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Pragmaschism

No abhorrent dad jokes or casual racism off the top today, scarcely remember how to commence one of these things in their absence…

This is to be but a toe-dip of a post today as I’m engaged in various other writing pursuits at the moment. Finally getting over myself and submitting some of this drivel to publishers. They can’t hate me any worse than the rest of y’all!


“Pragmaschism”, June 15, 2019.

Pain is multifaceted

Mild irk or wish you were dead 

Of the body and the mind 

Excess speed when caught is fined 

Sometimes you might getaway 

Yet by and large here to stay 

Actions having consequence 

Maintain within cognizance.


This is the story of my youthful exuberance clashing with my aged spine. Like an elderly dog still spryly bounding after a frisbee, I’m annoyingly inclined towards forgetting my pseudo-infirmities in the heat of competition and furthering disabling myself just in a non-intellectual capacity. Not that they are mutually exclusive…

-Alex Blaikie

Categories: poetry writing

Tagged as:

dreadpoetssobriety

A broken mind held together by cellophane and some tack.

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