Dread Poets Sobriety

Good day, benevolent travelers. Please, sit momentarily by the warming glow of the computer monitor and listen to my tale of intrepid adventure and pyrrhic woe. Once upon a time, deep in the jungles of Peru… Nah, I’m just screwing with you, that’s not really what we do here, this ain’t no fable table.

What is it that we do here again? Ahh yes, rhyming and converting emotion into a nearly marketable skill. So let’s go ahead and do that then. I’m going to share 2 new ones today as I’ve actually been rather prolific of late privately but haven’t published for y’all in a few weeks.

Admission; I recycled one rhyming pair in one of the pieces from one from last year or the one before’s poems. Let’s say, “one”, some more… One million, “Whose Line is it Anyway”, points to whoever may notice. Just so perfect I couldn’t only use once. Enjoy!

“Insatiable (The Thirst), June 7, 2020.

Disposition transposition

Like drinking bird toy

Lugubrious salubrious

Swap sadness and joy

Iteration aberration

Rare to short this fuse

Belligerent refrigerant

A demonic ruse

Ideation inspiration

May still come to pass

Installation destination

Arrest scale with mass

Mysterious imperious

Be sure now take care

Necessary arbitrary

Water or the air.

The older I become the harder it is to impress myself with intellectual pursuits, standards lofty now indeed, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t very pleased with my efforts here. The rhymes, premise and pseudo-premises all mesh perfectly. In my relatively humble opinion anyway.

“Trick and Mortar”, June 3, 2020.

Trepidation casts bombardment

Subtlety rarely granted consideration

Cascading bolts assail with fear yet intrigue

Thrill and terror entwine as unruly fraternal twins

Forever entangled within stomach’s pit

Each grappling for permanent superiority

A biochemical campaign of tug of war

Whether to be one-sided or incrementally contested

Is typically determined in arbitrary fashion case by case.

Not nearly as pleased with this one. Without rhyming anxiety or whatever just ends up being sad. Cathartic perhaps but a bit of a downer, no?

That’s all for me folks.  Please keep well, all racists can fuck right off, stay safe and be kind.

Happy Trails and Waggy Tails to all! Remember when this thing had a catchphrase?

Pepperidge Farm remembers.

-Alex Blaikie