Sheol Sorrow

 Quite a deep supernatural piece.

Foundation.

Do ghosts lament about life and regrets?

From love, relationships etc, what would you regret if tonight, you woke up on the other side, and had only two minutes to speak?

Unfortunately, taking the two minutes out.

It could be the probable reality for millions, if you believe in a continuation, after this life.

Salute.

Title 

Sheol Sorrow

(A lone voice whispers as an old black and white clock, starts ticking)

Now my life's great parties are all over and this Black Hole 

I now live within 

Ruled over by Father Sin 

Which just loves to breathe me in and out 

Like the silver flutes once did 

When I used to walk by, and watch the marching Bands of Manhattan play 

Walking past, wearing purple and blue coats

As the Majorettes twirled their shiny batons 

Oh, what I wouldn't give in this loud sound of silence

  

To quieten this pain, that still hurts the most  

Even though, I'm now just another lonely ghost

My cherished memories of you will always be my Immortal Home, as I wait in here, to atone

I used to pray that I'd wake up free, from this asylum 

In the warm arms of my beloved, but now lost, Angel 

But no matter how hard the memories, or even how painful 

I'll keep them as a happy place, filled with all her love and photographs 

So, I just wait here 

In a hidden place found on no handwritten, or drawn road maps 

Somewhere with the ever watchful Great Intermediary

As I flutter my white flag of defeat 

In the cold and hot heat of, The Great In-Between 

In the wet lands 

Beyond the Akashic Records

Lingering by these bright lights, like I was walking on the Moon 

Kicking up broken white stones 

Singing sad songs for the hordes 

Standing in groups in the creepy shadows 

Watching me crying like a wounded King 

Come Back, 

Don't fear, you won't fall 

They all chant as the Golden Bell rings 

The Crying Game needs feeding 

The eleven-inch nails, needed pulling out, to stop the bleeding 

Stay with us 

The Nameless Things 

We, who whisper and sing in the Dark, all around you 

But all by myself 

I'll try to stay alive 

Somehow 

They can keep their Poison and Red Wine 

Their Civil Wars 

Where even gravity falls 

Either way, 

Here is my lone call 

You'll always be my reason 

My every time 

No matter the seasons 

For all my rivers of memories and worn-out roads 

My heavy head and weary heart 

Always lead me 

Riding in paper boats

Back to you

In this mad, mad world 

Even though now everything has fallen apart 

Completely like us two

Just another pair of Father Times, many heartbroken sweethearts

(Ticking clock stops)

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

Image shared under fair usage policy 

The Summoning

 The Summoning 

(A mystic whispers)

Through this scrying mirror 

Be it by

Eyes, Touch, Paper, or Phone

Let my power 

Melt your heart of stone

Through

Wind, fire, wave, and sea

I see you

Are you ready to atone

Can you feel me 

Rolling in

Like green moss

Creeping across

Warm wet skin

So you can absorb me 

More

To open wide

All your mind's closed doors

To let me in

So long nights

Can begin

With Earth warmed

By new shadows 

Borne

Open up so I can linger within 

Until dawn

Willing heat to rise up

Like young pawns

Called to fight

In Winter's War of Emotions

So prepare well

Summer Solstice is coming soon

On the 21st of June 

A rebirth

A time of new beginnings and spells

With me and you

Engaging in deep breathing 

In hot bedrooms, 

Wallpapered in sinning and yells

Where old feelings flee

With the ringing of our libidos bells

To be swept away

By sweet cries of a new renaissance that will never stop

And be replaced by new psyops

As all your resistance 

Drops

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Affirmation

 

(A lone voice whispers)

Will you do more to avoid an eternally broken heart?

Do you need a proclamation of truth, which one can pursue, to define your life?

Well, if so,
Here's one whispered in a deep dream

Just for you

In the end
To have loved true

Purely and transformationally

With kindness and compassion

When you stand before the God of your religion

Before you transcend

You'll be judged worthy, and your happiness will extend, beyond that final meeting

With whom, or whatever you follow, at your world's end

For good souls like you,
if you do, are never condemned

(C)
Copyright John Duffy

Image shared under fair usage policy 

The Letter to the Acolyte in Poetry Month

 

(A lone voice writes)

Some whisper and will

In secret occult circles 

About these sad days of 2025

That Humanity will fall into unruly petulant desire

Consumed and devoured by a blazing war lit infectious fire 

But what happens to you and me?

Your mind and mine 

Do you still shiver inwardly at the vibrational thoughts 

of my words 

Do they bind you

Submissively 

To always return 

Doomed forever 

To hovering above my prose 

That screams to be heard

With wide eager eyes

Like a love-struck 

Hummingbird 

Do you still tremble like when we first met 

On the fly 

On the internet 

Wanting the warm caress 

of loquacious re-introductions

Of new verbs 

Opening mystical 

Golden gates to new poetic realms

And their guile to bind us together 

Like love-struck Siamese twins

Creating welcomed sins 

Of dried sweat and sweet tributaries 

Of deep-seated spiritual yearnings 

That makes your mind 

so damn wet 

Tales of the supernatural 

Light and darkness 

Filled with rapid movement or profound stillness

Sovereignty or deep-seated loneliness 

New flames of innermost desires

Contained in unspeakable 

words or unfamiliar names 

As our Zisurru

Poetic stories to be set asunder 

In the rising footfalls of Zeus's approaching apocalyptic thunder 

To burn new hurricane lanterns in the deep wells of Imaginations darkened 

Halls of Fame 

To live in the hope 

Of a new life

An everlasting dance filled with literary romance 

With a drop of a wild transmigration 

As our new Nexus 

To savor in your mouth

Like an intense-tasting holy communion wine

A strong touch of such wantonness 

Your 

Voracious soul needs 

To carry to all empires 

You may visit 

In the North 

East

West or South 

As it swallows new stories with such ravenous greed

Will we survive 

Still together at the end of 2025?

With such

Intellectual thoughts

You might still whisper and silently ask 

You and me 

Does 

Will it last?

Echo in your Dream Chambers whilst waiting

For that midnight call on New Year's Eve 

When we sing pagan songs of King Solomon to each other

As we fight back the encroaching darkness 

With shining drunk Astral Eyes as our Athame

Our sacrificial knife 

Inwardly praying to then always shout

Yes, in us, 

I'll always believe 

Under the sharp eyes of the Winter's Midnight Sun 

Which for so many lost souls 

We know, she will still shine 

ever brighter. 

As she quietly watches and grieves 

As they collect their new or old angel or devil wings 

As they quietly leave

Who knows, my child 

Everlasting Hope and Peace could arrive as one

So we could conquer this new normal and continue to rise

Or it could all go wild

And turn into a new dark nuclear history 

Where dreams and people 

Are consumed and defiled 

As good and evil 

Battle for victory

And apart, 

we may have to survive 

On mean streets. 

As quantum tattooed vaccinated slaves or unvaccinated exiles 

In a New World Order

Called a Fool's Paradise 

Without

Any Known Borders 

But either way, 

Know this

May your spirit guides lead you to continued health and safety 

Across all fast-flowing political wars 

Water's

Famine or disorders

So in 2026

We can still share our much loved algorithms 

In all our holy quarters 

So mote be it 

What will be 

Will be

So mote be it

(C) 

Copyright John Duffy 

Image courtesy of Pinterest.

Tuatha de Danann Dreaming

 

Tuatha de Danann Dreaming

(A lone Irish voice whispers into the night, as a single white candle burns. Looking at a picture of a beautiful woman)

With time-worn

But stubborn like a six-inch

Jerusalem thorn

Dreaming 

Forlorn 

Tonight 

Of Halcyon Nights 

With you, my love

When memories waterwheels slowly turn,

And midnight candles burn 

As my inner film projectors play

I also remember our beloved Halcyon Days, at the coast

Spent walking and laughing 

Before God moved our goal posts

So tonight, I'm praying and yearning for moments 

Only The Tuatha de Danann can invoke

Pulling back 

My true love

Before I choke 

To help me cope

From Hades 

Swirling 

Grey smoke

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

The Tuatha Dé Danann are described as a supernatural race, much like idealized humans, who are immune from ageing and sickness, and who have powers of magic.

Source; Wikipedia.

Image shared under fair usage policy.