Thursday, September 18, 2014



I lost my way for a day or two,
one of my days or God’s who knew?
How long it would take
to make my way back on track to the place where I was
a long time ago after fighting in so many wars.
I felt like a mercenary
when I wanted to be a missionary with a gun,
flower planted in the barrel but the pot
was still a not and it never really worked out that way.

I am happy there are some
where there
is no need to fight to be content
but those places are all high rent
with walls even higher,
spaces where you pays for your nices,
not like the rest of us—
who must beat a track through saw grass
booby traps crafted by ideology
of too long nail bound boards, of directors
who decide who’s who and where the fit is found.

I did not do well in standardized testing,
I thought the pages of color inside the line circles
were just a place to make a nice design.
Oops I found the page itself was a part of the test,
folded spindled and mutilated mattered
but not to me. I always get the point(ed) in the end.
I made a design of flowers with powers
and rivers with fishes floating in, not on them,
no wonder every answer was wrong.

I was supposed to make a $ and nothing more
to prove I was on the right track, in the right groove.
Oh how I want to be like those among my friends
who can afford to go aboard the ship of state,
have a voice golden and lush
in the ear of them who lead the herd here.


I am not one of the fortunate ones
just a simple soul who knows
how to live without much of what I want and most of what I need,
a plot of land, (not too much sand) 
a bag of seeds and a good back to take me back
to places where life wasn’t bet on,
wasn’t entertainment for them in the stands
taking bets on which dogs will live longest
as we races through the traps that SNAPS!
If that baited spring gets nosed at for a bight of cheeses.
Wiz, wiz where are you?

I looked behind the curtain
wisdom wasn’t found there and nothing else either.
Which was OK too because the robe the monk let me use
has no pockets and I still won’t carry a purse,
even though it may feel right most would think,
as if I cared,
that my life choices finally made me snap.
Cracked and gone astray again.
Gone away again from a place I never returned to.
I still follow that scent from the lit candle
left in the doorway of demise of a place
that has few surprises left me anymore,
it’s all really the same—
the rich shit just like the poor.
The only difference is one gets a bush and green;
leaves fertilizer
while the other gets a door and soft paper to wipe
the sat at the wrong desk too long hemorrhoid crater.

© M Durfee

It is official as of 7/1/14 (yeah I know what month it is but this is Detroit Government we're talking about here) I am no longer disabled, just retired. I got to sign my retirement papers without knowing what the outcome of tha bankruptcy will be, but I figure they can't make us pension holders shoulder much more than the 7.6 billion dollars of debt (1/3) they already hit us with. One less worry and still nowhere to dream to go to. It's cool I won't have to fill out the city form anymore asking me if i am still disabled.


  1. Well for whatever worth it was, hopefully there's a nice retirement funds for all the hard work ~ What more can we as but for a simple life rightfully earned ~ Have a good week Mark ~

    1. *shrug* About the retirement funds Grace, most people in the metro area think I don't deserve anything because I worked for the government. Simple life--yes ma'am I am pretty good at that. Especially the simpleton part.

  2. This world... this world... so bad and no way to change it and no other place to go to...
    You've written a great true poem. I wish you all the best, my friend.

    1. Vesper, the rambling intent behind the surrealistic imagery is to point out that we can change it if we desire, sadly few desire or are willing to take a little less so them with nothing can have some more.

  3. Congratulations?

    ALOHA from Honolulu
    =^..^= . <3 . >< } } (°>

    1. Cloudia it was funny one day I was 59 and the next I was not disabled anymore. Strange place Detroit.

  4. Knew a fellow in Qxford, Ohio once who took his Philosophy final test on the acid. Never knew how that came out -- but he graduated.

    1. Probably writing books on philosophy and teaching the course by now Goatman.

  5. I hope it all works out with retirement instead of disability. I don't want to see you screwed or Detroit either. Hang in there, man.

    1. Syd we already got the largest part of the screwing wwith the loss of medical care, that was a shit ton of the city's debt and then having the monetary cuts while having to buy private insurance--people who retired 40 years ago actually did much better than we are doing but, *shrug* it'll all work out, and we might get back to 2012 levels by 2034. I never thought of myself as a discharged debt before but it is an interesting thing to thunk over!

  6. Replies
    1. Yes meowmomma The First was STINK but that was in 2009, the other poems i wrote yesterday I dleted because i didn't care for the meter.

  7. Mark-I still don't understand if you are happy with the new plan? xo


So Walking Man I was thinking...