. Poetry from The Great In-Between: September 2021

Thursday, September 30, 2021

Has The Cold Collector of Broken Hearts, visited you too?


Has The Cold Collector of Broken Hearts, visited you too?


(A lone voice whispers)

Press play before reading. Salute.

I can still remember it so damn well


If this is my only chance left to confess 


It was on the fifteenth of June 


In 1998


When he came casually calling and shattered our incredibly conjured tender love spell


On the stroke of midnight 


Can you believe it 

No less 


A heart-wrenching moment our love died


Convulsing and shrieking on the grey altars of broken despair 


A beloved liaison I thought would last for all eternity 


But sometimes life itself


Even in all its endeavours of pure magnanimity 


Just doesn't play fair


And no matter how much I sadly cried all alone


Or stared filled with endless remorse and painful guilt 


On that fateful fifteenth of June 


In 1998


Whilst standing still looking up at that smiling white mischievous Wolf Moon


I just knew The Cold Collector of Broken Hearts would soon 


Be calling by later


For I'm sure when me and who I thought was my true love


Were arguing like crazy about the invisible supernatural forces 


That swirl all around us


Linked to fate and destiny 


And their profound impact on everyday realities


Shaping and creating all those tiny and major intricacies 


Unspoken of responsibilities linked to sacred vows 


Once exchanged in the low hours  


Anointing that wonderful thing I hoped she too cherished 


Called fidelity


I'm sure I heard a faint creepy voice 


Whisper amid that deep angry conversation in my left ear


A bizarre voice that sounded so guttural and soul-destroying as it uttered those words


It left me shaking and covered in goose pimples with fear


So pleased to finally meet you

I'm The Cold Collector of Broken Hearts


It looks and feels like I'll be seeing you sooner rather than later

Alligator


For all your hopes and deep dreams for the future

Looks and feels like they're falling apart


With this argument which I just love because it's so delightfully vicious

And that my friend is why I'm calling 


For its pulsating frequencies tastes so much like the rarest of all known looshe

And that my new disciple is why I'm here


For it's so damn addictive and just so breathtakingly delicious 


Copyright John Duffy 

Friday, September 24, 2021

Lady of the Dawn speaks

Press play before reading. Salute.

Are fragments of your souls just components of your own unconscious ideas linked to many layers of heaven and hell


Are you too metaphorical to ever really understand


But still just another human living within and under its dark magical spell


Slowly waiting for the spiritual understanding as it returns to just you


To really see whatever you'll see in the afterlife 


When you watch your life back on that big silver TV


As you pray to our Lord 


The Great Almighty hoping he'll set you free


Is this place where you now visit and read from


But a brief refuge carefully hidden in the slow-moving storms of time


A respite in the face what you know needs to be done


A secret well-beaten shack 


Carefully concealed along the dark highways of deep spiritual fraternities


As we now together  connect mentally 


And merge slowly into a swirling eternity


From twisted emotional journeys unknown


To now friends and no longer strangers 


But just beloved people in distant foreign time zones


From deep lessons to be learned


To dark bridges which must be crossed and burnt


Are our eventual destinations and prophesied tasks greater than we can ever possibly know


To others, life is but a flicker and seems so easy


By to those blessed like us

Me and you


Is it but a strange dichotomy between peace and sorrow


Sometimes filled with anger and pain


Regardless of where we go tomorrow 


But no matter

For in the end


If we are lucky and truly blessed


We are all wrapped in white shawls of grace and deep spiritual peace


For if all our misdemeanours we eventually fully confess


We might hear the Almighty's beautiful voice speak these words personally again


It's an old song that some may forget


But I have the lyrics if you want to read on


Read on for they are free and you don't owe me anything 

Such as royalty fees or any other debts



Take me as a symbol of your need for release


Replace your hatred instead with love


Where there is an injury


Look above


Where there is doubt


Have faith and don't give up


If despair appears

Remember hope


When darkness glides in


Let light absolve its sin


Where life becomes unhappy


Smile and always try to remember these words


To sing


We are all tributaries leading back to the Holy River


Deep channels of our own divine peace


Remember to help pardon your own soul


Before you enter its beautiful gardens


For with inner forgiveness


We are reborn to eternal life


Free from all the burdens of our earthly emotional sharp knife


For I am beyond


What your occupation entails


I just want to trace what your heartbeats regale


Your age is a pale horse


I never what to see


I just want to hear of your hopes and dreams


Will you risk all for love and spiritual glory


To live an extraordinary life


Will you sit with me


In the sunlight's shadows


And reflect on life and try to smile again


Past all the doubts

And disturbing grey rain


Do you still seek to sip a drop of Loves glorious champagne


Will you dance with me in feverish ecstasy as happiness revisits your inner domains


Will you be a smiling passenger on one of my fast-moving trains


Free and with no limitations


Ready for pleasure and redemption beyond refrain


Will you soar with me

like two golden eagles


Above fast gossips

Whispering campaigns


What you answer

Doesn't matter to me


All your answers are simply for you


Can you say no to another to be true to your soul


Can you rise above false accusations


And still, keep your control


Can you cherish your own inner beauty


Beyond prying unfriendly eyes


And rise internally like an angel when hope seems to die


Can you parade with failure like long lost lovers


And salute the scarred silvery moon


As its bands play a dark ominous bleak tune


Your social status

I care of not


Only can you still rise

And embrace your lot


After the long nights of despair and pain


Will you rise to challenge this life again


Will you stand like a sentry lost in despairs inferno flames


Or will you ask me to help extinguish its name


I don't care for all your academic labels


I just wanted to know if you're willing and able


Or if you just needed another seat at your table


The company you keep in those dark days of empty lonely moments


Are like great friends who speak like trendy holy old poets


Are we today 


Simply an extension of that which resides within?


A projection from the source.


Will our soul eventually forget us


This vessel it now currently lives within, say in a thousand years


Or will it still remember this version of us 


Before we return to heaven after the last time we turn to dust?


 A rather deep thought.

Good night!


Copyright John Duffy

Wednesday, September 22, 2021

The Ministry of the Guardian Angel.


 


 (A lone voice whispers)

Press play before reading. Salute




It may be a memory of

Christmas's past


Of wonderful times that will always linger and still last 


I may be a beautiful lost sonnet echoing in the distance 


Making a quiet noise in fields of forgotten golden dreams


An extraordinary love song you may still hear above nightly screams


I may be a low whisper speaking such comforting illuminating truths within your beloved mind


A treasured memory you still revisit maybe all the time


I may be all these things and so many, many more


But even though I'm not standing beside you anymore


Just remember


It's just you I'll always adore


All my treasured memories may be painful as they too come rushing through familiar doors


But always remember


I'm now your heavenly

blessed protector and beloved guardian angel


Who's been appointed and duly summoned to help you to iron out


All those old emotions that still linger and last which you still feel are too painful to explore


Copyright John Duffy

A conjured piece from a low whisper.

Do you too believe in Guardian Angels?

I hope so.

Tuesday, September 21, 2021

The Voice of Pieta


The conversation between Giuseppe and his beloved Pieta.

Press play before reading. Salute.

What becomes of the brokenhearted before we all get summoned home


By the Great Golden Horn 


Some out there 

I still hear ask 


On this final odyssey after you're born


As you and me and the rest of the gathering masses slavishly roam


Will we feel the hot magical touch of the mythical Babylonian fire 


When we eventually retire


And collapse exhausted amongst the other lost fallen children


Before the White Temples of our beloved Goddess Aphrodite


On a sad Good Friday


Some in here whisper and say to me in the dancing darkness


As we drink golden liquor and talk about life and all its never-ending scandals


Over the flickering light of a single lit red burning candle 


And as the encroaching shadows silently dance a pagan jamboree


She

My beautiful Pieta always says when she's lucid and licked up


Every time we talk


Sometimes to lose love and all thoughts of hope of happiness


To then feel crucified and heartbroken 


And all alone 


Praying for a form of salvation in those quiet moments 


To be purged of its invisible mark


Wishing that relationship had never started 


And as you try to cut through all the red tape and spiritual empires of fake illusions


That you still sometimes foolishly cling on to and try to blindly believe 


The whole process can help to make you stronger and more resilient 


As you then look for that one soul mate 


Just lost amongst the many billions


And as those sad tears seem to fall so slowly and Father Time starts passing so quickly 


When they both

suddenly merge


It may feel deep down inside like it's your own biblical End of Days


Your lonely sequestered route to an emotional Armageddon


But if you have hope that your own Guardian Angels know where you're heading


As they are quietly guiding and leading you to that sacred place where you've always dreamed of


Away from all the hungry Eyes of Mother and Father Heartless 


To eventually find and have your own metaphorical white wedding 


Your own incredible special day 


Baptised and blessed with finding someone new and so special or simply enjoying your newfound happiness 


As you step back into the light out of the darkness 


It's only then that the clutches of

Heartbreak be discarded


As you just recognised it for what it really is


Simply one of lifes most powerful weapons


But I guess you already know that if you've walked the path of the Heartbroken


Giuseppe


And spent so many of its shiny red tokens 


Sometimes crying long into the grey pools of stillness in deep silence 


Feeling like you're drowning at sea


Filled with so many swirling butterflies and nearly overcome with anxious feelings


Linked to emotional violence 


But then hopefully found someone or something new


To help you get through 


As Mother Love will always find a way


You know


For it has been said by countless saints and mystics for centuries 


She simply lives to help guide us away from a life of broken dreams


Wherever we go


For true spiritual liberation is sometimes impossible 


Without first feeling the sharp whip of hard separation 


Through a life-changing test of complete dissolution


Aren't you glad you found me, Giuseppe


And I always 

Always answer yes 


For my deep love for my Pieta 


Has helped purge me of my previous lifes sadness and regrets


Copyright John Duffy 


Image shared under fair usage policy.


Monday, September 20, 2021

Has the Voice of Courage spoken to you yet?

  

Have you the world shakers

Music makers

Poets 

Writers and entrepreneurs


Heard my softest of whispers that serenade you all from elsewhere?


Insidious does it seem to call


Inner murmurs that will not give you simple surrender or restful sleep


But a curious voice instead


Slowly vibrating throughout all your inner mental walls 

 

If you're blessed


A sweet voice that constantly whispers


To hold fast to your dreams


A voice that inspires your sometimes tired eyes to gleam


Some may smile and try to diminish


What flows throughout your fast-flowing bloodstreams


Some may laugh


For they haven't the strength self-belief or real courage


To try to adapt

To swim upstream


But to you

Yes you

Who aspire


Beyond momentary thoughts and daily daydreams


Those who embrace its soft whispering kiss


All your hopes and dreams will one day soon

Reign supreme 


For you are your own greatest dream redeemer 


And not just one of the billions 


Who aren't blessed to be one of lifes true believers


So be it


Copyright John Duffy

Reflections of the old Coal Miner.

  Press play. Salute.


(A lone voice whispers)

I leave this









My beloved painting by my old shaking hand

Now I'm ninety-three


For my children and grandchildren to see


For soon  

I'll be with my wife and their beloved mother


My precious Annabel Lee


My painting so they can always remember

That I've climbed into all sorts of dirty pits

Starting many years ago


When Ma gave me my first snap box and sent me to work in late December


When at fourteen  

I got one of my many work permits


And since that first day, I've scrubbed for hours

To clean my decent hard-working soul


To be healthy for my family before I went home


After spending all day and night

Just digging deep for black coal


I was born just before gas was crowned as king and all generations went into the pit


Like all baptised to do so before us  

If we were forced to admit it


Men and boys who we soon knew would forever be our kin


Going into the light or darkness to earn a few bob


Following all our own fathers and grandfathers

When our time too came  

  

When they asked casually over breakfast


Are you, ready son


And we all replied over hot coffee with a silent nod


Remember me

My name was Samus O'Mally


From Gods Country  

In County Donegal


Where we chased the mad black stuff like it was our lives bounty


Those courageous strong Irish men

Who like me when we heard the call


Willingly sacrificed our brief lives


Chasing fools black gold


So all our families could eat and be insulated from all weathers 


But particularly the cold


Until it, 

Black Coals ghost


Finally stalked us down wherever we lived and hid like a wild hyena


Rewarding us with a fatal kiss for year's of servitude and service


With a black medal in the lung called after something so tragic I now know as emphysema


To then stand watching us all silently but bravely 


Fight its deadly embrace as we all grew old


Coughing up blood like we were living in Hiroshima


Forever now just tainted like so many others from brave fathers and mothers


For foolishly chasing the glories and stories linked with mining black gold  











Copyright John Duffy


Image shared under fair usage policy.




The Watcher Speaks

 Are we watched by entities from another realm? 


A great question which inspired this piece. 
Salute. 

Press play and let the music wash over you as you read.
Salute.



Do we live forever many of your kind has asked

Since I have heard you whisper in the dark

Are we, immortal souls
You question

What would we do with all that time if it was bestowed to us

Well here's my answer

In here
Where I now live and love all alone

I create poetry
Like Celine Dion
Singing the night on fire

Dressed like good old Bob Dylan
Facing his faithful hurricane

I sometimes dance
To the king of pop
Michael Jackson

Whilst moonwalking in the occasional falling rain

My lines grace minds
Like Hugh Hefners
Playboy’s pictures

Sending the cerebral cortex
Libidos totally insane

Like Thandie Newton
Finding strength self-worth and power

In Westworld 
Whilst being
Reborn again and again

My words serenade
Marlon Brando's
Emancipation and eventual apocalypse
In Cambodia

As he boarded that fateful flight from
The Seventies in a doomed
Air-plane

Am I a sceptic
Or just a viewer

A majestic soother
A beguiler

A brother
Mother
Son
Or
Daughter

Can you feel me

You ought to
For I'm simply giving you words

Soon to be gracing your eyes
Movie screens or mobile streams

Maybe some new books and novels

For I'm just a beautiful old beast

Steamrolling through with golden keys to all the Wet Brothels of your minds

As you sit
Watch
And sip these sweet-tasting words

Now addicted to my cheap
Bottles of poetic mead and exhilarating red wine

You see
I'm just a non-living fossil

A mesmerising soul
From bygone days

Going into humanities new future

MK Ultraing
Your mind
Forever

As I program you
Like a cheap computer

For I'm a priceless mixture of all of life's sweet-tasting essences
And damaged baggage's

Can you feel me

Am I just behind you
Or watching and walking

Just in front

And standing hiding 
Beyond the doorways to all your dreams

Can you feel me like Old Nick
Everlasting

Stalking like an ageless Marquis

For I'm just a once unvisited world
Of words

Slowly just consuming your time

Can you feel my bony fingers
Stroking those secretive rooms 
As I stimulate your
Mind

Copyright John Duffy

The Oracle in the Mists