Thursday, August 22, 2013


Carpet bombing.
God Damn it's one hell of an awesome sight.
Explosives dropped from seven miles of height.
The craters fires and carnage all silently seen
is beautiful use of our minds and technology.
Unless you’re on the ground.

© M Durfee

Tied to an old stool with the gin just out of reliefs reach
I finger the hole in my pocket
to embrace the sole part of me still of use.
Unwilling to break the bonds that restrain me,
but I am comfortably willing to take abuse.
Someone must stay and witness the end
of the poorly written story.
May as well be me
I can always piss later
be satisfied in both;
knowing the end
reliefs release ginned up from knowing’s release.

Back bent with my head used
by so many that now hate me
after they have stupidly run out of ammo.
But want to sue for peace;
so sad the petty know so little of me,
thinking me blind from drinking bad booze
(seriously—is there such a thing?)
That brought me to my insanity,
still my skull is found to be useful
to plug the walls breach.
Thinking the break a siege
but truly is lack of care and maintenance.
I do not need my head anyway
rounds are chambered with practiced hand.
Has no one ever noticed I have no index finger;
that digit is permanently bent to fit a trigger.
It is insane to be captivated
by the sublimely superior stupid story makers.

No one sees the concrete heart.
 It crumbles from a poor mixture of sand and lie.
I stay as I am, indifference recently added to my repertoire of insanity.
I know I can stand from the beat up seat if I desire,
To inquire of my legs rise me,
move me away from the siege
that never fucking existed.
A hole no army ever entered
other than in the minds
of the bravely courageously self-centered.

Among them of brittle mind,
so easily confused by fact,
can be as good as any to stop
hear no more,
drop the act
see no more,
in simple words
are hard found fact
touch or taste no more,
every succeeding message more truth is redacted
feel no more.
Oh how simple I am with such a confused head.

And with my head mortared into the wall I did not build
I stay,holding my ordered place in the land
cranially holding up a selfish built boundary lest it fall
for still I’d rather my brain there than stuck in the sand.

© M Durfee


  1. ha. yes, not a whole lot of fun on the ground...its a hot time in the old town tonight...and take care of that sand and lie heart man, dont let it crumble all the way, its still got a beat i have heard it....and watch what is redacted....or what we ignore...

    1. Only to the last part Brian--I have still, one good eye and i find lmost everything difficult to ignore.

  2. "Among them of brittle mind,
    so easily confused by fact,
    can be as good as any to stop..."

    How the powerful stay powerful...count on confusion

    1. Melinda, that is a pure human tendency that follows physics. Water and electricity will always follow the easiest path rather than the right one. It is easy for the self centered to think they are being ignored for someone of lesser financial or human worth. This piece is all about the world not revolving around the narrator and his indifference to that.

  3. "Oh how simple I am with such a confused head." - this line leaped at me, Mark. The whole piece is incredibly tight and belies any state of confusion at all. The choices we make...when they seem limited...yes, this was a powerful write indeed.

    1. Thank yo Talon--people not accustomed to death, who live in mortal fear of it tend to let their true feelings out because the masks have been ripped away. Sad very sad.

  4. Destruction is always compelling. Unfortunately.

    1. Charles I understand what you mean but to me it is heart wrenching unless it is to make room for a better construction.

  5. Got to be selfish ... be selfish, my friend ... it's the only base you have from which you can shoot your bullets of love and hate ... and let nobody tell you otherwise.

    1. Meowmomma---I have no need in my soul or spirit to be selfish or self centered. I am too old, have seen too much, to believe I am some great sun in the sky. On the other hand I have become a fair shot with good aim when absolutely necessary.

  6. Finally I can come and visit you! Or rather, now that I'm back to my desktop I can leave comments and not just lurk. My ipad can't handle your site. There's some technical glitch that won't allow me to click on the "publish" button.

    Seems like if we don't keep our head stuck in the sand, then we're busy banging them against walls. Seems like there should be a better use for them.

    1. Alice it is called thinking things through to as many possible conclusions before taking any action. Unfortunately most people have faulty powder and they fire well before they have found the correct target. *shrug* that is the reason one should keep their weapons unloaded.

  7. I draw back my skirts when visiting here. But could never look away from You, Bro


  8. What a write Mark ~ I don't want to be on the ground when these happends ~ I like this part best:

    No one sees the concrete heart.
    It crumbles from a poor mixture of sand and lie.


    1. Grace these pieces were more for me, a cathartic release of feelings others brought me too and I did not want to dwell on them anymore. I have not lost my love or care for humanity, but I have seen now how wrong I am in thinking that love alone will heal us.

  9. Carpet bombing.

    It sounds so homey, so springtime.

    Unless you lived in Laos in the seventies.

    1. Or Hanoi, Baghdad, and a few other places. I thought carpet bombing an appropriate metaphor for what my wife and I have been going through together the past few weeks.

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  11. Maybe if you cleaned yourself up a bit and cared about your body more your mind will get straight. When you give up on your body like you have, your thoughts are as polluted as your body. Also, you can only see 1/4 or less of your face. What are you hiding Mark? Your face? Get yourself together man.


So Walking Man I was thinking...