Menu Home

360, No-Scope

Threetings two one and all! Good morning, howdy, what’s good? You have been thusly threeted.

We have a topic of the grandest importance to discuss prior to poem this morning… British ways of saying things that are vastly superior to our humble “across the pond” alternatives.

Identity Parade. Who the hell wants to be in a police lineup? An identity parade? Sign me up! The only question would be, which of my numerous identities should I avail myself of. One supposes such a determination could be formulated on a case by case base.

Canine Assault Course. Agility training is clearly for pussies. I don’t know how the dogs are going to adroitly handle firearms in the absence of opposable digits, but I’m sure the military has been working on the problem for decades.

Santa’s Grotto. My personal favourite, evokes truly delectable imagery dripping in superfluous moisture. The Claus’s decked out in red velvet and white satin trim bathing attire. Drunken reindeer cavorting lasciviously. Interestingly, the female elves all favour burkinis. Not only are they functionally superior, it’s also still the North Pole and hella chilly. Legend has it that the only thing strong enough to cut a diamond is another diamond, that or the indestructibly petrified Eleven nipple. Unfortunately, this never made it out of the first draft of Lord of the Rings.

Alright, let’s move on, here’s some more letters arranged arbitrarily. Mostly consonants but I threw in some vowels too. For the kids.


“Roast”, Feb. 23, 2021.

Myriad vehement spasm 

Nadir of bottomless chasm 

Like ocean’s depths and black hole sun 

Light’s penetration’s good as none 

Ubiquitously occupied 

Our endlessly glorified 

Infinite peaks or jagged pit 

Rotating universal spit.

————————————————————————————————————————————————-One supposes that every point of a bottomless chasm both is and is not its nadir? Or never is? Schrodinger’s nadir? Presumably that’s his grave, or maybe he suffered a midlife crisis? No matter, you can always write your own poem if it annoys. You try scribbling with motion sickness and an apple in your mouth. 🙂

That’s enough ramblin’ for this man. For today anyway, I look forward to making your acquaintance, and maybe even day, sometime soon.

Happy Trails and Waggy Tales, fellow pilgrims,

Alex Blaikie

Categories: comedy new original poetry writing

Tagged as:


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

11 replies

  1. Pingback: Red Front

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: