I literally just spent 20 minutes attempting to find a specific Italian, (I think), aria that I can hear so clearly in my head but am finally prepared to admit failure. It was going to be a spectacular opening line I was going to turn into a bad joke about serenading vs. drinking the kool and sarin-aiding. It would have been good but any other aria simply will not do. I never knew I cared so much. My level of consideration is exactly inversely parallel to my musical acumen. Alas!
ANYWAY, sure hope everyone is enjoying a superlative existence! Another double-dose doing decisively detrimental damage descending direly down determinedly dreary drives. And other stuff. Enjoy!
“Wand[(er)lust]”, June 21, 2020.
Poetry is a spell
An incantation
Fiercely woven tapestries
Of specific words
Arranged in precise order
Spoken or pondered correctly
Beckons illusion
Teleporting consciousness
Transfiguring paradigms
A mindfulness summons
Self-enforced
For those with the courage
To attune invocation
Compelling movement of long-rusted hinge.
I honestly can’t recall what preceded this one’s creation but I like it. One of those times where the lines just kind of break off from my brain already transcribed. Like the most useless and least-theist prophet ever.
The next piece is in reference to an infinitely heavier subject matter. I will never be able to understand so much but I’ll help in any way possible.
“Inliers”, June 11, 2020.
There are within every group
Extremists shy and bold
Even in the purest troupe
Some do not as told
A company’s not defined
By those who are it’s worst
What must be better refined
Dismissing comrades cursed
Even then hardly begun
To self-purge this cancer
And never will yet be done
Til we’ve played boil’s lancer
I refuse to judge a crowd
By their “weakest” members
But promote them to be proud
We’ll burn you to embers.
For the record when I say, “do not as they’re told”, I’m referring to like essential humanist principles. Pretty easy stuff, don’t fucking murder people for instance. Most people, even psychopaths capable of the grandest atrocities, know what is inherently right and wrong. And don’t fool yourselves, often laws have little to do with it. Doing what is right throughout time has often been illegal at that moment. But we know, in our “souls”, vacuous or golden, WE KNOW.
And stop protecting members of your professional or whatever community out of some bizarre sense of loyalty. You owe nothing to those who would commit the vilest sins. Buses were made for two things, public transportation and throwing these dickweasels underneath. Metaphorically of course, with apologies to the noble weasel.
Be blessed, warrior poets.
Happy Trails and Waggy Tales!
-Alex Blaikie
dReadpoetssobriety
A fractured mind held together by cellophane and some used tack.
Be blessed too!
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Thank you so much!
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This is extremely good.
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You are very kind:)
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Much obliged madame:)
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I enjoyed both these poems. Great interpretation of what poetry is. The first one is remarkable because it is one long independent clause.
Suggestion–I would put each poem as a separate post to maximize readership (shorter posts are read more than long ones).
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Thank you very much Christopher. I was temporarily in a glut of material so was making it rain so to speak. All the best sir!
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Extensive and great 👍
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Much obliged sir. Thank you very much!
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