Monday, March 16, 2015

EN MIL AÑOS ¿CUÁL SERÁ EL ARCHOLOGISTS ENCONTRAR AQUÍ



STORY BOARDS

The implication is one of desperation
full of complications that appear
so severe as year after year
warm weather ghosts continue to reappear
when there is little left to trade away
after the last punch has been thrown
at the unknown Sunday way
of lurching through the churching crowd
gathered on street corners growing loud
then louder as the weed and liquor
hastens the pace,
makes the fighters race faster,
to the sacraments of streets moving quicker
until someone remembers
it’s no longer December
so arson can be done for fun
and not just the free heat
to warm those running feet
from sirens that bleed nonstop noise
the wailing that pleases all the girls and boys
not left bleeding on the street
their maker not far off to meet.

Man I tell you the wealth junkies
are never going away not yesterday,
tomorrow or today. Their flunkies pump that needle
into the veins of entire neighborhoods
just to live a life they think is gated, golden and good.
Not that anyone cares anymore, not that anyone should.
We live in this reckless shit and have no share, not a bit
except what the fertilizer grows,
just more of it, junky shit;
crap that everyone knows watches
as it is ever evolving into more of the
gotten used to it blighted patches.
The flatfoot dicks never come here
where the commotion of crime snatches
peace is so normal crawling home here
there is nothing, not a thing worth resolving,
every breathing soul is already dead
not a damned thing left of knowledge to fill the head
other than Sunday brawls, whore to john calls
and the never ending running from the flying lead.
You know after a time the eyes see
what the eyes want to be,
and what is seen is the bleeding out dying
street soon to be dead, no more wailing and crying.

© M Durfee
3.16.2015


In the movie Road to Perdition
The kid asks the thug
“Mr. why are you always smiling?”
He leans down in and close
“Because it’s all so fucking funny”
Detroit it’s not a place, it’s a lifestyle.

9 comments:

  1. Wealth junkies. Perfect name for them.

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    Replies
    1. Enough is never enough and too much is unheard of, Charles.

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  2. I deal with flat foot dicks and their disciples every night ... quite an awkward challenge to master at times ... some nights I work really hard to defuse my war(d) zone ... just sayin' ... Love, cat.

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    Replies
    1. uhm, meant to say: de escalate ... ya ... whatever ... me tired ... going to bed

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    2. Defuse is a very adequate explanation of your job & in many ways your job is adequately described in this, my reality.

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  3. Years ago you mentioned that most of your poems come out a lump and get split into lines afterwards. I look at the first one and think your splitting job would have daunted me. I don't think it would daunt you, though.

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    Replies
    1. Some days Alice the date on the bottom is a culmination of a weeks worth of edit trying to draw a picture not too abstract to be understood.

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  4. "wealth junkies" resonated with me, too

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  5. Less is more can be very true. We all walk our own path. xo

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So Walking Man I was thinking...