A Lost Mind

Tags

Australian poet, Feeling sorry for yourself, Giving up, Losers, Losing attitudes, Negative thinking, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet, Victim culture

A Lost Mind

It’s not my fault – I had an awful start.
What chance had I to ever see success?
When I think of my woes it breaks my heart;
No wonder all my dreams are in a mess.
What happened to me? – perhaps you can guess:
I’ve been unlucky since I was a kid –
No luck at all – I couldn’t have had less.
I tried so hard – no matter what I did
It came to nothing, for I couldn’t rid
My mind of all the failures in my past.
And so I shut myself away and hid,
And so had nothing left to lose at last.
But all your losses in the past are dead;
They only live within your loser’s head.

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Reversal

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Australian poet, Civilizational decline in the West, Historical revisionism, Italian sonnet, Petrarchan sonnet, poem, poetry, Postmodernism, Revisionism, Socialism, sonnet

Reversal

The time has come to watch the old ways fall,
As from the bottom rises what once fell –
What has decayed and has decay’s sweet smell.
What once loomed large will shrink until it’s small,
And lowest things will rise to be the tall.
And thick will float the flotsam on the swell,
As downward sink the sainted souls to Hell.
The oldest lies will be believed by all.
Past heroes will be vilest villains now.
All once thought right will surely now be wrong.
The noble and their courage men will curse,
As those once brave down to the cowards bow.
Admired will be the weak – reviled the strong,
And what was true will be quite the reverse.

– D.N. O’Brien

Monkey Business

Tags

Australian poet, Chimpanzees wage war, Innate instincts, Jane Goodall, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

Postmodernists say humans are the cause
Of all the problems of old Mother Earth.
They claim invasions, battles, bloody wars,
Weren’t present prior to our primal birth.
But such a theory is of little worth,
For so behave the monkeys – chimpanzees.
Of facts to back this up there is no dearth.
(Conclusions that most certainly won’t please
Those worshipers of Nature, birds, and bees.)
They prove that just like us these murderous apes
Will conquer, kill, and territory seize.
Our primate cousin also raids and rapes;
It’s not just us who have this fatal flaw,
For like us humans, chimpanzees wage war.

Chimps wage war

To the Breakers

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Abortion on demand, Australian poet, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

To the Breakers

The end of a long voyage is now reached.
Seaworthy she once was, and too, well-found.
But soon her rotted timbers will be breached.
For though wise sailors with their lead-lines sound
And cry: “Reverse or we will run aground!”
There is no slowing, it’s full steam ahead,
The course is set – they are disaster bound.
Her crew will pay a price for all the dead –
Each tiny body with its cruel crushed head
And splattered brain – each murdered little child –
A human being, ruined, wrecked, and red
With sacrificial blood – God’s gift defiled.
The ship ploughs on towards the breaking waves;
In its foul wake the slain sink to their graves.

Abortion up to 22 weeks to be decriminalized in Queensland

The (Very) Silent Majority

Tags

Australian poet, Formal poetry, Islam - Religion of Peace, Islam - the majority are peaceful, Islam in Australia, Islamic infiltration, Islamization, jihad, Jihadists, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet, Terrorist lone wolves

The (Very) Silent Majority

They are the great majority, we’re told;
No need to worry – they are on our side.
They’re all contented sheep within the fold;
No wolf amongst them wears a woolly hide.
And all the men who’ve made such claims have lied,
And still about these peaceful lambs they lie.
By all, such allegations are denied.
(Although there’s evidence one can’t deny.)
So innocents who walk the streets will die,
And few amongst this flock will say a word.
Their shrouded shepherds they will not defy;
They will not bleat – no protest will be heard.
They tell us they are all opposed to hate;
And yet, this virtue, seldom demonstrate.

Hand Grenade Instructors

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Australian poet, Formal poetry, Hand grenade instructors, Hand grenades, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

Hand Grenade Instructors

It’s not a job most people would desire;
The guys who do it always seem so tense.
They count each day until they can retire.
Their extra pay is little recompense
For teaching those without an ounce of sense,
And petrified with fear, just how to throw
Grenades – the strain I guess must be immense.
Some fool beside you with a bomb – you know
That he may drop the bloody thing and blow
You both to Hell: “Don’t panic – pull the pin.
You see those dummies lined up in a row?
Now throw!” – the trainee’s face twists in a grin.
The primed grenade drops as his body shakes;
And in a cold sweat the instructor wakes.

10 Grenade fails

Open Borders

Tags

Australian poet, Illegal immigration, Open borders policy, poem, poetry, Rhyming couplets

Open Borders

Such madness would all end in tears!
(Plus showers of arrows and spears).

Bad Body Image

Tags

Australian poet, Body Politic, Civilizational decline in the West, democracy, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, politics

Bad Body Image

It’s not just politicians, friends;
They’ve always worked to their own ends.
You wonder what is tired and sick?
It is the body politic.

Infiltrators

Tags

Australian poet, limerick, Limerick poem, Limerick poetry, poem, poetry

Infiltrators

Are you a state? – make up your mind!
By what is your ethos defined?
Are you so naive?
Some seek to deceive!
Be careful to whom you are kind.

A Comforting Millstone

Tags

Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Identity politics, poem, poetry, resentment, Revisionist Historians, Self pity, Slave morality, Victim culture, Victim mentality

For the sins of the fathers no men should be whipped –
For the men who were murdered or slaves who were shipped;
But the sins be acknowledged, a lesson to learn,
Lest the sons be inclined to repeat them in turn.

And the sons of the slaves and the men who were killed
Must acknowledge that they are now free and free-willed;
That they owe naught to any, nor do any owe
For what’s passed, compensation – all claims to forgo.

Now the words writ above are but vain hopes and prayers.
History’s “victim”, a scowl on his countenance wears,
As he sinks neath a burden of self-imposed weight,
And he never will drop it – or wipe clean the slate.