Saturday, September 6, 2014



The threat is all inside his head they said taking him away in restraints to places everyone dreads inside their head. Who after all wants to go to rooms where there are no floors and the only thing certain is the fall through open doors, away from grace, from places out into the furthest darkest coldest places of space that only mathematicians can explain in languages known only to them; them and their theories calculated but undemonstrated.

Swimming in oceans drowning seems like a dream to him now, but the visions of the ifs and the maybes surrounding those night stalkers, moon walkers, picture talkers long dead known only by the pigments left imprinted in the biology of his head. Where are they taking him but to places only the “pay me” Houdini spiritualists say they can answer for him and me; for a fifty dollar fifteen minute half hour.

Living in love is a question to an answer that every dancer knows is possible as long as the music plays on in tunes containing rhythms, riffs and codas that never stop; for motion depends on the love and love relies on music more than any man can know, not that many care anymore as long as there is lust, love is an orgasm.

He wondered, in his deep space restraints, always and forever he was ignorant of man’s ways to say humans needed rules for war? As if it is game someone pondered and decided that killing had legitimate legalized directions. Move the pieces this way and it okay and move them that way to make the game go astray into areas where the loss of life is all wrong. It is not a game but most are willing to play anyway. As long as they are not on the losing side. Not taking that dirt nap, loser’s ride.

He ponders who decides which tribes live and which die legally. He knew that he could free a land but never a mind, he is retrained in restraints so it must be you who takes the thoughts to places where pens are set up for writing declarations of emancipations of thoughts turned away from hate and hells always ever present state of rules for war and every other despicable thing he knew grew from the garden after it’s earth was sucked dry of every clean nutrient.

That is his only known truth; having done what he could do, now you either quit or join it’s also up to you.

© M Durfee


  1. pretty sad that we have to have rules for war...because it is inevitable...
    the next to last para i felt was more directed at the ominiscient --- and
    wondering how he chooses is a hard thought...not a decision i would want...

  2. Surreal but lovely. Resonance in this one.

  3. Lyrical and brilliant!
    (Not surprising, coming from here).

  4. Choices, choices. Life does centre around about what we choose, doesn't it...

  5. This seems to be a different style for you with lots to ponder...

  6. I haven't always made good choices. In fact, some of them have been decidedly not good. But I am at the point now where I think about consequences more and accept the responsibility for the choices that I do make.


So Walking Man I was thinking...