wine doin fine off to the gym when millions of distorted faces & voices cramped me in an old phone booth it is some truth but no firebrand when would you like to subscribe to what you do or will apostasy run the cages & one withers in infirmary your nothing mind is not your sewing mind & never the twain in the frame framing feigning delight at the present or gift as some have been know wondering if there is in fact a walrus or two in your hand or is it a coffee cup this has driven the townsfolk mad like the raping of the lock & so everyone puts their two bobs worth in & she can’t swim & you’re not taking what we say is serious seriously enough! Good luck! & burn in Hell! That was the end of year 5s dictation & yes t

  Don’t listen to anything I say about politics   What do I know about politics? I find the whole thing distasteful Others have studied it More rigorously than I have But I can’t really relate to them I believe in the spirit I’m a poet not a politician I don’t believe in Utopias I like bumbling along Cuts to welfare have damaged Australia As has the privatization of the universities Managerialism is ruining schools As is Hospitals run for profit & not building more Public housing is a joke Not building anymore as I’ve seen our population double The changing of media ownership laws To duopolies is dangerous News Corp is too powerful here But these are policies As Jim Morrison said “I’m not talkin about revolution I’m talkin about havin a good time!” Dionysius has nothing in common with Apollo & I’m not a prophet As I say we need a media & politicians who focus on policies I don’t believe in solutions We saw how that works

  The General   The general with a thousand colours on his chest was trusted to look after the health system mothers & children Trusted to look over education, the media et al Can’t help but remind one of The Rolling Stone’s festival at Altamont where the Hell’s Angels did security “& everyone applauded like it was a good idea.” *   *(Elliot Roberts)   Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2024.  

  Yummy it’s big font!   Yummy it’s big font! Oh yeah all about interesting things One never knows the devil’s in the detail Some people overlook obvious things like swastika forehead tattoos They tell ya “ya just gotta hear him talk It’s not what ya think, He’s got some interesting angles” Now I’m out in the deep end & all my parameters have abandoned ship & I’m stuck in the fringe & I’m thinking “not sure this smells right?” When you’ve lost 12 o’clock You’re a sitting duck Or rowing up ship creek Avec sans paddles I know that’s not the right French That’s literalism That’s the other angle The word of god in red & there’s also revisionism Where the goodies are now the baddies & there’s cynicism Can’t trust anyone Lao Tzu Trust everyone especially the untrustworthy I trusted my exwife She was my anchor But she abandoned me There’s also futurism I wanna fuck a robot Anyway, all a bit sad I don’t kno

  The new & the old   Before speech keeping close to the heart little nose little mouth big eyes awakening facial muscles mirroring my love little girl We met I know her mother & we were instant friends I see the same look from my dying 91 year old beyond speech our faces opening up like a flower in the sun such light Some paintings songs plays ballets communicate that connection before beyond speech that two aliens love like twins     Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2024.  

  I broke water   I broke water with my chainsaw it was good to make so much noise & mess I felt the world too prim & proper with it’s pardon me slogans & uzis now programmed to fire exhaling uha uhum? too neat precisely too quiet motor-ma-bikes & truckstops Deep breathing once the bomb drops & one sees fields of impalas thrilling & spring! blossoms below It’s good to fly in my chopper so people will know to raise their hands to say hi Exploding planets & polite people say gesundheit Yes good manners open doors & a doorway is opened into the mysteries of the universe, pleasant conversation & food & wine     Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2024.  

  Dejection: not an Ode   I picked up Coleridge’s Dejection: an Ode & the read the old ballad at the beginning & it moved me to throw down the book for I am dejected & I’d rather read the old ballad & listen to James Brown’s It’s a man’s world a balm 2 moons the old & the new & the presentiment of a storm I fought with my dog Pepper on our walk about where to go & feel like a prick he was keen as mustard but I am sick with mental pain & take no pleasure in life dejected indeed except music music saves lives bringing ease to the lonely & joy to company did I mention just how lonely I am just one more lonely person you might say & quote Baudelaire about kicking the destitute to put em out of their misery or was it hit them with a stick?     Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2024.

  Nothing to write I’m   Nothing to write I’m broken the pain is too much I could just end it all few would care all the best are gone anyway onwards & upwards I don’t know his cause of death had he just had enough? & then a change I stand Toots & the Maytals’ Country Road comes on I burp & quite enjoy the writing my moods don’t last long a relief I just get a bit sick of it all I need company Karim was a cool guy I liked his style he had plenty used to test cocktails on me & play great music he looked & moved like a rock star he just couldn’t sing he told me I said trust me I can sing well but I reckon you’ve got more of a chance if you can’t people in Australian don’t like singers they struggle with beauty coming from a man anyway the blossoms are on the trees & I forgot how much relief writing brings I’m going through a divorce & some days it feels too much but I have good times between relationships too I’ve gotta remember that I’m not sure about

  Guest   What will we talk about When she arrives What if we have nothing to talk about What about if there are too many pauses What if we upset her What if she different to how she normally is What if either you or I have a fever & are off our game What if she doesn’t like us What if we don’t like her What if she smells What if she tells What if she burns the house down What if she kills us What if she robs us What if she trashes the place What if she is crude What if she has no sense of humour I’m feeling tired at the thought of it all Aren’t you dear Maybe we black out the lights & pretend we’re not home Or that we have the plague     Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2024.

  Theatre of Cruelty   Storm comin in Angry pimp trying to pick a fight With a well-wisher On the street Toasting marshmallows Over a rubbish bin on fire Xmas in July For the young whippersnapper They devise a play Free from conceptual language Therefore unable to find an audience & so the family Took the role Ascribed by the municipality To keep things to themselves     Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2024.  

  I censored myself   I censored myself about the most blood wins I centred myself in strawberry jam symbolism & euphemism I’ve exactly written about spreading blood on bread the Catholic Church is however they put it in stories for kids & so the Roman Church were some of the first surrealists this time is not a time for surrealism it’s a moralistic time & yet profoundly immoral it is a darkling plain to borrow from Arnold who took some of my pickles so it’s payback I’m trying hard to find some hope but such must organically emerge less they come out glib trite the Global South is turning to Putin & abandoning the Democracies of the West & so it’s time to dream again because the old order is crumbling the body is dying hence all the blood on the bread  Junior knife sharpening starts in 75 hours participants must remain awake until that time before the sharpening begins the winner shall peel 3 dozen pumpkins in the dark the most blood wins     Published &

  Free play   Free play can take you into dangerous territory Which is why kids end up in tears Certain rules are necessary Certain parameters It’s also the reason why artists Need teachers Whether living or dead I have no rules & I have no teacher & my poetry is tending towards entropy Personally at the minute I’m not ready for rules & I don’t want a teacher I just want to float beyond my grief for a while & so sometimes I dig/wind up in hell Where beauty doesn’t exist Nor balance Nor compassion Nor patience Nor love     Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2024.

  Having no one to love   Having no one to love Warps a man’s words Phantasms fill the void & his mind smelly as a tip Loneliness distorts His arms which should hold are empty His lips chapped & sore His body to rack & ruin Cynicism lights up like a phone in a concert hall As Edie Brickell put it all those years ago “Man I need a hand to hold”     Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2024.

  2   Drawn to the ugly Later in life As more die One numbs one’s heart One’s mind gone crazy with strain One listens to the Chi But it’s headed down disgusting passageways Nothing is clear anymore One’s mind black soot Flexible as a broken leg 2 opposed directional foot     Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2024.

  School Holiday Program   Tomato hurling Is the next event In this year’s Junior sports carnival Or is that shot putting Pints of blood? If the latter Shouldn’t we be converting firstly Into metric? I can’t remember said one emergency teacher To another There’s no running sheet It’s either this Or teach long division & I haven’t done that since I was a kid     Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2024.

  RIP David Anfam   In the icy Kyneton winter of 2018, my wife Daniele & I went to the local library. Over the past couple of years I had focused a lot of my attention on reading about the visual arts. In fact it had become an obsession for me. I started attempting to translate the theories & practices of visual language into sound & commenced a successful (for me at least) project called Mel From Melbourne. I started to think of myself no longer as a singer-songwriter but as a sound artist. Additionally I started to work in earnest & joy in the visual realm. Anyway, I headed to the visual art section of the library & my eyes fell on David Anfam’s book on Jackson Pollock’s mural. It was once of those moments of profound identification. & I realized that Abstract Expressionism was happening to me. David’s writing touched me enormously. He made me see how important topography is for an artist’s imagination. His discussion of Pollock’s journey to the west coast

  Lightweight   Lightweight? I’ll have you know I once out-drank a Rabbitoh Pepper was getting into Rosemary flowers Indija knows the correct word I could look it up Like writers do these days I prefer fancy To carry me Like a child In my father’s arms     Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2024.