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Squeaky Zeal Gets the Fleece

Good morning, dear friends, cursed enemies and the benignly ambivalent, please make yourselves at home. Where you presumably already are.

What does a frisky snake say to their potential lover in order to woo them? While seductively caressing their perched upon surface, “hey baby, come sliiiither”. Damn that’s hot.

Well we’re off on an especially bizarre foot or coil or whatever so let’s just move on to today’s equally unusual composition. Initially crafted specifically for Labour Day please excuse last week’s generalized ennui. Please enjoy the vegetables of my non-capital input.


“Squeaking Buy”, Aug 12, 2020.

A myriad of confusing hallways stretches out before you 

Thus far dead ends ends and superfluous scurry 

Faint essence of treasure drifts upon otherwise harsh air 

But vexatious puzzles are proving indecipherable 

Already revisiting areas of prior redundancy 

While excited vigour begins to defeatedly wane 

Above, blazing explosion provides for comprehensive vision, resurrecting fervour 

And frantic motions are at last beginning to prove fruitful 

A new junction uncovered and insight beckons

Thrill of the hunt obliterating prior doubts 

Utterly consumed in cataloguing  sacred totem 

Another correct path and success feels imminent 

Finally emerging onto brief straight track

There, boldly shining, sits wealth beyond measure 

Tail flicking in ecstasy devours fleeting prize, we all hustle for the cheddar.

—————————————————————————————————————————————–There’s a lot to unpack here but I’m mostly going to leave as unclaimed luggage. We’re treasure hunters, rats, job seekers, already members of the work force, all undergoing some dastardly social experiment, but while still maintaining a broader perspective on the maze, where even in success the fleeting spoils are transient or ethereal. At least the rats are blissfully naive. 🙂

Ironically I’ve some labours to perform necessitating my attentions. Please excuse me to my own largely superfluous scurry.

Happy Trails and Waggy Tales!

-Alex Blaikie

Categories: poetry writing

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

1 reply

  1. I often think about the infernal machine we must be stuck in to do some of the things we do each day. Urban escapades and corporate labyrinths really are quite different when we zoom out and see the bigger picture!

    Liked by 1 person

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