Discourse

 

(A lone voice whispers)

Is one of the soul - satisfying pleasures of creating poetry. 

For you.

Searching methodically through your vocabulary, dark enclave.

For that unique word to complete your phrase.

To then present to simulate someone 

Chained up to Poetry's fast-moving ship 

Like an indentured gallery slave

With your intentions emanating like radioactive electromagnetic waves?

 

Or are you too, just another gallery slave who just writes poetry?

As you row for you. 

Expressing those never-ending whispers, whenever they appear, right out of the blue?

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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Sunday's Musings

 

(A lone voice whispers)

Are you happy with your life?

Are you content?

Have you ever thought many might seek what you already have and take for granted 

Especially those feeling abandoned and surviving, in hurriedly put up 

Red Cross tents

Walking around 

Hungry 

Unloved or empty-handed 

Have you ever thought about a word many may forget and choose not to embrace 

A word called gratitude 

For when we express our gratitude for what we have, never forgetting the highest form of appreciation is not to simply utter mere words, but to live them

And be glad what we have achieved

To then never let a day pass without embracing with gratitude all it contains

As they are received 

Appreciating and revelling within all those intricate, intriguing, beguiling moments, which may appear transitory and fleeting.

A meal 

A roof over your head

Time spent with family and friends

Laughter and joy

A warm bed 

Expressing conscious gratitude will attract more such wondrous occasions

Regardless of whatever comes bouncing back within one of Fate's many toys

For as a follower of King Solomon once said

All the riches within this world can never compare to the priceless wealth you already have;

The Love within. 

Maybe good books, great friends, and a loving family.

Or just self awareness 

Can one have too much of them?

So don’t wait for a special occasion or chase a particular sensation.

For every day is a secret blessing, since our feelings make us human.

Don't wait until your end of days to know this 

Learn to embrace, then release them like a deep breath of acceptance.

Because being Spiritual has nothing to do with what you believe, but everything to do with your state of being.

Did you know, some of the happiest people are sometimes those lost in the selfless service of the needy?

Accepting all they have with peace?

So my advice to you.

Never sacrifice who you are for someone else.

Be strange, weird, deep, mysterious and unfathomable.

Someone out there needs or seeks you.

Just know your life is your story.

So always try to paint and write it with love and gratitude, for they are the greatest painters and writers of all.

Be Inspired 

Love your Life with Gratitude 

For it would be rude

And a shame not too

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

 

Chapel at Rest

 

Foundation.

Poetry encompasses all aspects of the human experience.

This piece relates to the last visit.

A tragic part of life we all will someday endure.

If you already have, sending blessings.

Title:

Chapel at Rest

(A lone voice whispers)

Are lone goodbyes like lone turtle-doves that serenely fly away 

In wild winds of memories of a once beautiful Yesteryear 

Of one day 

They're here

And one day they're gone.

But you always, afterwards, cry silently inside 

In somewhere deep and quiet,

In new realms of unfamiliarity

Where beloved memories hide

When you remember moments of tranquility and sincerity 

Before that old love went away and unjustly died

 (C)

 Copyright John Duffy 

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Atsila: The Fire Lady

Atsila: The Fire Lady.

(A old voice whispers before midnight)

There's a light bringer I know.

Whose shadow still follows me, deep within my soul.

Everywhere I go.

Making me, sometimes, in deep moments of sleep.

Wander down to a White Room.

Hidden amongst, the beating red, in my heart's very keep.

We sometimes talk.

Sometimes, holding hands.

Walk and slow dance to Teddy.

And it always ends, with me in her arms.

Like Julius and Cleopatra.

When they too, were ready, to start going steady.

And then both whispering how we love each other so.

A soul I once met, from a place, so long ago.

I'll never forget.

Such a poetic swagger.

A husky voice to turn ice to water.

Just like Mick Jagger.

Some say we live and love in a Matrix, and what we wish for.

We can get, but every so often the Great Creator, likes to play divine tricks. 

Filled with such regrets.

So now, we two meet.

After midnight, deep within me.

In that keep.

In a White Room, surrounded by a fast flowing, Red Sea.

Together in spirit.

Separated in flesh, by blue oceans and seas.

The Cherokee called, Atsila, and a love struck cowboy.

Where every second in that room is precious. 

A beginning and end. Blossoming with such joy.

The girl with the golden guitar and the brown-eyed boy.

Today is the anniversary of the first day, we met.

In that White Room that suddenly appeared.

So I send this out.

A message for you, Atsila.

My fire lady who I cannot forget.

Channeled within this poetic smoke.

To guide you to our spirits, secret outpost.

Bring those dark eyes.

That husky voice and those tender touches.

That I need and still miss the most.

For our love goes so deep, normal routine folks, can't relate to our spirits ghosts.

So just find your way to me, for I'll always be waiting.

Night or day at that outpost.

Your host, dressed in white after midnight, every night.

In that very room.

Your souls' lover, who loves you more than most.

Just awaiting the return, of you, Atsila.

In the form, of your spirits ghost.

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

(Atsila means fire)

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Love never dies. Praise be.

 

Foundation.

I had a discussion with a priest and as we talked.

We unraveled the greatest days of our life.

Birthdays, school, relationships, weddings, celebrations, art, writing and holidays.

He then mentioned the Wake.

A time when you're there with all your family and friends at one of the greatest days of your life, but not.

What music would you choose?

Food.

And would you write a letter to be read out, if you got the chance?

An intriguing theme to consider on this rather hot Thursday morning.

Beyond all we achieve in life, sometimes its how we celebrate it that helps us live on 

What food and music would you pick?

Would you write a letter?

Salute.

________

Title.

Love never dies.

Praise be. 

(A lone voice whispers)

Even though I'm here but I'm not

I'm here in spirit as I have transcended 

Praise be

Even though I'm here but I'm not

I'm no longer in pain, 

As all those old tears don't matter anymore. 

For I can only pray they are now tears of happiness, as I lay there on that sacred floor 

In front of you all

For all to see

For I'm at peace 

Praise be 

All those old tired moments you watched me suffer, will soon pass

Replaced by youthful memories of me

The birthdays 

Weddings, 

Holidays and so much more.

So all can say in closing is I have transcended 

Praise be

And wipe away all those hopefully happy tears as you remember me

For we will all meet again

 

When you too have to walk through this great door.

And always remember 

I'm only offshore 

So never forget me

For all that pain you feel will be soon replaced by happier memories 

For all those sad tears won't matter anymore 

Praise be 

Remember me 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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Have you encountered this insufferable word before?

 

Have you encountered this insufferable word before?

In business or personal life?

Title.

Frustration.

(A lone voice whispers)

Frustration.

Has it reared its eventful head yet?

A word laced with multiply meanings.

Connected to people, dreams, ambitions, times, places, and irritations.

If so, why let it subdue you?

Maybe slow count to ten and start again?

To try to free your mind and see your soul fly?

Change your thinking and free your mythical third eye?

And after whatever you do, whenever you reach that illuminated mode

Slow smile and whisper this battle cry

“I'll constantly try to be free

To be the true me until it's time to announce my final goodbye.

Ain't no Frustration going to cloud my expectations.

For I Live with Hope and will be an inspiration for further generations.”

So now that I've subtly made you read and silently absorbed those ritual lines into your universe 

A new empowering mantra.

Let's now conquer Frustration with its twin,

Aspirations and welcome her into your inner realms with a loud cry of exclamation

Never let Frustration be a statute of limitations

Instead, use it within an ancient philosophical and metaphysical practice like alchemy

And Transmutate all that pent-up energy into Aspirations 

A form of your own inner gold

You can thank me later.

For words listened to, spoken or absorbed can have such regal power.

If we let them flower 

It is just another silent way to grow slightly richer 

As you grow older.

While trying to overcome all things at any given hour

As you look out from behind those courageous eyes, you use as your great watchtower 

Now repeat after me:

I'll constantly try to be free.

To be the true me until it's time to announce my final goodbye.

Ain't no Frustration going to cloud my expectations.

For I Live with Hope and aspire to be an inspiration, for further generations.

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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Who has shaped your idiolect?

 

Foundation:

Who has shaped your idiolect?

Title.

My old love

(A lone voice whispers)

Within old letters sent that still create such powerful emotions that wills my very soul to genuflect 

And on favourite  photographs upon which I have wept

Memories of us together shall echo like Notre Dame cathedral bells 

Throughout me

For now, I speak 

Influenced by your profound idiolect

For all to see

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

A person’s idiolect in this case relates to:

The all encompassing linguistic impressions left by people you once knew or now know.

From life experiences and language encounters.

What you've read and who you've listened to.

From grandparents, parents, friends, teachers, and lovers.

Who have influenced you.

Do you ever repeat or use similar phrases like someone you know or knew?

Suddenly, unconsciously, right out of the blue!

 

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Juvenile Memories

 

Foundation.

With the conception and availability of social media to look someone up.

Have you ever looked up an old forever, once in a while?

Title:

Juvenile Memories 

(A lone voice whispers)

There's still a bright light,

I look for out there.

To be found randomly somewhere, to always make me smile.

Whenever I think of you

My forever, once in a while 

For you still illuminate a secret part of my heart, like a country mile 

Even though you once bit me hard, like a wild African crocodile 

(C) Copyright John Duffy 

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The Lone Disciple called Jerome. Speaks.

 

(A lone voice whispers)

Are you like a lone bottle, 

A rare Nebuchadnezzar 

Floating in the middle of humanities blue sea 

A lonely spirit who can think of no other greater devotion 

Then being the yellow sandy beach

For someone drowning in parts of a seemingly never-ending 

Undulating ocean 

Are you like a white feather blowing randomly in its four winds 

Filled with relatable emotions 

One of the Blessed Few who are also related to the Broken 

Who must endure, the dark clouds and icy cold waters of damnation 

In slow motion 

The kind who hides in long shadows of commotion 

Those deemed blind and impure by mankind 

But always secretly looking for a cure 

For blessed are those who cry out 

For a form of rescue, as life pulses and tests you 

Blessed are the ones who suffer from love withdrawals 

Linked to quarrels of joy and mirth

Here

Hidden 

Just somewhere

On Earth 

For I will make them Most High

Says all the forms

Of all High Lord's 

Blessed are the stranded castaways filled with despair 

As they sit there crying in silence 

Thinking no one cares,

Upstairs 

Blessed are those love torn who shake their fists in fury 

At the watching heavens, Angelic jury's 

Cursing them 

Slowly dying

Feeling cursed 

Before their spirit bursts, and they end up in a shiny black hearse 

You are not alone

For I'm empty in spirit too 

Broken

And I see you 

For

We are kin 

Two strangers

Walking hand in hand 

As these deep occult waters run over everything 

Corrupting all they touch

With their insidious sin 

So if you don't know where you belong 

Can't navigate alone 

No place to lay your head, and no heart to call your home 

Take my words and then call my name 

For I am Jerome 

So named to guide you home

So we can dance together in the pouring rain 

So you're not on your own 

And together, entwined 

We'll purge our pain 

For we are blessed 

Two of the High Lord's best 

True survivors, enduring life and all its emotions 

For sometimes in life

Circumstance and fate

Might have built high walls to climb 

To reach your soul's

Nickels or dimes 

And there's no guilt to confess in women or man 

If you feel stranded or split between love and hate 

For The King of all the High Lord's so loved the broken 

And so I have spoken 

Just you wait

One day he'll open up the crimson gates 

Just keep praying

For hope always appears 

When everything seems dark and too late 

For there are some things that sometimes need to be broken 

Such as stubbornness

Pride and many other sinful habits 

For when we feel lost in our total brokenness

Our choice of God can build us back up 

For Your Lord is always walking beside the broken-hearted, and tries to save those who feel unworthy in spirit

So if you live in a painful place, but are also contrite 

There is still hope

Which will appear miraculously, to help you cope 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

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Reunited

 Reunited 

(A lone voice whispers)

All things might one day die, but not us

For we are timeless beings

Two feverish minds lost in new landscapes of The Great In-Between

Who Love has stubbornly refused to let go

As her friends sit back smiling, watching our incredible picture show

So, will you take my hand for this, our last dance?

While I still breathe and we still have a chance before sunrise?

For as you watch me with dark inescapable eyes 

While Prince sings the Beautiful Ones

I'll take your soft hand and trace the shape of desire upon your sensuous soft skin

To will you to let me in

As I blindfold your eyes while preparing a surprise

And when Darling Nikki finally sings a song filled with Computer Blues

I'll consume you and as you quiver and shiver

I'll hold you tightly 

Skin to skin

And look deeply within your dark eyes and slowly whisper

Beyond this mortal world, filled with darkness and pain 

We are reborn just to be together again 

And as your low echoes fill our candlelit red room 

I'll know then,

I just have to replay the Beautiful Ones 

For a night of explorations of the unknown and the untouched will soon begin 

A Holy Land of dark crucibles of intense pleasure and sweet pain 

As feverish minds in this new domain begin to wildly run 

For love has stubbornly refused to let us go

So while her friends are sitting back smiling, watching our complicated picture show

Will you take my hand for this, our last dance?

While we both breathe, and still have a chance?

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Arabella's Monologue

 

  

(A lone sorrowful female voice whispers)

Within grey cloaks 

With eyes 

Wired shut

I still remember that special night 

When we ran to our motel room 

You and me 

Two new lovers 

Soon to be baptized 

By Father Love

After Sabbath 

On a beautiful sunny

Sunday afternoon

I can remember us

Making wild promises 

High

On future plans 

To the watching jealous 

Sun and Moon

For in love's rising smoke and heat at dusk

We swan in a strange flux like Tarzan and Jane 

Happy in love's 

Deep Lagoon

Before Anteros struck 

Like Captain Ahab

With his sharp harpoon 

And so now 

I walk on

Alone 

Choking on the black dust of the Gehenna sand dunes 

Condemned for eternity 

To dream 

Of entering 

That sacred room

Outside Pandemonium's Gates

Protected by Architrenius the Arch-weeper 

And the Algiz runes

So now I 

Sing like a young Frabrato 

In Gey Hinnom

This Valley of Wailing

Singing a lullaby 

For a second chance 

In a Second Kingdom 

Where souls of lost women are cleansed for freedom 

Made pure 

To go to Heaven

In wisdom

For tragic 

Is Death's 

Dying day's decay

And if my God could see me, 

He'd sing 

You did it your way,

Arabella

And that's price 

Of love 

In Gehenna

You'll pay 

For

O' sacred 

Is Deaths 

Dying day's decay 

A soft kiss 

To open 

New gates

To escape Anteros old memory books 

To find familiar places where beloved memories 

Once played 

So here's to you 

Lord

Forgive me

Forgive me

Show mercy

Show mercy

Take me outside Pandemonium's gates

Before it's too late

To those who once

Loved us

For you are a God of justice

And blessed are we who wait for you

Walking

The sand dunes of Gehenna

Always looking for that 

Sacred White Room

After we've been stuck by Anteros 

Like Captain Ahab

With his sharp harpoon 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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The Pen Pal

The Pen Pal.

Have you had one?

(A lone voice whispers)

Have you ever seduced someone with love letters?

By creating a single book of sensuous pleasures

Made love to them in ink or black font 

Caressed their mind slowly, and gave them what they secretly wanted?

Pulled back the page and welcomed them in, like hotel, hot date, bedsheets?

Reached that secret place where kindred souls meet 

Used stanzas 

Sentences or prose 

To open a red door covered in Cherokee white Rose's 

Shared the night drinking rare cocktails of Fears and Dreams

Of the once Broken

Innocence, and all things in between

Without a single word ever being spoken 

Made them pine for more, r you finally reached your pinnacle and climaxed 

Closing that Cherokee white Rose covered door

And signed off with this spiritually, unspoken line 

Will you be my forever, beloved Valentine?

(C)

CopyThe Pen Pal.

Have you had one?

(A lone voice whispers)

Have you ever seduced someone with love letters?

By creating a single book of sensuous pleasures

Made love to them in ink or black font 

Caressed their mind slowly, and gave them what they secretly wanted?

Pulled back the page and welcomed them in, like hotel, hot date, bedsheets?

Reached that secret place where kindred souls meet 

Used stanzas 

Sentences or prose 

To open a red door covered in Cherokee white Rose's 

Shared the night drinking rare cocktails of Fears and Dreams

Of the once Broken

Innocence, and all things in between

Without a single word ever being spoken 

Made them pine for more, r you finally reached your pinnacle and climaxed 

Closing that Cherokee white Rose covered door

And signed off with this spiritually, unspoken line 

Will you be my forever, beloved Valentine?

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

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Melusine the siren

 

Melusine the Siren.

(A lone voice whispers)

You are the coveted cascade of warm emotions

Within this old life filled and overflowing with frosty cold dreams

The raw power to melt the iceberg embracing my very soul

Holding me like a helpless prisoner 

In my many deeply hidden underground streams

All the passing seasons love songs 

Lost in the throes of Spring

Summer Autumn and Winter

Are just filled with heartfelt choruses that remind me of that eternal soft kiss

Of exquisite red lips

That left an eternal fingerprint on my heart's window 

I once tasted so long ago and even still now

After all this time

Will always miss

The assurance of our eventual return

An unspoken pact to be together forever

Sings a sweet symphony into Heavens silvery mists

A divine melody of unchained excitement

To break all chains of my mortal confinement 

Like whispers of an abundance of carnal lyrics and captivating poetry 

Filled with joyous lines of a pain-free existence 

Merged and infused with surreal magic at its deep centre

Moving freely with no resistance 

It sings its own mesmerising verses of Danse du Ventre

And from the opened mouths of ethereal silhouettes

Swirling all around me as I sleep 

I always hear your soul’s deep calls from a little rock 

Asking me to appear and hold on to you forever 

Before this treacherous glass bridge, we walk upon

Breaks and falls 

And as I appear to claim you appearing through Morpheus's portal, as the slippery dark shadows advance

In my deep dreams 

 I always stand in awe and watch in a hypnotic trance

As you perform your sensuous sword dance

To announce to the watching spirits

Our newly found preordained romance 

My Goddess

My Queen

My mystical lover and soulmate from The Great In-Between

My Melusine 

My Siren

Who leaves nothing to chance

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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The Ministry of Ezra. Armageddon Dreams.

Foundation.

Do ghosts still crave love or companionship?

Would you?

A lost soul on the other side watches as the real world burns.

Title:

The Ministry of Ezra.

Armageddon Dreams.

(A lone voice whispers)

This is to you 

My life's only pleasure

Now my life's sunsets are spent and sunk forever 

For at the end of all my once long rigorous days

I now stand lost and lonely 

In these dark woods

Of Reflection

Like a young Puck

In a tragic Midsummer's daydream, that's all mine

One where my heart would beat on perpetual fire, if it could

One with my ears filled with whispering spellbinding words

In these dark woods

That no longer take me higher, if they could

And when the ever-watchful Moon retires

I always watch from here

Behind this silver shimmering barrier 

Of The Great In-Between 

And think as the new Sun of the Living 

Rises in this strange new place 

Are we all simply silent prayers blowing

Like soft tender snowflakes

In an endless night

Each carrying quiet and unique songs and rhythmic sounds filled with woe

Love and all human emotions all around us on these hallow grounds, that makes us glow like fireflies 

Skywards

Just to be lost and scattered in whirlwinds of Heavens glittering golden dust

Symphonies of hearts ablaze

And screaming for just someone to love and trust

And even though now my time living has expired

I still feel rapturous but always blue

As my now silent heart tries to sing love songs just for you

I know as long as I still exist in here

As tall as the high nights and as long as the wide days 

I hope my God-given prayers

Will be answered with my soul's cries to be eventually rescued

For when the final sunset has gone and died

And this dark night I wander in

Stalks all the lands

Even your lands

When the low Angelic Drums 

Announcing The Book of Revelations 

Rumble

And the old black and white pianos start to scream and sing

Declaring openly the arrival of Seven Angels foretold

When the eerie white noise 

Between the Living and the Dead is no longer cold

And falls like a crimson stage curtain 

Once again 

I'll pray hopefully 

That I’ll stand like a Tolkien King 

Proudly on the Tired Bridge of Broken Dreams 

With you as my newly returned queen

Living in a new scene

Beyond the barriers of The Great In-Between

Where my broken heart no longer cries out and screams

As we watch the Purging on Judgment Day

Of all the Immoral 

Tainted and marked with the many forms of its seductive disease 

Standing strong and happy like Megara and Hercules 

Amongst the Universes golden dust and falling leaves

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

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Is to have loved, to unconsciously summon the Sword of Damocles?

Is to have loved, to unconsciously summon the Sword of Damocles?

For, as, Dionysius of Syracuse, once implied.

Things can suddenly change dramatically.

A theme echoing throughout personal and famous historical galleries 

When going through happiness or enduring grief when it has died.

Captured in so many poetic galaxies 

By the unconscious summoners of Damocles 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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Have you ever felt this low whisper before? It always comes unexpected.

 

Foundation:

Temptation.

Sometimes beauty can turn suddenly to stone.

How many have looked and been seduced only to lose everything?

Title.

Have you ever felt this low whisper before? It always comes unexpected.

Sometimes, life is cruel, like the mythical Medusa.

Occasionally, she tempts you, with a new form of spiritual hallelujah.

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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Have you unconsciously used one of, Sigmund's theories when creating something?

 Have you unconsciously used one of, Sigmund's theories, when creating something?

(A lone voice whispers)

You do know that there is absolutely something mystical about creating something intrinsic,

with your own mind?

AI might be more concise and precise.

But the true beauty of creation now and dating back through Millennium:

is the practical art of not being a follower but a doer.

A youer than you.

Putting your heart and soul into each creation process.

For if the true greats could confess.

They might too say they enjoyed indulging in a similar psychoanalytic process.

Using the four stages of Psychoanalytic Therapy:

Number One: 

Intellectual Awareness

Number Two:

Emotional Awareness

Number Three:

Reconstruction

And finally,

Number Four 

Some personal form of Self-Mastery 

So be honest, have you too used maybe one of those four stages of Psychoanalytic Theory?

To start the creation process to create your own masterpiece?

By perhaps using one of those four stages mentioned above.

As your own Master Key?

(C)

 Copyright John Duffy 

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Transmigration. The Seer's Song.

 

Transmigration.

The Seer's Song.

(A lone voice sings)

Look to the stars

Remember your place

Drink from your ancestors' fountains 

Summon up their memories 

To see their faces 

For you've come so far across

All of life's many mountains 

 

Unsee, all political theaters

Ignore the fear.

And things will get quieter 

But listen to me 

The Eternal Seer

For hope is here

Listen to your heart beat 

Like a drum

Channel your faith

For it shall come

Bow and be blessed

Light some candles and dance 

Take chances

But ignore greed

For true freedom comes 

By being happy with all you need

So always look to the stars and remember your place

Drink from your fountains to overcome the doubters 

And see their faces

To summon up their memories 

To help you conquer

All emotional wars

For the future is yours

Regardless of enemies

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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Transference

 

(A lady sings. Can you hear her?)

Mother's strong

Never deviled 

Conquering all

For dream child 

To be free

Never confined 

To be faithful 

Strong

Like Wotan

Never broken

By emotions

For through 

Hemoglobin

Power 

To shine 

Golden

Never  

Beholden

Mother's song

Undo 

All wrongs

Conquering all

To be free

Faithful 

Strong

Never broken

For through shared power 

We shine golden

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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Art by Eastman Johnson 

The Luna Cycle

 

The Luna Cycle 

(A lone voice whispers)

At birth

Wakened by mother heartbeats 

With Luna rising in the East

Born to be more than the norm 

Before Luna reaches her peak

When youth surely will be gone, and it's slowly time to get weak

What do you want to be remembered for?

Before Luna descends in the West

And it's soon time to embrace 

The end of your participation in life's endless contest?

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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Forerunner Dreams

 

Foundation.

Do you think of someone special when it all seems to much?

Title:

Forerunner Dreams

To shake off darkness.

When the pain comes creeping in.

I still think of you.

#Senryu (575)

(C) Copyright John Duffy 

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Do you believe in life after death?

 Foundation.

Do you believe in life after death?

Title:

The Rainbow Bridge 

(A lone voice whispers)

In a deep dream

I saw an old wooden bridge

A bridge of green and blue

Filled with yellow flowers and red roses

At the front of a gigantic crowd of watching blinking eyes

Stood a regal old lady

Blue eyes 

Crow black hair 

Dressed in purple with a white shawl

She seemed quite confident and approached

You may not cross here yet

She spoke 

Within my mind

These lands are for those who never forget true love

Us 

The ancestors of all of mankind

This is The Rainbow Bridge 

And over those ivy mountains are the golden cities

Filled with now happy reunited souls and their all their sidekicks

Brothers and sisters

Fathers 

Mother's and so many others in between 

Eternal watchers

Who you now see

Before you

Called

The Bellagio

A sea of eyes

Filled with love 

Who'll follow you 

Wherever you go

Waiting patiently 

In this rain or snow

For their beloved to eventually show

Above you

If you look

Is a golden mirror 

So we can see to the other side

To know when our beloved time too comes

To prepare to be reunited

When our true love

Say their final goodbyes to the mortal world

For true love never dies

Only fluctuates

As one walks 

Through a new gate

To be at peace

No pain

No anxiety 

Just happy to see our soulmates

As one crosses The Rainbow Bridge

For there is no time

And no such concept of being late

Now go

Astral traveler

And recount our meeting and greetings from me and The Bellagio

And with a low pearly sound of laughter 

She turned and walked back into the sea of smiling eyes 

Of the Great Hereafter 

Who all blinked in unison

Seemingly smiling

And all disappeared

As the dream started to fade

She appeared once more

Briefly 

In the trailing smoke

And whispered before I could answer

She spoke

It is I 

Lucinda 

Your mother 

Take care 

You have so much more to give

Like so many good people who still live

I, alongside so many others, will always patiently wait

So take your time and slow down 

Don't rush to cross our gate

And as I woke and wrote

In my dream journal

The beloved memories of The Rainbow Bridge returned

Making me smile

That she was waiting

Now at peace and in no more pain

Amongst her happy brothers and sisters

Beyond The Rainbow Bridge

Patiently waiting 

In the snow and ethereal rain

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

Image shared under fair usage policy via Pinterest.  

Have a great Sunday.

I've rather enjoyed creating these poetic short stories.

Reflections of an exotic, sweet voice which sometimes calls me to newer lands.

In case you're curious or inquisitive, they were simply references from whence I sometimes visit.

If you're here just visiting, this Sunday.

I send you blessings from the Red Church and best wishes from The Great In-Between.

A piece for a quiet, easy Sunday.

Salute.

(A lone voice whispers)

Sometimes

You've just got to be brave enough to say goodbye to old ways, and try to heal raw opened emotional sores, as you look to life to give you more.

It may feel like you've been through all the world's many wars, but nobody's perfect and everybody has their scars and sometimes, unspoken flaws.

Some may choose to hide it so well, and smile and try to put on a favorite well-loved mask.

And some don't.

Some may say strange things in tempestuous moments of heat, as they sharpen their ferocious claws.

And some may say nothing whatsoever.

But just think?

People are just human, after all.

Misfits in the grandest of schemes, wandering around like lost little children.

After they've been given a life's spiritual work permit.

But you know, I've already lived five times in 6 hundred years.

Lived
Loved and cried so many wet tears.

Now I've returned for the seventh.

And here's what I know as I return from a short stint before I go back to my place in Heaven.

Life and all its emotional connections are simply explained in one line of poetry.

Which is written in bold italics in God's eternal archives.

What to know what it is?

It simply says: is

“Do the best with your time before you too have to die.”

(C)
Copyright John Duffy

Angel Rhamiel
Art by Causagerl Melegari shared under fair usage policy

    

Soledad (S)

 

Foundation.
Does Infidelity creep in when you least expect it?

Title:
Soledad (S)
(Solitude)

(A lone voice whispers)

In silence
On King's Street

I once found my second heartbeat

Wrapped in paper blue

Selling roses
Stacked in red and pink lines

Of two by two

My love climbed out of my skin like a supernatural ghost

Knocked on her heart's door

And pleaded to be let in

Her soul said yes
And we lived blessed

We shared heartfelt speeches on sunlit beaches

Reached heights of such magnanimity

Its beautiful frequency must now hurtle like a ray of light

Throughout eternity

We sat on front porches
Watched the world stroll by

Smiled as the honeysuckle Sun
Rose to scorch us

Two burning candles
Emanating such light

Until the air force of mosquitoes

Came out to rule the night

We raised our hands
In unison

Entwined fingers

Adorned with two matching golden rings

And retired
As the choirs of garden crickets began to sing

Slept with peace
In the same bed

Now we were wed

But then came
The Narley Man

Came in silence
To King's Street

Looking for a second heartbeat

One wrapped in paper blue

Selling roses
Stacked in red and pink lines

Of two by two

Sent his love like a supernatural ghost

And knocked on her heart's door

And pleaded to be let in

And so I'm left to carry on in silence

Filled with thoughts of emotional violence

Such is the power to destroy

Wrapped up in paper blue

Selling red and pink roses
Stacked in lines of two by two

On King's Street

Who shattered all that once mattered

By foolishly answering a supernatural ghost

Who once knocked her heart's door and pleaded to be let in

Such is the devilish power of the red three-letter word

Which spells sin

(C) Copyright John Duffy

Art by Eugene von Blaas shared under fair usage policy.

The Monologue of David and

(A lone voice whispers)

Although 

The Divine Pacatari

Took me tragically over the precarious edge 

Of the final dark mountain

To cross the Silver Bridge To witness Heaven's illustrious 

Beautiful fountains

While Star Child Orion

Watched in such profound sadness

From so far away

Riding the endless night sky

So high

With the sacred White Universal Mare 

Rode by Uriel 

Watching

In the Celestial Garden

As I look up in this thin fading air and patiently stare

Into the deep colours revolving like spinning tops in this abyss 

I know and pray 

We will be reunited in another lifetime

On another glorious day

To sparkle in such bliss 

Like a rare pair of twinkling diamonds

To prance and dance 

So close together

Like the tiny particles found in red wine

In the Holy Silver Communion Cup 

For even though fire and ice

Death and sometimes the misery of time

Will try to destroy our love

These feelings

Will never stop

For ours was just a brief rehearsal

In this lifetime 

Not a farewell from The Eternal Circle

For our love story will live on

Forever

In a place beyond worlds

In quantum realms 

Places unseen

And when you awaken in the half-light of lucid dreams

In the deep Realms of Sleep

I shall return 

In my only wedding suit

For nothing is truly lost

And even though love has a high price

We will walk 

Together again

Hand in hand 

So soon

One night

The cost of our reunion

Will be our secret reminder

A unique revelation

In the pristine Harvest Moon

For we are all but just

Golden leaves

Spice 

Blown by ravenous thunder 

In God's never-ending Monsoon

For I now know

No one weeps

When reunited in the Labyrinth of Sleep

To be remarried

In The Great In-Between

For living a mortal life

Is just the start of a new honeymoon 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

The Immortal

 

(A lone voice whispers)

Are we carefully scrutinised by undiscovered forces from another realm? 

Do we in the Great Mists, live forever?

Many of your types I pass daily but especially at midnight

When I sit on 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 to dust

In here

This dark place is 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 their sins as my penance 

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

To try to guide sacrificed deserted souls who stumble and end up my way

Praying to go home through random long or short legions of their exorcisms

In red rivers of linear poetry

Like a drunken

James Brown

I gather them around to listen to what my words truly mean 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 stanza circles

Of 575 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 graces 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 sent adolescent and immature mind's cerebral cortex's 

And libidos are 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 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 humanity's 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

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 world 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

It is then and only then

That you'll meet me

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

Unity

 

Foundation.

In quiet or difficult moments, do you think of something or someone special to help you get through? 

Do the whispers from your God or loved ones resonate with you?

Title: Unity

(A lone voice whispers)

When life suddenly becomes too painful, and parts of me feel like they are dying, like all those poor soldiers at, Waterloo, on the eighteenth of June, in 1815.

There's a secret place I go to, where I feel rich in the eyes of my watching, Bureau of The Internal Revenue. 

Whenever I pause and think of you.

  

A place of sunshine and memories surrounded by life's many monsoons. 

Which always helps me to renew 

(C) Copyright John Duffy

Image shared under fair usage policy.