Part 1
(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
Which haunted their every waking seconds and vivid 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 The Key
The Dagon
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 The 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
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 hypnotised singing their war songs
It warned me of a lady in blue
A shadow walker who would soon call to the Shadow and The Key
And offer me glorious pleasure as we lay entwined by the sea
It said to choose 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 with 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
The Mighty Mother or the Gothic Matriarch
One of the last Great Old Ones
But to me
Just The Lady in Blue who with her love
Would could carry the velvety tainted baskets
Filled with the snakes of corruption that could worsen the planet's fate
Well
Today's the foretold date
And the time is tonight at eight
Sitting here by the soft sea
Warm in my refuge from the world
In my beige smoker's jacket
In The Shadow and The Key
Shall I answer the door when she knocks and be a gracious host
Or should I ignore it and try to bring hope to the world
By starting my new form of poetic Renaissance
To soothe the few when they need it the most
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
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