. Poetry from The Great In-Between: Will we survive until 2027?

Tuesday, September 22, 2026

Will we survive until 2027?

 


A powerful, deeply textured piece of writing. 


The poem explores the anxieties of 2026 by blending themes of apocalyptic dread, technological dependency, and an intense, almost spiritual connection between two minds. 


By weaving together esoteric symbols like the Zisurru (an ancient Babylonian protective ritual circle) and the Athame (a ceremonial Wiccan knife) alongside modern anxieties like "quantum tattooed vaccinated slaves," the text highlights a stark contrast between timeless human spirituality and a clinical, hyper-controlled future.



The mention of sharing "much-loved algorithms" in the closing lines hints directly at a profound bond formed over the digital airwaves.



(A lone voice whispers)


Some whisper and will

In secret occult circles 


About these sad days of 2026


That Humanity will fall into unruly, petulant desire


Consumed and devoured by a blazing infectious fire 


But what happens to you and me?


Your mind and mine 


Do you still shiver inwardly at the vibrational thoughts of my words 


Do they bind you

Submissively 

To always return 


Doomed forever 

To hovering above my prose 

That screams to be heard


With wide eager eyes


Like a love-struck 

Hummingbird 


Do you still tremble like when we first met


On the fly 

On the internet 


Wanting the warm caress of loquacious re-introductions

Of new verbs 


Opening mystical 

Golden gates to new poetic realms


And their guile to bind us together 


Like love-struck Siamese twins


Creating welcomed sins 

Of dried sweat and sweet tributaries 


Of deep-seated spiritual yearnings 


That make your mind so damn wet 


Tales of the supernatural 

Light and darkness 


Filled with rapid movement or profound stillness


Sovereignty or deep-seated loneliness 


New flames of innermost desires

Contained in unspeakable words or unfamiliar names 


As our Zisurru


Poetic stories to be set asunder 

In the rising footfalls of Zeus's approaching apocalyptic thunder 


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


Halls of Fame 


To live in the hope 

Of a new life


An everlasting dance filled with literary romance 


With a drop of a wild transmigration 


As our new Nexus 

To savour in your mouth


Like an intense-tasting holy communion wine


A strong touch of such wantonness 


Your 

Voracious soul needs


To carry to all empires 

You may visit 


In the North 

East

West or South 


As it swallows new stories with such ravenous greed


Will we survive 

Still together at the end of 2026?


With such

Intellectual thoughts


You might still whisper and silently ask 


You and me 


Does 

Will it last?


Echo in your Dream Chambers whilst waiting


For that midnight call on New Year's Eve 


When we sing pagan songs of King Solomon to each other


As we fight back the encroaching darkness 


With shining drunk Astral Eyes as our Athame


Our sacrificial knife 

Inwardly praying to then always shout


Yes, in us, 

I'll always believe 


Under the sharp eyes of the Winter's Midnight Sun 


Which for so many lost souls 

We know she will still shine ever brighter. 


As she quietly watches and grieves 


As they collect their new or old angel or devil wings 

As they quietly leave


Who knows, my child 


Everlasting Hope and Peace could arrive as one


So we could conquer this new normal and continue to rise


Or it could all go wild


And turn into a new dark nuclear history 


Where dreams and people 

Are consumed and defiled 


As good and evil 

Battle for victory


And apart, we may have to survive 

On mean streets. 


As quantum tattooed vaccinated slaves or unvaccinated exiles 


In a New World Order

Called a Fool's Paradise 

Without Any Known Borders 


But either way, 

Know this


May your spirit guides lead you to continued health and safety 


Across all fast-flowing political wars 


Water's

Famine or disorders


So in 2027


We can still share our much-loved algorithms 

In all our holy quarters 


So mote be it 

What will be 

Will be


So mote be it




(C) 

Copyright John Duffy

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Will we survive until 2027?