(A lone voice speaks)
In the midst of it all
The tragic heartbreak
The ongoing pain and sorrowful stories to regale any sad Saturday night
I once smiled at the long list of offered assumptions
Personal assassinations and their much-cherished delusions
They clung on to like much-treasured gold
I thought I was a good man
I dreamed of finding a love-filled with happiness and in old age
Grow together old
But instead
Lonely
I died
And now all alone
Sent to sit here in bitter purgatory to reflect by the Almighty
For aeons
Besides a lone yellow candle for company
Which keeps back the darkness with its fluttering amber flame
I saw how I was buried
No carefully chosen music
All sombre with no real caring tears which cried
Or heralded my earthly name
Well, it's one thing to know life but when The Angel of Death comes around
Quietly calling
Who'll shout and pray for you after your time is due
For before the end
Take these candid words from a friend who knows
And repent and be reborn into eternal glory
It's how your story will live on as you transcend
Or you too could be soon seated by a fluttering yellow flame
Your only company
Which holds back the encroaching darkness
Here in these great dark lands
Known to the many and the lonely
Cursed and into aeons
Repeatedly calling themselves the Fallen in Purgatory
Copyright John Duffy
A monologue from a faint voice. Conjured via my scrying mirror. Salute.
Press play. Salute.
That they who really know me
Call me the living flame
For like my old Ma
Who was once born and raised beside the clear still waters of the Louisiana's deep Bayous
I inherited her gift to draw lonely souls
Like Gypsy moths right out of their self imposed darkness
Unconsciously drawn whilst deep down inside they're always smiling but constantly just wanting and needing more
Whenever I shine my bright light of illumination and attention right on them
And whisper their secret God-given name
It's just the eternal price I pay now like my good old Ma
Bless her soul
For trying to summon a new light to shine in others and for them to try to live a new worthy life
When they can stand proudly unafraid and unashamed
And say to the watching stars and all other delirious eyes
I matter!
Copyright John Duffy
An exotic sweet voice calls me to newer lands.
In case you're curious or inquisitive, they were never about anyone living in particular, but simply references from whence I sometimes visit.
A new road has suddenly reared right up in front of me and started calling.
If you're here just visiting, I send you blessings from the Red Church and best wishes from the Great In-Between.
This was always going to happen, and it's why I made that book which cover is above if you choose to look.
The link is below.
That voice I sometimes hear told me to ✍
My last piece.
Sometimes
You've just got to be brave enough to say goodbye to old ways and try to heal raw opened emotional sores as you look to life to give you more
It may feel like you've been through all the worlds many wars but nobody's perfect and everybody has their scars and sometimes unspoken flaws
Some may choose to hide it so well and smile and try to put on a favourite well-loved mask
And some don't
Some may say strange things in tempestuous moments of heat as they sharpen their ferocious claws
And some may say nothing at all
But just think
People are just human after all
Misfits in the grandest of schemes wandering around like lost little children
After they've been given a life's spiritual work permit
But you know
I've already lived five times in 6 hundred years
Lived
Loved and cried some many wet tears
Now I've returned for the seventh
And here's what I know as I return from a short stint before I go back to my place in Heaven
Life and all its emotional connections are simply explained in one line of poetry
Which is written in bold italics in God's eternal archives
What to know what it is?
It simply says
Do the best with your time before you too have to die
Copyright John Duffy
(A lone voice whispers)
I miss you my only love more so at this time of year
The soft smiles
Holding warm smooth hands as we once walked for country miles
Watching the yellow and red sunset as the daylight bowed and dipped
Kissing the lands below and whispering goodbye
I miss you my only love more so
At this time of year
Looking through old photographs and then visiting old memories and all their stimulating road maps
Sitting together watching old films like Doctor Zhivago with popcorn on television
Laying in bed
Huddled together naked under warm sheets and talking shamelessly
About how we made it through the fire and ice and all life's many inquisitions
I miss you my only love more so
At this time of year
It's the same in every memory I find
Whenever I remember when you were just mine
Maybe you'll come round and put your angelic arms around me
Kiss me softly on the forehead and say everything will be just fine
For it's always just you I'd like to see
Still standing smiling like in our favourite photograph underneath our prized old apple tree
On this our old farm but deep down I know it cannot be
For you're in Heaven
Hidden in a place
The living can never see
But still
I just miss you more so my only love
At this time of year
When my old world suddenly burns and I remember why
For you're no longer here
Copyright John Duffy
Press play. Salute.
Tenebris Oculi (L) AKA Robert Olmstead
(A lone voice whispers)
To all the mysterious souls just lost beyond my second sight and long reach
Hiding somewhere unknown in Father Times long silver grass
Lying scattered across all the bluest of ocean's and before all the greatest of Antarctic lakes
Quietly reading and trying to compose inspired poetry
Beseeching their inner minds great portico to quickly open
And spill forth
Secretive words only once whispered and spoken in the darkest of corridors
Celebrating the festival of Karneia on the fourth
By the Pythia to bathe within its spectacular potency
In ancient Apollo's
candlelit yellow temples in Pompeii
In cold wintery nights
May these channelled words find a way
To weave a magical spell to beguile your own inquisitive mind and everlasting soul
To be slowly opened up with Apollo's ritual athame everywhere you go
For you to then find the courage to breach your own inner great gates
To finally find and drink from that mystical ever-flowing well
Found in the centre of all things
By only the true believers like you and the many travellers of the profound
Seeking to taste whatever their spirits really desire and then hoping to make the return journey home
Filled and sated and dancing mentally to a new sound
Announcing the arrival of their life's only holy obligation
To then write profusely
Be it at midnight or throughout the long days
Recalling and narrating the many sacred strands
And complex explorations of the many layers of human emotions
That comes smiling or snarling their way
From those just hidden beneath all blue and green seas
The Great Old Ones
So be it
Copyright John Duffy
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Are poets the true kings and queens of the mendacious
Because they're so skilled at making things up?
Copyright John Duffy
