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The Stand

Auspicious greetings once more, dear fellows and fellas. I do hope to find you in pristine condition. I’m sorry, you were removed from your protective covering? Luckily humans don’t devalue like comic books. We do it in our own special ways!

Interestingly, (objection; argumentative), this was mostly written before anything but initial whispers of the pandemic had reached Canada. I wrote it from the perspective of someone under lockdown naively never considering I was mere days away from my own. Admittedly the shutdown has been rather a net positive for my existence however those are obviously aberrant results. And there is definite guilt which goes along with benefiting from an event of mass suffering, independent of its cause or anything else, the equation looks sour on paper and tastes acidic as well. Such is my way.

“The Stand”, March 10, 2020.

Live in acute fear of sights unseen

Fastidiously we prick and preen

Scoring skin raw and avoiding life

Solitude’s ever the well-honed knife

Pseudo-ambivalent attackers

Pernicious atomic hijackers

Can blitzkrieg through our body’s defence

Leaving conditions in dire suspense

Most critical with leaders inept

Where bodies pile high and lies are kept

Science, religion and politics

Form an insidious intermix

If they’re not kept far enough apart

Retards healing or worse never start

The experts exist for a reason

Suggesting otherwise’s treason.

I am beyond disgusted by the manner in which some have reacted to a public health crisis. Governments specifically who reclassified the virus as a political issue literally have the blood of hundreds of thousands on their hideously avaricious hands. How can someone possibly consider their own limited good fortune to be paramount to the well-being of millions of others? It absolutely baffles me and always will. Selfishness is an inherently human characteristic but it’s also, paradoxically, the first and easiest step on the path to rejecting said humanity in its entirety.

Be well.

-Alex Blaikie

Categories: original writing

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A fractured mind held together by cellophane and some used tack.

14 replies

  1. A fellow Ontarian grammarian!
    (although I’ve lived in the UK for 30 years now)
    Thanks for taking the time to read some of my stuff and thank you even more for deciding it’s worth following up on. Most of what I write is brief and to the point with a dash of smarty-pants thrown in at the end, not unlike your own…
    My nephew went to Waterloo for Comp Sci and now he controls the nation’s spending while sitting cross-legged on a bean-bag chair at Shopify, so my retirement hopes are pinned on him.
    I look forward to delving into your blog more thoroughly, buddy.
    John Ormsby

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Regarding poetry in this time. I’m reminded of Bulgakov’s book The Master and Margarita. The poets and writers of the sanctioned group, Massolit, on hearing that their chief just had his head severed by a street car, panic, & look for something appropriate to do. One of the poets cries out, We must immediately write a poem to mark this tragedy. Who is to say that among ants scattering from a kicked ant hill there are not a few composing poems as they run. Why not? Can’t hurt. They, like us will forget and rebuild. But ants do it with more organization and without all our theatrics.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. It’s really nice to read your blogs. I’m deaf. I started blogging right from 2013 as I had my hobby collection of articles right from my teenager years so I had saved all that up and thought of putting it up in my blog

    Liked by 1 person

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