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Fat-Earthers

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more…

Personally, I’ve a general rule to try to avoid breaches of any kind. Data breach, breaches of faith, a breach in the hull of your 19th century Nantucket whaling vessel… none of those are good news and more than likely all three would end in your getting sued. Lawyers are expensive and the only retainer I’ve ever been in possession of came with headgear included.

I’m short on annoying banter today, lucky you. Pretend I extended further inane pleasantries.

Pleasantries terminated.


“Fat Earth”, March 27, 2019.

Twinkle twinkle little star

Gaze upon you from afar

Minuscule pinpricks of light

Seem immobile while at flight

We’re surrounded at all times

By graphical paradigms

Astrophysics will transcend

Simplest theories cold portend

Glance in wonder and observe

Planetary body’s swerve.


You sang it in your head didn’t you? That’s not meant to be a thing but I found I couldn’t help myself. Stupid, catchy frickin’, nonsense. Apparently that wasn’t written by Mozart. Huh.

That’s all for me compadres, I’m off into the sunset with my mule at a slow trot.

“God for Harry, England, and Saint George!”

I haven’t even read Henry V, I’m just a pretentious ass. I suppose that’s hardly news.

Be well, dear friends, be well.

-Alexander Blaikie

Categories: poetry writing

Tagged as:

dreadpoetssobriety

A broken mind held together by cellophane and some tack.

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