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A Thought Impairment

Hello dear friends and readers, it is an indubitable pleasure indeed! I sincerely hope to find you all safe and well, particularly our international contingent who may be facing challenges of great unpleasantness. It would be undeniably insincere to say my thoughts and prayers are with you but my thoughts certainly are and hopefully, the collective thoughts of humanity can see us through this yet further unnecessary calamity and bloodshed.

Much has transpired since last we “spoke” but given they’re mostly of a vaguely depressing nature, at best, let’s instead focus on some meandering musings. Much like the above statements you often hear those who fail to study the past are doomed to repeat it, or some variation of such. I’ve learned recently that it is however balance which forms the most essential ties that bind, whether it be together or ourselves.

One cannot live exclusively in the past, either from an aggregate perspective or individual. Let’s focus on the individual because it’s peak hubris to speak for anyone but myself. If I only ever live in the past, maybe internalizing lessons, perhaps dwelling upon mistakes or missed opportunities, that is no life. Though as stated above if we fail to look to the past those errors will unendingly repeat to our misery.

How about the present? Exclusively residing within the moment disallows any planning for betterment for the cost of whatever revelry one may desire. But alas, the man, (woman, other), who never stops to smell the flowers is never truly alive.

And finally, the murky and unknown futures before us. Being trapped only in what is yet to occur is horrific and destroys any enjoyment elsewhere, but if one never plans for what is to come, one ends up unprepared and arguably worse off than before.

So, how do we amalgamate these various paradoxes? How to align this blighted spine of life? You’re not going to like it… It’s random and arbitrary for each person and only you can determine the correct composition of elements for your greater success. It reminds me of a computer game I played as a child where coconuts would roll off a conveyor belt and you had to direct them to the proper of their three destinations based upon simple mathematical equations. It’s essentially the same except no equations exist and you never know when another coconut is about to roll.

What then is the point of all that? This cat’s cradle of contradictory statements, theories and platitudes? A veritable “rat-king” of paradoxes all writhing so very tightly. There is none, it’s no more than the meandering musings I promised. Incorporate it or not into your thinking but let’s see if we cannot find the equanimity, we all desire, consciously or not, and allow love to dominate the uncertainty and fear we too well know. I mean damn, if trial and error is the best method available, perhaps the only, then take the time to discern your optimal weighting. It feels worth it, at least from one whose chutes are clogged with yet more never-ending coconuts and nowhere left to stash them beyond proper absorption.

So that’s that. I am working on a poem describing the quandry though it’s proven irksomely elusive thus far. It’s got a great title though, just have to slur the pronunciation of “r” in impairment a tad so it sounds like “experiment” lest the mediocre pun be ripped asunder. Ahh, regret, a dastardly coconut(s) indeed.

Just a very short poem after all the cranial gymnastics. Uneven parallel bars I would think if we’re to nail it down. Definitely not a floor routine. Anyway, let’s relax and take it back to a potentially simpler time…

“Mrs. ?”, June 28, 2021.

What is up 

Who is down 

How a smile 

When you frown 

Where the ruin 

Why occurred 

From first lessons

Of grade third.

Given the perilous grammatical state of the above wording it can safely be assumed I didn’t take in enough of said lessons. 🙂

Thank you very much for joining and slogging through all today’s muck. Hopefully, it wasn’t too mucked up or bogged down.

I wish you all balance, love and joy. Whether you believe it or not, you ARE worthy. Now extricate your Excalibur from whatever stone it resides within and become the authentic Monarch of your destiny!

Happy Trails and Waggy Tails,

Alex Blaikie

Categories: author funny original poem poetry writing

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

4 replies

  1. You are stealthily moving from poet to philosopher!

    “Ahh, regret, a dastardly coconut(s) indeed.”

    I should hire you to write up my stand-up comedy, you have a great panache for bringing back ideas in a clever way!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Haha thank you father, it’s always nice to know you can count on your parent for support:p Sorry though, I don’t mind ghost writing but not for jokes, those are mine alone! You know, until some large corporation copy-writes them without my knowledge.


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