Floating through the many wet rivers of my cerebral cortex
She hangs in silence as I drink in the many strands of living
Just filled with a sense of profound elation and happiness at being at the very centre of her fast-flowing life
Her life source and energy which swims and comes alive
Seeping into every room of my inner fortress as I'm eternally forgiven
My savour who I now know personally as the legendary Mary
Copyright John Duffy
A dash of creativity on a rather wet Sunday at 7 am.
Press play. Salute.
For my Messalina as I, Claudius from Rome. 37 AD. Speak down through history.
From all those sad love letters left behind
I still sometimes read whenever I feel the deep need
All those special poignant ones which still call to me
In the whispering darkness like faithful acolytes
Even though they always cut so deep afterwards like a sharp butcher’s knife
Those dark ones
Which salivate as they smother and conquer my every heaving breath
All those secretly treasured ones which still stink and reek with delicious samples of your Machiavellian so tempting perfume
Tinged with a mischievous seductive glint of guilt
Which I always see like lonely people engulfing each and every corner and dark shadows of this
Our old bedroom
A tranquil tangible scent
A subtle hint of all the wild memories of upcoming salacious sin
We once so wantonly engaged within victoriously
Yes you know the ones
All those French kissed pacts
Old whispered saliva sealed symbolic symbols
Of our impervious brush from on high above
Where you once said so delicately and so evocatively
I love you and painted a magnificent priceless portrait
In sweet kisses
So visually compellingly the legendary Michelangelo would have cried
If he had bared witness or tasted a drop of it before he died
You stated so bravely to the congregation of shadows and to the watching Nether World
In this life and above all its many claps of thunder
You'd be my mine forever
You'd stay to help me conquer uncharted wild treacherous mountains
Unruly blue and green waves and be my one and only wife
In this version of our new lease of life
But I suppose presumptuous deeds done in the Basking of The Witching Hour
After the stroke of Midnight
Especially when the Full Wolf Moon looks down hungrily and roars in silent smug victory
When young impish minds once cognitive and free from devious outside manipulation
Lie so drunk on white wine and divine lines of lazy cocaine as it outside rains
Totally sated on true human emotions in every vibrating form
But still so vulnerable to mystical dark visceral interventions
Of dark beings beyond the mortal norm
Where they can slowly but tentatively use dirty magic to introduce those carefully rendered unconscious
To step on to those dark pathways
Towards their badlands of Immorality and Ruination
But I guess those who choose to get wildly drunk or even high
Those who choose to go blindly and willingly
Or to be even manipulated subtly and convinced to utter wild oaths of fidelity
Way past midnight into the lonely witching hours should always be forgiven
This is my only wish as I stand here watching my old world burn
From here to eternity and back
As I remorsefully remember our first kiss that sealed our now unholy pact
Which announced to the watching shadow people and the Nether World
All our willful undoing
For you
My vision of perfection
A Goddess Incarnate
I will always still wait
Just like another cursed fool
A now patient resident just condemned forever to stand still in this crazy asylum
Many goyim call Mother Gaia
With you as my cruel cold owner
My own ice queen who now sheds no more tears
My everlasting painful cherished spiritual addiction from who I always long to pray to hear
To free me from these rusty chains which keep me a prisoner in old lands
Where we were once free and never had any fears but looked forward to conquering all upcoming frontiers
Before secret unseen societies tore us apart and left me with this
A sad token of their misdemeanours
A red and golden medal which lies pinned deep above whatever I try to wear
Just sometimes a visible token of my dammed emotional state
I once to hide
Using expensive bright clothes and fake smiles to conceal from the watching world
My now broken heart
Copyright John Duffy
Press play. Salute.
(A lone voice calling herself, Faith sings)
Let me purify old memories
To be purged
For I alone
Own all sacred keys
To embrace all vulnerabilities
So you can be reborn
With new responsibilities
A whole new identity to be earned
To set you free
So you can be
The best
For all to see
As your new life runs
To go so far
No more prisoner to tears
To treasure the deep divine
No longer to worship sin
No longer to taste more tears
Just let me be there
When you want me to hear you call
Before you fall
Love infused with honesty
Merged with trust and loyalty
For all the watching world to see
For we are friends
Till the very end
Whatever this sad world dares to bring
Just let me in
To be the reason
As your heart prays for something
Whatever the year or season
For I'm that one thing that has saved endless queens or kings
And countless broken and destitute
The many the rich love to prosecute
Who I listen to even more
Wherever they sing
Will you let me purify old memories
That need to be purged
For I alone own all sacred keys
Just pray to call for me
For my name is Faith and I'll appear to follow
To help you break those chains
To set your soul free
Copyright John Duffy
(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
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)
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
A voice whispers from the Black Scrying Mirror
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
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
