Monday, July 1, 2013


I sat to write a poem
of beauty and love
try as might
I could find nothing within me
In my memory the flower filled fields
mountain steams clean and clear
that I once knew; dear and untilled.

I would shelter myself
from the darkest thoughts of my mind
and isolate a little less the creature that is me
if I had not the feeling that we have thrown
aside near ever creator given blessing.

So few try ever so hard to impose a killing will
upon the structure of society
with the strength of paper bond and bills
they believe gives them deity
they hand the fear filled a credit debt owed plate
and order them to eat the shit upon it completely.

This is but one form of 21st century slavery!

What business is it of anyone to legislate
if I decide I can do this or that with no harm
to him or her and call that my earthly function?
Who the fuck is another man with his own plan
to dictate to me who or what I can see or be?

The truth of the matter is in isolation
someone can cart all I own away
steal from me every
breath of fresh air that is headed my way,
I can shrug all of those heinous actions away
simply say to myself
“it means nothing why bother to fight it anymore?”  

Even busted, broken sitting in the cave
laid aside for the poor
I know I am not a whore.
I know that once I am stripped
naked of everything I once was or ever owned
I can count myself crowned better in beauty than anything,
be it food or flower, garden grown.
For it is truth, there is a certain thing that few will see,
it is called poverty the worthwhile cost of being free.

© M Durfee


Utopian dreams of amity conquering calamity and leisure being our pleasure as we allow machines to labor for us while we sit upon a calming shore reading learning simply gaining knowledge for the sake of knowing have come reality crashing down upon us. The eight million charged bravely into the mass of eight billion and valiantly tried to make as many of them blind from the day they were born to the day they died and all the while the eight million who lead this mass drink Dom Perignon while the vast mass of them who they war upon drink polluted or no water at all. Disaster will be felt by all slave and master when the final Champagne grape crops, like all other harvests fail. 


We seeded and planted fields to grow that our brothers and sister in need could feed from the fruits born upon them. Now that our sun has become a death star spurring the climate to tear our habitats apart what is it we think we can do to stop the hungry from seeing those golden grain fields and not make war over it? 


We have come so far. We have left ghosts in every room of this house that we’ve built upon, so many that there is no way for the room not to foundation crumble and tilt. Ghosts do not al’ays arise through death or disaster but the mere act of our have passed through a newly added room to now. Each specter wears the sheet of the evolved trials, triumphs and failures of an evolved species bent on self-destruction. There is no exorcism of our collective past simply the ignored knowledge of it. From cave to mansion the ghost’s weight has set our foot to nowhere but the grave where a moment after the final end there will be no one to send flowers for the deceased only the mass of ghosts we have released to sit upon it. Beg not for more time our problems to resolve there is too much money involved for us to want the need of them corrected. You cannot take you lucre with you when there is none left to bury you in it that is done while we yet live. What price are we willing to pay to live, what portion of our mindset are we willing to change, our societies to rearrange, in order to stop the haunts of our present from entering the line of ghosts from a past that follows us moment by building moment to our end?  


  1. Powerful poem there at the beginning and we all live with a few ghosts, some of us more than others...

    1. Thank you Jeff, true enough about the ghosts. Sadly however them with the legion dare not look back for fear of what they may sear following them.

  2. The 21st century far we have come, yet how little we have truly learned to help ourselves & others ~

    1. Grace, at times i think we have not moved far from the first step, even with all of our technology and learning simply because we force each other, in order to live, to isolate. If I can pinpoint one thing I truly lack great amounts of, it is hope.

  3. there is a certain freedom that poverty does bring...those that can afford every whim and do it without a thought to their fellow man, thats not freedom...its slavery of its own sort...

    what cracks me up is all the misdirection and stupidity...all the uproar over if it isnt happening right now or been there forever...we'll probably go to war over something as stupid

    1. Brian the emperor was enslaved by his vanity trapped in lies of crooks and fear of them unwilling to give up power, position or place. It took a child to tell him his dick was swinging in the wind and even then his vanity ruled him.

      America is war weary and finally starting to see we, like the emperor have no new clothes only threadbare ones that leave us all but naked. We have not done anything them who are howling the loudest have and are doing themselves.

  4. My wife spoke a beautiful line when we were at the park yesterday. "The trees weep flowers." We saw several trees where trumpet vines had been shedding their blooms.

    1. Charles my question to Lana would have been, whom do they weep for?

  5. Such a mindless greedy society we live in...the machines dictate and the people willingly take dictation.

    1. It's odd Talon. The educated among the 30 year old class are trying to resurrect the Utopian ideal of machines doing all of the planets labor while man finds contentment in allowing it. Personal wealth will come by letting super computers not only find answers but also ask questions. Those who expressed the idea to me called it the ultimate freedom born of intellect; I called it the final link and ankle bracelet of a slaves chains.

  6. I like your intensity. I smile when I read you -- and am just a little afraid.


    1. Pearl, You smile and fear when you read my poetry only because you see some of what I speak to..on the other hand on more than one occasion YOU have been the heartiest part of my day with the stories of your life. I may be foolish but because people like you exist, I still have a glimmer of hope for mankind's ability to persevere. Take care of those wrists my friend.

  7. Mark, hope is all that makes reality bearable. xo

  8. A lot to think about and today, I'm not much into thinking that hard. Maybe tomorrow.


So Walking Man I was thinking...