Climbing Mount Insanity

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Australian poet, Decline of the West, Formal poetry, Insane Australian policies, poem, poetry, Political Correctness, Radical socialism, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet, Western self-destruction

Climbing Mount Insanity

Australia struggles on towards the peak.
A peak that with each minute seems to grow
Still higher, ever higher, as the weak
Cheer on the mountaineer, from down below.
Australia scrambles; never does it slow
Its maniacal climb towards the height;
While all that once was high is brought down low,
And all that once was wrong now must be right.
Australia strives so all may see the light
Shine down on them from high insanity,
But for an instant, before endless night
Descends upon their foolish vanity.
And should one day it scale that mountain tall,
Then on its long descent — then it will fall.

— D.N. O’Brien

The rise and rise of the insane left

Holodomor

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Communism, Deaths due to Communism, Holodomor, Joseph Stalin, poem, poetry, Radical socialism, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet, The Kulaks, The Ukraine, Totalitarianism, Ukrainian famine, Ukrainian genocide, Ukriane, USSR

Holodomor

In the Ukraine the Kulaks tilled the soil
To grow the grain to make the daily bread.
Was by their enterprise and by their toil,
That all who lived in the Ukraine were fed.
But now their neighbour Russia burned bright red,
And Stalin said: “The Kulaks all must die!
For by their class our enemies are led –
And our collectivism they defy.
Without them there will be no wheat or rye.
The fields where grain once grew will then be bare,
And in their millions will the dead there lie.”
So for the vanished Kulaks say a prayer.
Think for a moment of their pain and fear;
And don’t think it could never happen here.

Holodomor documentary

The Slaves

Tags

Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Beyond Good and Evil, Communism, Envy, Friedrich Nietzsche, Master Slave Morality, poem, poetry, Radical socialism, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet, Will to Power

A wise man wrote that men are mostly slaves
Who envy all who have, while they have not.
Until the ones who have, rest in their graves,
The uber-slaves within the herds will plot.
The slaves don’t wish to rise – it is their lot
To be ignoble, but they must bring low
The master, and his works – his honour blot.
They’d strike this stronger man a mortal blow;
A thrust to pierce his body from below.
The higher man on their bowed heads would bleed,
And so his wealth unto the slaves would flow;
For what he calls his wealth, the slaves call greed.
Afflicted by their slave morality,
They seek no pathway to nobility.

Tabula Rasa

Tags

Australian poet, Lies agreed upon, poem, poetry, Radical socialism, Revisionist history, Socialist philosophy, sonnet, tabula rasa

We must remove all traces of the past,
So we can build a new society.
To make this brave new world forever last,
There must be no reminders left to see;
No hint of what our foes call history.
The narrative they teach must be replaced
With one that matches our philosophy.
Thus will the past be transformed to our taste,
And all once claimed as true despatched to waste.
It will support our ideology,
For all that would conflict will be erased.
Though perfect will our reconstruction be,
It’s true that it will be a pack of lies,
But history tells us this course is wise.