Friday, October 21, 2016



Outside its dark, lightly raining, and well beyond midnight.
Standing in my customary smoking spot I hear gun fire.
I know one is my dog farting, she sounds like a howitzer,
while the other was three rounds from a .38 or a .380.
I live in a battle zone its true,
but them who can,
refuse to make siege against it,
they have their reasons to fear this place.
Thank God for mobile heavy artillery in a war zone
if the insurgents can't be rooted out they can be gassed.

© M Durfee

Friday, October 14, 2016



In the wee hours of the night,
where the mind can run
unchained from any anchor embedded in the mud.
Freedom is found in the depths and the sky above,
those that bother to look up and around
swim among the thoughts riding free in the darkness
are they that find the intrepid light.

Fearlessness is not an occupation or a situation
only an open eye willing to see,
able to dilate enough. Able to turn away
from the preconceived to that which is.
That which simply is as it is known to itself.
Truth, all truth,
is of that nature and truth
is found in the wee hours of nights thinking.

© M Durfee

Wednesday, October 5, 2016



It is tiring; this pain. The residual effect of surgeries and twirling thoughts of this life diminished. There is no drug that allows for painless life and none that eases the pain of a world in self-destruct mode. The only cure that is analgesic is to not give mind to any feeling.

Time to smoke.

It’s three, the stars are seen for the first time in days. The asphalt, still wet from 25 inches of rain and covered in leaves that were too weak to hang on this late in the year. A lone dog barks in clipped sounds leaving an impression that is night, this night is unlike any other yet the same as all other remembered nights.

Time to prepare coffee.

Sitting in front of this pixilated life, the glow muted by a lamp. No one cares if I wear a shirt as long as I observe and agree with whatever is bothering them now. I do not need to have seen another person recently or ever to come to know them beyond what they decide to show. As long as I participate in their digital life without contention I am... Can there ever be discussion/conversation/debate with someone miles and hours away? Is concord the order of the new world order? Must I agree even though agreement is counterintuitive? I never have been easily agreeable? To what do I owe allegiance? My own purse is empty, any prize won is long gone, the tanks are dry but I must for appearances sake, agree that this one or that one deserves a life more than what I am able to have for my own?

Time to be silent.

It does not matter if I am young or old. All that matters is that I feel worn out, used up, bent by time and understanding. I am enslaved by a life I did not put the order to, tides I did not swim in or against. I am guilty not by what I did or did not do but by my skin. I am privileged not by my wealth or by my ethic but because them who have more than I, say it is so. I have paid and continue to pay for every benefit others accrue while them earned in my own time are taken and trampled. I saved a dime only to watch eight cents go to someone, something not of my choosing.

Time to back out.

I was too young to know the world’s years without war. I have never known peace as anything other than five letters and a definition. Violence, intimidation, oppression, militarism, nationalism, trickery, stampeded by the gaining of wealth by them who are wealthy already, murder, mayhem, and the taking a piece of glory from the reputation for all of it. There may have been a point where some sense was able to be made, but whatever the point was it is now fractured into ten thousand times ten million shards; each ready to cut and bleed whatever life there is from whomever ventures into the current maelstrom of discord. There is not enough caution in the world to stop anyone from walking on the broken pieces. Blood was precious at one time, now it has no value.

Time to


© M Durfee