Mel From Melbourne - Music & Words

  They’re all gone now   They’re all gone now & I’ve got to make new bonds What world am I heading into? Can I trust what people are making me into? We are after all relational & different selves awaken with different company What is the self then? & what do I believe? Now that my reference points have vanished At times it’s terrifying Can I trust in what I’m becoming? It sounds like a psalm Intoned into the blackest of nights I write not knowing where I’m headed I write having no idea whether I’m right or wrong.   & what is it that guides me? My resistance to racists & bullies The sanctity of the living But that won’t earn me bread & dripping Lord have mercy on me Help me to locate my centre, my being When I have been decentralized Like everything around me.     Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2024.

  For Lao Tzu & the Universe   I’ve been mining the earth & the stars For gems I’ve mined myself dry I just want to walk & breathe for a good while.   One loses sight of the sacred When one is always taking   I have forgotten to give Or even just to be & not be.     Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2024.

  Purple flowers   Purple flowers on the new year He’d written about her before   Not needing a balm Simply wanting to awaken a thrill Inside her To be welcomed to her sex   & fuck both our brains out   Till we are spent.   & go home alone & elevated As peace for a new millenium.   & hear the hymns of time In our souls.     Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2024.

  Questions & Posits (After Neruda)   What are the first words I will write in the new year?   What colours born in Heaven enflame a fighting baboon?   What is the purpose of a question without an answer?   Why doesn’t rain taste in grasslands the way it does in space?   A possum came a crowed like a night rooster   The eagle circled close to the highway   I had to balance observing & steering the car   Like balancing dreaming aloud with the landlady’s ego     Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2024.

  Small towns   The group is safest Heap advice on peeps overwhelmed with pain Heap another rock to their load & gossip   No emotion Merely motion & yet Rousseau wept publicly Freely & often Too many buttons & pop ups But if no screen Ten more poison Choose best the common addiction Rather than a bygone Drugs are out Tech’s in When one self loathes Over indulgences It’s an admonition of one’s own deviance   The group is safest you see Heap advice on peeps overwhelmed with pain Heap another rock to their load Gossip & smile smugly Hands washed Job done.     Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2023.

  It was about   It was about turn It was about my turn I was about the page’s turn It was fresh by the coast & the tale contained ghosts Hamlet’s father & Ophelia’s palaver A stone’s throw away from the I am a tropical fruit & wouldn’t you wander or wonder with goldfish to the end of the fringe & strip For a quick drip from the shower & dip in hibiscus Fantasies about the discus, the sirens Always sighing & crocodiles crying Like a prodigious swell portentous Thank sex without commitment But their songs Was to bend like a trusted friend No stand, no band Yes, I was glad for the rise & fall in the shadows of the Milky Way   & when the scribes swept the road the next morn They read homilies & outrage need not be torn Yes people responded a lways with outrage It was much, so much safer, you see, that way Everything you know was taken to the utmost IMPORTANCE Especially comedy & poetry ...

  I walked into a dark tunnel   I walked into a dark tunnel & all the blue elephants were spoken for So somehow my flight must proceed from within I forgot I could swim, you see The tunnel was so dark I wasn’t sure whether it was a tunnel or a pocket 2 exits or 1? Or a zipper? & if a pocket whose jacket? Or pants? Or skirt? Or Shirt? You see I knew very little about it Or even how I got there No I am materialist enough to realize self-neglect can trigger fate & so I must dissolve Drink a lot of water & sweat my wife out So the way is a self help book Truisms et al So really, knowing how these things work It’s quite plausible I’ll never get out Or at least get out according to precepts of others Wisdom is not infallible In fact, often it’s proved to be bunkum But really what else is there? Data? Still those dices are loaded one way or another & someone who doesn’t have a feel for language tells a causal story ...