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
A MYSTERY IS MY INSANITY
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