Tags
Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet
Fools Rush In
Into the void now left, (for God is dead),
Flow swiftly, weird beliefs and strange ideas.
To fill the vacuumed space within each head,
Advance the cults and creeds of crazy seers;
Of Eastern mystics, deviants, and queers.
The ancient faith is now consigned to trash,
As rise once more the superstitious fears.
Cathedrals and their icons burn to ash,
As statues of old heroes fall and smash.
But history will warn — so it’s wiped clean,
And those who’d dare remind us feel the lash.
The frightened masses fear to intervene,
As evil men are uplifted and praised,
And massive monuments to madness raised.
— D.N. O’Brien