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Who remembers the show, “American Justice”? It was always on A/E during my younger years. Great true crime documentaries though the best part is Bill Kurtis’ narration. Morgan Freeman’s dulcet tones aside it’s the soporific semi-baritone of Mr. Kurtis I favor.

I digress, today’s is a topic about which I can speak far too knowledgeably. The specific context from whence this poem originated is an episode of AJ about a disgustingly evil pedophile-priest and the sickening cover-up taking place at the time. For some reason though, what really stood out for me were the numerous interviews with the victims and how damaged they clearly still are in their middle-ages. How tragically almost none of them could say a word for so many years, the horror reaping havoc upon their collective consciousness. How could they accuse a Catholic priest in Boston at the time? Even if they did, no one cared.

I’m a veritable expert at attempting to destroy pain through a force of will. Condensing it like a car in the giant crusher thing. It never works though, these concentrated repression pearls have nowhere to go and eventually cannot shrink any further. One day, something has to give…

What are you damming? Is there cursed sunken treasure consuming you from within? Shine light on those tortured shadows, they can only grow while ignored.

Hypoxic-Waste, July 16, 2018

Contamination deep within

Nuclear ooze in barrels thin

Inevitably will corrode

There is no avoiding said road

Nothing can hold back forever

Cancerous toxins however

Live proactive, do not wait

Can’t let the virus replicate

Face down blighted internal sludge

Act as both jury and fair judge

Put on trial your buried anguish

Be courageous, never languish

Reclamate sandy Ocean’s floor

Evaporate venom of the core

Scrub brain oil-soaked otters and duck

Don’t need Dawn to tidy this muck.

Hey Dawn, (soap company with the cute animals), may I have some money please? I jest, of course. But seriously, where did we come down on that money? 🙂

Ostracizing these poisons within yourself leads exclusively to trouble. Do not let the inmates trash your asylum lest you actually end up in one. Or possibly become one of those lunatics hurling racial invectives at strangers. Don’t be that guy/ gal. Redditors WILL identify you and you will likely get fired. Unless, of course, you work for the Bloated Pumpkin “administration”, in which case you’ll most certainly be promoted.

Thanks for listening! That’s what reading is when you think about it. You’re talking to yourself just in your own head. I wish could switch my head voice to Bill Kurtis!

Happy trails and wagging tails to all!

-Alex Blaikie

Categories: poetry writing

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

2 replies

  1. Excellent post on a very troubling topic. Reminded me of the movie Spotlight, which was about the Boston Globe’s investigation of this terrible cover-up. Great movie. I understand the victims, though. Sometimes the memories are just too painful, too horrible to dredge up. Yes, it’s a relief afterward, but… I guess with a good therapist for support it can be restorative.

    Liked by 1 person

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