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~ All Poetry © Dennis N. O'Brien, 2010 – 2019

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Tag Archives: nanny state

Thank you Nanny!

30 Thursday Mar 2017

Posted by Dennis N. O'Brien in Satire

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Tags

Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Cyclone Debbie, Exaggeration of weather events, Fake weather news, Government overreaction, Minor flooding in South East Queensland, nanny state, poem, poetry

We’ve had a little bit of rain.
The powers that be – now quite insane,
Have shut up shop and locked the doors;
Are getting ready – boats and oars,
Life-jackets, flares, rations and more.
(You’d think it was a bloody war!)
We shake our heads and wonder – “why?”
But kids are happy – hear them cry:
“The schools are closed! – Hey ain’t it great
To live in such a Nanny State!”

Human Exclusion Zones

10 Saturday May 2014

Posted by Dennis N. O'Brien in Satire

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Tags

Environmental extremism, Formal poetry, misanthropy, nanny state, poem, poetry

“I want to go out swimming Dad!”
“Okay son, but please be aware
That things could turn out rather bad;
You know the ocean’s the shark’s lair,
So if you’re eaten by a shark
Expect no sympathy from me,
Don’t blame the monster for your lark,
The sea is his domain you see.”

“But Dad you know I like to swim,
And if the nasty shark eats me
My future will be rather grim,
And those who swim in yonder sea,
If they are just thought of as bait,
Just to be eaten by a shark,
Perhaps a white one – rather great,
Then swimming’s future’s rather dark.

And what about the divers Dad?
The ones who dive for fun or fish.”
“They should avoid the water lad,
Should they be eaten that’s their wish.”

“The surfers who ride on the waves,
Dad, are they just a type of lure?”
“Shark’s bellies son, may be their graves,
And Terra Firma more secure.

But listen son, I’ve had enough,
Put on your swimmers, hit the surf!
Although I know it’s rather tough,
Remember you’re on sharkie’s turf.
He’s looking for a tender meal;
Just keep eyes peeled for dorsal fins;
He may think you’re a baby seal,
So watch out for those toothy grins.”

“Ah… Dad, I think I’ve had enough,
I’ve kind of gone off swimming now.
The sea is looking rather rough,
I wonder would you, Dad, allow
Me to go walking in the scrub?”
“Sure son, but listen to my words:
I’ll let you go but here’s the rub –
The dingoes, crocodiles and birds,

The spiders and the snakes that bite,
The flies that buzz, the wasps that sting,
Those of the ground and those of flight,
The bull ants, leaches – everything,
You cannot touch, you cannot hurt,
Despite that they may cause you pain.
Their sacredness I must assert,
For like the shark….. it’s their domain!”

Creation of the Fragile Human

18 Sunday Dec 2011

Posted by Dennis N. O'Brien in Satire

≈ 12 Comments

Tags

antipodean poetry, australian poetry, Dennis N. O'Brien, fragile human, nanny state, poem, poetry

The modern world is a perilous place;
Wherever we look there is danger to face.
We attend safety meetings, wear fluorescent clothes;
We stand out like beacons and frighten the crows.
We can’t climb up ladders if they are too high,
For we are so fragile we may fall and die.
And children are treated like they’re prone to break;
Their playgrounds are gutted for their safety’s sake.
The monkey bars, swings, and the wooden seesaw,
We’re told are as deadly as weapons of war,
While danger is lurking just over the hill:
A pervert or psycho just waiting to kill.
And on the TV we are constantly told,
No chances to take, if we wish to grow old.
In flood times we’re warned to keep clear of the drains
As if we are babies without any brains.
Parades of do-gooders preach on the TV,
About all the dangers they everywhere see.
So suddenly new safety laws are enacted
And lost liberty is the price that’s exacted.
These measures, we’re told, are to stop litigation;
A disease that was once very rare in our nation,
But, if this is true, and if this is the cause,
Would surely be better to limit the laws;
Put brakes on the lawyers; (my – how they would curse)
Stop ambulance chasers who fatten their purse.
But most politicians, you see, practice law,
So tend, in this argument, to see a flaw.
But how much of this nanny state can we take,
Before those who still have a brain start to wake
Up to the fact that this stuff is designed,
To deaden your spirit and weaken your mind.
With clever persuasion and media compliance
They’ll gradually, wear down, your own self reliance,
Until you become but a dependant drone,
Til even your soul – even that will they own.

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