Apologies, first of all, for my unplanned absence yesterday. I wrote a few mediocre poems but just wasn’t in the mood to string many words together otherwise.

Alas, another beautifully scorching day. Had I any eggs it’s quite likely I could cook them upon a multitude of outdoor surfaces.

This piece is certainly the oddest of yesterday’s beleaguered efforts. I kind of like it though despite the possibility of it being used against me in a (currently unscheduled) commitment hearing. So much such evidence already exists, what’s another drop in the ocean?

All I’ll say in regards to context is that it’s likely much cooler beneath the ground.

“How Many Licks?”, June 17, 2018

Late we entered the catacomb’s narthex

This subsystem’s approximate vertex

Parabola function is positive

Miles under the dirt’s quite segregative

Adventure and spirit what’s brought us here

Now it appears that the ending is near

Never expected the creatures below

The farther we run the larger they grow

Two of our number have already passed

Eviscerated by the monsters massed

Demon sheep with flaming wool and sharp fangs

Wielding steel-tipped clubs they graze in gangs

Ogres, cyclops and flying sea horses

Doubtless we’ve disturbed nefarious forces

One by one our party’s number plunges

I get tripped up by poisonous sponges

Lying still in the blackness now silent

I shut my eyes to the tableau violent

This journey no matter how much you yearn

Seems best left exclusively to Jules Verne.

You will notice in the fifth line I kept “spirit” ambiguously singular. More amusing that way in my opinion. Were they intrepid adventurers or just hammered lunatics on vacation?

This really is a weird poem. Moves back and forth between serious and not so much. Would make a good expanded piece if I chose one way or the other to go with it. Strikes me as vaguely uncomfortable to oscillate between the two. No matter!

The mention of the parabola was simply to denote that they had reached the lowest possible point. Solving for the roots already took place in a preceeding, unwritten poem.

I’ve never actually read “Journey to the Center of the Earth” which is probably obvious. Haven’t bothered watching the cinematic version(s) either. I suppose it should be added to my absurdly elongated “to read” list. Seemingly already 20,000 titles in length. I should get started!

Much obliged! Many blessing upon your home, wanderer.

-Alex Blaikie

Categories: poetry writing

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dreadpoetssobriety

A fractured mind held together by cellophane and some used tack.