Friday, April 3, 2020

DETROIT KNOWS HOW TO PARTY




Defiance gives them away.
Stupid people rolling up the night.
It ‘s essential to party dusk to dawn
“no work let’s all get high”.

A week ago most felt death knocking.
Today, protest against the orders.
“You can’t tell me to…”
I expect next week to hear the cry

“OH Mama why did you die!”

© M Durfee
4/3/2020


A bitter 55 today.  

Ljnk to Joy at http://versiscape-lifesentences.blogspot.com/

55’s are an exercise in concise thought.  Convey through poetry, comment, or (very) short story your thinking. 55 words no less no more. The go to Verse escape and drop your url in the comments.

Be well, stay safe and kick ass!

Friday, March 27, 2020

CONSTANT REPEAT



Leonard is on, singing Hallelujah in the background. The song is on constant repeat while the hand that would have made it pass is on the floor, dead.  The paramedic surveys the scene and determines the contagion is opioid not Carona. Death is a master with many faces, none of them unique, novel, or new.

© M Durfee
3/27/20 20



This is my 55 for today. If it so pleases you to write one also Link it to Joy at http://versiscape-lifesentences.blogspot.com/2020/03/flash-friday-fiction-55-march-2020.html. Place your own IP address within the comments at Verse Escape and then sit back and kick ass.

The rules are simple. Write anything, short story, poetry, comment; whatever. The only rule is 55 words max in the body of your piece. That would be 55, not a whit more nor less.

Tuesday, March 24, 2020

QUARANTINED THE GHETTO SILENTLY SCREAMS



In silence the city rings out its warnings.
No trains shall pass here, no planes, no cars,
nothing but bullets sent into the sulk of fear.
Solitude is a gallows, a choking gibbet

The stillness causes my head to scream
“I need, I must have, ain’t got no…”
nothing to show; only a whispered prayer of solicitation;
“please God don’t close the liquor store!”

Christmas morning wasn’t this quiet,
this is no gift; this absence of sound.
Sleep, sleep is crushed with fearsome dreams.
Quarantined, the ghetto silently screams.

© M Durfee
3/24/2020


I have very clear memories of ’67 Detroit under martial law. At no time from then to now has the ghetto been this quiet at 3 am.