Wednesday, September 25, 2013

WHY



MY POETIC HEART’S NEEDS
I live inside words,
words I use
to confront the nature
of actions taught
to men of self bought stature.
I am dead to them,
I have no name, do not exist,
but words set precisely in place
that may be shelved yet refuse to not resist.
For they can only fight and never die,
they can be smashed as lies in the cupboard,
yet the truth of them sharp as knives
will cut even deeper as shards.
I only write words to know
I spoke out while I lived
and not long after I died.

© M Durfee
9/25/13

11 comments:

  1. nice....i like the permenancy of words....you can abuse them for sure but they will always be there...and do the things we can not do...

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  2. I don't see your words as being set "primly" in place. Otherwise, I think this one is dead on.

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  3. 'to men of self bought stature'.....so vivid. Beautiful as always.

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  4. We live in our words... or we try...
    Yours certainly speak out now and always.

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  5. I think your words will be around quite a while, whether you are or not. They, also, are sharp shards.

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  6. Mark, your words are for us to enjoy now and they are your legacy-SOMEDAY! xo

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  7. the power of words... well done, Mark!

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  8. In the beginning -- and I guess end -- is the word. If only we could figure out its power.

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  9. I'm glad that you speak out. I wish that more people did speak out for the truth and not for their self-centered interests. To stand and be counted for the good of all seems like a lost art in these days of greed fueled turmoil.

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So Walking Man I was thinking...