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Good morrow, fair readers! An always it is with an inestimable quantity of gratitude that I greet you. I suppose were I to take a stab at such an approximation I would guess 7. Maybe 7.2.

Thank you so much for your patience while I slogged through the mud of physical injury and general writer’s apathy. Maybe colonel.

The following poem has been in the file since June but as we continue to await the result of Schrodinger’s election the theme beckoned appropriate. Maybe.


“Screwality”, June 25, 2020.

There exists within us all

Conscience big or morals small 

Crushing weight of vast remorse  

Versus darker plans endorse

Embrace and raise least among 

Or sweet tune’s locked up unsung 

Even if lacking cricket 

Ethics is golden ticket 

Jimminy would sure be proud 

If you rose above the crowd 

Note pure driven virgin snow’s 

Not the only way to go 

I’ve amassed some dirt and slush 

Colour adds a lived-in flush.


Some dirt and slush may be better defined as, “a big city gutter’s worth of horrid detritus and tainted sludge”, but it would have spoiled the meter. Alas.

It’s far too nice a day out to tarry in, so I must bid you adieu. Good morning and good luck.

-Alex Blaikie

Categories: new original poetry

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

8 replies

  1. The meter was definitely on point in this poem. The thing I particularly enjoyed, even before starting to read the poem, was your rank humour. As a lover of the television series How I Met Your Mother it definitely hit the funny bone.

    Liked by 1 person

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