What is going on, beautiful people? Another gorgeous day, sure it’s grey and the sun perhaps a distant memory but like anything else of a kind, it’s still there. We may not be able to see it but the light remains. Sometimes things are just gray, still, even when it feels impossible, light is inevitably returning. Emotions are just a fleeting perspective, just because you feel hopeless does not mean you ARE hopeless. Patience and kindness go a long way, especially with yourself. Not sure when this post became a sermon but there it is. Peace be with you.
Well, that was completely unplanned. It will forever remain a mystery how at times one can sit down and stare at a blank page in utter bafflement while at others, the words are a veritable torrent so much so that my feeble hands can scarcely keep up. And it’s always one or the other, a true dichotomy. Output rivalling either Jack Torrance or Stephen King. Though one could easily argue, quality-wise, even Jack has an edge on me with Mr. King so far beyond that I’m basically flung into the Deadlights. We all float. At least Jack, while progressively more insane, was committed to his bit. To be fair, the only ghosts haunting me are of my own making. The Overlook never really burned. Not for everyone.
We’re moving on, I promise. Today’s poem is one I’m quite fond of despite it being a fairly recent creation. It was written during a time of relative emotional upheaval and it comes through nicely. It’s interesting again that for me the best poetry is derived from misery or joy. It’s dichotomy day, don’t forget to pick up your complimentary optimist/pessimist commemorative mugs set on your way out.
This poem attracted a multitude of titles. I kept accidentally thinking of fun ones when it’s a somewhat downcast piece where they don’t fit at all. So, here are the runner-ups… Frankenstein’s Monster Energy, (my favourite), Frumpty Dumpty, (a close 2nd), A Stitch Not In Time and Rack of All Trades. Maybe I’ll write a poem to fit each title later.
“The Gravity of Weakness”, Feb. 11, 2024.
Haphazardly scattered essence
Perceived infinite directions
Each shred purely essential
But restoration odious beyond reckoning
So wistfully few will be recaptured
Gleaming galaxies, universe and stars
A torn pouch of cosmic marbles
Carelessly strewn before us
Coalescing blurred kaleidoscopic images
Seeking to twist the design back in place
And with survival paramount to optimization
Statutory biological realignment triggers
Forceful and profoundly tenebrous
Scarring surface and deep within
With whatever pieces somehow still present
Viscously sewn in arbitrary tandem
To now be forever proclaimed as whole.
First of all, friends who donated, please let me know if it’s ok to give you a public shout-out/ thank you. I know some may be uncomfortable. Regardless here’s a non-public THANK YOU! And thank YOU for reading, you’re Tony the Tiger level, Great!
I don’t really have any further postamble, incidentally isn’t it nice to be free to amble both pre and post? As an avid ambler actually able appreciates an amazing autonomy. And it’s fun. I will say, the second last line of the poem is one of my favourites ever. It just feels so raw and it was.
Thank you so much for visiting and please enjoy an exceptional everything!
Happy Trails and Waggy Tails,
Alex Blaikie
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Dread Poets Sobriety 
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