WONDER LOST

A cloud shrouded moon

Cold orb human lunacy

Life is discontent

© M Durfee

9/13/17


BRIDGES TOLLS TROLLS AND SHIT

The bridge troll rose

from its cave home
to extract that which he deemed his.
Them crossing paid or now owed a debt.
IOU’s are accepted means of escape

for both the signer and the lender.
Collection is inevitable and regrettable;

he with his hand out smirks at the fools.

Ignorance built a bridge for it to live under,
who plans for trolls living under new construction?

Bridges rise and fall with time
and time ever moves in one direction

Or another.
Too fast for some not swiftly enough for others.
I lost my cents to many trolls over the decades
and care nothing for them now, not monsters or cents
I can swim.
Piranha’s swim faster but they are more rare
and death by devouring is not

a wholly unacceptable option.

After all Christ did say eat me, drink me, feel me,
or was that Pete Townsend?
That is the difference between living

and dying’s acoustic version 

or the electric with a wall of amps.

I doubt Christ went deaf with his song,

I doubt many heard either version
or pay the toll of attention.
Bite me, chew me, swallow me, shit me—all pay tolls
but which miscreation collects it?

© M Durfee
9/16/17

LONG TIME COMIN' SHORT TIME GONE

WHAT HAPPENED TO SUBTITLES

The language of his body,
the position of an arm, a leg,

the eyes looking away,
a sex doll mouth always looking like
it’s prepared to give a subtitled blow job.

We are going deaf to words spoken
trying for meaning by getting louder.

We are stuck reading of off camera events,
with nothing undefined for us.
No subtitles provided for clarity only agitation.

Teleprompters rule the world

until they fail in the reader’s eye,

then chaos comes in 140 digits

bullshit set loose @ anyone with an account
to hide that sucking subtitled mouth.

We have come to this place of comic tragedy
where everything is pay per view,

I have no cables connected;
only electroshock headphones,

therapy designed to block vision.

I have no trust that truth is heard.
I am losing my rational mind.
Dementia must be creeping in.
Nothing makes sense in the grind.
Illusion is truth, delusion reality.

We look for the signs

of a life that can’t be,

shouldn’t be, genuine; but are.
I don’t trust subtitles anymore

they like words spoken, lie.

© M Durfee

8/25/17

IT IS OUR DIVISIONS THAT DIVIDE US

LET GO THE “YOU” SO I CAN BE AS GOOD AS “ME”

It is not the mind of the faint of heart

that is weak

but rather the reach of the arm.

One can see to dream,

to envision a greater place

with no division

but it becomes a wearing task

to stretch and search always and forever

coming short of the ideal.

Lower the bar, or stay the bar open longer,

is a solution for them who cannot quite grasp

that peace must come at great cost

at a loss enough to pay the price

for the harmony we seek.

I want to live, to live and not faint for trying,

 even if it’s easier to just give up

stand still crying over all the pollution surrounding me.

Weakness comes from silence,

from the willingness to let the evil win

when good should prevail.

We are a grown up nation now,

but lost our childlike innocence

not with a preponderance of evidence

but our solution of clinging to violence

as our first and last source of conflict resolution.

Where does this bitter hatred come from

that always will stand between us,

that always keeps us apart?

There is more to it than simple rich and poor,

have and have nothing,

you wearing a tuxedo

while I am clothed in shreds of nothing.

Worthwhile is a strength,

proven is a voice

not of personal power but the one that delineates

the choice we have,

the picks we make.

Do we truly want freedom and how is that defined,

what tools are we willing to use to smelt it

and see that colossus refined

from the ore of the mind, the needs of the heart?

All men are born naked and should live that way too.

Openness and acceptance
of the differences between the “me” and “you”
is that which makes men free
from the poverty of the unjust thinking

“me” is better than “you.”

This is the thought
that precludes our singular greatest weakness
and crushes the growth in the faint of heart.

© M Durfee

1.5.2015