A Visit From the Truth Police

Tags

Australian poet, Facebook fact checking, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet, Truth Police

𝐀 𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞

A knock upon the door disturbs the peace:
“We know you’re in there sir, let us inside!
We are, perhaps you’ve guessed, the Truth Police,
And we have solid proof that you have lied.
A certain lie you posted has been spied
By our Fact-checkers — open up the door!
There is no place to run, no place to hide!
We have our orders to enforce the law,
And liars like you no way will we ignore!
Now let us in! You lying terrorist!”
(They bash the door down, throw me to the floor,
Put in the boot.) “Now we are really pissed!
We asked you nicely — you would not comply.
Now you’ll learn facts are fiction — that’s no lie.”

— D.N. O’Brien

Death of a Giant

Tags

Australian poet, Decline of civilizations, Decline of empires, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, Rise and Fall, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐆𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐭

You’ve had your time for basking in the sun,
But everything must die, even a giant.
Your face is pale — your race is almost run —
No longer are you fearless and defiant.
You once were dominant and self-reliant,
But now the dwarves have tied you to the ground.
You have become pathetic and compliant —
With bonds of your own making you are bound.
The dwarves all cheer — a little man is crowned —
He reads his speech — the writing’s on the wall.
His dwarfish slurring words declared profound
By all the dwarves who engineered your fall.
You breathe your last; the sky is dull and grey.
A scribe records: a giant has died this day.

— D.N. O’Brien

A Discarded Inauguration Day Sonnet

Tags

Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Formal poetry, Inauguration Day Poem, Joe Biden inauguration, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

𝐀 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐭

In praise of Joe this poem I have writ.
But I’ll not mention any of his flaws —
His hair-sniffing, his groping, all that shit;
His keen support for all those foreign wars.
I love him, for he’s opened many doors
For me, a budding poet laureate.
Oh I know old Joe farts — at times he snores;
But he’ll be dead before long — you can bet
Your house on that. Still, let us not regret
Selecting this frail, barely conscious guy
To lead our fast decaying nation — let
Him show the way as all the old ways die.

I’ll start again and throw this in the bin.
I’ll write some whiny waffle — that should win!

— D.N. O’Brien

Facebook Cometh!

Tags

Australian poet, FaceBook, Formal poetry, limerick, Limerick poem, Limerick poetry, poem, poetry

𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡!

Their “fact checkers” haven’t a clue,
For facts, they will say, are not true;
They’ll call your facts lies —
Best don your disguise —
Big Facebook is coming for you!

— D.N. O’Brien

Eurasian Girl

Tags

Australian poet, Eurasians, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, Singapore Eurasians

𝐄𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥

Eurasian girl, I knew you well —
Your lips, your almond eyes, your smell;
And now I hear that you have died.
I promised I’d return……..I lied.

— D.N. O’Brien

Certa Cito

Tags

121 Signal Squadron, Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Formal poetry, Gough Whitlam, poem, poetry, Royal Australian Signal Corps, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

𝑪𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒂 𝑪𝒊𝒕𝒐

The plan is hatched by foolish faceless men.
The squadron’s fate by treachery is sealed.
The method and the why, the where, the when,
Is to the gathered malcontents revealed.
All that the patriotic have concealed
Will be exposed just when the time is right;
The squadron will be banished from the field —
Its troops will be destroyed without a fight —
All trace of it will fade into the night,
And none will mourn its swift and sure demise;
And on its fate no one will shine a light.
But those who filled its ranks — its ears and eyes,
Who served and sweated on that Asian Hill,
They know how easily mere words can kill.

— D.N. O’Brien

The Greatest Game

Tags

Australian poet, darts, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞

The greatest game is darts — and I must say,
Dart players are the fittest men of all —
Just watch these perfect specimens at play!
No matter whether they are short or tall,
These mighty marksmen with their skills enthral.
Like little arrows shot from bended bows,
Their darts fly at the board upon the wall.
How do they execute such perfect throws?
The dart is held with flights close to the nose,
Then with a smooth movement of arm and wrist,
Toward the triple 20, off it goes,
And seldom is that tiny target missed.
So hail these sportsmen — raise a mighty cheer
To champions of chips, meat pies, and beer.

— D.N. O’Brien

In the Matter of Lives

Tags

Australian poet, Black Lives Matter, BLM, Formal poetry, Irish persecution, Persecution of the Jews, poem, poetry, Russian serfdom, Slavery, Spenserian sonnet, Victimhood

𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬

And so the argument it goes like so:
That those whose ancestors were once enslaved
Now suffer for such deeds done long ago.
That on their psyches deeply are engraved,
In bitter words their hate for the depraved
Who bound their forebears up in ropes and chains.
And thus they suffer; all their lives they’ve braved,
Discrimination — seared into their brains
This feeling that they nurture — fact remains
An outcast, for the truth is hard and cold:
Man’s ownership of man the record stains —
In many ways were men once bought and sold.
But victimhood descendants may eschew —
The Irish peasant, Russian serf, the Jew.

— D.N. O’Brien

Anastasia

Tags

Australian poet, Covid-19 lock-down, Formal poetry, Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna of Russia, poem, poetry, Queensland border closure, Queensland Premier Anastasia Palaszczuk, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

𝐀𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐚

Some names should be reserved for only one;
And Anastasia is just such a name.
Her beauty blighted by the tyrant’s gun,
A legendary figure she became.
The forces of the Left of course to blame
For such a monstrous crime — a cruel blow.
Snuffed out, this brightly burning royal flame;
The flowers of youth buried beneath the snow —
Her and her kin all slaughtered by the foe.

Now what of this pretender on her throne?
This accidental leader of the low?
If she’s a heart, then it is made of stone.
A bat straight out of Hell now wears the label,
Of the Grand Duchess from a Russian fable.

— D.N. O’Brien

Queensland Premier Anastasia Palaszczuk stops father’s visit to terminally ill child

Domino Theory

Tags

Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Belt and Road, Chinese aggression, Chinese expansionism, Chinese infiltration, Chinese spying, Domino Theory, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, Vietnam War

Domino Theory

The “Domino Theory”? — Man, that’s so old hat!
We Chinese know many ways to skin a cat.
No need to send armies — make deals! — we can buy
Left wing politicians in blink of an eye!
In Aussie, a target, we have Labor guys
On payroll — have also an army of spies!
We lease port of Darwin — these Aussies so dumb!
We gain naval access for miserly sum.
Take over Australia? It not very hard.
If they try to stop us we play racist card!
We’ll liberate shortly the folk in Hong Kong;
To Mao they’ll be bowing before very long!
And in South East Asia no need to wage war;
Our sneaky takeover those bozos ignore.
For we have a plan that we call “Belt and Road”.
(Means world domination in our secret code).
Yes “Domino Theory” is rubbish you dunce!
Now dominoes, they all fall over at once!

— D.N. O’Brien