. Poetry from The Great In-Between

Sunday, May 2, 2021

For the courageous

(A piece for a recent online group)








 


Press play. Salute.



This is for You

Oh yes

I know you're struggling for I've been there too


And that's why I'm just writing this so you know

You're never alone


Even though I've no personal connection centred around really knowing you


The truth is we've all in some way shared the same sad path 


Oh yes

Me 

You and so many others


Fathers, daughters, sisters, sons, mothers and brothers


Even though this river of seemingly endless pain we all swim through daily


Seems so deep and in the middle of every night 


We all sometimes cry and pray for the peaceful salvation that comes from a deep sleep


Even though we struggle to walk and our tired limbs and all our joints 


May creak as they painfully ache whenever we feel weak


And our tired eyes may leak as we deep down inside


Lose strength and unconsciously weep


Take strength for that pain you and me have endured doesn't last forever


The better days will soon arrive


It may just take a while


The days and weeks may fade into months but that better day will eventually come


When you can finally walk or ride out 


Into the bright sunlight and look at the blue skies and courageously shout


It's great to once again be alive


This is why this was written for just You


If you ever needed a drop of advice


Oh yes, I know you've been struggling for I've been there too


And that's why I'm just writing this so you know


You're never really alone and if you feel lonely just always remember


There's always someone who'll listen and try to answer any questions


In all those wonderful groups


All you have to do is just pick up the tablet

Laptop or phone


From January until the very end of every December 


To help you begin a new year 


Filled with a renewed strength 


To bravely face the world without any fear


For there are so many caring friends in here who understand anything you may ask 


It's why they too joined to be part of one of those online wonderful community centres


(C) John Duffy 

Saturday, May 1, 2021

The Transference











As we bade our final goodbyes when the sun even bowed its head as it saluted from the skies


We knew we'd see you again when the armies of ants surrounding the dandelions suddenly stopped and looked up


Copyright John Duffy


(Image shared under fair usage policy) 

Friday, April 30, 2021

A lone voice whispers

Richardo speaks

Press play. Salute.



I'll always remember when I first caught a glimpse of you


It was in nineteen eighty-two as it rained like a crazy scene right out of Platoon


I saw you standing by the roadside on fifty-fourth street


Looking lost in a jostling crowd


Waiting for the traffic lights to change


Appearing all alone with a tattooed on heartbroken smile as the storm and drizzle


Merged with the roaring thunder which seemed so loud


I can remember watching the rain beat a crescendo of four to the floor in a strange tempo


Like on Quinto drums across your face as you all waited impatiently for the green light to go


I can faintly see if I push


All your makeup run and still taste that sweet aroma of your Chanel number five perfume


Even in this half-light


I can still see brief flashes of your soft smile and beguiling wild eyes in this very room


But like all the world's well-written love letters left behind


To be found by broken-hearted foolish lovers when it gets dark and the bedroom is now just regarded as a tomb


I've come to learn that written within every one


In each carefully structured line is a shiny red and black bejewelled dagger


A soft knife to the heart


Just hidden within solicitous thought out lines


Announcing unceremoniously with guile that all things are falling apart


Cunningly dressed up with sentimental metaphors in rugged sentences and personal paragraphs


Paraded in dramatic straight black and white pragmatic lines to be read by hungry eyes


Soon doomed to be wearing bright crimson uniforms


When pain can no longer be disguised


Lines overgrown with  

Wait and I'll come back when you're ready


I just need more time  

It's not you it's me


I understand why I uncontrollably used to cry


Now that I can truly see since you've been gone for a while


You see deep down when I pause and reflect


I guess I knew you were always filled with such despicable lies


Especially after talking to my mother


The cheapest therapist I ever met


She did warn me


Sometimes the truth will come out no matter how much they lie or try to fake it


It's just because some women just see men as another cheap franchise


To be acquired and rinsed  

  

Used like prudent merchandise


Only then to be sacrificed by heartfelt love letters


They've probably copied like the ones they've already left to so many others


Who they left clinging on to the false hope that one day they'll return


On the gleaming tall shadowy altars of the  

Unfortunate


Who are forever traumatised because unlike me


They'll never learn


For true loved can't be bartered or ordered


It must always be worshipped and endlessly earned


Copyright John Duffy

Wednesday, April 28, 2021

The voice of ARADIA

A voice whispers from the Black Scrying Mirror

ARADIA Speaks











Press play. Salute.


Did you know that the Devil just loves to come up with a wide Machiavellian welcoming smile


Like a thief in the middle of the night to collect sinners


Just like Jesus attempts to come down more and more each day


Accompanied by angels 


To collect those who tried to stay but occasionally may have strayed 


From a narrow path while trying to follow the advice of his many much-lorded saints


The one's in the Bible who will forever be humanities true winners 


Did you know you are all like beautiful evocative masterpieces and stunning striking visceral tapestries


Reflections of your higher self 


Created from a colourful palette of delicious tempting choices 


You willingly or unwillingly are just bewitched to paint


As you follow an ever-changing direction 


That is always distorting and never appears to be straight 


Who do you think will come calling


When your life is over and your spirit is no longer trapped frozen in human form 


But just imprisoned in stasis 


Prevented from flying or walking by those who are always watching


Who do you think will call to collect to take you home


But that's a long way away hopefully and now filled with all this deep occult knowledge


Don't you think it's time to atone and accept this as one of those simple messages


To take as a justified warning 


A gentle reminder in this very moment to try to encourage someone 


Someone to come down not he who lives underground


Someone to come down from on high when your time is invoked 


So your soul can rise up into the afterlife and just keep on soaring 


As your body lies cold in its expensive or cheap coffin


Heaven's for everyone you know 


It all just depends on how your tapestries looks to those who like to stay invisible 


Just hidden before the greatest fall of all


When your life's masterpiece 


Finally appears as an exposition in one of their many supernatural galleries 


When your time is called 


Just awaiting evaluation as it's one of the leading exhibitions 


By they who watch


In an eternal sideshow called

The Art of the Souls Transmigration










Copyright John Duffy 

Tuesday, April 27, 2021

A man called E whispers


(A lone voice whispers)















Press play. Salute.

As I walk alone in here 


Just looking for a strange city called Redemption and a means to atone


Surrounded by whispering crying voices in this ominous new darkness 


Of The Great In-Between

Which swirls all around humanity but to the profane like you 


It still remains today totally unseen

I always really wonder deep down inside as I move and peruse


Does she honestly still miss me that lady in black who was never satisfied


Even though I was famous and talked about every day on every world news


That young war bride I once met when I toured worldwide 


Who I once used to sit with in secret and in the low hours by candlelight 


Converse in-depth about love life and all its sometimes painful mysteries linked to death and power


Which always used to remind me of Macbeth


As we sat underneath that magical old blackened oak tree no matter where we were


Somewhere hidden in the many fluctuating realms of the forbidden 


Just connected by a portal I used to call forth by a secret incantation


Only known to a few of the last descendants of those deemed immortal


From where I was born and named in Tupelo, Mississippi


To then be known all the way to the wet sandy shores of the Baltic Sea 


Am I soon to be just a faded jaded memory


A part of a now old and forgotten legacy


People come and go in your old life I suppose 


Friendship heartbreak and love go hand in hand with something resembling Damocles sharp knife


So I'm told now I'm wiser as each day I grow old 


Some relationships will seem to last forever and some will inescapably be cut so deeply by its biblical silvery blade


That no matter how hard you may have cried shedding such sad tears or kneeled for hours and prayed


You'll eventually know that's why love and friendship entwined around treasured memories of others


You once so dearly cared for 

Sometimes chose capriciously to slowly just fade away


But if I could only just see the face of my precious treasured memory once more starting from today 


I would thank the Almighty until the final day of my baptism into a new holy Jerusalem 


If only he would bless me with the power and the magic of an endless Midsummers Night Dream 


To once again in this darkness


Sit together and talk under this new blackened old oak tree after I once again try to just summon her















Copyright John Duffy 

(Images subject to fair usage policy)

Saturday, April 24, 2021

The Monologue of Mr Catharsis


 









Hey brothers and sisters 


When all the prevailing shadows of past and present traumatic experiences


Swirling like a ravenous pack of snarling grey wolves 


Appear whining howling and banging against temporary hastily built gates


Erected within all modern minds 


Including yours


To hold in powerful soul-draining emotional pain


Historical generational drama or intense unwanted physical trauma 


Poetry must be implored to take a much-needed seat to be duly exploited


Explicitly as an insidious conduit 


A sacred form of holy communion 


To usher in a new age


An expansion into unknown realms of such audacious visceral expressions 


To be seen and felt as far away as a country mile if required


So many or just the writer can see and scour its mesmerising definitive themes 


Composed from the dark hidden invisible edges of civilization


By breaching those old or young heavy wooden doors


To confront what lies beyond 


In the darker  provinces of the writer's dreams


As all the many desperate ultimatums


Emanating from the physical and spiritual kingdoms 


Beyond all their duplicitous demands


For pure narcissistic attention 


Previous oaths of fidelity or inopportune slavery 


Which once held them in stagnating subjugation 


They must all be controlled to get them  in line and wait patiently as the now anointed poet smiles 


To embrace a once untasted awareness of personal freedom


And like a rare bird who has now found its wings 


They can fly high as they slowly realise


Their heartfelt words can bring a higher degree of inner salvation 


For their freedom to do so 


Can no longer be treated as absurd


By anyone 


Copyright John Duffy 

 

Wednesday, April 21, 2021

For my life's nurse

Press play. Salute.

(A lone voice whispers in the dark)

Her gentle graceful touches are so beautiful and incredibly captivatingly soothing 


They seem to play a delightful melody to vanquish all my mortal fears


Like the rarest of heavenly sunsets that emerges with a twinkling smile in the midst of pink and red frontiers 


When time itself appears to stop flexing and moving


Swirling like a god-like deity in a newly lit sky


She is the quintessence of glamour in a night-time high society ball


Filled with dancing masked courting fireflies

Who watches her every fluid movement in jaw-dropping awe


When they pause to rest on one of my beautifully wallpapered walls 


A rare evening serenading the gathering of a few enamoured spirits


Where honoured souls gather in their best dresses and bespoke suits to readily confess


Her delicate hands move like Mother Moon gently over my trembling horizons


Whispering my secret name and claiming me as her domain 


For we are now consummate lovers and no longer just worldly friends 


A bright new world is always breathed into light and lost in delicious touches in that spectacular twilight


For under the gaze of my devotion


I can only reflect her love in my hazel coloured lens


The darkness surrounding us like an old friend 

Sings a lasting symphony of happiness and lingers in the celestial as angels watch and smile


No man-made treaties or paper laws can separate us


For now, our passions in the midnight sun 


Soon will wildly run


We'll never lose this particular twilight and these baptised rays will never lose their red and pink hue


For when we first met 


I'll always remember that I willingly sunk knee-deep into your green and blue


For in that magical transference of spiritual energy


I knew in that metaphysical moment why God had sent me and it's why now


I'll always belong to just you.


Copyright John Duffy 

Tuesday, April 20, 2021

The Voice in a Dream

Press play. Salute.

Are we expressionists just blessed, poetic acolytes


Simple reflections of old narrators


Thrown centuries ago from one of the many grey walls of the mythical Towers of Babel


But now just constantly reborn before each Great Fall


At the peak of every new society


Simply here to tell many new and old stories in a universal poetic archaic language


One where we all stand shoulder to shoulder


Willing and able


Completely endowed with a greater freedom to stand beyond the dark Gates of Sodom and Gomorrah 


Now called Social Media


Where the new masses gather like lost hypnotised Starling flocks and appear so servient and obedient


Birthed to eventually grow to report about the emotional depravities


Linked to surviving within every new kingdom


For inside all these ensuing exotic landscapes beginning from the very first one 


A silent profound truth still lives at the very centre of each and every core and must always be subjectively explored


Heartbreak in all forms must be willingly or unwillingly endured for every soul  to seek a means to mature


This is the sacred unspoken truth


For there is scarcely any journey a human being can pursue


That does not usher in heartbreak which sometimes seems it can't be undone as it takes its grand tour


Grief  

Lost love  

Mental and physical abuse  

And so many more


The strength to rise after the fall

The belief to stand tall


The power to burn your candle even brighter to lead yourself or others


Out of the stillness and seemingly perpetuity of darkness


To find yourself again


That's how you can conquer all the many difficult strands link to just living 


For embracing its cold touch 


You'll start to treasure all those moments of happiness and purge all those sad ones


By understanding it all starts with the courage that comes from just forgiving 


Copyright John Duffy


Tuesday, April 13, 2021

My New Collection. 2020 to April 2021.


 The prose collection from 2020 until April 2021. Available on Amazon.

Click the link below. Salute.

Click HERE!

Shortly, I will be using some of these as monologues. 
I know they will make great theatrical pieces. 

A lone emotional driven actor reciting a selected piece in total darkness - with only one spotlight illuminating them.
 
With accompanying sad piano music of course!

Bravo. 

Until next time. I may not be posting for a week or so as I recover. 

I have a date with a surgeon and a sharp scalpel. On my birthday of all days.

Be safe wherever you are. Salute.

What if Gloria Gaynor wrote poetry


 









Press play. Salute.



This thirst has been sated now that I’ve seen you've tarnished all my old memories

So you may now fade to reappear wherever you go

Since I'm now ephemeral

 


This place we once shared has lost its feel

Turn away your blue eyes

 

For I no longer in submission kneel



Seek not to know what in here may lie


For that once precious thing has now withered and died

 

Look instead to your own life


Step bravely forward not in woe


And let your first steps not be slow


Show me no mercy to going forward as you have already shown


As they carry you to newer plateaus


When those old winds of gossip did blow

 

Worry for me not for I am sweetly wise


I instead look for words of hope and sing blissfully to newer tender skies


Our once loved emotions now no longer lay in state


As the funeral lies cold and un-mourners silently gather to celebrate

 

This I know as I was told as I finally closed our gate



But what they cannot comprehend

About this cat with nine lives


All the gossips and the un-friends


Whenever one rose petal drifts from Aphrodite’s tree

 

To fall and slowly hit the cold ground
And wither into ruins to never bloom as before
 

Another one called to me before it hit the floor


Courtship can once more lift her lovely head

 

For true love and beauty can still be found

Just not by the judgemental 
The gossips or the living dead

But only those souls who wilfully sing


Did you think I'd crumble?

I will survive

 

Copyright John Duffy

 


The Sacred Tree