It’s God’s Truth

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Australian poet, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, Western Decline

𝗜𝘁’𝘀  𝗚𝗼𝗱’𝘀  𝗧𝗿𝘂𝘁𝗵

I went unto the playing fields to check upon our youth.

I went and saw the conquered and I uttered quietly: “Struth!”

I searched in vain for brave young men; I searched but few could see.

I watched the heroes of each sport go down upon one knee.

I listened to the commentariat, their words so barmy.

I came back home and wrote this down: “We couldn’t raise an army”.

— D.N. O’Brien

Fools Rush In

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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

A Reasonable God

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Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Devils by Fyodor Dostoevsky, Formal poetry, Friedrich Nietzsche, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

A Reasonable God

“So soon belief will end and leave a void;

A godless empty place”, the thinker said.

“When all the faiths that filled it are destroyed,

And all that they stood for is cold and dead.”

And so the writer, with a sense of dread,

Foretold how men would kill their deities.

Would have no need of them — their daily bread

Would still be theirs; there’d be no need to please

Imagined gods; to fall down on their knees

And pray to empty space; was science’s turn

To rule the minds of men. The poles would freeze;

The tides would rise and fall, the sun would burn;

No gods or their fair angels would be missed.

The new God, Science, would rule with an iron fist.

— D.N. O’Brien

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝

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Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Civil War, Disunity, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝

It’s obvious; the split is now too wide.

There is no chance such gaping wounds can heal.

There is no common ground — a stark divide;

No compromise; no way to cut a deal.

But stay united for the common weal?

Forget it — that would surely end in woe.

A separation will a truth reveal —

That old one — all will reap but what they sow.

For one’s intent is high, the other’s low;

And nature’s laws suggest the first will win.

It’s time to end this endless to and fro;

The union must now take it on the chin.

The best outcome would be a swift divorce;

A civil war’s unthinkable of course.

— D.N. O’Brien

Climate of Fear

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Australian poet, Climate change gravy train, Climate Change Scam, epigram, Formal poetry, Man-made climate change, poem, poetry

𝐂𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞  𝐨𝐟  𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐫

Man-made climate change is weird

For it one cannot measure;

But for so long as it is feared

 Amassed will be much treasure.

— D.N. O’Brien

𝐀𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

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Australian poet, Formal poetry, Italian sonnet, Judeo Christian religions, Petrarchan sonnet, poem, poetry, sonnet

𝐀𝐧  𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭  𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

But you are not religious! You don’t pray!

Pray tell us, why then give them your support?

Why for their ancient values have you fought?

Their god you do not worship — nor obey;

Nor do you rest on his most holy day.

Of their god and his book you know but naught!

And yet you say their values must be taught!

Tell us your reasoning! What do you say!

No knowledge of religion do I need,

To see which nations with success are blessed —

Which creed lays down a firm and stable base.

The nations that spring from that common seed,

I have observed — such nations are the best.

True, I am skeptical —but facts I face.

— D.N. O’Brien

𝐀𝐧 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡

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Ancient Rome, Australian poet, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, Triolet

𝐀𝐧  𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥  𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡

Times are much like the dying days of Rome.

The parallels are too clear to ignore.

To roost, the chickens are returning home —

Times are much like the dying days of Rome.

That history recorded in the tome,

Of plague, decay, decline, and civil war.

Times are much like the dying days of Rome.

The parallels are too clear to ignore.

— D.N. O’Brien

Stolypin

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Столыпин, limerick, poem, poetry, Pyotr Arkadyevich Stolypin, Russia, Russian Empire, Russian revolution, Soviet Union

Столыпин

 Lenin answered a question — he said:

“Had he lived would have Russia turned red?

Well I doubt it comrade —

 No, had Stolypin stayed

 He’d have foiled us, so we shot him dead.”

— D.N. O’Brien

Imagine the MSM

Tags

Biden's dementia, Donald Trump, Joe Biden, limerick, main stream media left bias, poem, poetry

𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐒𝐌

Imagine if Trump slurred his words.

Was quite clearly off with the birds.

They’d close for the kill.

But Joe, poor old dill,

They hide his dementia  — the turds.

— D.N. O’Brien

𝐄𝐯𝐢𝐥 (𝐅𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐡) 𝐄𝐲𝐞

Tags

Kiwis, New Zealand, poem, poetry, Socialist New Zealand, The Five Eyes

𝐄𝐯𝐢𝐥 (𝐅𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐡) 𝐄𝐲𝐞

Investigation done and dusted:

The steel in their spines is now rusted,

Their will as a nation is busted,

Their brains have been turned into custard.

Conclusion: Kiwis can’t be trusted.

— D.N. O’Brien