25 Tuesday Jun 2019
Tags
𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞
Our enemies will die if we wage war;
We can’t have that — think of their wives and kids!
War will result in carnage — blood and gore!
Our enemies will die if we wage war;
And we must love our enemies, therefore,
We’ll do whatever any tyrant bids.
Our enemies will die if we wage war;
We can’t have that — think of their wives and kids!
— D.N. O’Brien
23 Sunday Jun 2019
Tags
Australian Jihadists, Australian poet, Children of Islamist terrorists, Formal poetry, ISIS, Islamic infiltration, Islamic State, Islamization, limerick, Limerick poem, Limerick poetry, Nieveta, poem, poetry
𝐒𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧
What chance that these little Jihadies,
(The offspring of murderous baddies)
Now helpless and small,
No danger at all,
Grow up to be just like their daddies.
— D.N. O’Brien
14 Friday Jun 2019
Posted in Historical, Observation, Satire, Sonnet, War
Tags
Diriliş: Ertuğrul, Ertugrul, Kayi tribe, Netflix shows, Oghuz Turk, Osman I, Petrarchan sonnet, President Erdogan, Resurrection - Ertugrul, Turkish TV shows, Turkmen
Resurrection: Ertugrul
Ertugrul bey, you are as strong as steel.
No blade can blunt or block your slashing sword.
You are of all the Turks the greatest lord,
And all the other beys at your feet kneel.
And should one not, your dagger’s edge he’ll feel
Cold on his throat — he’ll gather no reward
In Heaven when his blood is spilled, outpoured
From severed veins. His martyrdom you’ll steal.
But having sung your praises now I say:
Why are the Templar and Byzantine Knights
You fight, such awful swordsmen? Not a scratch
Your Alps receive while killing them. Oh pray
Tell me, is this your dream? One-sided fights?
In dreams the strongest foes we all outmatch.
— D.N. O’Brien
The Netflix TV series “Resurrection: Ertugrul”, or to give it its Turkish name: “Diriliş: Ertuğrul” is a very entertaining, if perhaps somewhat inaccurate (as far as we know) portrayal of the Oghuz Turk hero and leader, Ertugrul of the Kayi tribe. His tribe had been driven out of present Kazakhstan, or maybe present day Iran, in the time of his father, Suleyman Shah, either by the Mongols or other Turkmen tribes.
Ertugral was the father of Osman I, the founder of the Ottoman Empire, and we know that because Osman I had coins minted showing Ertugrul as his father — virtually nothing else is known about Ertugrul.
Turkish folk law however, paints a very heroic and colourful picture of Ertugrul and his Kayi tribe, and it seems the writers of the TV series (5 series to date, each of some 90 episodes) have drawn from this rich source (plus their copious imaginations) to produce an action-packed, often bloody, and always profoundly Islamic spectacle.
The show is not just about Ertugrul of course. In the first series he is just one of two young brothers, sons of Suleyman Shah, but as time goes on he becomes the central character. There are other major characters — I won’t go into that here as the plots can be very complex, but suffice to say, there are good and evil Turks, evil Mongolians and Christians (yes pretty much only evil), and of course beautiful women (Turks and Christians). The Islamic scholar and mystic, Ibn Arabi, drifts in and out, and seems to have a personal interest in Ertugrul and his tribe. His long lectures to enraptured audiences can get a little painful at times, but there is the FF button on the remote.
The basic story outline is that the Turks are moving further into Anatolia and coming into contact with the Byzantine Empire frontier and this is resulting in clashes with the Christians. Initially the clashes are with Templar Knights and they are characterized as very evil indeed, but later the fighting is with the knights of the Byzantine Empire. At the same time they are having to fight off the advancing Mongols to the north and east. It is an imaginative prelude to Osman I establishing his initially quite small Ottoman Empire in Anatolia — an empire which would spread far and wide in the centuries following his death.
The acting is excellent, (I’ve never seen actresses who are better at crying than these Turkish women), the fighting (mainly sword-fighting, and I’ll come to that later in more detail) scenes are bloody and skillful, and the acrobatics of the guys who’ve just received a killer chop to the throat or chest, spectacular — I didn’t realize that a sword-fighter who receives such a blow does 2 or 3 midair spins before landing (awkwardly) or that a fighter receiving an arrow in the chest flies 6 feet off the ground — the stunt men are brilliant. The main actors themselves seem to do their own stunts, and their horse-riding skills are quite remarkable.
Ertugrul is usually accompanied by a small but incredibly skilled and deadly (and lucky) group. There are about 10 or so in the group but I’ll only mention 2 here, as the others tend to change from time to time as they are either killed (rare) or move on to somewhere else. These two are Turgut, a big handsome Alp (Alp is Turkish for hero) who swings his battle axe with deadly results, and Bamsi, a strange sort of bumbling but good-natured fellow who takes great delight in removing numerous infidel heads with his two swords. He finishes up the chief Alp of the Kayi tribe strangely enough.
I’ve seen this group and even fewer beat off and kill scores of Christian Knights without any of them suffering so much as a minor flesh wound. Their fighting skills have to be seen to be believed, (Or not believed). The skills of the Christian Knights (apart from their commanders) are pitifully inadequate, despite hours and hours of practice. On top of that they wear white robes with a great big red cross emblazoned in the center — a handy aiming point for a Turk arrow or scimitar.
I’m presently up to episode 28 of the 4th series and have noticed a gradual but interesting change in one particular aspect of the show. Perhaps you guessed it — religion.
The show is always very pro Islam and there’s no doubt of course that it is propaganda, but with each new series the Islamic component increases. The shouts of “Allahu Akbar!” increase greatly in number and frequency, and “Inshallah” becomes the most common word uttered. The Christians meanwhile are becoming more and more evil and the (good) Muslims more saintly and admirable.
Still, I guess it was made mainly for a Turkish audience and that country has plenty of problems. Maybe this is more than just TV; perhaps it is an attempt to instill pride in the Turkish people as a whole through Islam. Maybe insulting the non Muslims in Turkey is not a problem, and I guess if you really believe in the writings of the Koran and Islam’s other holy books — if you really believe that Muhammad rode to the seven heavens on a winged horse, plus all of his other miracles, you’re not going to be too worried about the feelings of a few billion people outside of Turkey.
From all accounts the further east one goes in Turkey the more religious, the more fundamentalist the people are, and the faster they are reproducing. The western Turks are generally much more moderate apparently, more Western, and like the West not doing much in the way of breeding — I dare say they are worried about being swamped by their eastern cousins. On top of that they have the Kurds and what’s left of ISIS and the Syrians, plus their own internal tribalism to worry about.
But if this show is anything to go by, if these Turks can really handle being outnumbered 10 to 1 and still win, then we had better watch out if they decide to resurrect their Empire, their Caliphate! After all, Ertugrul often talks of conquering the whole world in the name of Islam.
That said, it’s still a damn fine show! — I’ll bet President Erdogan doesn’t miss an episode.
— D.N. O’Brien
20 Monday May 2019
Posted in Observation, Sonnet, War
Tags
Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Bomb Happy, Combat fatigue, Formal poetry, Italian sonnet, mental illness, Mental illness industry, P.T.S.D., Petrarchan sonnet, poem, poetry, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome, Quacks, Self reliance
P.T.S.D.
What noble thing this soldier boy has done.
He’s served his time so bravely at the front.
Now he’s light-hearted – it was his last stunt
He laughs, as he lays down his faithful gun.
It was he says, this patriotic son,
Much like those good old days when he would hunt,
Except the prey were armed. He’d borne the brunt
Of their attacks, and luckily he’d won.
His unseen wounds will gradually heal
If left alone: the visions of the dead,
The nightmares when he wakes alone in fright;
They too will fade with time. But some would steal
His patience, wish to meddle with his head
For gain – must he a friendly foe now fight?
— D.N. O’Brien
24 Sunday Feb 2019
Posted in Observation, War
Tags
Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Fanaticism, Formal poetry, Insane States, poem, poetry
The Isle
There is an isle of sanity
Surrounded by an insane sea;
And on its wicked wind-whipped waves
There sail the ships of Satan’s slaves.
The slaves look to the island’s shore
And make their plans for holy war.
The sane upon the isle they fear,
Yet to destruction still they’ll steer.
For they believe the isle does mar
Their chosen hell – Its sacred star,
Its symbol, they will rend and smash;
They’ll burn the hated isle to ash.
So many times they’ve tried and failed,
But sanity each time prevailed.
But mad men driven by mad dreams
Will not abandon their mad schemes.
And though it’s plain that they will fail,
Their ships they’ll man — the isle assail,
With faces masked, black flags unfurled —
The navy of the underworld.
— D.N. O’Brien
17 Thursday Jan 2019
Posted in Nature, Observation, Sonnet, War
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.
06 Thursday Dec 2018
Posted in Observation, Sonnet, War
Tags
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 Saturday Nov 2018
Posted in War
Tags
Armistice Day, Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Bush Poetry, poem, poetry, World War 1, world wars
Enemies
Two farm boys leave their families – their farms;
For each thinks it is right to take up arms.
Two boys, so much alike yet now at odds;
They’ve worked the cattle – sown the tumbled sods,
And harvested the golden fields of grain.
They’ve cursed the floods, and prayed to God for rain.
But now across a blasted shell-ploughed field
They face each other, and one’s fate is sealed.
Had they been neighbours they’d have been best friends,
But such is war – and so the story ends:
Just for a moment one raises his head;
The other aims and fires and shoots him dead.
08 Thursday Nov 2018
Posted in Historical, Sonnet, War
Tags
Ancient Greece, Athenian Empire, Athens, Delian League, Greece, Italian sonnet, Melos, Peloponnesian League, Petrarchan sonnet, poem, poetry, Siege of Melos, sonnet, Sparta, Spartan, Spenserian sonnet, The Cyclades, The Melian Debate, The Melian Dialogue, The Peloponnese, The Peloponnesian War, Thucydides
The Melian Dialogue
Now Melians, consider what we ask:
Swear loyalty to us and none shall die.
For what’s transpired we’ll not take you to task;
But now surrender, lest our arrows fly.
Athenians – surrender? – tell us why?
Our city, in this war it takes no side,
Though it is true to Sparta we’ve a tie.
But you, so mighty – can it be denied
That Melos could not swell the Spartan tide?
We won’t accept your claimed neutrality,
For Spartan ships, your harbour they have plied.
We’ll have no truck with weak morality –
To conquer you is right; it would be wrong
To spare you – Athens must be seen as strong!
Would you alarm the other neutral states?
Will they not think it’s Athens they must fear?
Our friends and allies know we hold them dear.
Not one, we think, disloyalty contemplates;
To Sparta they will not open their gates.
But island states that are to Sparta near,
Towards which may those Spartan triremes steer;
Their destinies we’ll not leave to the Fates.
It would be shameful were we not to fight!
Oh no, not shameful – you would surely lose.
We are the stronger – you would all be slain.
But we believe there is a chance despite
Your strength, and so we feel that we must choose
To stand and fight – perhaps a victory gain!
The Spartans too will come to our defence.
Self-interested Spartans fight to win
A victory for you? – they have more sense!
They will, we think, for Spartans are our kin.
With them we share our ways – our discipline.
And too, the gods are on our side – we’ll fight!
The Spartans would not spread their ships so thin.
Our navy would put such a force to flight.
The gods will watch as weakness yields to might.
So one last time we ask you – make your choice.
Think of your people – make the one that’s right.
We men of Melos answer with one voice:
Return to Athens, tell them we’ll not yield!
Oh foolish Melos! – now your fate is sealed.
21 Sunday Oct 2018
Tags
Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Formal poetry, Italian sonnet, Old soldiers, Petrarchan sonnet, poem, poetry, Sacrifice in war, sonnet
The Old Soldier
He sits there in the winter’s morning sun.
His pale blue eyes have faded with the years,
And shed in solitude some bitter tears.
This man so frail, could he have been the one
Whose wasted arms once held a victor’s gun?
He’s seen the darker side, no death he fears,
But as the day of reckoning it nears,
He wonders was the loss worth what was won.
His life, a story mixed of hope and toil.
The years have gone – how rapidly they fly.
And now he sees the enemy is nigh –
A foe no bullet and no steel can foil.
To fight and win but finally to die,
And gain at last a tiny patch of soil.
