. Poetry from The Great In-Between: A story from Morpheus The Greek

Friday, March 12, 2021

A story from Morpheus The Greek

  


Press play so the music can wash over you as you read. Salute.





Are you bored and want some random lines to read?

Thank me later.


It's raining as I look outside. 

Be safe wherever you are.

Salute.

Friday the 12th of March, 2021.

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Are we carefully scrutinized by undiscovered forces from another realm? 

Do we in the mist, live forever

Many of your types I pass daily but especially at midnight

When I sit in the edge of their bed

Have always asked

 

Even though we're all invisible


We still hear you 


As you struggle to confide in the forbidden silence


Especially in the last dregs of sunlight before dusk


Are we, immortal souls

You continuously question


What would you do with all our time

Would it drive you right out of your mind


Well, here's my answers 

Just for you to read before you turn too turn to dust


In here

This dark place known to the enlightened few as The Shadow Lands

Where I now exist and drink almond ambrosia to worship and pray alone

 

Commissioned until eternity to strive to excite lost souls 

To confess as a penance 

I've been anointed with as a chance to find a means to atone


Sacrificed deserted souls who stumble and end up my way

Through random long or short legions of their exorcisms m in red rivers of  linear poetry


Like a drunken
James Brown

I gather them around to listen to what my words truly means and say

While high on whiskey and singing 

Papa's Got A New Bag globally 


Dressed like my prototype


Good old Bob Dylan in black

When he once faced his own faithful hurricane


I sometimes entertain them by dancing wildly in a smoke-filled circle with the all-time king of pop

Michael Jackson


Whilst moon-walking in grey skies

Watched by others and the occasional falling star


My agastopia of  delicious lines grace their minds


Like a new friend I was recently introduced to


Hugh Hefner


The one famous for all those damned but hot
Playboy’s pictures


That send adolescent and immature mind's cerebral cortex's 

And libidos totally insane


I sometimes stand in the half-light 


Telling them

 I'm so strong and powerful like that Thandie Newton


The one who once found strength 

Self-worth and power

In a new Westworld 

Whilst being reborn again and again


My words are whispered enchantments you see

Spells sent just to serenade your tired bored five senses 


Filled with a crescendo of rising fire like when Marlon Brando


Embraced emancipation while causing total carnage


Death and eventual apocalypse


In Cambodia 


As he boarded that fateful flight 707 from The Seventies 


Dreaming of his girl next door he left home


Called Sophia 


Am I a sceptic like some say or just a wide-boy spectator


A majestic soother like an out-worldly philosopher 

Or just a beguiling collaborator


Can you feel me


You ought to


I am simply giving you a mixture of words


Gracing your insatiable eyes


Through cheap or expensive plastic movie screens


As I hide in the dangerous depths 


Of the twenty-first century's fast-flowing mobile streams


For I'm just a beautiful old beast


A heaven-sent narrator


Steamrolling through with lustrous glossy keys 


To all the so many wet lesser brothels of your mind


As you sit watching and casually sipping these sweet-tasting words as you read


And just like so many


 I already know 


You'll soon become gloriously addicted to my cheap bottles of poetic mead 


You see
I'm just a non-living fossil


A mesmerising essence from bygone days 

Mentioned only once  in The Great Golden Books of The Byzantine 


I celebrate on Tuesdays and Sundays 


By going knee-deep into humanities new future


MK Ultraing new intellects forever


To live just to love me


As I program them
Like an expensive computer geek


I'm a mixture of all of life's sweet-tasting 
aromas and scarred sacred baggage's


Can you feel me yet


Am I just behind you


Watching and walking


As you stride out bravely in front


Or am I standing hiding 


Just beyond sight and keeping firmly closed


All the smokey doorways to all your dreams


Can you feel me like Old Nick


One of my dearest buddies whose everlasting


God that guy loves stalking you all like an ageless Marquis


Me


I'm just a once unvisited world of beguiling words


Just conceived into being by the 

Elemental unspoken old Gods from mystical Talen


Tasked to slowly just consume your earthly time 
of three scores and if you're lucky, ten


Can you feel my bony fingers stroking those secretive rooms 


The one's barely visited 
when you're awake and drunk 


In this worlds many addictive potions


But the ones you always use your golden keys to open and visit


When you dream 
and it's then and only then

That you'll see me

As I appear before you
Dressed in blue

To stimulate your mind to carefully unwind

All those old sometimes painful threads 

And through finding your own catharsis 


The freedom to write to be free


Copyright John Duffy

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