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Dances With Werewolves

A subject we touched on briefly the other day deserves a more through examination. What was originally intended as a cheap quip, “never meet… or extensively research… your heroes”, ended up being rather alluring. Especially topical given the uproar South of the border about the removal of Confederate statues or Sir John A. McDonald’s tattered legacy closer to home.

I remember an essay denoting a formulaic approach to whether a historical figure’s contributions outweighed their, shall we generously say, externalities. I don’t recall how the scoring worked but the end result was an answer as to whether we should continue naming buildings after you or toss your amoral bronze ass into a dusty museum corner where you belong.

It’s NOT about erasing the past, it’s about our Indigenous friends not having to attend a school named after the individual(s) responsible for their cultural, at the least, genocide. It’s really poor form. We’d never send 6-year-old Chaim Greenstein to Adolf Elementary, you dig?


“Dances with Werewolves”, October 23, 2018.

A truth which many fear to speak

How much our founding fathers reek

Despite perceived accomplishments

Sum legacy’s lousy with dents

Nobility with slavery

Is hard to reconcile for me

Within each man stalks dark and light

Twinkling meadow and bleakest night

Angel and devil on shoulder

Choice wisdom to live or moulder

Terrifying if consider

Ethics sells to highest bidder

Culpability ever mine

antecedents conduct not fine

My ancestors colonial

Hardly actions baronial

*Dictionary definition

(Most barons favour abscission…)

What’s the point of these confessions?

Time still to accede concessions!


I see no reason why we cannot do everything within our power to attempt to make sure everyone can succeed. Obviously to a point, not everyone will accept or harness our aid but it should still be offered. What does it matter if I’m gorged and comfortable if others suffer the sharp pangs of perpetual starvation? This is becoming super preachy so let me just say this; the, “I’m only in it for me”, attitude so prevalent to the times is simply not my style. Be good to each other, be there for each other, don’t commit genocide upon each other. Did you just laugh at a genocide joke? You’re a fucking terrible person. 🙂

Stay Gold Ponyboys and girls.

-Alex Blaikie

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Categories: poetry writing

Tagged as:

dreadpoetssobriety

A broken mind held together by cellophane and some tack.

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