Angling Adder

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𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐫

I said to the snake: ”Put it down!”
The snake hissed: “Would you see it drown?”
Replied I: “Reptilian beast —
You’re saving it — but for your feast.”

— D.N. O’Brien

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Form

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Form

I’ve been a builder — buildings I have built
Weren’t crooked — they obeyed the timeless laws.
Foundations poured on rock, not sand or silt,
And concrete piers with steel rods at their cores,
That took the wooden joists that bore the floors.
And walls that were quite smooth and true and straight.
Then trusses, geometric, free of flaws,
With bottom chords fixed to the high top plate —
They’d shoulder with their strength the tiled roof’s weight.
All primed and painted — pleasing to the eye,
There stood the finished form. It’s fair to state,
(I doubt that any could in truth deny.)
A structure, if it is to make the grade,
Must be both plumb and level — and well made.

— D.N. O’Brien

Muellerisms

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Muellerisms

Bob’s Brain Burst

Mueller, I thought was the biz;
He must be a wizard — a whiz.
I listened and figured
This guy’s brain is jiggered!
I doubt that he knows who Trump is.

Bob’s Helping Hands

Listen up guys — give Mueller a break.
He’s under control for God’s sake.
He did quite okay,
Those pills saved the day —
At times he was almost awake.

Bob’s Day(s) off

Ring Mueller and tell him to stay
At home, he’s not needed today.
Oh sure he’s the boss
But he’s not worth a toss —
The old fart just gets in the way.

— D.N. O’Brien

Paddles Ardern’s Epitaph

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{𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘑𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘢 𝘈𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘯’𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩-𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘵 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘴,
(𝘜𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘳’𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘳)
𝘐 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘯 𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘱𝘩.}

𝐏𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐀𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧’𝐬 𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐡

No longer will Paddles in puddles
Be paddling. No more Paddles’ cuddles,
For Paddles, in heavenly puddles
Now paddles, and cherubs he cuddles.

— D.N. O’Brien

A Universal Problem

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A Universal Problem

The atheist, he counters faith with fact.
He says that all religions are a lie.
He claims the scientists have all but cracked
The complex code — the age old question: Why?
Why are we here? And where, when humans die,
Do their poor souls reside? There is no place,
No hell below, no heaven up on high
He claims. The awful truth we all must face:
No god bestows on any man his grace;
No soul remains and flesh goes back to ground —
The dust that coats a rock that spins in space.
But is belief based on but science sound?
“The Universe” — a grand scientific name;
But who designed the point from which it came?

— D.N. O’Brien

Their ABC

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Their ABC

This nest of vipers, it must be destroyed.
This troublesome corrupted lair of liars,
Where only leftist journos are employed.
Of their concocted tales the nation tires.
They are in truth the doubters and deniers
Of science — they swallow snake oil like it’s wine.
They act as though our droughts and floods and fires
Are something new. Don’t try to start a mine!
They’ll trash your plans, and you they will malign.
They’ll have you stopped before you even start.
They and their followers will weep and whine
About, you guessed it, “Climate Change” — don’t fart!
The Earth is dying just because of you!
These friends of aunty just don’t have a clue.

— D.N. O’Brien