42: CHILDREN OF MALLEY II

Poetry guest edited by David Prater


‘King’ James Malley: Genesis

WHETHER we listen with aloof amusement to the dreamlike mumbo jumbo of some red-eyed witch doctor of the Congo, or read with cultivated rapture thin translations from the sonnets of the mystic Lao-tse; now and again crack the hard nutshell …

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Cordite Poetry Review

‘King’ James Malley: Revelation

The modern hero, the modern individual who dares to heed the call and seek the mansion of that presence with whom it is our whole destiny to be atoned, cannot, indeed must not, wait for his community to cast of …

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‘King’ James Malley: Prayer of Manasses

The figure of the tyrant-monster is known to the mythologies, folk traditions, legends, and even nightmares, of the world; and his characteristics are everywhere essentially the same. He had not been down that way under The Hill for ages and …

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Sally Malley: Trunk

“I beckon like a lemon, like a feather” ~ Sam Sejavka   damn that rose! there you go – alcohol’s typos, elephant trees in boots, the body like a present goes stale in its box i say i am the …

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Margie Malley: Fahrenheit 451

good example of good literature cold – very little human touch her house was the opposite of montag’s, full of life montag: state of confusion sense of saying it hasn’t any lenient feelings sense of speaking that if they programme …

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Ethelred Malley: Soil: A Nocturne

for my late cousin Ernest A bleat of lambs on Junee’s naïve hills, a kind of white foam in the dark; the clash and slam of locomotive carriages: stubborn cymbals of the Gods or an ordinary torment? Such hyperbolic music, …

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Blinkie ‘Bill’ O’Malley: The fête

“When an inner situation is not made conscious, it happens outside, as fate.” – Carl Jung   Let me start by saying you are unstable. Eight deaths in eight days. At the home you thought you’d send your mum to. …

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Blinky ‘Bill’ O’Malley: F#!* Yeah

“And man shall be just that for the overman: 
 a laughing-stock or a painful embarrassment…” 
 — Nietzsche, Thus Spake Zarathustra   At the outset, let me just say this: this poem has Tourette’s — it wanted to be …

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Blinky ‘Bill’ O’Malley: Dithyrambs of Dennis

If I had any ambition I’d make you a bouillabaisse in the Provençal in St Marks Square. To create intimacy in the poem, I turn up the volume & this piece conforms to an emergent post-OMGWTFBBQ cast in acrylic in …

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Bernie Malley: Blu-ray Morpheus

  His metamorphosis contains the very mystery of sleep: the outline of a fluidity, the look, sign, and gesture of evanescence with the charm and virtue of presence – Jean-Luc Nancy   a. Technicolour dreaming leads me here again an …

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Bernie Malley: red eye

inflight enter- tainment guide say “chillax”. glance prehist- oric day dawned corrugated charmed, seams of burn- ished earth ochre deep spindly curve end fabled plinths, white. this new day is witness: trajectory of god s rich, myths eternal gold spun …

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Nessy Malley: Antisepticide

like a ghost tippaw then stamp in ‘ope that some malley might ‘ear before grand days of the fishy plastic consciousness saw itself ‘come two smelly boots over the wire print head & me hesitate forever was now where most …

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Blinky ‘Bill O’Malley: Arts & Crafts

“… you can’t have art without resistance in the material.” — William Morris   Ah, don’t feel guilty about the GM soy in the baby formula— those activists are arsehats & breastfeeding zealots & it’s unpiloted drones dropping in on …

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Blinky ‘Bill O’Malley: Love Story Metabolites

Dear Nuala, oh noes, you’ve left your starting-a-new-life job in the bait’n’ice for that no-hoping armed & dangerous escapee again!?  It’ll just lead to headlines:   Fantasist poses as playboy &   Headless body in topless bar   you & …

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V E L O

top knot (?) bike trajectory wires cut the blue filed somere bunched up others ride wide aberrant onescarse collisions every 30 secs the electricity fizzes m ear m dances the slowest era under the sun bump sunny concrete cracks thoracic …

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Francois Sagat O’Malley: Glad Pews and the Good Steeple

you don’t always want what you say, or say what you do (do you): Notes of a Warring Class, J.H. Prynne   Lodge the pre-budget ambit claim. Graphs observe their models. The steam rises. The sport of the day’s nadir. …

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Walker Norris: Magicked Away

“When D’arcy Niland’s novel The Shiralee came out in the mid-fifties, the Australian film industry was in its twenty-five year coma, but such was the book’s popularity that film rights were quickly snapped up by overseas interests and the film …

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Dodi ‘Dodo’ Malley: Decorum Template

Your biscuit needs you! Your crumby exterior requires the shadiest corners of the disco. At the zoo, fading between bars. Do prawns spawn? The aspidistra, the asprin’s sister, I met them all at your salon: don’t blame me for hell. …

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Ern Malley III: A Difficult Love

And if the younger William Butler Yeats were one of his regular drinking mates, a few under the belt on Anzac Day would square this difficult love away, and Eve would open again her western gates as in that hot …

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John Malley: Catastrophe Willing

You, tall Kosciusko, Smooth as buttocks, I trade Blows with your arsenal. Kosciusko, better than Patterson, Your pockets weigh the world Down with silver dollars. The Americas are broad, Stupid. When is the next operatic Catastrophe? I do not want …

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Bradley Malley-Trushott: Hoarse Metaphor

How many blondes must die before the Danish thriller ends? The sans serif are here with their removing gear. Type! Darling, type! My secretary responds, hoofishly. Between the kernel and the fruit. We cough. The water stretches unto the sea …

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Janice ‘Pearl’ Malley: The 27 Club

ABANDON ALL HOPE YE WHO ENTER HERE ––– my name was Salmon, like the fish; first name, Susie. I was fourteen when I was raped and bled for diffidence, bad grammar, sadder cliché. Or was it Dylan Thomas Aquinas, il …

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Aurelia Schober Malley: So I Was

‘Dearest Mummy’, loving and reproachful, a tightened mouth in a face puckered up and quivered like a pale jelly. Your barnacled umbilicus, the lovers’ fat, paralyzing red placenta, that bald, wild knuckle white moon unloosing bats and owls, dragging seas …

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Giacomo Mally: The Lower Half

(After Raphael’s ‘The Transfiguration’) Someone shut the poor boy up! Arms flailing, Through mouth’s conduit epilepsy’s devils spewing freely, his eyes rolling east and west… Via rhetorical swerve of her shoulder A woman, ‘serpentinata’, reroutes our gaze Past million-dollar hairdo, …

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