Marys whispers

Press before you read.

Salute.

(A lone voice whispers.)

Whenever I pause

In these tranquil quiet 

Moments 

In here

To think about all those 

Long nights 

We once walked by the 

Hawaiian blue sea

I still get drenched by the 

Sweetest thoughts 

Of you and me

Memories of a fierce love 

Which shone high above 

The hot yellow city lights

Of a time we held hands 

And everything seemed to 

Be alright 

But like a pale white 

Vulnerable feather

Blowing in the 

Four Winds

I then always remember how 

You surrendered to temptation

And like an act from the 

Devils favorite playbook

Our love was viciously ripped 

From our cross

To be tragically forgotten 

And by so many others

Casually dismembered 

With no chance of 

Redemption

Now I guess 

We're like 

Two depressing 

Characters from a 

Dystopian play called

Twelfth Night

A rotten 

Shakespearean Play

No one cares about 

Or wants to even 

Remember

But I'll still treasure and 

Carry those memories

Of footsteps walking by the

Hawaiian blue sea

Where I got drenched and 

Soaking wet by the 

Sweetest thoughts 

Of just you and me

Memories of a fierce love

 

Which still shines so high 

Above the hot yellow city 

Lights

Of a time we once held 

Hands 

And the future seemed so 

Bright

Of memories of us entwining  

To make love

To keep warm throughout 

All those cold but soul-thrilling 

December 

Winters nights

For the real treasures in life isn't the material or commercial 

 But simply the spiritual 

Copyright John Duffy 

 

The Midnight Monologue

 

Is poetry a dying artform

Does this new generation just want images and memes

To be their new norm

Don't they know the beauty of creating a thing

That might be emotionally worn

A beautiful invisible locket  

That may help them find catharsis

And through  

PoetryGenesis

To truly transform

___________________

In fifty or a hundred years.

Will poetry simply be a mystical art form?

Known only to shamans and mystics 

As the current society kneels before unusual and insidious technology

For just about everything?

Will the new generations, be less inclined to create thoughts onto paper, or just so somewhere? 

Will the repeated vaccination cycles, potentially dum them down, so the burning passions in their soul, can never speak?

Will a technocrat's dream of a neverending dystopia

Lull them to sleep

To keep them in servitude and neverending bondage to be perpetually weak 

Serving the Matrix in a blinded hypnotised unconscious form of submission 

Copyright John Duffy