Aboriginals

Tags

aboriginals, Australian poet, Common origins, Out of Africa, poem, poetry, Triolet

𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐬

We all came out of Africa, they say;
We share this aboriginality.
No matter where we live and breathe today,
We all came out of Africa, they say.
And wandering has always been our way —
Our forebears ventured over land and sea.
We all came out of Africa, they say;
We share this aboriginality.

— D.N. O’Brien

The March of the Insane

Tags

BLM protest march, Petrarchan sonnet, poem, poetry, sonnet, U.S. riots 2020

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐞

With their hate exposed and their minds closed tight
They are marching on to that old red beat
Down the bloodied road and the blackened street.
They’re the nightmare spawned on the darkest night.
They’re the Marxists’ dream, both the black and white.
They’re the proof that the West’s decay’s complete,
With its bones now dust neath the marching feet
Of the damned divisions that smear and smite.

While they know not hunger nor great world war,
And no sacrifice has been asked of them,
Their precept’s the product of one mad brain —
And all but what pleases, it will ignore
And all that displeases, it will condemn,
For it is the master of crowds insane.

— D.N. O’Brien

States of Division

Tags

Australian poet, BLM protest march, poem, poetry, U.S. Civil War, U.S. riots 2020

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

A war most uncivil? A military coup?
There’s no going back, and the options are few.
Take heed of the lawlessness — look at the crime!
There’s one thing for sure — it is different this time.

— D.N. O’Brien

Controlled

Tags

Australian poet, control, Covid-19 lock-down, Culture of fear, Formal poetry, poem, poetry

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝

A frightened mindset now takes hold —
The narrative has been well-sold,
And counted is the gathered gold.

Though many in the past were bold,
These stronger souls have all grown old,
Or moulder in their graves so cold.

They were cast from a different mould.
They would not yield; they would not fold;
They would not do as they were told.

— D.N. O’Brien

Bony’s Grapeshot Solution

Tags

A Whiff of Grapeshot, Australian poet, BLM protest march, Bony, Napoleon Bonaparte, poem, poetry, U.S. riots 2020

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐲’𝐬 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

A “whiff of grapeshot” was Napoleon’s fix,
To lay waste to legions of riotous pricks.
But that’s not acceptable practice today;
“You’ll pay in blood later”, old Bony would say.

— D.N. O’Brien

Extreme Wokeness

Tags

Australian poet, Formal poetry, hypocrisy, poem, poetry, Triolet, U.S. riots 2020, Wokeness

𝐄𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

I see that you support the Marxist mob;
I envy you — you are so very woke.
While I assumed you were a well-heeled snob,
I see that you support the Marxist mob.
Encourage them to burn and loot and rob.
Watch thoughtfully while wealth goes up in smoke.
I see that you support the Marxist mob;
I envy you — you are so very woke.

— D.N. O’Brien

Ares

Tags

Ancient Greece, Ancient Greek Gods, Ares, Australian poet, God of War, Iliad, Mars, poem, poetry, Triolet

𝐀𝐫𝐞𝐬

The hated god was Ares, god of war;
For ancient Grecian parents loved their sons.
They perished on the battlefields, therefore,
The hated god was Ares, god of war.
Those ancient battlefields were strewn with gore,
And often Greek boys were the slaughtered ones.
The hated god was Ares, god of war.
For ancient Grecian parents loved their sons.

— D.N. O’Brien

The Army of the Retired

Tags

Australian poet, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, Political Correctness, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝

They are the only army that will fight.
(The regulars have mostly gone to ground.)
The only soldiers who will stand for right —
Their shackled comrades dare not make a sound.
The regulars are silenced — gagged and bound,
Intimidated — forced down on their knees.
No more are they for bravery renowned;
They have their orders — run, retreat, appease.
They are the victims of the new disease —
They are afflicted by postmodern germs.
With heads bowed low, pale platitudes they wheeze.
But those who’ve served are free to state their terms:
They won’t be silenced by the baying mobs.
They’ll fight with words. (They don’t fear for their jobs.)

— D.N. O’Brien

Blighted Bounty

Tags

Australian poet, Irish Famine, poem, poetry, Triolet, Victim mentality

𝐁𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐲

My ancestors were Irish and oppressed;
Yes, I’m a famine victim by descent.
I’m doing fairly well, so who’d have guessed
My ancestors were Irish and oppressed?
Until I’m compensated I’ll not rest —
Until I’m richly paid I’ll not relent.
My ancestors were Irish and oppressed;
Yes, I’m a famine victim by descent.

— D.N. O’Brien

Worms

Tags

Australian poet, Can of worms, Nightmares, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

Worms

Once all the worms, in cans were tightly sealed;
For those invertebrates would cause us harm.
But cans are opening, and there revealed,
The slimy creatures. Some sound the alarm,
But most say: “Do not panic, please stay calm.
The worms will not destroy us – they’re benign;
They even have a certain wormy charm;
Keep opening the cans — all will be fine —
Now try this rich ricotta with your wine.”
The worms all congregate and reproduce,
As on the riches of the host they dine,
Until the last imprisoned worm’s let loose!
I scream: “What is that crawling in my head!”
I’d best not drink that home-brew before bed.

– D.N. O’Brien