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Frozen Ropes

Good morning, treasured readers! I’m so blessed to be able to lovingly harass you once more with my questionable rhetoric. Welcome back!

A bit of a different opening today, call it a warm open, cold ones are so overdone. Anyway, I’ve been making, or trying to anyway, progress in a particular area and that forms the basis of the proceeding “pledge”.

Today, I will not hate. Despite the myriad of evil persons committing acts of the vilest depravity, I can not hate them. Not anymore. I can, and will, forever work to rectify, educate and catalyze justice, but I WILL NOT HATE.

My goodness, the last post I came across as mock-Jesus, and now it seems we’ve gone full-on Jedi. Now, I have been known to move things with my mind, nothing physically tangible albeit, but when was that caveat ever cited? After all, the force works in mysterious ways, or is that love? Wouldn’t that be a loop, the force IS love. False equivalence or divan proclamation, I’m stretched out, you decide. I even had grapes for breakfast. Can one lounge upon a divan and not eat grapes? I hope not. Now I just need to teach the dog how to flap palm fronds.

Umm, let’s move on… today’s piece is possibly transparent in its “provenance”, but I’ll leave that up to you. Thank you so very much for reading, and may the blessing of the council, if not the rank of Master, be bestowed upon you always.

“The Living Undead”, June 19, 2021.

Limbs outstretched and grasping 

Tentatively attempting to feel way 

But forming contact with naught

Lost amongst profoundly coalescing fog 

Long having rendered sight irrelevant 

Amid a queer mesmerizing white noise 

Further thwarting paltry orientation 

And exacerbating artificial blindness 

So like freshly revived zombies

A janky gait and haphazard shamble

Perhaps to locate frenzied sanctuary 

Or to unceasingly wander, savagely adrift  

No sense, nor scant illumination

We just wanted to be pure.

The last line is almost unchanged from that of at least two Jim Carroll poems, “I just want to be pure”. If you’re not familiar with his work, he wrote, “The Basketball Diaries”, amid other books and musical ambitions. His work was seminal to my own aspirations, and while hardly a fitting role-model for an impressionable young man, much of his journey mirrored my own more closely than I should have permitted. Regardless, the novel is among the best and I very strongly recommend. Definitely pass on the movie though, Hollywood absolutely eviscerated the project. I’ll speak no more of it.

As mentioned earlier, I’m not going to get into the motivations behind this piece as it possibly comes across as self-evident, and if not, then a little mystery is never a bad thing. So long as there’s no murder. Then it’s an entire weekend of fun! Monsieur Poirot?

Thank you again, beautiful souls, may joy be your constant companion, and love ever the ties that so gently bind. Especially should you be into bondage. Not my cup of tea, but to be fair, I don’t much favour tea either. Then again, I quite enjoy iced tea so maybe I should attempt iced bondage? Is there a peach varietal, do you think? Raspberry would also be permissible.

Happy Trails and Waggy Tales!

-Alex Blaikie

By the way, “Frozen Rope”, is a baseball term, if anyone was curious. Baseball players being notorious for their love of iced bondage, of course. 🙂

Categories: comedy original poetry writing

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

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