At least according to the manner with which we typically gauge success macro-economically. Damn that sentence sounds pretentious. It’s also the strategy I’m adopting today publishing two pieces in this post.

As you’ve undoubtedly noticed I tend to be fairly loyal to rhyme scheme. I just love putting the pieces together, ironic considering I loathe actual puzzles. I struggle visually time to time. That, however, is not to say we’re (rhyme and I) exclusive. Let’s say we have an open relationship.

Both of the following poems eschew my norm and each hails from many moons ago in 2013. I didn’t start tracking actual dates until much later so feel free to imagine me penning them under whichever seasonal guise you prefer. Is it Christmas Alex writing in a Santa cap? Spring Alex mowing the lawn and composing simultaneously, perhaps mid-winter Alex before a crackling fire? The mystery is undeniably titillating.

The first seems especially poignant in modern times given current political climates. Short and sour, I give you, Trumpeting.

Ubiquitously absent intellect

Cascades into a mentality

A runaway jury of perjurers

Their intent an ethereal coffin.

It is grandly vexatious when your worst dreams come to pass. Most irksome. Funny thing, all this time I had it down as perjurists. Turns out that is apparently not a word. #Sad.

Next up is another rather dark piece though luckily less prophetic. More like a story from my past. In all these years I never stumbled across a good enough title and so it remains blank.

Before me infinite paths

They coalesce disturbingly

The myriad destinies

An eternity of blackened dreams

Encircled by my worst angels

And better demons

Breaking free as implausible as life itself

The matrix of entrapment

Snares a fickle conscience

Choice was never more than an illusion.

Given that life, implausible or not, does rather seem to exist, my chances of “breaking free” were happily better than I had accounted for. Statistics can be so annoying sometimes. So susceptible to pre-existing or preconceived opinions.

That’s all for me folks. Mid- Spring Thundershower Alex is going to take the dog for a walk. May fortune favor.

-Alex Blaikie

Categories: poetry

dreadpoetssobriety

A broken mind held together by cellophane and some tack.