A little rat-a-tat-tap

Group-think tanks
splashing ink like
ASCII with hyperlinks
I’m done with identity
Political expediency
Eugenic entitlement to
Hegemonic enlightenment
I’m losing the need
To plead my reality
Or what I might need
What I will or won’t be
In the service of greed
I leave it all to you
Sisters and brothers
From a billion other mothers
Cos I’m hopeful and hopeless
And no part of me believes
We can group-think our dreams…



Immediate access code

I don’t know all the names
by which you are summoned.
Sensing the many-layered resonances
in the stillness between
this heart-beat and that nerve-pulse,
where the breath lies empty,
time is even weaker than gravity.

Wading through the torrential
outpouring of carefully cultivated
bits of data, coalescing into
a category we might call news,
I am becoming as one attuned –
the seer of mysteries and
the oracle of plutocratic expediency.

The keystone for every good joke
is misdirection, like that time
they drained the oceans and provided
desalination-in-a-box kits for arid lands,
quiescing the climate protectors
with seven generations of indenture
for the privilege of a drop of clean water.

The drunkard, drowning in a deluge
of his own illusions will do anything
to extract one last drink, ad nauseum,
spewing out slack-jawed solutions to
supply chain problems – fracks himself
some lubricant for the road to annihilation.
Mate, we’d better hide his bloody car keys
before he kills us all.

I don’t know all the names
by which you are summoned.
In this bottomless cycle of avarice,
the accretion of our histories is forged
in the bodies of children and tattooed
inside our eyelids. No matter how we’re
chained up, we have always been free.

Our immediate access code,
the soul-memory of our ancestors,
is written in the blood of love.


Infinite loop

I’m not the only one who has thought this
yet I’m the only one I know who is locked
in an endless, mindless, cyclical
conversation with myself over the
contradiction of struggling for recognition
and usefulness-proving-my-worthiness
in the hope that a few crumbs will fall
from the robber’s table

May we live one more day

To partake in the veritable feast
of appropriated resources
cleaved from appropriated lands by
squishing cultures like flies between
nerve-deadened fingers
and people —
like flies
flies breeding in corpses
the sucked out husks of the eternal
commodified and sold back to us
for the small price of your soul
and a lifetime of fruitless toil

Let it burn, brother

what is left
what remains
after the sun
passes through

could this be
pre-dawn light
secrets whispered
something new?

wheels of time
whorls of life
breathing hope while
dreaming blue

one’s too close
two’s too far
finite realms crushed ‘neath
trembling shoe

march onwards
love will not
break lock-step with
what holds true


Really being a human

If you’ve had enough of bad news, or you can relate to anything in my last couple of poems – check out this news article today. It’s a fine example of diversity in action in Australia.

Snip of triple M article

Excerpt from the Triple M article

In truth, we have all sorts of people here with very loud voices representing their various interests and, oftentimes they are all arguing with one another. Dan represents the voice that almost never gets heard and it’s a testament to our shared humanity that his beautiful attitude (in my humble opinion) has even made it’s way into the news stream.

Objecting, opposing, denouncing, calling out bad behaviour, resisting, etc. they all have their place. Here’s a reminder that there is also another way…

Read the article here —>  Dan becomes anti-racism hero

On love, part 2

ScrollEndless it seems
Laughing at the notion
Of an empty vessel
It’s never barren!

Spilling love left and right
I pause to discuss the
Silliest front-page article.
It’s no secret around here
That my agenda is to maximise
The ratio of smiles-per-minute
While the coffee gets poured.

Next stop, corner shop
and that rude new guy…
I wonder if I should just leave him
To his one-man resistance campaign?
But I am overflowing again.
The subtle double-tap of a sincere
“Thank you so much” and “Have a good day”
Brings the siege to an end while
The surprise brightens his eyes.

Some days I’m not even sure
My feet are making contact
With the concrete.
Aimlessly drifting within a stream
of sorts, I am aware of
No predestination yet
It goes where it will
Liquefying rock-hard hearts
and iron fists.

My fellow humans!
Show me where it ends
Show me the place
Where love cannot enter.


Under heaven nothing is more soft and yielding than water.
Yet for attacking the solid and strong, nothing is better;
It has no equal.
Tao Te Ching. 78

On love, part 1

My earth

I sprang from the earth in a world filled with strife
He crossed the great water and brought me to life
I’m rife with these genes born of long suff’ring souls
She crossed the Bass Strait with a sail full of holes

“There’ll be no black offspring” yet still she bore four
Three hail from the dreamtime; one’s kept from kin’s door
A history was stolen so some could save face
Baba yangu mpendwa, no child for his race

I fell to the earth in a late sixties town
With folks who knew nothing about skin so brown
I’m raised with the knowledge that this ain’t my home
By folks who would fear me for hair I can’t comb

“Go back to your country” and “where are you from?”
“You don’t belong here” is an endless old song
It’s not just the Anglo’s; they’ve all had a go
The migrants and students, indigenous and so

I don’t need her pity for I have grown strong
There’s fire in my eyes that transmutes every wrong
My father’s revenge and my mother’s to rue
White Australia’s failure to lighten the hue

Still this is my country, the earth called me here
The laws of all nature will challenge our fear
With what moves our hearts since before we had time
With what makes me human and lends me to rhyme

I stand in two worlds, across every divide
From colour to gender to casting aside
These over-drive lies that keep us from friends
From ism to schism, we’ll mend these old trends

We can’t speak of hope, such requires belief
When it turns from the truth it brings no-one relief
From bully to hater to lovely fine souls
It’s time we surrendered and stopped scoring own goals

I sing from the earth to a man who’s grown cold
We write a new future that cannot be sold
I’m older and bolder; I’ve lived so much pain
That I can see clearer when clouds threaten rain

Let all who have known me and seen me for swine
Divine such a view maps their own thin red line
And should you delight in a spirit that’s free
In peace shall you roam across earth, land and sea

I hum with my earth as I’m tossed through the waves
Tones roaring through auras with worlds as the staves
The rhythm is time and my pitch is free will
Tunes are the humans spirit’s notes shall fulfil

© Robyn Murray

An evening with Dr Cornel West

An intellectual evening with Dr Cornel West | The Saturday Paper.

For all kinds of reasons, I would have to say this was the best night of my life. The author of the linked article, Maxine Beneba Clarke, hasn’t mentioned anything here about her own magical, heart-opening performance. However, the article does a nice job of capturing the spirit of the experience.

While he was in town, Dr West was also a guest on the highest rating episode of ABC’s Q&A show ever – so he made a big impact during his visit to Australia.

My friends and I spent a few minutes afterwards discussing the immediate highlights such as the delightful experience of hearing the statement “there’s a white supremacist in me” said by a black man in a public forum. It’s one of those things that has an instant effect on everyone who actually lets the idea sink in. We also spent some time thinking of what questions we would ask Dr West if we had the chance. I was as enthusiastic and excitable as a teenager so I shot out of the blocks with, “Do you want to come and live at my house?” Everyone agreed that should be the first question we ask.

When it came down to actually meeting him though I asked Dr West about resistance to facts/information/other perspectives by the white population and what role negative rhetoric by the black community might play in this. He spoke with me about how people learn through catastrophe if they don’t learn any other way.

After sitting on this experience for a week, I can see how off-track my question was… oh well we live and learn. In hindsight, I should have just asked myself about my own resistance in response to all the negative rhetoric I hear and read. More importantly though, I can see how timid I’ve been. I’m not saying that with any judgment, we do what is essential to survival and anyway, it is what it is.

What I do know – is that I have been holding out to see whether the most valued aspects of my way of being could be positively reflected in a world dominated and shaped by those and their minions who have a lust for power and money and various other things of dubious virtue. Those who aren’t afraid to use violence to achieve their goals. Those who are patting themselves on the back for all that number-crunching, someone-else’s back-breaking success they’ve managed to snatch like candy from a baby. Those who think they have won.

Click! knowing and awe have become artists-in-residence;
a flowing arrangement of clear vision and virtuous men returning to simple truths.
line from a poem earlier this year – Smashing Beliefs

In short, Dr Cornel West appears to be the type of man I always expected and hoped to see in the world but hadn’t found. So many times I’ve been told, and by so many, that I have unrealistic expectations… yet here he is. This man not only exists – I got to meet him.


I am eternally grateful to the friend who took me to this event, Nasser, a fellow magician who is also burdened with the curse of unreasonable expectations and and the wherewithal to make them happen.


Peace, brothers and sisters. Over here the love is still flowing 😉