Lost in Translation

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Lost in Translation

Be strong — of the strong there’s a dearth.
And be not afraid of your worth.
And proclaim what you think.
To your knees do not sink.
The meek won’t inherit the Earth.

— D.N. O’Brien

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Simple Things

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𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

They have more things than they have ever had.
The problem is the simple things they’ve lost.
They march and block the streets — they’re clearly mad —
They have more things than they have ever had.
The simple things, they say, were very bad.
Discarding simple things comes at a cost.
They have more things than they have ever had.
The problem is the simple things they’ve lost.

— D.N. O’Brien

Killing Time

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𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞

The farmer deals with death most every day.
Without death there would be no milk or meat.
The young are mostly shot or sent away —
The farmer deals with death most every day.
“But killing’s cruel!”, the well-fed people say —
The farmer says: “I kill, so you may eat”.
The farmer deals with death most every day.
Without death there would be no milk or meat.

— D.N. O’Brien

The Order of Things

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

All things are ordered — why then is this so?
All can be calculated, all comply
With laws of nature. All the things that grow
From out the earth and all that walk, and fly,
And swim, and too, the rocks, the clouds, the sky —
No thing escapes these fundamental laws.
Rock decomposes, living creatures die,
Clouds cloak the sky, and down the rain it pours,
According to the laws — the eagle soars
Upon wings of incredible design —
Each feather is a wonder without flaws.
Is order flowing from a source divine,
Or do these laws exist by accident?
By God or accident — they’re heaven-sent.

— D.N. O’Brien

Wedge Tailed Eagle (Aquila audax)

The Gurley Police

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐮𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞

The Gurley police are not small.
The Gurley police are quite tall.
They’re big brave and strong,
So don’t get me wrong —
They’re not really girly at all.

— D.N. O’Brien

{Photo D.N. O’Brien}

The Slain

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The Slain

In ancient times a certain poet wrote
A mighty poem of a dreadful war:
The corpses on the battlefield will bloat
Until their comrades take that ground once more.
The gashes that the spears and arrows tore
Are here described in detail — every kill;
The splattered brains, the lifeless eyes, the gore,
The clattering armour — all flow from his quill.
The flower of youth all bloodied, wrecked and still;
Their beauty lost upon the hallowed plain
That lies before the city on the hill.
A catalogue of courage, death, and pain,
Yet not a tome where war is glorified —
A tale of love — of men — and how they died.

— D.N. O’Brien

Glacier Pops Clogs!

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𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐨𝐩𝐬 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬!

The Holocene is where we are —
Twixt ice ages, but not that far
From when the Earth was glacier-bound,
When climes were cooler, just around
10,000 warmer years ago.
And now some glaciers still grow
Whilst others shrink — some disappear,
But there’s no need for you to fear —
The Pizol was worn out and old,
There was no pulse — it was ice-cold.

— D.N. O’Brien

Pizol Glacier Dies

Little Pride

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𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞

“It’s liquid gold” smart money cried,
And Littleproud has little pride.

It’s desert where the brave abide,
But Littleproud has little pride.

Fresh waters flow out with the tide,
But Littleproud has little pride.

The plains are parched, the ocean’s wide,
But Littleproud has little pride.

The fools upon the hill decide,
And Littleproud has little pride.

Today another farmer died,
Still Littleproud has little pride.

The hot wind blew, her tears it dried,
But Littleproud has little pride.

“It’s Climate Change” his lips they lied,
Oh Littleproud, you’ve little pride.

— D.N. O’Brien

Littleproud