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Harleyquinn Romances

I’m enjoying a brief sojourn to the island of returning back pain but in said interim at least I have a chance to slap down some passably tolerable witticisms.

Big-time shout out to the G-Man for the donation! Long-distance man-hug! A couple of hours less I’ll need to work and can dedicate to more artistic endeavors. You know, like amputating facial anatomy or a debilitating opium habit. 🙂

To those formerly let down by the lack of the LMM, (Little Miss Muffet), Harlequin edition, Christmas, like the sexually inept, has come early!


Harleyquinn Romance’s, Little Miss Muffet, October 23, 2018.

Little Miss Muffet

On top more than her tuffet

Hitting on nerds and some gay

When along came a rider

Who pulled up inside her

And DAMN was she a good lay


I do apologize for the preceding abomination. it was very much unplanned and written on the fly. There is a less creepily erotic selection below.

I don’t like and will likely continue searching for an alternative title. What think you?


“Fossils”, October 16, 2018.

The line can be mere microns thin

Between virtue and foulest sin

To walk across shifting high beam

As delicate as it may seem

Intentions are in-apropos

Outcome’s all that matters you know

So tread carefully, take great care

It’s well established, shit’s not fair

Rarely do we get what’s deserved

Why wrath and greed’s so well-preserved.


I can’t recall which “Wizard’s Rule” it is that ,”the best intention often leads to the most deviant of results”, but I’ve seen it practiced many times now in reality. Hearts of gold manufacturing pain and disorder.

The only possible solution is to play life like a game of chess, always looking several moves ahead and making an effort to out-think you most dastardly opponent, chaos. It’s not so much a theory as the foundation of everything. It IS 42.

Doubtful will we ever be able to reliably decipher the swirling mists of potential futures. Weather prediction alone incorporates too many variables to be accurate sometimes only a few hours ahead. Almost seems like I’m making an argument for just saying fuck it and doing whatever but such is not the case! I just want to be honest about the scale of the task. Tough to checkmate an opponent who knows every potential move before it’s made. And nobody actually knows all the rules of Chaos-Chess anyway. Likely why so many pawns are mere collateral damage.

Happy Trails and Waggy Tales!

-Alex Blaikie

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Categories: poetry writing

Tagged as:

dreadpoetssobriety

A broken mind held together by cellophane and some tack.

14 replies

  1. To your point and to point to 42 and merely knowing what the universe is about which would lead to complete destruction of the universe (the Kleiner bottle model of every last thing being recursively self destructing) is a beauty in the mind left behind by our formidable ex-Douglas Adams: “There is a moment in every dawn when light floats, there is the possibility of magic. Creation holds its breath.”
    Amen.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Dear Dread:
    It is today generally agreed that tuffins have been extinct since before the Lindy, the Charleston and/or the Minuet. Are you quite sure you didn’t mean to say, sat on a Triffid? (The Day of the Triffids 1963 starring Halley Mills as Hillary Clinton, Napoleon Bonaparte as Bonzo the Rat and Bonzo the Rat as Atilla the Hun) or, perhaps troglodyte (a death metal band from Independence, Missouri)? Or, trilobite (520 million B.C.)? Tyrant? Tricycle? Chinchilla? Great ending though!

    Yours and mine,
    Henrietta Houdini Done Did It, M.D., D.D.S., B.B.C. & N.Y.P.D.
    Third Rock from the Last Left Turn

    This message has been approved by Gerald McBongbong and Larry, his brother Darryl and his other brother Darryl

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Sorry to be a bother, but: Dear Dread,
    I know this post was quite a while ago and we should only pay attention to the new and shiny but, I have been having nightmares.
    Do you realize the possibilities you have unleashed with the phrase “chess chaos”? Chess is a lovely, orderly three dimensional game played on a well defined checkered board (Is it contagious? Will there be checkers chaos? Dominoes chaos? Chutes and Ladders chaos?) within boundaries and borders, laws and limitations, rules and regulations, black and white, your turn my turn, win or lose, probably even before the end of the week. Never approaches infinity. Never introduces fractals. Never imitates Groucho Marx. Now, we suddenly have chess chaos and bishops will be spinning off into outer space and rooks will be running for political office, questionable stock market transactions, vending machine problems, rising interest rates, time machine anomalies, flying spaghetti, robotics and computers named after fruit. Nothing but nightmares. I can’t sleep without my teddy bear and a photo of A Fish Called Wanda. Next time keep your inventions to yourself. Meanwhile, don’t go in the kitchen. No, no! I said, don’t go … stop it! Look out!
    And, on the other side of the door the dish ran away with the spoon, the queen is in the counting house, the celery is on a cell phone and an omelette is on the internet. Above the oven is a rubber chicken flambe and a …. duck! Sorry, not quite fast enough to avoid the tomato tornado. However, by next Thursday I expect to have recovered sufficiently to invite you all to lunch, at your leisure, in O’Brien at https://starscastnoshadows.wordpress.com/2018/09/04/lunch-in-obrien
    Yours truly and apologizingly,
    Colonel Mustard in the Dish Washer with a Rodent on a Stick
    Number 26 Acid Flashback
    Fredonia, Oz

    Remember, a vote for me is a vote for the dictionary!

    Liked by 1 person

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