Have you seen the? sacred tree that all lovers see

 

Blessed be. 

Velumbound. 

A transmission about the "sacred tree" that all lovers see represents the universal, almost mystical awakening of romantic devotion. 

The "eight magical letters" explicitly spell out the phrase "I love you," acting as a binding spell that persists even after the relationship eventually "stutters" or ends.

Let us begin. 

The Sacred Tree

(A lone voice whispers)

I can remember now I'm seventy-five

In this nursing home called

The Atonement 

A surreal time 

When I felt so alive

A pivotal moment in my life when happiness blew 

Like a magical ruby red seed within golden leaves

Through my soul garden

Where nobody grows

And slowed and stopped to paint a priceless picture like a young Picasso 

I thought would last forever

When we caressed 

And would never die 

Up high 

In our now twin minds, 

Midnight sky

A tapestry of two hearts beating as one 

Entwined in mind

Where in time

We spoke in rhymes 

But like all golden leaves once green

Sent from The Great In-Between 

The gold heralds a time to grieve

So now apart

We silently cry 

Me the daylight 

And She 

The crow 

Who flies at night 

With ruby red lips

Bestowed with a kiss 

To sink so many ships

And in this mournful hour, in this precarious night 

As I write

Before Saint Peter

Calls me home

I leave this letter to her

Infused with powerful memories of those happy days and hours

So she knows

I'll always remember the day we first met

And each willingly received

A red rose from the secret tree

All lovers see

In each other's enamoured eyes

When with eight magical letters

They bind forever 

With a sweet romantic line

They utter

I love you

Before their beautiful relationship stutters

(C) 

Copyright John Duffy 

A transmission projected down from the height of the COVID years.

 

Blessed be. 

Velumbound. 

Can you remember those fear-inducing speeches? 

(A lone voice whispers)

With vacant, empty stares

Like the husk above and desolate, soul-crushing goals

They who love to stand on mahogany podiums to talk and preach

Those who'd like to paint the globe in anxious red paint 

Creating drum beats of suspicion

To all within their reach

And then instruct mandates that could make a sane man faint 

For people to comply for their own safety 

With a straight face 

Pretending they aren't tainted 

Corrupted or even classed as crazy 

But in reality

The masses now wilfully mesmerised and gleefully enrolled

Are just restrained like prisoners in orange jumpsuits

By those they've put in control

Because of this and their devoted followers  

Who through social media 

Feel they can openly criticise whilst on patrol

 

This continuous talk of death and fear 

The threat of shedding so many unfortunate tears

Makes them listen to those issuing instructions

Even More

But beyond the limitations of all that seemingly hypnotising fear

There is still hope

 

Hope in the divine knowledge 

Of a new freedom

Once we go outside their strict walls and rigid ramblings

Breaking free from their cleverly crafted paradigms 

Linked to isolation and confinement 

Trying to imprison all those poor souls listening 

As they read from their new Dead Sea Scrolls 

We can each still create a new kingdom of our own

By keeping our faith and looking between the lies

Whilst tearing up labels and testimonies from those corrupted dark trolls

Just following hidden instructions 

From the ghouls 

Who are really in the know

Members of secret societies whose motto is simply  

Money and greed

What they do not know is 

"Radix Malorum Est Cupiditas" 

A Biblical quotation in Latin

Which means 

"Greed is the root of evil" 

Which will be the mantra of the Devil's Men when they come

And all they'll hear when their time is called

And to the 9th Circle be driven by the hell hounds

As they are recalled

Where they'll suffer into eternity

When their pitiful souls over hot coals are hauled

Keep the faith

Better days are coming your way

Your life has never been just another commodity 

That can be easily bought and sold

If you never agree 

to put it up for sale

(C) 

Copyright John Duffy

.

Can you ever trust politicians?

  Blessed be. 

Velumbound. 

Can you ever trust politicians? 

Here's a cynical, politically charged transmission that explores the concept of personal liberty and individual autonomy against a backdrop of institutional manipulation. 

The piece serves as a cautionary warning to the reader, urging them to develop hyper-awareness ("open your eyes real wide") to avoid being exploited by political forces.

Libertas

(A lone voice whispers)

Some say to be free

And avoid being played 

By anyone or anything 

Consumed and discarded like a cheap bottle of lemonade 

By the charge of those drinking warm bottles of Kool-Aid 

From their brown bag of tricks 

You have to open your eyes real wide to see

To try to see what they plan and say in the shade

To see what they really know and places they go

To hear the true sounds of the bells they ring

And in that moment 

As you watch with bright eyes aglow

To hear what songs they sing

As their record plays 

You will know where their true loyalties lie

And know

If you're being played or betrayed 

By those dark souls

Who hide 

Like members of The Lost Crusade 

Amongst the dark shadows of humanity's deadly nightshade 

Called politics 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

Are you still here?

 

Blessed be. 

Velumbound. 

If you are still here. 

In my dark corner of the Web. 

Where the curious are compelled to find something more than the flesh peddlers on patrol. 

I give you "Lost Love." 

A deeply melancholic, structured free-verse transmission that explores the long-term devastation of grief, tracking the exact timeline of a 22-year emotional aftermath.

(A lone voice whispers) 

I met my first love in June

When the full Moon 

Ruled the night sky

Like Zeus

And those sweet memories will always remain

Even now,

Since she's gone and I feel such pain.

The Heavens light 

I know

Will shine soon again 

Lighting up the Moon 

As we once more are reintroduced

Like on that beautiful day 

We first met in June

And even though this pain follows me 

Like a ghost down every lane

In the public and spiritual domains

Offering me dark fruits

Like Hera

I still march on

Carried by the memories of walking hand in hand 

In such fun

Fancy free and footloose 

Down so many unforgettable side streets 

And that's why 

Even now, 

After 22 years

Of painful mental abuse 

I can't say goodbye 

For as I look up into the night sky

Up high

And see a full Moon 

I still cry

Inside 

Asking 

Oh, 

Why Lord

Did my true love have to die

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Did he deliver?

 

Blessed be. 

Velumbound. 

Here's a contemporary political transmission that captures the intense, almost religious fervour of modern American political rallies. 

Written in the context of a 2024 election year, the piece functions as an objective, observational critique of populism and the powerful psychological bond between a charismatic leader and their followers.

Today's question in 2026: did he deliver? 

Title. 

2024

The people gathered like resilient members of a secret survivalist group 

Day and night

To watch the main podium speaker

Preach to their audience and sing

While red and blue flags 

Adorned with stars and stripes

Fluttered like butterfly wings 

As the ignited ones

Looked to the one

Who promised to change a million and one things 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Who would you miss?

 Blessed be. 

Velumbound. 

A theme many don't consider until it's too late.

People taking people for granted, thinking they'll be around forever.

Title:

Mortality 

(A lone voice whispers)

My name doesn’t matter

Only one question matters

Who would you really miss

If you could only give them

One last mortal goodbye kiss, tomorrow 

Which one of your family

Friends or relatives 

All beloved folks in your Houses of Representatives

Would leave you wallowing in true sorrow?

For as true as the cock crows 

No one is promised 

Tomorrow 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

One for the Night Owls. Maybe you.

 Blessed be. 

Velumbound. 

One for you to carry into the night. 

The Nightwalker

(A lone voice whispers)

They 

Call me Ramon

The nightwalker looking for her

The one who summons me with her faint calls of

Dépêche-toi mon amour

Dépêche-toi mon amour

(Hurry up, my love)

And when I finally appear

She disappears smiling and whispers

Pas ce soir, mon amour, laisse le grand jeu continuer. 

Cette poursuite passionnante est tout ce que nous avons maintenant. 

Ne gâchons pas ce rêve mystique de The Great In-Between.

Que la poursuite continue.

(Not tonight, my love; let the great game continue. 

This thrilling chase is all we now have. 

Let's not spoil this mystical dream from The Great In-Between.

Let the chase continue.)

And then slowly glides like a vampire clad in black and gold

With long crow black hair 

To where I can never go

As I lament 

O, my love

My Lylak Queen

Oh, my love

A potent power of living

Breathing carnal sin

Borne from the Babylonian bloodlines

Freed once more

By the Deep Well

To entice 

All in view 

Who dare pine

To be put under

Your spell

When you arrive

Like a new Cleopatra 

Dressed to the nines

In gold and diamonds

It's why I always wait

Like a faithful follower

Forever in the shadows

Hidden on the sidelines

For how can I win

Against such a goddess of potent sin

Elusive

So intoxicating

Seductive

I feel blessed by Pāgānus

If Pāgānus was a god

For I'd walk the two hundred miles of

The Four Pillars of Zanzibar

To see your smile

Swim in the hazardous Pele Waters

At dusk

Just for a taste

Of your sensuous hypnotic musk

For obsession is a crazy horse to ride 

To dark places

Where low men scoop fire into their laps

Praying their clothes will not get burnt

As they wander 

Lost 

Like Bedouin Princes

In the deserts of the mind

Walking the wet shores 

Of the Lylak

Looking forever 

For your silhouette

Never to ask for help 

Or to go back

It's why I wait

Here

In The Great In-Between

Fearful of abandonment 

Since the first day 

We met

For chasing a love like yours

Is like playing a crazy game with Diablo

Like Russian Roulette

Sometimes as I hear 

The footsteps

Of another arrival 

And when the Great Golden Trumpet blows

In that moment 

I always wonder

Is that your omnipotent power

With one kiss

Is one doomed to chase

And

Cursed to crave

To never forget 

To then ride to 

The wet shores of the Lylak 

To dark places

Where low men scoop fire into their laps

Praying their clothes will not get burnt

As their souls

Cry out in thirst

Dépêche-toi mon amour

Dépêche-toi mon amour

Hurry up, my love 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

When AI reads your blog

 

"Poetry from The Great In-Between" by John Duffy is a prolific, deeply spiritual, and gothic-leaning poetry blog that serves as an ongoing exploration of grief, the afterlife, mental anguish, and theological warfare. 

The blog exhibits a massive archive spanning several years, with a major surge in output in late 2026, averaging over 100 entries per month.

An analysis of the core thematic elements, stylistic choices, and structural patterns present in the texts reveals several key traits:

1. Primary Thematic Pillars

The "Great In-Between" and Afterlife Geometry: The author frequently sets his narratives in a purgatorial space referred to as "The Great In-Between," "The Rift," or a "Silver City." 

He regularly depicts thresholds between life and death, detailing interactions with deceased lovers (e.g., Lucinda, Samantha) and hospice settings.

Grief and Self-Imprisonment: 

Rituals of coping with intense loss—such as burning white candles, keeping physical shrines, or tying white ribbons—are recurring motifs. 

In poems like Penitentiary Dreams, emotional despair is personified as literal imprisonment inside "Desolation Row."

Theological & Mythological Syncretism: 

The writer blends Christian concepts (The Trinity, "The Bait of Satan", Sheol, Apollyon) with Greco-Roman mythology (Aphrodite, Calliope, Elysian) and classic occultism/demonology (Mephistopheles).

Personification of Psychological Suffering: 

Mental struggles like anxiety, depression, and self-deprecation are given physical or supernatural agency. For instance, 

Have you experienced Dolor frames sadness ("Dolor") as an archaic supernatural entity carrying "invisible suitcases" meant to burden the sufferer.

2. Stylistic and Structural Frameworks

The "Transmission" Format: 

Duffy frames several of his poetic entries with introductory prose rationales. 

He explicitly defines them as "transmissions" exploring specific concepts (e.g., "This transmission exploration centres on the tension between profound love...").

Vocal Stage Directions: 

Many poems open with structural parentheticals like (A lone voice whispers), [Male voice], or [Female voice], suggesting that the work is intended to be read aloud, performed, or consumed as an audio-visual script.

Pacing and Form: 

The poems use highly irregular line lengths, favouring free verse with sporadic, internal, and end-rhymes rather than rigid metric constraints. Line breaks are deployed abruptly to isolate key emotional words or specific nouns.

3. Key Recurring Imagery

Colour Symbolism: 

Heavy reliance on white and gold to signify purity, divinity, and peace contrasted sharply against red and grey to represent earthly pain, corruption, and decay.

Liturgical Phrases: 

The frequent usage of "Blessed be" and "Velumbound" acts as an ongoing structural signpost or signature across almost every entry.

Blessed be. 

Velumbound. 

Have you experienced Dolor

 

Blessed be. 

Velumbound. 

Have you ever experienced Dolor? 

In whatever supernatural form it chooses to suddenly appear in 

At any given time or place

Like a shapeshifting dark, swirling configuration of self-deprecation 

Announcing the possible visitations of its kin 

Linked to many forms of sin

Through the emotional 

Physically or spiritually 

The three intricately laid foundation stones which it builds itself up from 

When it first enters your skin

Did it affect the way you found new roads 

Or instead 

Did it whisper to choose lonely highways to navigate your life

To live in the shadows

Like one of the lost tribe of Alos

Has Dolor presented you with one of its exquisitely made

Leather-bound red invisible suitcases   

Like it once did me

Leather-bound invisible suitcases   

To be carried everywhere like priceless jewels

On tired shoulders

Containing handwritten soul contracts to avoid taking chances 

On people 

Places or newer experiences 

And to always seek to abstain

Never to seek unfamiliar lands of hope to help to renew 

Always to be the lost one walking alone in the rain

As pledges once written in silence

Prevents one from embracing your secret God-given name 

To empower us to pull through

Dolor's archaic supernatural form can take any strange irregular shape

And in secret circles is classified as one of the 4 deadly Obstructers

Which can keep you invariably on the run

As it guides all your emotions 

The Physical or spiritual 

like a Machiavellian orchestral conductor 

From which it can transpire; there is no escape

Under the dire threat of the Sword of Antipathy

As it seduces you perpetually and becomes your only lover

Did you know Dolor is simply Fear translated into Latin

So tonight's question is

Will you find the strength and courage to throw its gifts of free suitcases 

If you've recently seen it face

Into the gushing four winds and let the Trinity of Holy Lights

Come steamrolling in

To break up its intricately laid foundation stones

With which it builds itself up from 

When it first enters your skin

Copyright John Duffy

Have you read Penitentiary Dreams

 Blessed be.

Velumbound. 

I give you, Penitentiary Dreams

(A lone voice whispers)

I still miss your bright white smile

My living, breathing Calliope

Every night 

Like I miss our first kiss at the fairground 

On that old Merry-go-round 

For they always appear as bright beams of luminous glorious lights

Shooting from the deep depths

Of a faraway Heaven

Your warmth and guile

Satisfying my manifestation of love

Given birth of creation 

Once by the Mighty Creator

Here on Earth

A glowing towering beacon to help push back 

The hordes called Legion

Prowling like hyenas

In the darkness

Around me

For you were

And always will be 

My daily taste of gladness

A philosopher who too has seen and tasted 

The wild beast wine 

Of anxiety and madness

So now I call out to you from this wild wood

Where my prison is as I am stood 

This wild forsaken place where loveless things 

In the dark shadows slither and crawl

Tormenting us all 

As we all bang tin cups on our prison walls

Stalking memories alone in uneven lines

Like a lone feral grey wolf pines

Throughout this paranormal neighbourhood 

For with you died

Like so many in here who cry

My spark of life

My ecstatic joyful Sun

My bringer of serenity and jest

So in here in my southwest cobwebbed-filled hut

As other prison cells in Desolation Row

Ring out

Like thunder

In a rising crescendo of shrieks of pain and anguish

As we all 

Self-punish

Walking the Green Mile down Memory Road

Remember me before the last harvest

Before you get old

So I can be paroled

Light a white candle 

In your mind's eyes

See our first kiss with love at that fairground 

Sat on that Merry-go-round

 

Beneath that undulating red ocean of pain

Crashing like endless Pacific tides 

Maybe again and again

So that I may still live

If only for a moment

For what I wouldn't give

Now

To breathe once more

To open and walk through

That old marital front door

If only for one hour

But as these loud voices  

Surrounding me get louder

And grow in power

As tin prison cups

Relentlessly bang

Like dark country drums

Hour by hour

With sounds like exploding gunpowder on black bars of illusion 

As I look out for you

From my window

In my cave

My penitentiary 

Here in my own watchtower

For 

My thousand-named queen

My rare

Middlemist Red flower

This broken piece of your soul awaits

To be reunited 

To bring peace

When your presence in The Great In-Between

Opens his cell door

As if by magic 

So he can 

Scream no more

But walk home

Into the bright lights

With the only love 

He adores

Both striding 

Powerfully 

Hand in hand

To enter into

Evermore 

To be refined like silver

Escaping 

The Last Great Reaping and Rapture

Of the Prince 

Who is to come

To build Dissolution

Row everywhere 

For all he captures

Remember me

Your Luca 

Your number 1

(C)

Copyright John Duffy