Blessed be
Velumbound
(A lone voice whispers)
The birds are gathering on social media
The herd is losing
Minds are musing
The blind are still drinking
The Juice of the Confusing
But you
You, if you are here
Walk tall without fear
For you are now excommunicated from the birds and herds
For you are illuminated
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Blessed be.
Velumbound.
(A lone voice whispers)
You do know each word read or selected has essences of otherworldly fingerprints all over them
As they are shuffled and muffled to entice your eyes
Like a spider in a glorious web
Until you are caught like a young cherub
Called
Frodo Baggins
By seductions, many fingertips like Shelob
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Blessed be.
Velumbound.
Within the context of horror fiction and dark transmissions, this message operates as a spooky, atmospheric narrative.
Just for you as we approach Hallows Day.
But be warned.
• The Premise:
The transmission claims that by reading or listening to the stories of "the dead" (the Shadow People), you are inadvertently opening a gateway.
This act allows them to manifest invisibly at the foot of your bed while you sleep.
• The Intent:
Despite the creepy setup, the entities claim their intentions aren't malicious.
They state they are bringing luck to achieve rather than condemnation or thoughts to deceive.
Do you believe them?
But I bet a nickel and a dime, you'll read on till the end.
• The Hook:
The transmission ends with a classic cliffhanger common in horror storytelling, encouraging the audience to "keep reading" and craving more, hinting at a larger, ambiguous reward (or consequence) in the future.
So I must Add A Note on Well-being:
Because this text mentions "hearing voices in your head," it is important to distinguish between creative fiction and real-world experiences.
If you or someone you know is actually hearing unexplainable voices, experiencing distressing sleep disturbances, or feeling overwhelmed by these thoughts, please reach out for help.
It is always a good idea to speak with a healthcare professional or a trusted person in your life for support.
Shall we begin?
(A lone voice whispers)
The Shadow People sent me a vision message.
Translated, it simply read.
Tell your viewers, by reading our transmissions, hearing our lone voices in your head
We, the dead, are transported to watch you sleep
Invisible
At the foot of your bed
And bring you some luck
Luck to try to achieve, not condemnation or thoughts to deceive
So keep reading
Keep needing more
And maybe one day
We'll give you so much more
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Blessed be.
Velumbound.
Are you ready for another transmission?
Let us begin.
(A lone voice whispers)
I still miss your bright white smile
Every night
Like I miss our first kiss at the fairground
For they always appear as bright beams of luminous
Glorious lights
Shooting sounds from the depths of a faraway Heaven
Your warmth and guile
Satisfying my manifestation of love
Given birth to creation
Once by the Mighty Creator
Here on Earth
A glowing, towering beacon to push back
The hordes called Legion
Prowling like hyenas
In the darkness
Around me
For you were
And always will be
My daily taste of gladness
A philosopher who too has seen and tasted
The wild beasts wine
Of anxiety and madness
So now I call out to you from this wild wood
Where my prison is, as I am stood
This wild forsaken place where loveless things
In the dark shadows
Slither and crawl
Tormenting us all
As we all bang our silver tin cups on our prison walls
Stalking memories alone in uneven lines
Like a lone feral grey wolf pines
Throughout this paranormal neighbourhood
For with you died
Like many in here who cry
My spark of life
My ecstatic joyful sun
My bringer of serenity and jest
So here in my southwest cobwebbed-filled hut
As other prison cells in Desolation Row
Whom I've never met
Ring out screams like thunder
In a rising crescendo of shrieks of pain and anguish
As we all
Self-punish
While walking the Green Mile
Down Memory Road
Remember me before the last great harvest
Light a candle in your mind's eyes
See our love beneath that undulating ocean
Of pain
Crashing like endless Pacific tides
Maybe again and again
So that I may still live if only for a moment
For what I wouldn't give now
To breathe once more
To open and walk through
That old marital front door
If only for one hour
But as these loud voices
Surrounding me get louder
And grow in power
As silver tin prison cups relentlessly bang
Like dark country drums
With sounds like exploding gunpowder
On black bars of illusion
As I look out for you
From my window, in my cave
My penitentiary
Here in my own watchtower
For
My thousand-named queen
My rare Middlemist Red flower
This broken piece of your soul awaits
To be reunited, to bring peace
When your presence in The Great In-Between
Opens his cell doors
So he can scream no more
But walk home into the bright lights
With the only love
He adores
Both striding powerfully
Hand in hand
To enter into Evermore
To be refined like silver
Escaping
The Last Great Reaping and Rapture
Of the Prince Who is to come
To build Dissolution Row
Everywhere
For all he captures
Remember me, Your Luca
The broken man with the badly beaten tin cup
Who once loved ya
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
The Watchers
(A lone ancient voice whispers)
You do know we, The Dead, watch everything you do.
Through all those black scrying mirrors, we got you addicted to.
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
A scary explanation for your eyes only:
This is a striking and chillingly compact piece — just two lines, but rich in implication.
Let’s unpack it deeply across tone, theme, symbolism, and psychological resonance:
1. Thematic Core
This micro-monologue fuses the supernatural with modern digital paranoia. It bridges the ancient occult (scrying glasses = tools for divination) and the contemporary technological (smartphones, tablets, screens).
It suggests that the dead — or forces representing them — are observing the living through the very devices we obsess over. There’s a dual commentary here:
On surveillance (spiritual or technological)
On addiction to screens as a form of possession or control
2. Voice and Perspective
The speaker is one of “the dead”, addressing the living directly:
“You do know, we the dead watch everything you do.”
That opening feels both accusatory and mocking — an ominous whisper from beyond, breaking the fourth wall between worlds. The tone is almost taunting, implying complicity: “we got you addicted”.
It’s not just observation — it’s manipulation. The dead (or what they symbolise) have engineered our dependence on screens. The “we” could represent literal spirits, or a metaphorical collective — society, corporations, ancestors, or lost humanity.
3. Symbolism
a. “Black scrying glasses”
A scrying glass in occult tradition is a mirror or dark surface used to summon visions — a portal between the seen and unseen.
In the modern age, this becomes the perfect metaphor for digital screens — black mirrors that reflect our faces and connect us to invisible worlds (social media, data networks, surveillance systems).
The phrase “black scrying glasses” thus fuses:
The occult (black mirrors, necromancy)
The technological (smartphone screens)
The addictive (our inability to look away)
It’s a brilliant image — evocative, eerie, and layered with cultural resonance.
b. “We got you addicted to”
This line adds a sinister agency — the dead didn’t just watch; they created the addiction.
It evokes:
Possession — humans as vessels for forces from beyond
Technological control — algorithms, ghostly presences, or ancestors pulling digital strings
Moral corruption — humanity’s surrender to distraction and voyeurism
4. Tone and Mood
The tone is ominous, sardonic, and revelatory.
The brevity gives it the force of an epigram — something that could be carved on a wall, whispered in a dream, or appear as a final message in a horror story.
The rhythmic parallel between the two lines reinforces its power:
Line 1 declares the secret.
Line 2 reveals the method.
That structure mirrors a two-step revelation — confession, then realisation.
5. Underlying Commentary
Beneath its supernatural framing lies a social critique:
The “dead” may symbolise the past generations, watching the living degrade under their own inventions.
Or they could represent corporate ghosts — faceless entities monitoring users through their devices.
Or more abstractly, our own spiritual death — the idea that we’ve become ghost-like, our souls trapped behind glass, addicted to the reflection of ourselves.
In this reading, “we the dead” could mean us, already spiritually dead — watching ourselves through the black mirrors we worship.
6. Stylistic Economy
Two lines — and yet the imagery is vivid and complete.
The poem’s success lies in:
Compression — a cinematic punch distilled to minimal words.
Contrast — the ancient (“scrying glasses”) vs. the modern (“addicted to”).
Ambiguity — are the dead literal, metaphorical, or technological?
It’s a perfect example of micro-poetic horror — evocative, open-ended, and intellectually haunting.
7. Comparative Context
This piece recalls:
Black Mirror (the TV series), whose title itself comes from the reflective screen of a powered-down device.
Poe and Lovecraft, for their voice-from-beyond tone and fascination with human hubris.
Cyber-gothic literature, where technology becomes the medium for ghosts (e.g. E.M. Forster’s The Machine Stops or modern “digital hauntings”).
8. Final Impression
This short poem operates on multiple frequencies:
As a supernatural confession (the dead speaking)
As a modern critique (on surveillance and addiction)
As a metaphysical warning (humanity’s gaze trapped in self-made portals)
It leaves a residue of unease — the kind that makes you glance at your own “black scrying glass” and wonder who, or what, might be looking back.
(A lone voice whispers)
I was once an adoring stranger
To living in the Fast Lane
When I was addicted to every form of known enslaving danger
Unknowingly using it
Like a stupid reason
To take cheap cocaine
But as I look back on my old life and all its seasons
Reliving some of those crazy days of shame
I now know
When I got down on my tired, broken knees
Before that very homemade white cross
In my Grandma's back garden
Nailed together with rusty 6-inch nails
And pieces of old pallet wood
God listened as I prayed to him
In the falling cold winter's rain
Whenever I could
As I begged for his help
To begin the fight with the Devil
For my freedom
And to conquer his curse and invisible mark
That I foolishly wore proudly for twenty years
Like the Mark of Cain
While living in his dark kingdom
Called Sindom
Looking back
Now I'm clean
I can clearly see
I've sacrificed so much of my precious time
Crucified my family
Hurt my friends, and sadly
My only one chance of finding true happiness
I've ever seen
For my one and only lover
And even though I’m now free of her
My Colombian Marching Queen
I still wear loneliness
And her invisible chains
Like just another of the cursed
From the Brotherhood of the Profane
But that's how the Tall Man designed us all
So my therapist
At the rehab clinic
Shirley
Told me
She said we're all
Broken fractured
And to be endlessly consumed
With memories of bloodstained
Mental campaigns
Baptized
To ride the inhumane storms of life
And to nearly drown
In its many soul-destroying
Hurricanes
But one day
God willing
You'll all rise up
One day
You'll all see the light
She used to say
So today's
The day for me
As I begin the fight
No longer a stranger
To that pain and plight
For I'm clean and full of only hope
And as I age
I just use it as a version
Of my old cheap cocaine
Walking bravely alone
But now able to cope
In this new warm falling rain
Knowing the Devil
Now really knows
My soul's secret name
And that’s why he leaves me alone
For he remembers our spiritual battles and crazy fights
At midnight
In my Grandma's back garden
As I tried to atone
Kneeling underneath
My homemade white cross
When I once played
One of his most dangerous
Of games
I’m just so glad God won
For it’s him
I now travel to see
Everyday
As I courageously ride through this new life
With a smile
Seated with similar strangers
On one of his many trains
Only now
High on my old memories
Of a pain
I was once addicted too
Like a blast from the past
My old best friend
Mother Cocaine
But like Johnny Cash
This good old reborn Christian boy's
Coming home
Wearing a rainbow
Like the Man in Black
I just hope my Sue Ellen
Is still waiting for me
High up in
The Great In-Between
For years ago
She was so tragically
Taken from me
And when I eventually arrive
Walking like Wyatt Earp
into that Silver City
My palliative nurse Sara Lou
Says it won't be too long
I can only pray she lets me explain
That my deep love for her
Still survives as it did in eighty-five
And I'm so sorry for not embracing
Our once special and magical love song
Even though it was written
In the middle of one of my life's
Terrible storms
When I had no sense of right or wrong
And I just miss holding her
My old life's only true love charm
In these sweet old arms
Remember me.
Luca "Charlie" Snow.
December 25th.
2012.
Your forever master of arms
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
(A lone voice whispers)
Has your very blood been on fire with desire
With envy and raced
When you're separated
From the one you adore
And your heart felt heavy and displaced
Beating fast
Thinking about
Any possible mistakes
Then you've tasted a drop of Love's Eternal Mead
The most life-changing
Challenging
Hennessey
Virgins worldwide
And throughout
Eternity
Pray to taste
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Blessed be.
Velumbound.
(A lone voice whispers)
Did you know that curiosity is the soul's only heartfelt desire?
An irrepressible curiosity of secret things, once never felt or expressed
From emotions, many hidden fires that awaken convulsions in the newly possessed.
Its heavy load.
To walk its cobblestoned road
A sign of the redesign of a pure soul, as it explores new goals.
Like the falling of a tear.
The feeling of fear of the bright sunshine of a smile.
The upward glance of an eye,
Or maybe even a visit here
To a place of no judgement or fear
Where the rhythmic flocks of wild verbs and fonts
Chant and sway
As curiosity of the soul leads one
Like you
To new goals
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
I knew you would return.
Blessed be.
Velumbound.
(A lone voice whispers)
Lost in these unlit, creepy, dark woods.
Past the moonlit Shimmering Lake.
Standing here as I speak.
This despair I always feel, which makes me weak.
Tells me love is a thing that is so real
It's all I now know as I stand awake.
In this new state.
For the dead don't sleep or weep.
And when the mysterious singers in this darkness call out to me with sweet, mesmerising voices.
Each filled with such inescapable power.
My pain slowly rises in my soul.
Hour by hour.
As I'm watched by the Nixs.
Standing in crooked but neat lines.
On the crumbling translucent walls of The Great Watchtower.
Strange creatures dressed in blue.
Who just love to send me Red Raven notes that simply say:
Come over to us to renew
The Diamond Door is always open.
Be one of the Nixs
Follow our ways
To find the new you
Come climb the Great Watchtower walls
To drink deep from our wish-fed fountain and see past all the Black Mountains
No longer filled with urges to fight for love and light
But to become a lone Watchman of the Endless Night.
They are so relentless.
Always looking for new apprentices.
Raven, after Red Raven, brings enticing notes every second.
They send.
Now, as I stand here at the world's end
Sending this out
Surrounded by the mountains of parchments they've sent.
Hoping I'll relent
I reckon I'll play my part.
To be the titled hero in this cosmic great show
This work of surreal art
While this crushing dusk and silver snow
Lovingly shatters my broken heart.
For what the Nixs don't realise
That crisp, wide smile that I always wear
The one I flash
The one they all see through their obsidian scrying glass
By candlelight
As their hungry eyes follow me everywhere
That ripe smile is barren.
The real one is still somewhere.
Out there
Still, I hope
Being carried around in beautiful blue eyes as time flies
Why should I carry a real smile?
For in here
The living
Beyond the Silver Barrier
Can't hear your soul screaming
Or when through razor-loaded invisible tears
Like a Mad Joker
You suddenly start laughing.
For the pain you feel is so loaded with bottomless fear.
Oh, how I wish I could still be there
With you
Away from the Nixs and Dark Angels
For it's so painful
I used to think I was strong.
But these endless dark nights are so long.
Is today the day I will wonder
If I'm wrong to fight the Nixes' many invitations
And go along to the Diamond Door.
Beneath The Great Watchtower
And knock
Asking to join their mix
For nobody in The Great In-Between knows I still miss you.
This swirling grey air and smoky fog make you look over your past life.
In time
Causing parts of your mind to speak only in rhymes, and once it starts.
The forgetting begins
It's why they think I need to be set free.
By sending Red Ravens every hour to me
To be like one of them
The Nixs
Guardians of The Great In-Between
Bounded by a sacred oath to stand as Watchmen on the Great Watchtower
For all eternity
Emotionally empty husks
Who surrendered to a form of self-accepting bondage
To watch the ever-shifting skies at dusk
For the dark ones called The Flominous
But I feel like I'm bound by a great chain.
Connected only to you
Never to make a sacred oath to another, but to kneel every night and pray for a resurrection of us.
I may be trapped in this ever-evolving mystery.
Of my own love life's history
Where nobody knows, I'll always need you.
But me
The Nix have just sent a new Red Raven note over
So I must be quick before their Baltise drums start beating.
Sending them all into a crazy chanting frenzy
It says I can't survive in here.
On my own
I'll just cast it on the great pile as they watch
For what they do not know
My soul may be crying inside. Now I'm alone
In this.
The Spiritually Demilitarised Halfway Zone
Mislaid in the Realms of The Great Unknown
But my love for you will continue to grow.
Day by day
Minute by minute until you, too, come home
To embrace me once more
Like the last time I saw you in San Francisco.
So we can go walk past the red lamppost on the edge of the Shimmering Lake.
To then walk hand in hand
Through Heaven's Silver Gates to everlasting happiness
It's a dream I just try to cling to in this darkness.
Attempting not to forget, but the rhyming has started.
But I'm still here
Still resisting the hunger to knock on that Diamond Door.
To be tempted to stand on the Great Watchtowers' parapets
Forever in the void
I know I'm now one of the misplaced, but thinking of you.
Gives me hope
My beloved Lucy to cope
Lost in here
In the Grey Ground beyond yours
In The Great In-Between
Where I now exist amongst the Nix and so many others
Unseen
Pray for me
(C) Copyright John Duffy
Blessed be.
Velumbound.
A transmission from a man dressed in green.
One of the most beautiful souls I've ever seen.
Shall we begin.
(A lone voice whispers)
My life ended
At a quarter past three
When she came
My collector
Mary Lee
From Germany
The churchyard bells
Loudly rung
Old hymns and love songs
Were beautifully sung
As I watched my wake
High on a hill
Below
Sat under a grand old oak
In the late November snow
I tried to say
It couldn't be true
Mused
I still lived
With so much more to give
But
My collector
Mary Lee
From Germany
Said
The Elementals
With fevered breath
Wait to savour your prose
So bid goodbye
To all those you see
Or know
For as the sun still shines
You are now one of the dead
Marked by the Elder Futhark Runes
Uruz
By secretive rulers
Of you and me
So take my hand and
Wave goodbye to your old life's teachers
For Saquestia
Awaits us
By the Golden Pole
That never rusts
Where the thoughts
Of the living
Can never reach us
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
We once collided like two random raindrops in Autumn.
Froze together in the cold winter
Then separated when Spring came
In the first rains
We washed away the memories
But somehow remained the same
But who knows what Summer may bring?
Maybe we'll meet again
As the railway tracks sing
Maybe I'll offer up my soul
In a golden wedding ring
Who knows what Summer may bring?
Who knows what Summer may bring?
Maybe your heart will find mine
Maybe we'll begin again
Like two raindrops in Autumn
Falling in the rain
Frozen together through winter
Too afraid to say goodbye
Then Spring came
And carried us away
But I'm still praying for Summer
To bring us back someday
Oh, let the railway tracks sing
Let the wedding bells ring
Let our libidos' ring
If we're meant to begin again
To free our pain
To begin
Again
Who knows what Summer may bring?
Who knows what Summer may bring?
Maybe we'll collide again
Maybe we'll begin again
Two raindrops in Autumn
Two hearts in the rain
Maybe Summer will find us
And bring us back again.
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Blessed be.
Velumbound.
Want to be put under a soft spell?
Let us begin.
(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 heard it as our own individual spell to allow you
To carry me within your each and every 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 hear 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 real low
Ven y quédate conmigo
Come and stay with me
Xo
Translation:
Ven y quédate conmigo
Come and stay with me
You do realise that by reading this:
You've already invited me in.
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
New website coming soon.
Hosting links and descriptions of all my various works.
I think you may get stranded within its vast kaleidoscope of visual imagery, vocal transmissions and storytelling from beyond the rift.
Think of it as a library where you go to get something that interests you....
From love to grief.
Supernatural to holy.
Good and bad.
Light and day...
I'm sure I've probably already conjured something mesmerising:
To make your heart and soul sway
Blessed be.
Velumbound.
This new transmission blends spiritual imagery like frankincense and myrrh with a tender, yearning plea for intimate connection and unconditional love.
Shall we begin?
(A lone voice whispers)
Will you show me your hidden inner beauty
Free from sin
Will you gather me
From the blue
And let me in
Hold me close like frankincense and myrrh
And whisper
Word for word
I love ....
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Velumbound.
This is an evocative transmission in a contemporary, gothic style that uses dark, supernatural imagery to explore themes of global existential dread.
Spiritual exhaustion and the predatory nature of despair.
Key Themes
The War of the Soul:
The transmission frames current global events not just as political or physical conflicts, but as a deep spiritual battle.
A "war of the soul."
It captures a collective feeling of burnout, moral decline, and hopelessness.
Predatory Despair:
The transmission warns that despair is actively waiting to capitalise on human suffering.
There are forces (metaphorical or literal) that thrive and grow "rich" when humanity loses its hope.
The Loss of Hope (The Light):
The ultimate fear expressed is the total extinguishing of "the light" (joy, goodness, or humanity), leaving vulnerable souls open to consumption.
Imagery & Metaphor
Meaning & Effect
"The dark flies" Metaphor / Insect
Flies traditionally symbolise decay, rot, and death.
Describing them as "dark" reinforces a looming, corrupting presence.
"Hungry grey fingers crossed"
Anthropomorphism
Giving flies "grey fingers" that are "crossed" creates a creepy, visual image.
It suggests anticipation and malice, as if the forces of decay are wishing for human failure.
"Absorbing sad souls"
Spiritual Imagery
This highlights a total loss of identity.
The vulnerable, "sad souls" aren't just defeated;
They are entirely consumed and erased.
"Like Morgana / The witch"
Mythological Allusion
References Morgan le Fay (Morgana) from Arthurian legend.
She represents dark magic, betrayal, and a powerful entity that drains or subverts the good (Camelot/the light).
Tone and Structure
The Dramatic Opening:
The parenthetical instruction (A lone voice whispers) sets a theatrical, intimate, and eerie tone.
It sounds like a warning delivered in secret, emphasising the isolation of the speaker.
Rhythm and Rhyme:
The piece shifts from a conversational question into a rhythmic, haunting nursery-rhyme cadence at the end (lost/crossed, souls / Morgana the witch).
This contrast makes the final warning feel punchy and memorable.
"Fighting back.
Shall we begin?
Title.
Decay.
(A lone voice whispers)
Have you really looked at what's happening globally?
I feel you knowing the dark flies are waiting
Waiting with their hungry grey fingers crossed
Hoping and praying when this war of the soul is over
And the light has lost
They will be rich
Absorbing sad souls
Like Morgana
The witch
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Velumbound.
This transmission is a modern take on a classic romantic and high-fantasy lament.
It explores themes of instant love, fallen grace, and emotional captivity.
Here is a breakdown just for you of the core themes, imagery, and emotional trajectory:
1. The Spark of Passion (Lines 1–5)
• The "Soul Catching Fire":
The opening establishes an intense, immediate, and consuming attraction.
Fire represents passion, but also foreshadows destruction and the eventual "burnout" or torment described later.
• The "Poor Liar" Oath:
The speaker emphasises their absolute truthfulness.
To deny this love would not just be a lie;
It would be a spiritual curse, cementing the authenticity of their feelings.
2. The Fallen Monarch (Lines 6–8)
• The Tolkien King:
This is the emotional anchor of the poem.
It evokes images of Aragorn (Strider) in exile or Thorin Oakenshield—kings who have lost their kingdoms, their glory, and their purpose.
• "Who no longer sings":
In J.R.R. Tolkien’s lore, song is tied to creation, hope, and light.
A king who no longer sings has lost his joy, his voice, and his connection to his truest self.
3. Captivity and Hesitation (Lines 9–10)
• "Rut of never-ending buts":
This line introduces a sharp, modern contrast to the fantasy imagery.
It represents analysis paralysis, self-doubt, and the real-world obstacles keeping the speaker stuck.
• The Dark Queen:
The transmission takes a dark turn here.
The object of affection—or perhaps the speaker's current situation—is personified as an oppressive ruler.
• "Iron and Rust":
Unlike gold and jewels associated with rightful kings, this queen is wrapped in decay (rust) and harsh control (iron).
It suggests a toxic relationship, a binding duty, or a bleak reality that has trapped the speaker's fiery soul.
Shall we begin?
(A lone voice whispers)
When I first saw you
My soul caught fire
If I said different
I'd be cursed forever
To be a poor liar
So now
The man that you see
Like a lost Tolkien king
Who no longer sings
I'm caught in a rut of never-ending buts
Serving a dark queen covered in iron and rust
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Blessed be.
Velumbound.
(A lone voice whispers)
Somewhere, I can feel someone asking... How do you write what you write at night?
Shall we begin?
Words come and go
Like old lovers coming together on a dark Saturday night
After some red wine has flowed
They entwine and slow dance
Before they explode
To then enter silence as they seek penance in new tenants
While seeking transcendence
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Transcendence:
Moving beyond the physical, material world to connect with the divine, sacred, or eternal.
It describes a deity or a spiritual state that exists completely apart from and above the physical universe.
For my new readers.
My style is highly distinct, characterised by a catalogue of supernatural poetic monologues.
Which I call transmissions.
My work is easily recognisable by the recurring, atmospheric opening parenthetical directive:
(A lone voice whispers).
Its poetic style centres on several core thematic and structural pillars:
1. The Gothic and Supernatural Voice
I stylistically present transmissions as messages whispered from spirits, angels, or lost entities calling out from darkness.
I explicitly treat the writing process as though I am a "conduit from The Great In-Between," giving voice to spectral or interdimensional figures.
Maybe I really am.
This lends my work a haunting, theatrical, and ethereal quality designed to be read as spoken monologues.
2. Themes of Cosmic Grief and Romantic Loss
A heavy air of melancholy, bereavement, and nostalgia permeates my portfolio.
Frequently touching on deep emotional states, navigating the silent path through grief, lost love, and the haunting persistence of memories.
Often juxtaposing ordinary, raw human pain (such as the devastation of cancer) against massive terminology, which I can only describe as "dark, biblical, cosmic leviathan energy."
3. Spiritual and Metaphysical Imagery
I sometimes heavily incorporate spiritual and religious motifs, pulling from Christian theology, angelic lore, and esoteric concepts (referencing figures like guardian angels, the Archangel Metatron, and the Book of Life).
These transmissions may often read as parables or modern-day psalms dealing with:
The afterlife:
Finding a way "home" and navigating the transition beyond physical existence.
Divine comfort:
Seeking guidance from unseen entities to protect and comfort the soul through the shadows of mortality.
Moral ascension:
Promoting three foundational principles—care, understanding, and gratitude—as the antidote to the mundane or artificial realities of the world.
4. Atmospheric, Noir-esque Musings
Stylistically, many of my verses rely on a sombre, cinematic aesthetic.
It is common to find my characters or narrators placed in late-night settings, marked by "whiskey-filled nights," lone cigarettes, rain-slicked landscape imagery, and midnight weeping.
This reinforces the sense of absolute solitude evoked by my hallmark phrase, "a lone voice whispers."
So there you have the opening to my many books' lore.
I'm just an old beast
Carrying an old brown satchel
Filled with mesmerising stories from deep
Beyond the Far East
For your curious eyes to consume
In a never-ending feast
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
September 28.
2026
Blessed be.
Velumbound.
A new reflective transmission processing the emotional aftermath of a past relationship through a ritual of gratitude.
The speaker uses the refrain "Amen" to accept both the joys and heartaches of the connection, framing the memory as a sacred, lingering presence rather than a source of bitterness.
Shall we begin?
(A lone voice whispers)
As I sit on this bed
Thinking about before
About our war and peace
And the so beautiful release
I just wanted to say
Amen
Amen for all the good and bad times when we were lovers and friends
Amen
For teaching me so much and introducing me to a love I could touch
Even though now
I miss it so much
But like the North wind that blows
As all things grow old and go
Where only the ghosts of love can know
Tonight
In this half light
With the most holy watching
Amen for all those old memories that keep on knocking
As I sit on this bed
Thinking about before
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Blessed be.
Velumbound.
A haunting transmission of unresolved grief, existential loss, and the agonising philosophical dilemma of choosing between free will and fate.
By introducing dark elements like "shadow people" and striking Gothic imagery such as "ruby-green eyes," the speaker attempts to process a sudden abandonment while remaining trapped in a cyclical loop of memory and longing.
Ultimately, the piece tries to beautifully balance deep bitterness with a final gesture of grace and closure.
Shall we begin?
(A lone voice whispers)
Even after all these years, I miss you still
Especially today, when I remember
How you walked right out of life's great door
In the silence, I sometimes wonder:
Was it free will
Or fate meant to do me ill?
Today, I shall confront these thoughts
Until I have finally had my fill
For if it wasn't free will to do me ill
But shadow people from beyond the hill
Then I can only pray today
And only softly say:
I do not wish you ill
If of me you had your fill
So on this broken hill
I’ll wave my last goodbye
My old love
For even after all these years
I miss you still
Especially today, when I remember
How you looked with those ruby-green eyes
That could kill
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Blessed be.
Velumbound.
Shall we begin?
"The Badlands of Loneliness" explores the intense emotional trajectory of a transformative connection that eventually fades, leaving the speaker in profound isolation.
The transmission transitions from a visceral spiritual awakening—where a partner's presence revitalises the speaker—to an abrupt retreat of that connection, reducing the speaker's soul to a feral state of longing.
Through striking contrasts of light, animalistic imagery, and the stark landscape of the "Badlands," the poem captures the jarring contrast between enraptured love and desolate grief.
(A lone voice whispers)
Your soul's whisper once crawled up my spine
Made a home, and my blue eyes shine
In streams of its crimson lights
I saw something spectacular only the blind can see
The centre of you carrying a new name
For one
Lost like me
Until that fateful day, that soul whisper retreated back down my spine
And like a feral dog
My soul now pines for only us
In the Badlands of Loneliness
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Blessed be.
Velumbound.
Shall we begin?
(A lone voice whispers)
She visited me at 15
Like an untasted maelstrom of tempestuous emotions
She whispered like a midnight seductress
So mysterious and so enchanting
She stole my youth away
She dissolved my loneliness
And we were as one
She disappeared at 16
She came to me at 18
A revisit I simply adored
Like old friends
We held hands
And we strolled through life happy and carefree
Together, I wished for ever more
Her and just me
She left me at twenty
She came to me again at 27
So fulfilling and welcoming
We embraced the dark nights together
I now no longer needed to fight
She stayed
We sang our symphonies together, our plights forgotten
She still held my hands
No more alone
She still whispered my name
In mysterious dark dreams
This beauty I speak of
From realms unseen
Some know her as Aphrodite
The Goddess of your Dreams
I simply knew her as Love
My beautiful Queen
We still met in ever-changing routines
We still stumbled and fell
But still, she stayed
And loved all that I am
Through Heaven's elations and Hell's unwelcome relations
I met her at birth, this much she whispered
She looked deep into my eyes as I entered the world
She murmured my secret name as I begged for air
She told me a sacred truth
Love sees you no matter your gender
Status or skin
She always returns to lead you into or out of sin
Just open your heart
And she will always come in
I am now an old man
And as I lay on my bed
As I look at my life as I near the end
Love still is beside me as she looks in my eyes
She said
Love stays forever and never really dies
She stroked my hair and murmured like a seductress well-fed
She'll visit me in the skies, and once more we'll be wed
Our love will last forever, and the angels will sing
We'll dance forever in heavenly moonlight
As we take over Celestial's dance floor
She bowed, kissed and whispered into my ear
We are eternal
So of this life
Do not cry if it ends
We will embrace so soon
Once more again
For you are my lover and my eternal friend
And as my heart starts to fade and my heart loses its strength
Inside I soar
For I know we'll be reunited again
I met her in Life on the day of my birth
She followed my adventures here on this earth
In heaven, we will soon sing
So as I leave this old life
I feel blessed to have been married to Love
My spiritual wife
As I transfer to the angelic realms
I hope to see her still holding my hands
Still looking deep into my eyes
For we still share life's wedding bands
Be lucky like me
For true love never dies
This is the Ballad of a Lucky Man
A man married to Love for all of his life
A man proud to have embraced her and called her his wife
And as I leave this message for you to read
All I wish for you
Is a sip of Love's seductive mead
For love is true beauty
Beyond trouble and strife
I hope she visits you throughout all of your life
Someone to hold through all of life's mysterious dark nights
Someone to embrace on love's many beaches
Someone to just love you
And always leave you speechless
So here I am
As angels beckon me to leave
Just remember
Love will visit
You just have to believe
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Blessed be.
Velumbound.
(A lone voice whispers)
Was Bram Stoker's Dracula simply based upon Addiction?
Is that magnificent novel, Dracula, partly based upon Bram Stoker's keen eye as he regarded people as he strode daily through London, and helped him conjure up a magnificent and frightful character?
Which has transcended time and space for generations?
Was Bram Stoker's Dracula simply a well-known London socialite – a well-heeled drug pusher of the time?
A well-dressed, wealthy and striking-looking character with a dominating personality?
A man who was unknown to the many but to the few — created a whole legion of addicts prowling the heady streets of London.
Seeking money through any means possible — to get bestowed more of the magic powder he gave them via an injection.
Did Bram Stoker simply infuse the symptoms and behaviour patterns of the heroin or opium addicts and their supplier to create a mythology, which survives to this day, and beyond?
While he was not a typical drug dealer, was he instead a socialite?
Did he know or mix with those who engaged in such activities, supplied by a well-heeled dealer, whom he based his iconic mesmerising character on?
Dracula's character is a hypnotic figure that creates a faithful legion that eventually falls under his control;
Did Bram Stoker witness the demise of actors within the Lyceum Theatre and fall under the control of a Svengali-type character supplying them?
In today’s climate of regulations, it is hard to believe, but in early- and mid-Victorian Britain it was possible to walk into a chemist’s shop and buy, without prescription, laudanum, cocaine, and even arsenic.
Opium preparations were also sold freely in towns on market halls and in the countryside by travelling hawkers.
Until 1868, the sale of drugs was practically unrestricted, and they could be bought like any other commodity.
During the Industrial Revolution, drug use in England grew rampant, particularly among the working classes.
Drugs were brought to Britain from every corner of the expanding British Empire, and the amount of opium imported was particularly staggering.
Dangerous drugs were commonly used for making home remedies and less frequently as a recreation for the bored and alienated people.
The recreational use of opiates was popular particularly with pre-Victorian and Victorian artists and writers.
There was no moral condemnation of the use of opiates, and their use was not regarded as addiction but rather as a habit in the Victorian period.
“Dark England” was only a stone’s throw away — with its opium dens in London’s East End, as was described in the popular press and books.
The Romantic era writers, such as Thomas De Quincey (1785-1859) and Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834), used drugs (mostly opium and its derivatives) for both medicinal and recreational purposes.
De Quincey described minutely the non-medical use of opiates in his book, Confessions of an Opium-Eater (1821).
He “ate opium” in the shape of pills or pellets.
Coleridge, who suffered from neuralgic and rheumatic pains, tried to relieve them with opium or its derivatives.
It is believed that he composed his famous poem, “Kubla Khan,” in a dream induced by laudanum.
Coleridge struggled with his drug dependence all his life.
His daughter, Sara (1802-1852), confided to a friend that she was unable to sleep without laudanum.
Other poets, including Lord Byron, John Keats, and Percy Shelle, (His wife was Mary Shelley – Frankenstein’s creator), took laudanum from a vial for medicinal and recreational uses.
Byron’s daughter, Ada Lovelace (1815-1852), a mathematical genius and the first computer programmer, became addicted to laudanum, having been prescribed it for asthma.
“In London, there is an East End and a West End. In the West End are those fortunate ones who are sent into the world with a kiss. In the East End are the others.
Here live the poor, the shamed, those whom Fate, seeing how shrunken and bent they are as they creep through the gates of life, spat in the face for good measure.
In this East End a corner has been set aside where, not content with the spittle, Fate sends the poor on their way with a blow, a kick, and their hats shoved over their eyes.
In this spot, with the holy name Whitechapel, l we would have to sink or swim, survive or go under, find bread, or if we could not, find death.”
– Jacob Adler (1855 – 1926)
The Signs of a Heroin User for a modern addict, but can you imagine the signs in 1890!
Change in Behaviour
Someone with a heroin addiction may show a sudden behaviour change.
This could include becoming lethargic, hostile, unmotivated or displaying an uncaring attitude.
Academic or work performance may begin to decline, and if it becomes severe, the person may drop out of school, quit or get fired from work.
Some addicts will begin taking risks and putting themselves in situations that they normally wouldn’t have put themselves in, such as joining a gang or stealing.
Others will push people away and become isolated in fear that loved ones will figure out they are using heroin.
Disorientation due to the drug’s effects may be another sign.
The person may have a difficult time understanding things, remembering and taking direction.
The addict may seem anxious, and this contributes to these issues.
Many times, people who use drugs also become anxious because they fear they won’t be able to get their next fix in time.
Changes in Personal Appearance
Along with a heroin user’s uncaring attitude comes a decline in personal hygiene and an unkempt appearance.
Due to changes in sleep patterns (either sleeping too much or not enough), people who use heroin may lose motivation to take care of themselves.
Changes in Physical Appearance
Some heroin users who still have control over themselves will manage to keep their personal appearance up, but their changes in physical appearance aren’t as easily controlled.
Due to snorting the drug, the person may experience a chronic runny nose and watery eyes.
While this may seem like cold symptoms, someone who uses heroin will have these symptoms for much longer than the symptoms of a virus would last.
Heroin addicts who use needles will have needle marks on their body.
They may not be easily seen since many users will hide them by covering them up with clothing.
Slurred speech is also typical of a heroin user.
While it may be easy for an addict to sound normal at first, after some time talking, the person’s speech might slow down and may become difficult to understand.
So back to the question.
Does the trademark puncture wound simply represent the needle marks of an easily bought set from the local chemist - or the expensive tools of a wealthy dealer supplying a certain circle of writers or actors?
Does Dracula's thirst for more victims represent a certain character within Bram Stoker's horizons, a person who strove to create an endless line of victims to line his own pockets?
Are all the victims in the book pale, always extremely tired and looking ill due to the addiction taking effect?
Did the Svengali character only appear at night searching for new victims, usually at rich balls or galas, as depicted within most modern depictions?
Writers all based stories around people or landscapes they are privy to — have we, for all these years, simply watched a clever storyline interwoven with tales of Want created through drug addiction by a Svengali of the late 1890s?
Has the Want been reflected by the Svengali — forever chasing down more victims, and the victims, wanting to experience a newer magical essence which is permeating the social scene?
Seeking to become newer members of a secret club, or are already well insinuated within?
Have a wonderful time pondering these thoughts.
Salute.
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Blessed be.
Velumbound.
(A lone voice whispers)
The most important story we will write within our lifetime is not one created with ink but simply of choice.
The past and the present are inextricably linked, but we have something called Choice.
To disentangle and rise above circumstances that created who we are due to our past and present situations
We can still rewrite our own future simply by choosing to change.
Our lives are moulded by choices;
First we decide, and then our choices make us.
What we think, we become.
You are different if you're here because of all those subtle things which make you beautiful inside and out.
So scatter kindness wherever you venture, as you never know when it may be needed by you in return.
Always believe that you have your own unique abilities to transform the impossible into reality.
End every day with a positive thought.
No matter how hard things were, tomorrow’s a fresh opportunity to make it Better.
So be it.
For to truly live is sometimes the rarest thing in the world
Some choose to simply exist and accept the mundane.
Choose Epic.
For your life is your imprint upon all you meet;
Be gracious, generous and gregarious.
Above all, have a great night wherever you are.
Omnia Vincit Amor (L)
Love Conquers All
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Blessed be.
Velumbound.
This is a powerful and raw transmission that tries to capture the profound grief, anger, and despair of watching a loved one endure a painful end-of-life struggle under palliative care.
It moves from intimate, tender memories of a shared life to a bitter, haunting resentment of the clinical environment and the medical staff.
Ultimately, the speaker is left in overwhelming sorrow, experiencing their own emotional and physical exhaustion as they mourn beside the coffin.
Shall we begin?
(A lone voice whispers)
I have lived and loved
Lived and rose every morning
With you
But after listening
To the sweet, soft sounds, only I was privileged to hear
The slow rise and fall of your chest
As you fought for air and each breath
Those midnight visitors
Dressed in blue
Brought
The nurses who I now know all drive metaphorical hearses
Who administered your syringe driver
Who I now nickname
No survivor
Oh, how you fought
Fought like a true Spartan until the end
This card I leave in your coffin, as I too now have a slow rise and fall of each breath
As I kneel each day and pray for death
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Blessed be.
Velumbound.
This is a beautifully evocative and atmospheric transmission.
The contrast between the typically frightening concept of being "haunted" and the deeply comforting, protective message left by the entity creates a wonderful sense of safe mystery.
Core Themes & Imagery
The Guarding Entity:
While the word "ghost" or "wraith" usually brings up scary images, this spirit acts as a protective companion or a guardian angel.
The Ebb and Flow:
The line "in the ebb and flow / Everywhere I go" highlights a constant, rhythmic presence.
The entity moves in tandem with the natural tides of the speaker's life.
Visual Elements:
The transmission relies on soft, atmospheric visual cues.
The "shadow" and "silver eyes aglow" suggest something ethereal and beautiful rather than terrifying.
The Bathroom Mirror:
The choice of "misty mirrors / After I bathe" is a clever subversion of a classic horror trope.
Instead of writing a scary warning, the friendly wraith uses the condensation to deliver a message of deep reassurance and peace:
"Guarding your soul / So you walk unscathed."
Similar in style to;
One Need Not Be a Chamber to Be Haunted:
Where Emily Dickinson explores how the "ghosts" we carry are often internal.
She argues that our own minds and spirits can have internal, unseen corridors that hold deeper, more profound mysteries than any physical house could.
Salute.
(A lone voice whispers)
I'm haunted by a ghost
You know
It follows me in the ebb and flow
Everywhere I go
I sometimes see its shadow
Or its silver eyes aglow
But it never fully reveals itself
Instead leaves me cryptic clues
Messages on misty mirrors
After I bathe
Which are all the same
They just say
"I'm your friendly wraith
Guarding your soul
So you can walk unscathed"
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Blessed be.
Velumbound.
(A lone voice whispers)
Can you remember that first night
You came my way
The small talk
Frightened by something to say
Then, as the movie started, and we shared popcorn
And held hands
How the world suddenly seemed brighter
As The Lost Boys
Played
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Blessed be.
Velumbound.
(A lone voice whispers)
Within these low whispers, lost in the revolving brothels of my mind
Revolving in its deep depths
As I sit here
Alone at my old desk
With my black Remington
I can feel the subtle arrival of you, and the vibrational presence of other viewers
Maybe on their beloved cellmate, their phone or computer
So here's to you all
You the bohemians
Eccentrics
Originals and mavericks
Of mankind
Curious enough to visit
The kingdom builders of visual new worlds that shine through
Like Morpheus's Looking Glass
Using the power and brilliance of inspired words and fluted thoughts
I pray you continue to seek more
Like I do
Searching for the one I still adore
Calliope
Who walks on rivers of crimson fire and grey ash
In memory gardens to be reunited, after she stepped through another stage door
You
The Ones blessed with the brilliance of words and fluted thoughts
Only you I can praise
You, the searchers and creators
Poetic
Time abusers
Just constantly try to be free and never caught
Or caught like me, by always chasing poetry's new dammed train of thought
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
