. Poetry from The Great In-Between: The Servant's last words

Sunday, August 14, 2022

The Servant's last words


Press play before reading. Salute.



(A lone voice whispers)  



I once met my true love in Down Town LA


In 1987


By the Palace Theatre


A place she loved because she said she was there when it opened in 1911


To watch the third home of the Orpheum Vaudeville


Come alive with all sorts of wild entertainers  



When my soul called out for it needed her


While at some rich place in Bunkers Hills  



After watching the Lakers  



And now every 15 years


She still all appears even though she still goes to meet new takers


And every night when she chooses to suddenly appear  

  



To the chosen few like me  

  



Stories abound in darkened rooms online and secret circles


Called The Hidden See  



That causes all her restless slaves  

  



To try to raise their weary heads from their feathered pillowed pews  

  



Enchanted beyond all belief  

  



Pleading telepathically to climax and find some sort of mental release as her new or old muse  

  



Praying she'll she stand over their ramshackled lonely beds  

  



For she's deceptively beautiful as every single spoken or written human rhyme  

  



Some paint tapestries of her beauty through any worthy words they could find  



Secret ones uttered down through the Ages  

  



Clever Poets  

Mystics and so many unknown Mages  

  



Some speak of long leather-clad legs  

  



All men cry to touch and pray inwardly to caress  

  



Ravish me red lips  

  



Women say they forever daydream to just taste  

  



Emerald eyes they all speak of  

  



Orbs to invade and conquer your eternal soul  

  



Until the very end  

  



Whenever it's time for your human life to be laid to waste  

  



Has she entered your room and watched you sleep  

  



As your soul wandered its many inner spaces


And unspoken keeps  

  



Her name  

You may ask  

  



Well, her occult name is simply **Rèn nan vle**


**The Queen of Want**  



For we all deep down crave something  

  



Be it fame


Power  

Money


Friendship or even Love  

  



Amongst many others  

  



And only our occult Mother called Want can guide us to provide  



Or so she said  

Over the years  

  



Regardless of the price of wet tears


It will cost us in the long run  

  



As we struggle to survive while she still lives


Lingers and thrives  

  



Feeding off our inner suffering  

  



As we sustain and strengthen her


With our foolish needs and self-defeating lies  



That in the middle of any given night can always make us cry


As our mortal time flies  



I send this out as I await her return


Sitting and drinking in the rain


For I don't think I'll make our fifth anniversary at The Palace Theatre


For the doctors say I'm too ill to leave my home in Beverly Hills  



Years of need and greed have given me a disease  



Now my time is short and my message to you


Be careful what you wish for


For Rèn nan vle could appear to open new doors


To old lands of want and greed  



And if she comes tonight to see me in my room


My only want  

My only need will be


To sink slowly to sleep and wake up new by the Silver City


Somewhere by its blue seas


Where the mythical pink and green flowers bloom  


Free of this life-changing disease



(C)  

Copyright John Duffy



No comments:

The Oracle in the Mists