Invasion Day

Tags

Australia Day, Australia Day protests, Australian poet, Invasion Day, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

𝐈𝐧𝐯𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐃𝐚𝐲

Again that loathsome day has rolled around,
And you strap on your armband black as night.
You’ll march upon the stolen sacred ground.
(And you may do this for it is your right.)
No storm-troopers will put your crowd to flight,
For the invader was enlightened man.
And you may prod him but he will not fight,
And neither will he seek to crush or ban.
And did he make mistakes? Well all men can.
But also he did good — so what instead?
Invaders mad and cruel? You seek to fan
Extinguished fire — the actors are long dead.
Yet you are bitter — shackled to the past.
While most give thanks, your flag flies at half mast.

— D.N. O’Brien

Fanatics

Tags

Australian poet, Communists, Fanatics, Far-left extremists, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬

They are a product of the human mind.
No other mammal behaves in this way.
They’re fascinating — they’re a certain kind
Of animal — extremes their brains obey.
A modern madness? No it’s not, I’d say —
Fanatics drove the horrors of the past,
When revolutionaries got their way,
And flew their crimson colours from the mast.
They’re pessimists at heart, and hope they cast
Into the void — themselves, they hate the most.
It is their time; their numbers rising fast —
Paid parasites that must destroy the host.
They seek to take control, to force, to ban;
And tighten as they do, the chains on man.

— D.N. O’Brien

Great Britain Surfaces!

Tags

Australian poet, Boris Johnson, Jeremy Corbyn, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet, UK Election Conservatives win, UK elections, UK Labour defeated

𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬!

In News — the sub “Great Britain” hasn’t sunk.
It was assumed that it and crew were lost.
It broke the surface with a clang and clunk,
And on uncertain seas it now is tossed.
It’s quite a mess, but at prodigious cost,
We’re told the poor old girl can be restored.
So many seas has proud “Great Britain” crossed,
With many captains — some of them were flawed;
But Captain Boris, (by his crew adored),
Now gives the islanders a wisp of hope.
At certain ships, in his fine harbours moored,
He peers intently through his periscope.
His weapons are intact — torpedoes armed,
Propeller spins, she moves — no more becalmed.

— D.N. O’Brien

The Batty ABC

Tags

ABC, ABC left bias, Australian Broadcasting Corporation, Australian poet, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗕𝗮𝘁𝘁𝘆 𝗔𝗕𝗖

The vampire that we call the ABC,
It sucks its life-blood from the public purse.
Its far-left propaganda isn’t free;
It costs a billion, and what is far worse,
It isn’t just the left that fund this curse,
For all of us give to this thirsty bat.
This Dracula in poor disguise we nurse,
And so the ABC grows sleek and fat,
And like a smug and condescending brat
It thinks it is untouchable, secure,
As all about it spreads its stinking scat —
Blights all it touches with its foul manure.
The ABC once was a source of light,
But now it’s just a pesky parasite.

— D.N. O’Brien

Leaving Gondwana

Tags

australia, Australian poet, Centrifugal Force, Continental Drift, Gondwana, Gondwanaland, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

Leaving Gondwana

Now all alone, north-east it slowly drifts.
Just inch by inch the mighty mass it slides.
An island of gigantic size — it shifts,
As on its shores now beat the timeless tides.
Upon a sea of molten rock it glides;
It slips — it’s driven by a starry force —
An engine that within its body hides,
Propelling it far from its primal source.
It journeys on a strange uncharted course,
Escaping from its motherland; its home
Now far behind, yet it feels no remorse —
Young continents, like children, tend to roam.
No trail it leaves; there is no wake to west.
It never tires, and never will it rest.

— D.N. O’Brien

Collect Your Thoughts

Tags

Australian poet, Bernie Sanders, Communism, Jeremy Corbyn, poem, poetry, Socialist Left, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet, Totalitarianism, UK elections, Useful idiots

𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬

Collectivism doesn’t work my friends;
How many times do you have to be told?
When communists take over freedom ends,
As hope and truth are banished to the cold.
The powerful then gather up the gold,
And give a little to their useful fools.
And all the rest must do as they are told,
Including giving up the family jewels.
Old Bernie and J Corbyn are just tools
Used by their hidden masters to gain power —
String puppets, and the puppeteers are ghouls
Who pull upon their strings from ivory towers.
The left and communists share the same bed;
Beneath their green facades they all are red.

— D.N. O’Brien

A Universal Question

Tags

Agnosticism, Atheism, Australian poet, Creation of the Universe, God, poem, poetry, Science and the universe, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

𝐀 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐥 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

We sit upon a whirling tilted sphere,
That hurtles through a vacuum at high speed.
And if you don’t think this is rather queer,
You are my friend, a strange fellow indeed.
The Sun (an atom bomb) it is agreed,
We circle once a year. A satellite,
The moon we call it — like a silver bead,
It shines upon us on a moonlit night.
The stars above on starry nights give light,
And shooting stars sometimes at night they fall,
And though they are to us a splendid sight,
They’re meteors — not really stars at all.
Who set in motion this great cosmic dance?
Or could it all have happened just by chance?

— D.N. O’Brien

Let There be Light!

Tags

Australian poet, Big Bang Theory, Creation of the Universe, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, Singularity, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

Let There be Light!

The singularity is now complete.
Contained — the building blocks of gas and rock.
The Master Builder rises from His seat
And sets to midnight its celestial clock.
But time’s timepiece will neither tick nor tock
Until the detonation — till the blast.
The Builder nods — the shackles, they unlock;
The force that held the seething mass is cast
Aside — no longer is the bomb held fast,
As now the point of no return is reached.
And so the future will be as the past,
As boundaries are broken, blasted, breached.
Exploding outward does the matter race,
Constructing rock and gas and time and space.

— D.N. O’Brien

Apart

Tags

Australian poet, Divided societies, Formal poetry, Left and Right, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

Apart

Divided is the normal state of things.
Divided we have been right from the start.
Divided into those who’d fight for Kings,
And those whom with the Kings would wish to part.
Divided by the conscience and the heart.
Divided by the different types of thought.
That’s why, it seems, we’ll always stand apart.
That’s why some cowered while the others fought.
Once fighters’ values were the values taught,
But now the cowards’ values are writ bold
Upon the banners brandished by the bought,
And few fighters are left, and they grow old.
They’ll soon be gone, but some will rise to fight;
Their values will prevail — for they are right.

— D.N. O’Brien

Bankers for Wankers

Tags

Australian poet, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet, Westpac Paedophile Scandal

Bankers for Wankers

So paedophiles are buying porn, it seems,
From overseas, and paying through the banks.
So banks are now assembling their teams
To thwart the paedophiles — they’ll get no thanks.
The journalists and all the other wanks
Are busy stirring shit — they’ve not a clue
How any of this works — banks’ share price tanks,
While bankers are up to their necks in poo.
They hole-up in their broken banks and stew.
Meanwhile bank shareholders look on dismayed —
What in the world are they supposed to do?
They know the dividends that they’ll be paid
Will dive, and not a soul will give a shit.
They pray that boards, en masse, will up and quit.

— D.N. O’Brien

Westpac Paedophile Scandal