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Basic Income and Basic Bitches

Hi there, sugar tits! For the record, I’m speaking exclusively to any plus-sized gentlemen in the audience. It’s still vaguely offensive, it does seem however like a demographic less likely to reach out in some vitriolic fashion. At least in regards to this particular topic… Do NOT get them started on an all-female cast remake of “Ghostbusters”.

Brief note before intrepid wordplay. I read an article yesterday that reminded me of how annoyed I was when Doug cancelled the basic income pilot project in Ontario. This he,  by the way, campaigned upon not terminating. Strange how we haven’t the money to continue a relatively inexpensive, already underway, scientific research project but subsidizing the price of piss-level beer is a priority. Let’s be truthful here, you do not like the idea of giving people something for nothing. Fair enough, though it’s extremely both hypocritical and ironic considering that’s the manner in which your lifestyle is maintained. Trust-fund baby over here wants people to work for a living. The measly sum given to people, also intended as a replacement for social services, is a trifling amount none but the most frugal could scrape a living by on exclusively.

That’s all adjacent to the primary issue though; we promised these citizens those funds and plans were made in accordance. They were encouraged to pursue their art, to go back to school or explore passion-projects. We have now fucked them right good. Wherever you stand on the overall concept is irrelevant, why should these people be screwed over because we were too goddamn stupid to elect sane leadership? I meant of course, “because politicians cannot resist the urge to tell falshoods in the name of expediency?”.

I feel better now. Moving on! I was going to publish a different piece today but I wrote this one this morning and dislike it less. This onion needs a few dirty layers scraped off to be properly edible.


“Hourly Minutes”,  September 19, 2018.

What feckless shrew is often time

Your perception’s what forms this crime

Same place, same length, different result

Induction to linear cult

There are options, escape exists

Alcohol, drugs, salacious trysts

Much harder though’s pragmatic thought

Sobriety’s no asset bought

Accept nature’s algorithm

Seek to withstand pessimism

Understand we’ll never control

The rate at which the seconds dole.


I always found it irksome in the extreme the capricious nature of time. Crawling or light-speed depending on the situation. Time… you are a filthy slut.

Are there trysts of a non-salacious varietal? I hope not.

Happy trails and wagging tails!

-Alex Blaikie

IMSORRYMYPARENTSCANTCOMETOTHEPHONERIGHTNOW.CANITAKEAMESSAGE?STAYALERT…STAYSAFE!

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Categories: poetry writing

Tagged as:

dreadpoetssobriety

A broken mind held together by cellophane and some tack.

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