Temmuz

Tags

"EZEL" Turkish drama series, Ali Pliers, Australian poet, Barış Falay, Ezel, poem, poetry, Rıza Kocaoğlu, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet, Temmuz, Turkish TV

{Spoiler alert for those who watch “EZEL”}

Temmuz

He is the homicidal maniac,
Who wears, each time he kills, a different pair
Of boots – once booted, Temmuz can attack.
With his blue eyes, at victims he will stare,
Then kill them in cold blood – he doesn’t care,
For he’s a contract-killer. With a knife
He’ll stab, and twist until the sinews tear.
He’ll kill a man; he’ll kill a child, a wife.
It matters not to him, he’ll take a life
Without a thought, for he is hard and cold.
His world is one of murder, blood, and strife.
But Temmuz, he will not be growing old;
The Turk will soon be buried with his boots,
When Ali fills his mouth with steel, and shoots.

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Strong and Diverse Melbournians

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Araluen Queensland, Australian poet, Balkanization, Divide and Rule, Division, Formal poetry, Melbourne Australia, multiculturalism, National Identity, poem, poetry, Queensland, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet, Strength in Diversity, Tribalism, Uncontrolled immigration, Victoria

I’ve just returned from Melbourne – it’s diverse!
I could have been in Europe – it’s so cool!
In fifty different languages they curse;
You’ll never find a more scattered gene pool!
I guess this happens when progressives rule –
Their progress means you can’t tell where you are!
You don’t like it? Hey man, you are a fool!
No longer do you need to travel far –
Just take a stroll – no need to drive your car –
It’s Africa! It’s Asia! – Middle East!
There’s yellow, white, and brown, and black as tar!
Humanity in all its forms – a feast!
Sad…..now I’m back in regional Queensland;
Damn! – Everyone I meet I understand.

Rebound!

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Australian poet, big bang, Big Bang Theory, Eternal Recurrence, Friedrich Nietzsche, Nietzschean philosophy, poem, poetry, Rebounding Universe, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

Big Bang to Crunch – a singularity
It is once more. How many billion years
Have passed? Now but a point, but can it be
A point? – time stops, and space it disappears,
As physics’ laws break down and matter smears
Deep in this place that holds the galaxies
Compressed. Gone for an instant, reappears
The light – as bang! – the tortured matter flees
Its cell – exploding like a swarm of bees
Released from the confinement of their hive.
And what or who, in that split second frees
The future stars and suns, men still will strive
To know, here on this obscure planet Earth –
What force drives life, and death, and then….rebirth?

Crunch!

Tags

Australian poet, Dark matter, Heat Death of the Universe, poem, poetry, Singularity, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet, The Big Crunch

So comes the end – expansion ceases now;
All heat has died; all matter is stone cold.
It’s reached as far as its laws will allow;
Now gravity, attractive force, takes hold.
For what seemed an eternity it rolled
Forever outward – now it is reversed.
For all things must return, when they are old,
To where they once began – so all are cursed.
From just a speck it into being burst;
Now to that point its body must return.
To that elusive place before the first
Fraction of time and space, now it must turn
And race – all matter, stuff of stars, to there
Must hurtle – every atom, to nowhere.

Bang!

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Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Big Bang Theory, Creation of the Universe, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, Singularity, sonnet, Universe

It starts – the birth of matter, time and space,
As silently, expanding gases roar.
Towards a far infinity they race.
From just a speck, a tiny point, they pour
White hot – the cosmic building blocks, the raw
Materials that swirl and then condense
To blazing suns and planets. And from core
To crust, each body, tiny or immense,
Each boiling ball of rock or gas so dense –
All came, each one, from just a single place;
From there they came, or nowhere, in a sense;
Yet now these wonders would the Heavens grace.
The Universe was made in such a way,
And too, its laws – and these it must obey.

The Slaves

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Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Beyond Good and Evil, Communism, Envy, Friedrich Nietzsche, Master Slave Morality, poem, poetry, Radical socialism, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet, Will to Power

A wise man wrote that men are mostly slaves
Who envy all who have, while they have not.
Until the ones who have, rest in their graves,
The uber-slaves within the herds will plot.
The slaves don’t wish to rise – it is their lot
To be ignoble, but they must bring low
The master, and his works – his honour blot.
They’d strike this stronger man a mortal blow;
A thrust to pierce his body from below.
The higher man on their bowed heads would bleed,
And so his wealth unto the slaves would flow;
For what he calls his wealth, the slaves call greed.
Afflicted by their slave morality,
They seek no pathway to nobility.

Tabula Rasa

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Australian poet, Lies agreed upon, poem, poetry, Radical socialism, Revisionist history, Socialist philosophy, sonnet, tabula rasa

We must remove all traces of the past,
So we can build a new society.
To make this brave new world forever last,
There must be no reminders left to see;
No hint of what our foes call history.
The narrative they teach must be replaced
With one that matches our philosophy.
Thus will the past be transformed to our taste,
And all once claimed as true despatched to waste.
It will support our ideology,
For all that would conflict will be erased.
Though perfect will our reconstruction be,
It’s true that it will be a pack of lies,
But history tells us this course is wise.

A Parting Sonnet

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Australian poet, hypocrisy, Petrarchan sonnet, poem, poetry, selfishness, sonnet

I hope that you can see why I must act.
I’ve searched my soul – I’ve given it much thought;
Night after night, with demons I have fought.
As for advice – well that I haven’t lacked;
Most lend support; by some I’ve been attacked.
To stop me – I know that is what he sought –
That man – I put his interest at naught;
He has no claim – you’re mine and that’s a fact!
So I’ve decided – oh please understand!
It’s with regret that I must let you go,
Before you see the world – before you cry.
It’s cruel I know, but I must make a stand.
And though this is for you a fatal blow,
For my sake you must go…and so…goodbye.

To a Dead Parrot

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Australian poet, Dead parrots, English sonnet, poem, poetry, Shakespearean sonnet, sonnet

You lie there at the bottom of your cage –
A pretty corpse dressed ready for the grave;
My singer – every day I’d pay your wage
With seed, some fruit, in many ways your slave,
Was I. And for your pay you’d sit and sing
Upon your perch, a tune that I had taught
You. Proudly you’d display with outstretched wing
Your pretty colours. I recall, I caught
You in the spring after a thunder-storm,
When by the wind your aviary was wrecked.
You were, back then, a young bird fine in form,
Bright yellow, green and blue – my hand you pecked.
It’s funny – yesterday you seemed quite well;
Best bury you before you start to smell.

Discarded Gods

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Ancient Greece, Australian poet, Greek Gods and Godesses, Greek Mythology, Mount Olympus, Petrarchan sonnet, poem, poetry, sonnet

On high Olympus Zeus waters his plants.
His garden blooms; he blows away the snow.
Apollo’s firing arrows from his bow,
As Hera, washing done, hangs out her pants.
Poseidon, Shaker of the Earth, just rants;
He can’t get used to life laid-back and slow.
He longs to plunge into the sea below,
And knows that one fine day he’ll get the chance.
Hung-over, Dionysus grunts and groans,
While Hestia, hearth bound, clears out cold ash.
Vain Aphrodite puts her makeup on,
While razor-sharp, his spear-tip, Ares hones.
The smith Hephaestus gives hot bronze a bash.
They’re out of fashion – but they haven’t gone.

Oh no, they haven’t left the mountain top.
Up on those cloudy heights they still reside;
Wait patiently for what The Fates decide.
On fertile slopes, grows high, Demeter’s crop;
The heavy heads of grain she soon will lop.
And Hermes, fleet of foot, still travels wide;
As exercise, the god won’t be denied.
Athena, helping Hera, wields a mop,
As Artemis heads off to hunt for deer;
Her quiver and her bow across her back.
Hephaestus is still making lots of noise,
And Dionysus downs another beer.
Zeus gazes down on Greece, gone to the pack,
And smiles at the obtuseness of his toys.