Mel From Melbourne - Music & Words

  A couple of hours into a smoke of pot   A couple of hours into a smoke of pot it starts to feed back & I sound like a bitch, a reedy cheap oboe whining away about this & that, do I ever shut up? The price I have to pay for hitting some cunts is so far 13 years of psych meds & indefinite & the compulsory adoption of self consciousness & self recrimination. Why do you think I drink so much? Anyone would struggle to be more introspective than me. That’s why I write, as a way of hitting back, saying I resist this prison sentence. A moment’s reprieve. & so I must constantly account for myself. This is a sign of the times, that we must sound ironic & surrender our primal being to ‘theory’. & so I talk incessantly like post graduates do, in our collared shirts & our hair cuts. Now I was reading the other day a mockery of the white adventurer as they’re called or as I call em: people. I’ve always clicked with people from other cultures, & ...

  Lynch   Green wash of mercantile blood & sinews You astonish the townsfolk with your figure But you are big & small & I a tall coward Don’t be so hard on yourself Would you like that I was hard on you fuck face?! I smash skulls with a rolling pin to make chalk & draw the gardens of earthly paradises For David Lynch I remember a documentary on him when I was a kid There were others: Kafka, Seamus Heaney & they struck me & seduced me to art & letters So I’ll rip the stuffing out of a kid’s toy & watch him cry Because I am a bully Only I don’t know it yet6     Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2025.

  Social media is not the place   Social media is not the place For serious news stories It might be breakfast time where the story originates & people are in work mode But you’re watching it at night time You’ve had a few to drink You’re horny, lonely & frustrated You’re up for a fuck or fight, banter Or a joke You’re not feeling like being serious nor empathetic You want to be provocative & watch some sparks fly So you can’t really relate With serious debate Social media is not the place     Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2025.

 Short shots Man sounds better than human or person; the former because of species, the later because of sibilants, so I'm in a quandary. Isn't it forcing me into a pro-masculine position? I argue that it's a choice of sound. The other thing I wanted to say is that I don't get many black faces in my suggested posts on YouTube. In fact, they're all white. & also, I get few female faces in my suggested posts on YouTube. I don't know what's available, coz I'm not in the university game. It's a shot in an American dark. You don't know where's the interesting stuff coming from. We have billions of choices, yet no librarians. It's fucked. Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2025.

  Drummed drummed into you   You put up with the hits When there’s also love But after the love is taken away There is only the flashbacks to the hits The echoes of the attacks & then you take them over & beat yourself All those primal rhythms Drummed drummed into you All your life from childhood to adulthood Drummed drummed into you The world puts you down Till the point where it doesn’t need To do it anymore You can do it all by yourself You have internalised violence Drummed drummed into you     Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2025.

  The storm that never came   The branches flap against Brahms The storm never came Nor did the rain A smattering of drops It’s been a hot summer A worrying summer The earth’s up in the air Humanity’s inhaling, drinking & eating poisons Shill they’re finding more land & sea to mine While none of the wealth returns to the nation We should be done with mining by now Like Scandinavia & building a progressive society     Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2025.

  W.I.M.P.   There’s parts of me that are weak Watching videos about dissidents in authoritarian countries Who spend years in prison & live in poverty Because they believe one day the day will come They’re proud & driven They are giants What of Australia This wild west whose standard of living Is enmeshed with mining & agriculture Destroying the ecology Short term planning & fucking up the world & the sordid culture wars chattering about symbols The worst thing that can happen to a poet The ex con tells me Is to have no audience Because no one cares No one is really addressing basic matters, as I see them Food security, water, healthcare, education, jobs, housing, infrastructure But I risk little Other than being ignored It is a kind of soft torture & it makes you care less Strive less Because you know No one cares whether you write or not What is accepted is discourse Within accepted terms of refe...

  The words   Can’t remember the words Out of practice Limited Frustrating The words don’t flow freestyle wild like a bush night Is a white dot on the retina A foreign object in the ear Or something stuck in the throat     Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2025.  

  Trump in my dream   Trump was in my dream He just came out of the toilet with his bodyguards He singled me out for a remark Something about the chain on my reading glasses Being like his I don’t wear a chain on my reading glasses & it makes me think I’ve never seen Trump in reading glasses It would weaken his image & remind the world how old he is Of course A chain on the intellectual’s glasses Maybe a convict reference? Because she is the Capitalist’s enemy She slaves in vain Risking her life & liberty He was looking for some recognition from me I was in two minds But blanked him I felt guilty I like to acknowledge everyone I meet regardless So for second he was crestfallen Then reached out to his rent-o-crowd Over the other side of the room Who all cheered & raised signs Then I needed to use the Trump toilet It was flooded in shit I read that in dreams This symbol has to do with a desire for & unce...

 Ants move too fast It’s trippin me out To borrow from Spinal Tap “Too much fuckin perspective” & it never stops Imagine if you got them To adhere to electric lights Then you’d be fucked & you’d have drug addict ants To be honest  I think they already are I guess “join the club” Would be fair  What do you think? Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2025.

  Falsehood   I spent days & nights Defending something I knew was inherently flawed I sweated & toiled But I was on the wrong side of truth & I’d forgotten that falsehoods can never be redeemed No matter how much you erudite them I was seduced by the challenge to assert my ego By seeing how far I could travel with it & if maybe I could improve my tale Via augmentation If I could trick the devil But he’s a lot cleverer than me All I have is my Pooh Bear brain & love When I remember it’s there Coz I forget, you see Set out on the bitter path Of a single divorc é     Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2025.

  Frank & Nancy   “Something stupid like I love you” Running out of things to say Making & breaking commitments to avoid awkward silence   Do our words correlate to our minds? Or do we speak to centre the hallucinations? We don’t feel in words     Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2025.

  The Public Sphere - a fucked up poem – or just TICK the Box!   1.   It’s been a couple of decades since I read Habermas on the Public Sphere But I liked it & it was part of the reason why I liked pubs so much  At least one or two anyway (Drunk’s memory you understand) But since governments have taxed alcohol so heavily Arguably since the smoking ban Pubs have lost their function & become merely businesses & since the rise of the smart phone & a repressed COVID generation I argue that each generation becomes progressively more neurotic Anyway, pubs are no longer a place to chew the fat & discuss topics of the day or any day & be a bit provocative & playful  People now come to the pub Not to sit at the bar or walk around & mingle They sit at tables with their friends With their backs to the world What pop psychology calls "boundaries" with a vocal fry Anyway, since discussions between strangers have become more factious & frac...

 Another ant was trippin  Zigzagging sideways Like Jamiroquai in that Virtual Insanity video Except that it was vibrating & seeming to roll All at an incredible speed Ants are wild They need to get off the ice & simmer down Coz they’re doing my fuckin head in Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2025.

 There’s a superhighway of ants Running through my country backyard  Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2025.

  Bugger this, I’m walking to the café & bar   One.   Isolated at home The sound of the shooting range – Country living   --   I can’t think The blood in my brain Polyrhythm out of sync With the pistol shooter   --   The constant Soundtrack – Gunshots   --   Why come to the countryside If you’re just gonna make noise?!   --   Bugger this, I’m walking to the café & bar   --     Two.   Over the course of 2 & ½ hours I ordered: An espresso A sparkling water Plenty of tap water A potato, red onion & olive tapenade  focaccia & two slow glasses of rose   A good chat with the bar   & wrote some poetry   Like the Paris Dome Café in the 1920s   I was born for this   (Anyway, wait for the chemical progression)   --     Three.   (Coffee ...

  It’s arguable that isolation warps one   It’s arguable that isolation warps one For the Yolngu it is prohibited Under suspicion of sorcery But in a world whose ideas are increasingly generated By profit driven, tech made, multinational 3 rd parties Where community has fallen away Isolation might merely cause Like Denis Diderot’s charge For which he was incarcerated Of “thinking different” It certainly makes small talk difficult When one hasn’t spoken to anyone in a week & another week beforehand & one is emotionally overwhelmed Caught in a 100 hour monologue One is oblivious to the rules of engagement Or perhaps merely incapable of following them The other angel in all this Is that one tends to speak inquiringly/questioningly To ‘think aloud’ & in today’s weaponised manufactured discourses of power This isolates & ostracizes one further “I wonder…” is equated by more adapted others to mean “I BELIEVE”, “I ASS...