Tuesday, January 21, 2020

THE END RESULT


Lies reign, dropping out of a clouded blue sky,
over the civil minded heart.
More bullshit covering shredded powerless lives.

Most words fell far short of the damage done.
Historical quotes “Kill ‘em, kill ‘em all”
will always work just fine to make the point.

And when the killing is done, the twist and spin is over,
the only edifice left standing is the houses of the bully boys
with their sausage fat fingers playing with the buttons,

poking holes that buttons,
laying on untaxed fat bellies,
that they cannot reach to close.

And when the lie has become absolute truth
spoken only through the offsite mouth of Big Brother
you will not know the meaning of freedom.

© M Durfee
1/21/2020

Saturday, January 4, 2020

FINDINGS

Come of age—it’s easy to grow too old
to ever mature & stay too young, a failure at fame,
selfies in party hats celebrating a non-future.

Never white again underwear barely hanging on a baggy bodies;
believing sex is both a right and a duty.
Inflated gassy pairs moaning before, during, and after.

Layin’ up on day off, never admitting to tired.
Drinking is just drinking, a way of life, not a party game.
Liquor, pills, ashtray, and a cough share the nightstand.

This ain’t the days of bobbysocks and poodle skirts
where beat boys were surrendering nihilist anxiety
to every whim with rolled up jeans and heroin.

This is music without tune rolling through the night.
It is without explanation or divination.
People punching for the right to be what has become.

© M Durfee
1/4/2020

Saturday, December 28, 2019

SLOW ROLL IN AN OLD CAR


I found this while looking for something else and thought it deserved a tune up and 2nd look.

Man I could drive this neighborhood every night
for the rest of my life.
It will still show me some shit I have never seen before,
or shit I saw—but passed by silently.

Darkness comes
crawling out in its
deep bass tone
burned up,
boiled out,
well baked
normal.
It’s not ominous.

It is though
boring, tiring, at times deadly
for them who pay tribute to dying.

The darkness is all that’s noticed,
the abandoned is easily forgotten
by them who never had purchase,
no stake, no life here when it was light.

Death of anything,
body,
city,
culture
is not a ticketed event.
There is no room for patrons
or party goers; only the stars of the moment shine
while staging an event the world easily ignores.

God, go ahead,
damn the moment I realized
I never had a family in this place.
It, this arena of dying cityscapes
is not meant for—any that refuse to be here.

Of course it is just as certain,
I never had family wherever they went off to.
I know I was there when they were born,
or wanted to be.
From the moment I drew breath,
I forgot something—or never learned.

Not all can drive these streets
and see life in the dark.
© M Durfee
12/26/16