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“Penn-umbra”

Good morning, faithful revelers! Thank you for joining me on our latest foray into (hopefully) enlightened oblivion. Regular oblivion is just so banal…

Right down to business today. The grounds of my Manor enjoyed a healthy snow through the night and the dog’s eyes, despite a brief constitutional earlier, have surpassed “hungry” and passed into the realm of “will turn tricks for walk”.

I’ve been working on this piece for about a week now. In that period I’ve probably gone through it approximately 100 times, refining minuscule details and polishing the rough edges. Perhaps that’s why I’ve mostly favored a more comedic tone in the past. When one attempts to successfully convey a profound theory you have to at least try to do it justice. Even then, such a thing is only possible under perfect conditions. Planetary alignment is likely involved, I’m not qualified to know. Dare to dream! Enjoy the transition from dark to light, I know I did. 🙂


“Penn-umbra”, January 22, 2019.

Have you endured loneliness’s nefarious quintessence?

Grated soul shrieking into the encroaching darkness; its piercing screech ineffectual meta-echolocation.

Nothing out there off of which to reverberate,

No vague outline returned to slyly decipher,

Doomed white doves set free over a vast flooded desert.

It is all of it a LIE.

Your isolation is self-imposed,

That cage is not locked,

Ignorance and fear maintain this confinement,

But those chains will always rust amid true axiom’s purifying tempest.

Cease being an umbrella in the dazzling sunshine,

Stop favoring inconvenient favors.

Remember, rarely are you required to be, “The Change”,

Often one must only procure a few additional sense.


I’d like to leave it there for now. You’ve no idea the sanity offered as tribute to pluck forth the preceding entry. Possibly it’s less the actual quantity as opposed to a pre-existing overall deficiency. It’s cool, I think I have some Vitamin C in a cupboard somewhere.

Let’s spend a few minutes prettying up our inside today. Inner beauty, hosers.

Happy Trails and Waggy Tales!

-Alexander Blaikie

Categories: poetry writing

Tagged as:

dreadpoetssobriety

A broken mind held together by cellophane and some tack.

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