. Poetry from The Great In-Between: August 2025

Saturday, August 30, 2025

Need inspiration?

 


A poem reflecting on time, ageing, resting, and above all, resilience.


Themes denied to so many.

Occasionally, you can try to do too much.

Title.

Need inspiration?


(A lone voice whispers)


You all know the game.

It's within your power to have an hour.


Be proud to feel old, a fate denied to so many: but never fold. 


Recover, then step back into the cold.


(C)

Copyright John Duffy


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#A poem reflecting on time, ageing, resting, and above all, resilience.


Themes denied to so many.

Occasionally, you can try to do too much.

Title.

Need inspiration?


(A lone voice whispers)


You all know the game.

It's within your power to have an hour.


Be proud to feel old, a fate denied to so many: but never fold. 


Recover, then step back into the cold.


(C)

Copyright John Duffy


Image shared under fair usage policy.  

Friday, August 29, 2025

Do you like reading deeply spiritual and mystical poetry?


 Do you like reading deeply spiritual and mystical poetry?


With imagery evoking heritage, supernatural guidance, and a longing for a much-needed destiny? 


Then read on about the dreams of, Miss Applegate, while living in Hades. 


(Hades in this case represents living in a state of high emotional turmoil. Maybe you know the feeling? Salute)



Rêves de Miss Applegate

(Dreams of Miss Applegate)


(A female voice whispers)


I can still see her 

Old Marie Laveau


Dressed in motherly blue 


I can't pretend

In my grandma's old passed down scrying mirror


Looking back 

And smiling 


Summoned to haunt me 

From when I visited 

Big Mama Aurelia


Somewhere out on the water village of the Grand Bayou


For she announced the end of me being single


And a time and place of happiness, I still cannot see, where I'll mingle


A time when the Great Kamadeva will walk in 


Like a proud Captain Jake, and tempt me to sin


In new where's and how's, the what if's and so's


So, sometimes I stand dressed in my Mama's old white wedding dress


Looking in my long black and gold mirror, pleading to know my fate


To save this damsel in distress


In what year, month, or day, will she come see me? 


Before each winter's year ending snow, and whisper


This year, the waiting ends, Josefina


So I can celebrate the overthrow of yet another phase of living in Hades


But until then, I'll just go back to masquerading on my life's only solo holy mission


On my heart's beating crusade 


Looking for true love, before I too like, Old Marie Laveau, fade away


(C)

Copyright John Duffy


Kamadeva is the god of human love and passion, who is known to awaken carnal desires among humans.


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Thursday, August 28, 2025

Are you a Newbie?

 


Are you a newbie?


(A lone voice whispers)


Have you transitioned from silence or hesitation towards bold, authentic, courageous communication?


After you realized language isn't just a tool for casual conversations, but a beautiful divine means of self-expression, while one undergoes some spiritual rehabilitation?


Are you or have you felt like a Newbie?


Someone who was once walking through the complex strands of intricate language by the Alphabet Sea


And found the courage to express themselves for others and them to see, while reducing their soul's baggage 


Risking all to talk raw, in front of all, and stand tall


As you found your old self slowly retreating as your new more confident self, started communicating 


And now, with reflection, you sometimes wonder


How could I have ever lived that awkward life of always sitting watching other rebels, on the author or poetry shelf, write?


While keeping myself, to myself, in the middle of any given night?


(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

     

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Wednesday, August 27, 2025

The Voice of Eli


A layered poem of spiritual meditation. 


Recognizing the subtle winds that guide or shape us, even when unseen.


Reflecting how sometimes, words and memories, can be spiritual lifelines, preserving connection beyond the physical.


Reminding us to stay in an inner fight to stay spiritually alive, in a world that can feel spiritually barren.


And to approach whatever prayer you use not just as ritual, like so many other but as a sacred, personal invocation for peace and strength.


And finally to embrace cycles of spiritual change and letting go.


Good or bad, and then understanding how they can bring renewal and a new sacred presence.


The Autumn leaves represents a transaction of emotional states. Like Autumn to Winter.


Salute.



The Voice of Eli


(A lone voice whispers)


Like an army of unseen thieves


Wearing invisible black and red threads of divinity


You may steal

These words


As they are read in your head into infinity


To remember old times of beloved memories of us


The undead


You have my now declared permission 


So go ahead like an army of invisible thieves


Wearing black and red threads of divinity

 

Fighting

Mentally

To stay alive


While living amongst

The living dead


Use these sacred words

As your literacy


Your Godhead


Recite after me

Silently


O Sancte!


Da mihi pacem et libera me a tenebris!


Da mihi vim resistendi temptationi!


In nomine tuo omnipotenti!


Amen 


So they may fall like Autumn leaves 


All around 


The sacred grounds 

Where you may sit or stand


And forever stay


As your beating band

Still plays


(C)

Copyright John Duffy


Translation: 


Oh Holy One!


Give me peace and free me from darkness!


Give me the strength to resist temptation!


In your almighty name!


Amen
 

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The letter on the fireplace


 Do you like mysticism, anxiety, atmospheric rich imagery, layered within mythological meanings?


A bending of surrealism, personal confession, and fantastical imagery of obsession?


Then this could be for you.


Salute.


Title.

The letter on the fireplace 


(A lone voice whispers)


As if cursed by the son of perdition


As I go about my final solo mission to gain admission 


With Aphrodite's dead ringer, who whispers songs of exquisite rendition


A window opened and a lone green arrow from Eros bow struck, that drew gasps from the angels watching


In the midnight sky 


I breathed in a sweet aroma and passion filled scent like pure oxygen 


And felt like a king

Like King Solomon 


I felt an aura and my soul was captured like a moth is attracted to a flame


So now all dark nights appear so long and so black


As the shadow people murmur and whisper my name 


For they all know


Way back to Quekith, I have been changed by someone so radical


As I entered the fifth dimension by finding a love so sacred and magical


But that's the magic of the fantastical


For as the winds seduce trees by subtle caresses 


As the world wakes in a new spring and new life begins


I write this before I go to The Hidden Forest


Where the White Ash trees stand in neat rows like prizes at a country fair 


Where green ivy hides the entrance to her lair as it grows, and other slaves play music on demand, while chained to metal stands


With the smell of Frankincense incense on patrol in the electricity filled air


Ready to invade lungs and take control


It's ten to two as I write this in the morning, and I have to appear there at four


So if I don't come back I leave this for you to know I'm fine


Keep the house 

The car, money and all my collection of vintage red wine 


For I go to a new place where fear no longer exists and have to be on time 


A place, I hope, welcomes me in


Just pray for me that I don't lose my soul and become another flesh slave, chained to a metal stand 


Playing music on demand 


Another prisoner trapped forever in her cave


As she sits on her golden throne singing with her crimson red lips


You're now mine

Now get in line


Your time will come to play


For now, you're caught 

And can no longer run away 


For you're just another familiar 


One in a trillion, 

No longer a civilian 


All this I know for a German call Schiller


Told me over the internet

Told me to come


Told me I'd be a member of a wolf pack serving a queen in The Great In-Between 


So here I am


Pray for me 

Ma xxx


Forever yours,

Your loving son.

Jimmie.


(C)

Copyright John Duffy 


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Monday, August 25, 2025

Ephemeral

 


Upon reflection, have you had a bittersweet experience of a powerful, brief connection?

Something so intense, meaningful, but ultimately temporary, that still left a lasting impression?

Impressions of sublime moments that burnt brightly and then suddenly disappeared.

Leaving behind only grief intermixed with happiness and reflection.

Title.
Ephemeral

(A lone voice whispers)

I met you like the thunderous rain meets wet leaves

Fast and so unexpectedly, that the rain grieves when it leaves

For soon nothing will remain when the sun comes out again

(C)
Copyright John Duffy 

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The Calling

 

A poem that reflects the pathway of a life that could have been shaped differently, and yet still, after all these years, holds a spark of new possibilities.


Reminding us at the core that courage and new connections can still matter at any stage in life, and that love can reach us even near the end. 


Instead of being a poem of pure regrets, it offers a bright, and tender invitation.


Salute


Title.

The Calling


(A lone voice whispers)



In a deep dream,

I once heard a whispered call


It came so softly 

Vibrating and crawling all over my inner walls


It said boy

Stand up tall


Be courageous 


Throw away all of your life's toys and climb over all your life's many walls


But I thought it was but a dream and did nothing at all


And now at ninety-eight

All alone 

I'm still haunted by this soft call


Of

Boy 

Boy


Remember, 

Throw out your last toy

For at 98 


It's still not too late

We've still got a chance


To climb over that last wall

And together


Hand in hand


 Into eternity 

We can still dance


If you can still hear this call 


(C)

Copyright John Duffy


Image shared under fair usage polA poem that reflects the pathway of a life that could have been shaped differently, and yet still, after all these years, holds a spark of new possibilities.


Reminding us at the core that courage and new connections can still matter at any stage in life, and that love can reach us even near the end. 


Instead of being a poem of pure regrets, it offers a bright, and tender invitation.


Salute


Title.

The Calling


(A lone voice whispers)


In a deep dream,

I once heard a whispered call


It came so softly 

Vibrating and crawling all over my inner walls


It said boy

Stand up tall


Be courageous 


Throw away all of your life's toys and climb over all your life's many walls


But I thought it was but a dream and did nothing at all


And now at ninety-eight

All alone 

I'm still haunted by this soft call


Of

Boy 

Boy


Remember, 

Throw out your last toy

For at 98 


It's still not too late

We've still got a chance


To climb over that last wall

And together


Hand in hand


 Into eternity 

We can still dance


If you can still hear this call 


(C)

Copyright John Duffy


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Sunday, August 24, 2025

Are you a member of The Midnight Losers Club?

 



A piece evoking heartbreak, initiation, and resilience through friendship. 


Relating to a club which may not exist in the literal sense, but exists in the spiritual.


A club for those who have felt broken, but lifted by others who have probably been through the same rituals linked to heartbreak.


Title.


Are you a member of The Midnight Losers Club?


(A lone voice whispers) 


I joined last night

Went through the initiation 


Got my heart broken in two

Took proof


Showed them all on the big screen 


A picture of my ex-husband smiling as I stood crying


Now I wear the secret brand under my right sleeve in French.


Une fois brisés, nous nous relevons grâce à l'amitié


Car nous sommes membres du Midnight Losers Club 


(Once broken but we rise through friendship 


For we are members of The Midnight Losers Club) 


(C) Copyright John Duffy

  

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Friday, August 22, 2025

The Visitor from Hiranyaloka

 


Do you want to take a ride on a surreal and spiritual exploration of otherworldly travel — not just through physical space, but through spiritual dimensions, dreams, and consciousness?

To a strange planet where life goes on?

Title 
The Visitor from Hiranyaloka.

(A lone voice whispers)

Within the Witching Hour 
Of twelve to four am
In the Great In-Between

I've seen
Universes
Parallel worlds

Places
Where no living human beings have never been

Climbed through blue portals

To strange lands where angels and demons 

In choirs 
Sing

Walked lands
Where no water runs in rivers or springs

Walked the badlands of the forsaken 

Climbed the high towers of the iron maiden

Saw tomorrow's prophecies 
Before I awakened

But I was never alone
Faith in the Lord
Kept me safe

In The Badlands 
Beyond the Tomb

From being drawn at dusk
To been released at dawn

To explore
To revel in new sights
Past midnight 

Is a mystery which binds me still

From Araganto
To Mulavanto

The red cliffs of the Ugato Mountains

From the twin suns of Sirius 
Bathed in autumn gold

Underneath lightning filled skies 

So now
I know an old secret
One for you to read as you pass me by

The dead don't die
They just live

Underneath 
Purple clouds

In another shimmering never-ending sky

(C)
Copyright John Duffy 

Hiranyaloka:
The Illumined Astral Planet.

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Giuseppe's Letter to Sophia.



 Do you like reading deep into a calling for truth, a mutual exploration of existentialism more profound questions, and closeness?


Within an invitation to meet—physically, emotionally, and spiritually—in a place of honesty, wonder, and romantic mystery filled with mythical possibility?


Then read on.


Title.

Giuseppe's Letter to Sophia.


 (A lone voice whispers as it reads the letter for you)


Would you meet me at midnight? 


Amore Mio 


In the Green Forests of The Great In-Between


If l lit a fire to guide you after I invited you 


To sit and just talk about all The Mysteries of Life, over ice 


Like The Trinity of Happiness, Sadness, and Madness


The three things involved in all things 


Things that could then turn into something that could be so nice


And then to count the flashing stars, shimmering from afar


While listening to real Country Music, played on real guitars not the new music played by AI


An extension of the fallen Morning Star 


For within this invitation, to Night of a Thousand Stars, in sight


Our first topic of conversation would be that night 


As we looked at Heaven's Endless Door, with wonder


Does true love even exist and live for evermore 


And is there a chance for us, my Amore Mio 


To walk upon its heavenly shore


(C)


Copyright John Duffy 


Amore Mio: Italian for my love.


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Thursday, August 21, 2025

The Woman lost to Marius.


 Foundation.


An elegy and meditative reflection on the disturbing emotions created by loss. 


Some suffer with in silence.


Rather than romanticizing the line — time will heal, it reflects the raw and unflinching pain.


Emphasizing the speaker’s agony while criticizing the simplistic assurances often offered.


A piece created to embody and stand as a witness to those whose inner despair persists, though they may seem fine on the outside.


The line relating that 

grief is compared starkly to organized crime, portrays how love’s departure typically feels unjust, cruel, and violent—especially when someone beloved is gone.


Have you too heard the sometimes hollow echo, of well-meaning platitudes, that ring untrue to someone still deeply grieving?


Or even told someone, without really thinking, “time will heal, you'll see?”


Title.

The Woman lost to Marius. 


(A lone voice whispers)


Some say time will heal, even though it doesn't seem real


And seeing is believing


But how can they see what you're feeling? 


When you start grieving, while the black hearse of loving is leaving?


Leaving all once treasured things behind 


Things like sweet love letters

Wedding rings


Perfume filled white sweaters

Memories and all things once kind and divine 


Which once made your soul sing


So to me, it's a cruel lie, saying time will heal what I'm feeling


While I live through each day, alone now, but inside, quietly dying 


Listening to some still say

Seeing is believing, time will bring healing 


And knowing 


How can you see what I'm still feeling? 


When I'm obviously still grieving?


After watching the black hearse of love, leaving 


And quietly going out of my mind 


Like a victim of organized crime


After your marriage to the hand, you once loved 


Has run out of earthly time

And is no longer in your realm 


Breathing 


(C) Copyright John Duffy 

Wednesday, August 20, 2025

Synchronicity

 


Have you ever made a connection despite adversity, or at a time when emotional warmth is especially cherished?


A connection based on Jung's concept of synchronicity:


Occurrences that are linked by meaning rather than cause?


A fleetingly moment maybe in a challenging time, where meaningful contact that seems both accidental and profound.


Is needed?


A brief pause with a stranger that felt overflowing with meaning?


An unsaid unity formed in a profound silence between new or old friends?


Or just someone appearing into your life at the right time that almost felt like fate?


So, have you ever felt this sensation with someone?


Title.

Synchronicity 


(A lone voice whispers)


We came together

Like two autumn leaves touching 

In winter's weather


(575)

#Senryu


(C)

Copyright John Duffy 


Senryu, like haiku, has three lines with 17 or, but unlike haiku, which focuses on nature, senryu tends to center on human nature.


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Tuesday, August 19, 2025

Does your Summer miss the snow?

 


Foundation.

Does your Summer miss the snow?

A poem reflecting the persistent, almost seemingly never-ending, haunting nature of loss.

Exploring how bereavement can follow you—turning every place into a somewhere filled with old memories of someone special, whose absence still lingers.

Like Irish Sea Moss

The imagery of Summer missing snow represents grief in an eternal, kaleidoscope.

Relaying the sentiment that heartbreak can be an up and down internal season all oñ its own, discounting external context.

As life continues to spin as sadness slowly creeps in.

Title.
Bereavement.

(A lone voice whispers)

Stranded forever
Everywhere I seem to go

I now know heartbreak
Like Summer misses the snow

(C)
John Duffy

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Are you curious?


 

Monday, August 18, 2025

Have you been a victim of the sound of whispering leaves?


Foundation.


Has the judgement from others ever ruined one of your relationships?



Here's a lament to lost love, a pure romantic emotion which can sometimes be betrayed by external forces.


Philosophical, abound with rousing metaphors. Supernatural and natural imagery.


Have you been a victim of the sound of whispering leaves?


Title.

Psithurimos


(A lone voice whispers)


Even though we sadly parted like the Red Sea


Once did


Chased by the lies of the ever-growing establishment


Incarnations of Pharaoh's guards who always interfered


Dressed in black and white disguises


But in this, half silence

Filled with sacred tears


And broken-hearted by sweet memories


Apart now forever in this growing cold and sad words filled with such violence 


Where memories ghosts roam, as one gets old


I can still see all of you, looking so beautiful


By that fast-flowing river

In Sacramento 


Walking in peace and serenity, like the night itself


Effortless, seductive and so graceful


That even Mother Moon seemed to shine even brighter and smile


But all the while, The Dark, half hidden out of sight


Created by chancers


Worked in secret, day, and night


To take away, bit by bit

By metastasis


My only hope of eternal bliss and that's why now


All I can do is treasure, that last memory of you


Walking in daylight, by that river in Sacramento


For it still brings me such salvation and a form of peace


For even though now you've been released by the high priest called Gossip


My eternal love for you will never cease but explode like a New Year's Eve fire work


Regardless if it's day or night 


South by South east 

Of a beautiful lady I once worshipped 


Until she too succumbed to the wild beast 


Called Psithurimos 


The whispering sound of the wind among leaves, from some of life's happiness thieves 



(C)

Copyright John Duffy 


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Thursday, August 14, 2025

Corazón's Orphan.

 


Foundation.


Are people who have been emotionally hurt more cautious in choosing who or what they let into their hearts?


Or, does heartbreak refine what they value, once broken, more selectively?


Have you felt deep loneliness, mistrust, and a cautious emotional reconnection, like an orphaned heart?


And has heartbreak felt like a war—internal strife that divides, just as a war divides nations?


And did, through selective healing and a lonely pilgrimage, do you now vibrate with peace?


Title.

Corazón's Orphan. 


(A lone voice whispers)


Has your Corazón ever broken you in two 


Like America


With the War on Cotton between 1861 and 1865


If it so, did you become one of Corazón lonely orphan's


Walking miles, misty-eyed and filled with wild precautions


Praying for another soulmates' heart in the long run


As you weighed up all the newer options 


(C) Copyright John Duffy 



Corazón is a Spanish word meaning the heart.


Im

Foundation.


Are people who have been emotionally hurt more cautious in choosing who or what they let into their hearts?


Or, does heartbreak refine what they value, once broken, more selectively?


Have you felt deep loneliness, mistrust, and a cautious emotional reconnection, like an orphaned heart?


And has heartbreak felt like a war—internal strife that divides, just as a war divides nations?


And did, through selective healing and a lonely pilgrimage, do you now vibrate with peace?


Title.

Corazón's Orphan. 


(A lone voice whispers)


Has your Corazón ever broken you in two 


Like America


With the War on Cotton between 1861 and 1865


If it so, did you become one of Corazón lonely orphan's


Walking miles, misty-eyed and filled with wild precautions


Praying for another soulmates' heart in the long run


As you weighed up all the newer options 


(C) Copyright John Duffy 



Corazón is a Spanish word meaning the heart.


Image shared under fair usage policy. age shared under fair usage policy. 

Wednesday, August 13, 2025

Compartmentalized

 


Foundation.


A meditation on how someone can present themselves beautifully to the world, yet hide deeper truths in a private, almost secret place. 


Title.

Compartmentalized.


(A lone voice whispers)


As delicious looking as you are to the watching world 


As glorious as a red rose in full bloom


I can still see all of you


Even your shadowy self you carefully hideaway 


Within that darkened bedroom


You keep under strict lock and key


Buried in the deep seas

of your eternal soul's tomb 


Copyright John Duffy 


The opening lines depict a person admired outwardly, like a perfect rose on display. 


But a rose, as beautiful as it is, can be fragile, with hidden thorns and vulnerabilities.


Does that remind you of anyone?


Maybe yourself?


“I can still see all of you / Even your shadowy self you carefully hideaway”


Here, the poem acknowledges that although this person hides part of themselves, the speaker still sees the “shadowy self”—the secret, perhaps darker or more complex side.


The question arises.


To really know someone, to form a strong relationship.


Do you need to know everything about them?


Contrast: Appearance vs. secretive, restricted, emotionally complex.


The contrast suggests perhaps a tension between reputation and reality, image and authenticity. 


One part of the person dazzles others; another part mourns or yearns in solitude.


Possible Readings

Psychological:


 The person is guarded—careful to show a polished exterior while hiding internal wounds, insecurities, or past trauma.


Emotional: 


The soul, locked away, may long for release or understanding. The speaker sees that yearning.


What the Poem might mean:


Beauty is not always enough: 


Appearances can’t capture the complexity of inner life.


The strain of modern living or past relationships.


Empathy and perception: 


The piece reflects understanding requires recognizing the hidden parts, not just admiring the visible.


Final Thoughts


The human condition is so complex, especially today in 2025.


For people today often craft a perfect image for exhibit, while the real self—fearful, wounded, or unexpressed—remains tucked away in private, almost lifeless spaces of the heart.


Due to the probable stress of social media.


The poem gently asks us to look deeper—for compassion and awareness. 


It just asks at its core:


Can we appreciate someone's beauty while also acknowledging their hidden depths? 


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Monday, August 11, 2025

Are you a magician?

 


Foundation.

A few lines whispering about the mesmerising power of writing, poetry, or art—in any form.

Using carefully orchestrated emotional sleight-of-hand that soothes the mind, simulates the heart, and invites introspection or reflection. 

A strange form of magic not based on a foundation of illusion, but built up through empathy.

Title.
Are you a magician?

(A lone voice whispers)

Is a writer, poet, or artist just a conjurer of emotional imagery

Creating something special 
for those in life, who need a spot of self discovery 

To maybe stimulate their memories by reading or seeing a new ministry 

And for a brief moment, while lost within lines like these

Freeing them from their own form of self captivity 

(C)
Copyright John Duffy 

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Sunday, August 10, 2025

Have you faith in 2025?

 



Foundation.

A creative reflection on hope for the future.


In the ever-growing era of reliance on technology, is belief in something greater than ourselves, diminishing? 


Have you faith in 2025?


(A lone voice whispers)


Even though

The night is mine


Like the doe


Who hides behind the bushes in the nighttime


Every breath you take, every step you make


Even if the moon no longer rises or the sun goes out


I will try to be by your side


If you lose hope, with nothing left to cope, I will try to be by your side


If your life seems empty while others seem to have plenty


Pray for me to appear to wipe away those tears, for I will try to be by your side


If you need time and space to clear your mind


If you need to feel pain to be reborn again, I will try to be by your side


If fate brings you SAD gifts, like seasonal affective disorders


From all known states or borders


Or people filled with and preaching hate


Call to me, and I will try to be by your side


For your life is but a brief whisper, a quick ride in the Ether


A tiny dot on the great ethereal map

A made-up wheel


Created by the Babylonians and Egyptians, that can steal all you feel


So know, your life was never made to be lived alone


Driven and ruled by a ticking time wheel


Call to me to atone, and I will be by your side in a flash 


Before your world turns to ash


So the Keeper of all Sacred Keys 


Can welcome you home when your time is due 


To a wonderful land where you're never alone 


But with all your family and beloved friends, as all animals roam free


Just remember to call to me so I can be by your side


I'm sure you know my name which is Faith, whatever your race 


For I'm also a child, sent to guide


All things in the Ether, which collide 


Even the sinful who have lied, but more so, for those whose souls have cried


Just call to me. 


For faith in something you can't see will constantly try t

o provide


(C) Copyright John Duffy


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The Wastelands of Shibboleth

 


Foundation of the piece:


Does devotion and an otherworldly melancholy—but not despair—still exist beyond all we know?


And the does the power of love and memory, even when flesh fades. Even though simultaneously mournful and hopeful:


Inspire those we love who watch and hopefully wait?


What do you think?


Title:


The Wastelands of Shibboleth. 


(A lone voice whispers)


These nights are so long 


Now that I've crossed this dark sea with the child of Erebus


Singing the Coming Home Song


"I'm bringing them home Your Honor. For in life


They can go no further 


So we're all coming home to you


Our spirits, father, to a land undreamed of”


But I sometimes wonder, do you still miss me


My only love


As I stand beyond the third rock 


Now that I'm pain-free


For I'll still love you as long as the Hurrian Hymn is played 


Even as long as heartfelt prayers are made


To the peaks of the highest snow-covered mountains 


And into the deep depths of Agartha hidden fountains


My soul may be unreachable

And out of sight every night


Brought about by our Lord and Grace


But always remember I'm here


Just waiting in a pristine white room in a unique place


Where through my obsidian scrying glass


I can still see your beautiful face


By sun and moon, rain or shine


Fire or candlelight


To love you is all I now have 


To carry me through these endless nights


In these Barren Lands


To remind me, you were once mine, even though I've taken my last breath


When Death Messenger Charon called


I'll still love you through all the tragedies


As Thane of Glamis loved his Lady Macbeth 


For sometimes faith in love is all you can use


When you have nothing left to lose


So when God made me take my last breath


With a wave of his hand, like Nero of Rome


So I can hear the child of Erebus


Singing the Coming Home Song


I made his messenger Titan promise


That I'l see you better than ever, even after death 


When you too join me here in Shibboleth


The Wastelands 


Filled with those no longer wearing flesh 


(C) Copyright John Duffy


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Have you been seduced by the Principalities?

 


Have you been seduce😍d by the Principalities?


(A lone voice whispers)


Have you really paused and looked around


Looked hard at what you found 


Will you too wake up to the hidden powers seemingly influencing society


Resist being controlled or distracted, and take a stand for truth, justice, and the preservation of humanity and the Earth


For when the hidden Principalities, the dark rulers of the wickedness of this world in high place, cast their spells


To draw you deeper into their flesh and blood, version of hell


Through telephone obsidian scrying glass or social media 


Using AI


When the hidden Principalities try to confuse and use you


As old plans are discussed, in their new dark lands of Kus


Will you fall overpowered into their traps without a fuss


Or rise up empowered from the dust


To be never devoured, unlike some of the world's many political cowards


But endeavor for peace and justice, tranquility, and bliss


Freedom and the ability to address whatever you choose to profess


I can only pray you choose to rise


For the soul of the Ancestral Mother cries


Her world is on the brink, and all could end within a nuclear blink


On any given sunrise


So do you pray for hope, to try to find a way to help those deemed others, and the Ancestral Mother, cope


Or will you too? Like so many 


Warm and fed. Stay seated on the fence 


Until they come for you to join their endless ranks of the dead.


(C) Copyright John Duffy

Ephesians 6:12 states: 

"For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places." 

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Friday, August 8, 2025

Hotel Las Mythos

 


Foundation.


Are you a stylist—who likes entwining metaphors, even mythology, around a vivid blue maypole—using poetic, realistic, or speculative literary fiction? 


Hotel Las Mythos


(A lone voice whispers)


Mythical or real landscapes

Heros

Villains


Engaging characters

The Good to the Bad


The full spectrum of society under the house of the rising sun 


Some walking

Some always on the run


Are you too in the writing business, for creating just something is always so incredible it can never be outdone?


Especially painting surreal or real imagery 


With your self-signed Gatling gun?


(C) Copyright John Duffy 


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Channeling Randolph Carter

 


Have you come across H.P. Lovecraft before?


Randolph Carter is a legendary character often appearing in Lovecraft’s eerie, occult atmospheric works—with mythical invitations, unknown realms, and imminent life-changing situations. 


He represents a dreamwalker stepping into cosmic darkness and engaging forces beyond the boundaries of reality. 


And of course he loves poetry. Maybe he's just like you?

A profound storyteller.


Channeling Randolph Carter

 

(A lone voice whispers) 

  

At the Most High Temple, on the unmapped mountains 

  

Once climbed recklessly by illuminated souls such as Nostradamus or Louis Bellefontaine 

  

To meet the neverending sensation 

  

The imperceptible incarnation emitting that magnetic pull and lull in the falling rain 

  

Which haunted their every waking second and vivid day dreams


With its unwarranted invasion 

  

Who many contemporary colleagues 

  

Then viewed as touched with a trace of darkened Lilith Madness 

  

For when the Mighty Dagon


The mythical beast of the Deep North Sea 

  

Heard my calls for knowledge and wisdom 

  

Sent blowing like paper boats

Sailing through the world's silence 

  

Of the vicious violence in the Middle East 

  

Overflowing with prayers, spiritually charged with erratic need 

  

He, too, sent me a personal invitation


Which would lead me into a new age of transformation 

  

To the lonely place where I lived by the raging sea


Known only to a select few

As The Shadow and Key 

  

The Dagon, an invisible invader of the human thalamus 

  

The Dream Walker 

Whisperer in the darkness 

  

Came to me in Kansas

At midnight  


With lightning and thunder announcing his sudden arrival

At the Shadow and Key 

  

It told me deep occult secrets 

Only kept in the heavily guarded vaults


Beyond the Blue Door of the Marianas Trench 

  

Sealed by incarnations and potent harming spells, to deflect the Broken 

  

Seething and entrenched with dark dreams, seeking only revenge 

  

It spoke of red wars and red rivers


Broken dreams

Torn minds and souls 

  

Power-hungry controlled pawns used by unspoken things like it 

  

Supernatural creatures 

 

Which create their new forms of piety by handing out subliminal lyric sheets 

  

So they can keep the hypnotized singing their war songs 

  

It warned me of a lady in blue 

  

A shadowwalker who would soon call to the Shadow and Key 

  

And offer me glorious pleasure as we lay entwined by the sea  


It said chose wisely for the red wars 

  

The red rivers of broken dreams and torn minds and souls 

  

Would soon need someone strong 

  

To lessen the blows from those pulling the strings 

  

For the unseen monsters in control 

  

Someone to soothe their pain by illuminated prose 

  

And then, with a crash of white lightning 

 

Striking the fireplace clock

Right in its timekeeper's small face 

  

It was gone 

  

The Mighty Dogan told me a time and date 


She would arrive 

  

Idh-yaa, or to some Quum-yaa, Cthulhu's Mate


(C) Copyright John Duffy 


Image: Google.


Thursday, August 7, 2025

Desolation Row.

 

Foundation.


A poem that takes one on a twisting journey through an emotional rollercoaster to hopefully reach rebirth. 


Examining the trauma of lost love, the ache that loiters, ending with the resolute mutual human perception of seeking redemption.


Breaking up with someone carries such trauma. 


Have you too walked on Desolation Row?


Title.

Desolation Row.


(A lone voice whispers)


Did you know Love and sorrow are one? 


This I know now. 


For even the sky needs the winds, rain, and snow. 


Just like some of Mother Nature's mesmerizing things, Which can never be outrun. 


Have you too walked on Desolation Row and felt them both? 


Rode in those two crazy boats?


Wore one of their red or gray housecoats?


Clinging on steadfastly from love to sorrow, coast to coast?


Filled with wild desires and hopes?


Powered on relentlessly.


By a hot or cold silent knowledge, feeling like a surety bond.


Of a strange fire from the Great Beyond?


But like baby seeds, dreaming of birth, praying for the sun's blazing fire to grow.


Waiting deep below within the Earth.


With a heart dreaming of a new spring.

A new rebirth.


Are you still waiting for those hidden golden bells to ring? 


To start of freedom, sing?


Or do you still wear that gray housecoat and just die inside every time? 


As you think of them.


While floating metaphorically alone.


Into the fading blue like a white feather, blowing lonely in the cold winds.


Beneath a heartless sky?


Which always seems to be standing, smiling, and watching in all weathers.


Only to then melt into the early morning sun. 


For all things, all said and done.


What is it to escape needing? 


When you have no loved ones or tall tales to be spun?


But to try to find freedom in a new kingdom.


One that rises and falls with the tides of mortal new hellos and old goodbyes.


If it could be seen.


For when you've walked in those shallow rivers of silence to endlessly die.


To taste its sweet musk of defiance as you inside cry.


You too might sing like me. 

Oh Hosanna, Oh Hosanna.


For to reach the mountaintop, you too shall begin to pray to climb. 


To take a sip from Absolutions ceremonial silver cup.


To try to put on love's red housecoat once again.


For when you reached rock bottom in relationships.


The only way is

 up.


(C) Copyright John Duffy


Painting by Filip Petrovic.

Shared under fair usage policy.

Wednesday, August 6, 2025

Do you like supernatural poetry?

 


Foundation.


Do you like supernatural poetry?


The Invocation of Xo


(A lone voice whispers)


Within these enticing words is a manifestation of magic from me.


An incantation from my higher self.


My spirit.

For you to take to the crypt.

Beyond all your eyes can ever see.


Ven y quédate conmigo.


For within these magical words, I sign my secret name within this poetic invocation.


Deeply into your hypothalamus, sweetly and slow.


Ven y quédate conmigo.


To unconsciously follow you like a little hobo everywhere you go.


Ven y quédate conmigo.


I've cast this now you've read it as our own individual spell.


To allow you to carry me within your each and every cell and breath.

Until our deaths.


Ven y quédate conmigo.


So I can see you grow from spring to the last winter's snow.


From above and below: 

Ven y quédate conmigo.


You’re inviting me in, whether you know it or not.


Ven y quédate conmigo


Admit our love. 

So this won't stop.

Merge with me.


So I can help carry you through any rain or teardrops.


So say after me mentally as you read this:


Ven y quédate conmigo. Come and stay with me Xo.


And I will come with the beating sounds of your heart's rhythmic drums.


Just say really low.


Ven y quédate conmigo. Come and stay with me, Xo.


(C) Copyright John Duffy 


Translation:


Ven y quédate conmigo. Come and stay with me.


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Tuesday, August 5, 2025

Apocalyptic Dreams

 


Apocalyptic Dreams


(A lone voice sits remembering August the sixth and whispers)


I will see the old system break. 


I will see those condemned by fate. 

Walk and cross Diablos Gate as the sky turns gray. 


When ash-filled clouds roll my way. 


In the heavens, high above, as the last horn blows.


As something heavy rises from its throne.


I shall watch like Nero once watched Rome. As angels pass by, guiding the good home.


Before the bringers of chaos, plant seeds in the minds of those:


Who secretly pleads to be sown. And when the red rivers and black seas pull back. 


As the storm clouds prepare to attack.


I shall shout in that falling rain. 


"Where are you, Saint Michael, the angel of peace?”


As I bow my head low in defeat. 


Hoping to hear a choir sing and golden bells ring. 


But if nothing appears and I hear a sound like a soft whisper from Death, I will go lay with the many other slaves. 


Played like fools, using secretive tools to subdue.


Across all airwaves from secret enclaves.


And smile as the first rocket lands in the sand near our houses. Soon to be our graves.


Knowing no one shall win.

Especially those marked by sin.


Who meet in secret in their conclaves


(C) Copyright John Duffy 


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Sunday, August 3, 2025

The Golden Thread

 

Just thought I'd share this audiobook I wrote and produced after my beloved sister crossed over.


It's based on a dream I had after the church service.


One of the greatest questions humanity asks is, “Is there life after death?”


Have a listen; it might help you if you're grieving.


It's only 45 minutes long, and tell me what you think. Salute.

The link is below.

#love #relationships #grief 

The Golden Thread


Sanctuary Love

 


Foundation.


If you're a couple, have you discussed the thought of what you'd do if one of you crossed over first?


Sanctuary Love


(A lone voice whispers)


When I sometimes sit quietly still and remember 


What I once said in all that plummeting snow and rain 


Stuck in such terrible weather on that extraordinary day


In that unusually brutal winter season


Way back in late November


Thirteen years ago in two thousand and eight


I whispered that if anything takes place in this lifetime 


Between you and me, and we tragically lose our way


While we're still both alive and joined at the hip


If the Tall Man should arrive and take one of us home 


Suddenly, without any regal announcements or real reasons 


Let's pledge a sacred oath to each other 


That we'll wait wherever we are


Forever empowered by a god-given hope


To keep believing that the other will catch up 


No matter how long it takes 


Or even if they have to travel so far 


To beyond even all the known watching stars


Filled with the steadfast courage


That no matter how many strange doors 


They might have to knock on to open


Or to put their gilded keys in


They'll try to find a way we can embrace and hold hands again


For ours is something so unique


A once in a million lifetime of being constantly reborn 


Whatever the circumstance


To eventually realise that the true meaning of life 


A life-changing revelation beyond the norm if one dares to take a chance 


Lies in the soft arms of something so unique


Many wise prophets still call it by its favourite ancient and well-spoken name 


Even today, known as simply true romance 


I once swore 


I'd never leave your side and you swore even upon death


You'd never leave mine


And we dreamed as we walked and talked


About how someday in the near future


We'd sit outside on our own marble porch 


And in the fall of the Twilight 


Smile as we counted our blessings


Before we retired for an early night 


In our own paid-for house filled with love and our two beloved children


But like most of the preordained lovers in history


Our dream ended up so differently, and I feel so neglected 


When your rare blue and purple butterfly was collected 


Wait for me, my love

I won't be long 


(C) Copyright John Duffy 


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Saturday, August 2, 2025

The voice of Ponyboy

 


  Foundation.


What would an Outsider say if they could view humanity as a whole?


The voice of Ponyboy


(A lone voice whispers from The Great In-Between)


As I view the world from in here

It just fills me with a sense of ever-growing fear


I can see so much suffering.

And seemingly endless pain


The world is awash in the throes of all those

Those who are just so corrupt


Blindly trying to secure.

All they can gain


They need to be stopped.

To be defeated by the rising consciousness

Of a reunited and renewed humanity


Don’t let your planet.

Go to waste

It’s never too late


Look at Fukushima

The rising levels of destitution

Racism, cleverly conjured up, leading to separation

Secret societies

Human traffickers  

The homeless numbers rising


The endless lines of the hungry and the poor

Starvation


For if you all don’t rise and do more.


The Four Horsemen from the Bible

Will just ride in and stand in full view


In every country

Governmental pews


To control all corrupt governments, black and white

Dance floors


Heralded by all this talk of nuclear war

Funded marches and bankrolled doctors and politicians

Who are all part of that deep state infernal machine


Your world

Needs the means to breathe


Don’t be one of the many who turn a blind eye?


And when it all turns black

Don’t be one of the many.

Like those already in here


Don’t give your soul.

Another reason to grieve


Fight for a new freedom.

Give your life a reason.


To change the future

You just have to believe and try not to be deceived.


(C) Copyright John Duffy


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