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The Fault In Our Scars

Three days in a row? What, are you casually abusing Adderall again? Nah, not since first year anyway, things just seem to be going unusually well for me at the moment and happy writing is especially satisfying. Do not fret however, I am certain there is a Great White Shark wielding a modified crowbar waiting around the corner to readjust my perspective. I suppose the shark has legs in this dimension.  That or it’s some weird land-boat contraption forged by the shark version of Henry Ford. He may have been somewhat anti-sea-metic but the “5 seal a day wage” was revolutionary and redefined productivity. Why does almost every prominent historical figure need to be some bigoted POS as an actual human. It far too succinctly defines the duality of human nature. Never meet, or research thoroughly, your heroes. 

Aaanyway… today’s poem was written a couple of weeks ago when life events were progressing less amiably. What can you do? Is life really so different from a bad mushroom trip? A couple of nice waves devoured by an ocean of horror. I do NOT like mushrooms. 🙂 For real though, mushrooms suck.


“Icebergs”, October 5, 2018.

Indeed there’s fault within our stars

Carried by invisible scars

Internal bleeds exist unseen

Despite outward appearance clean

One day sanguine torrent appears

With vitriol, anguish and tears

Soul’s purge is ineludable

Regardless crowds deludable


I do not recall what percentage of an iceberg on average is below the surface but I know it is significant hence its utilization as the title.

Many years as a waiter, particularly during times of heightened anxiety or depression teaches you to be a fantastic actor. To say nothing of playing sports as a timidly clandestine homosexual. Goddamn Academy Award material right there. Point being, pretending everything is perfectly cool when your existence is ashes remains an interesting skill. Mostly because it’s inevitably paradoxical. A person is not meant to permanently hold everything negative inside. Perhaps they’ll never speak of it but the rot always manifests itself is some capacity. So get a friend, adopt a dog, make nice with Siri or Alexa, just air that shit out. A problem shared is only a problem doubled if it cannot be resolved. Catherine solves many an issue for me. Her advice is always the same, live in the moment, express joy endlessly and always sniff strangers’ junk. Good manners cost nothing.

Happy Trails and Waggy Tales!

-Alex Blaikie

*Please do not actually attempt to whiff groinage.

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Categories: poetry writing

Tagged as:

dreadpoetssobriety

A broken mind held together by cellophane and some tack.

11 replies

      1. I dig your work and what you are doing. Glad to have another member in my family. We all have to stick together and publish great works as much as possible. Publish in the market. Sell books. Perform and read the rest of all possible lectures and public readings. The dreadpoetsobriety is a fantastic name! Says it all. Once we have disordering of the senses and keys to land of poetics and life then all becomes so clear and loving. I am happy you have responded to poetry or other writings and music in WordPress and beyond. I like your artistry and it is always an honor and happiness to be included in new scenes that inspire me in any way, plus with those of whom I can openly and without fear. Life’s a gas and we are that flame. The Poet is the voice of life, of things felt and loved win our ongoing culture of the narrative and the prose poem. Thank you!

        Liked by 1 person

  1. I have a different view than this: ” A problem shared is only a problem doubled if it cannot be resolved.”

    I would say there can be great relief in the sharing of a problem, the release of the emotional energy attached to it simply by being listened to. After which, sometimes a solution isn’t as important. Perhaps we can agree that having someone to share our stories with is the most important. ps. I love Cat too. A

    Liked by 1 person

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