Are you still trying to clutch a Molotov Cocktail?

  

(A lone voice whispers)

Could the sorrowful echoes in empty minds

Mean it's time to remind lost souls

To carefully unwind

And revisit cherished times

When love was once so kind  

When Mother Moon dropped such a captivating warm smile

As wide as a nautical blue mile

Is it then they will know

Not to wait another second or a short while

Never to put Love on trial

But simply to embrace it and accept all it brings

Whatever your lifestyle

For real love has never always been for sale  

  

Even for the brave willing to pay the hard price

For a taste of a forbidden paradise

Some say she comes like a cunning lone thief in the darkest of nights

Just wanting new souls to sit with and gleefully watch new scripts play out

New stories filled with happiness

Sadness or even blackmail

For  

Fake love

Cheap love  

Bad love

Hard love  

Quick love

Every love but never true love

Some whisper and whistle

Has always been for sale

For finding true love is like clutching a Molotov cocktail

In a fast-flowing gale  

And trying to keep it lit

Some say it doesn't exist and it's just an old wives tale

But trust me  

When you've been burnt by that Molotov cocktail

You'll clutch on to it  

With all your strength

Until your coffin receives

Its last stainless steel nail

(C) Copyright John Duffy

When Johnny met Amber

Created as I watched. 

 

When Johnny met Amber

It 

(A painful voice whispers, as it speaks to itself in a guided mirror. Alone and confused. Happy and sad. Just completely juxtaposed)

 

The last time I saw you 

Triggered the tragic cataclysm of 

An unquieted mind

As I tried in vain to decipher my own Codex Consecratio

To overcome 

And conquer 

My own self-deprecating 

Code Red

For You seem to be my dangerous solo mission 

My one-way ticket 

To Loves dark side of its many crimson prisms

And snarling Wolf Moons

Empowered by that ruby ticket

I once prayed and dreamed to manifest 

 

Dreams filled with thoughts to wait until the End of Days 

At your much-sought-after side as time flew by

For I have been metaphorically 

Blindfolded 

And willingly coerced and dragooned

For I’m now but a naive hostage

To you 

My penance 

To serve my own red devil on Earth 

In human form 

My happiness and dark majick

Contained in but one

My Scarlet Lady 

Without any notions of fears

Or that human weakness 

Betrayed through wet tears

Am I but a pitiful man 

Some may say 

In hushed whispers in familiar secret backrooms and penthouses

That I'm tied and lashed to your never-ending burning Crosses Of Gaslighting

 

And infernal 

Damnation's 

Overflowing and drowning in deep rivers of tribulations 

Forever embroiled within lost lunacies of Dark Confessions

Centred around and circling love

Do I speak in unfathomable tongues

Am I indecipherable

Is that why you leave me lonely 

Always

Soaking in this painful red symphony and tributaries 

Filled with feverish octaves which ambush my weakened soul in endless waves

Awaiting the much sought-after glory days 

That you always promise 

When I'll finally be allowed to appear as your own Red churches

Self-imposed 

Crimson 

Altarpiece's

Only 

Epiphany 

All these things I cling onto but who knows what the future brings

But know this

I'm much stronger than I look

For I'm like the fiery Phoenix from JK's books

I'll rise majestically like an angel

 When my beloved reputation is being tarnished and overcooked

Copyright John Duffy

(Picture shared under fair usage policy)

The Love song of Lucas

Press play before reading. Salute.

 (A lone voice sings)

My Dianna

My life's only Prana

My true love from Havana

I can still hear your breathing and every word you say

When you whisper my name
Even though I'm a thousand miles away

My Dianna
My Dianna

My heart beats faster when I remember our first touch

It's a beloved memory that my soul loves so much

My Dianna
My Dianna

So beautiful
A crazy urge is calling
A love song that must never be hushed

My Dianna

I can still hear your breathing and every word you say

Whispers saying
I should come out to play

My Dianna
My Dianna

My true love from Havana

You've put a spell on me

Like Morgana

The White Witch of Alabama

My Dianna
My Dianna

I just wish we could still dance 

Cheek to cheek

Like on Ibiza Cala Bassa Beach

So you could lay me down on soft sands 

And let your hands begin to preach

For my love boat has been breached

My Dianna
My life's Prana

My true love from Havana

When will you call me

And begin to teach

My Dianna
My life's Prana

I'll forever be waiting on Cala Bassa Beach

(C) John Duffy 2022

1. Preana - breath, considered as a life-giving force.

   "prana is seen as a universal energy which flows in currents in and around the body"

Need a poetic distraction?

Press Play!

Salute.

All artwork by the so-talented George Redhawk.  

Shared under fair usage policy.

Reflections. Tobias Speaks from The Beyond .

Press play before reading. Salute.

(A lone voice whispers)

For just you

If you still need some inspiration and are unfortunately unattached

Blindly looking for that mysterious elusive, match 

To ignite like a raging volcano

Your loves red spark in the light and dark of an unbroken night

Amongst the chaotic crazy fires of just living 

Trying to do what's right

While you're courageously striving and stumbling through life 

Over all, its many hurdles 

Doing what you need to do

To keep surviving before you join us in here

The Great In-Between

To be part of the endless paranormal 

Constantly searching for that life-changing translucent crimson  thing called love

May you get annotated and burnt more than once 

If so desired by its many supernatural fires

Before your life to expires 

For I can always remember

As I look back and reflect 

 

To a date set for our joining

At that old church on West Street

It made me feel richer than all the gold to yet be found at sea

Lighter and brighter

Then any shining diamond jewellery on display at the Louvre 

For all to see

 

Oh how I was ecstatic to be introduced to the love of my life

Called Julia 

Her soft demure always ransacked all my shadows with a glimmer 

That if I was a soldier this would be my last post

Oh how surreal it all seems now I'm a ghost

Looking through my obsidian scrying glass from all the way in here

The Great In-Between

At all the landscapes and seascapes we once used for escapes 

They now all stand burning with once calm seas boiling

And lost in that civil war on land and sea

I still see her now even more gentler than gentle

Lovelier than light amongst the smoke 

That soft soul who used to sweeten all my sombre moments and seconds

At the stroke of midnight 

With soft fingers

Oh how that exquisite memory lingers 

Of the only one to stretch out a hand of freedom 

To offer divine grace and the keys to a new kingdom 

A soft whisper to help me take a break from one of life's many chaotic races

To switch off and relax in our own woodland grove

By the coast

But like a scene from Platoon

I'm now kneeling down and living in a neverending scream

Why does death suddenly call to collect you so early

When everything seems so beautiful

To leave you in a new form of living 

In the illuminated man's poor dream

With only hallowed memories for company 

 

Of lost love 

Bursting out of the seams

Copyright John Duffy

Want to know a secret?

Press play before reading. Salute.

(A lone voice whispers)

Do you literally know all things

Live on hired time

Particularly us 

Who once walked with wanderlust

From A to B

Through the universe's life-giving stardust

In metaphysical old invisible shoes

As our poor souls

Time and time around 

Tried to renew

Into a better version of who they previously were

As it tries to atone 

For all souls

I now know 

Are like spiritual entrepreneurs

 

Playing the greatest of all games

With a full deck of cards

Before their own red stage curtain falls

And their sacred vision of the Yellow Blazing Sun 

Which once rose over their lifes many crazy zoos 

Turns pale blue

When all their eternal golden bells sing 

As they are made to ring

After being ordained to summon them home

To wander and roam under this

Sheʾōl's great big silver judgmental dome

My advice to you is simply this

Do more with your time before your golden bells sings

For living 

You will miss 

As you wander lost like me

In this falling white snow which pens us in

For I'm now just another lonely victim marked to repent

By Sheʾōl's wet kiss

  

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

The Voice of Dalon

Press play before reading. Salute.

(A lone voice whispers)

Hey you

I know you're there

Silently watching and reading 

Did you know that the Broken Ones 

Those courageous souls whose numbers are so copious

Living amongst you anonymously

Those filled with unfathomable trauma or seemingly endless pain 

But endured intrepidly by simply surviving with tenacity  

Those who choose to hide it so well 

Through cleverly contrived acts of smiling and joking

So that it's never so obvious

From coarse strands of childhood heartbreak

Ranging from physiological and mental struggles to a lack of love or loneliness 

To wading knee-deep through blue rivers and oceans of grief and so many other raw emotions

Even though they can't sleep or even find relief

Due to all the internal mental explosions

Those beautiful scarred souls 

Who strive to celebrate their hard lives in any way they can 

By truly trying to find a means of self-expression

Living righteously and always trying to give more

Those heroic figures we in here call the Maltese Decrees

For as we watch

It seems those gloriously brave tainted spirits are always unconsciously

Pulled and attracted to other broken ones 

Always looking for kindred souls to uncover their hidden gates 

And to open them up to a new world of bright lights and life-changing experiences 

Using sacred love and compassion 

Empathy and understanding 

As some of their many holy keys of introspection 

We all in here know those sacred keys simply represent invisible God-given tokens 

Some of the Almighty's top degrees 

In the university of life for the broken 

But they don't

And it's so extraordinary to watch as they find new allies with such devotion 

Two strangers finally coming together after getting in touch

Knowing their old worn emotional gates

Must be willingly reopened and walked through 

So others can be let in for happiness to be harboured and clutched

As it creates a new safe haven where a three worded vow 

Could possibly be exchanged and spoken which they may need so much

To help purge new or old demons

Which must be conquered through acts of self erosion 

For by sharing an experience with that free thing called hope

With a new lover or friend

Your soul's chances of salvation or redemption

Could be enriched before you perish at your very end

Since through those acts of profound kindness 

By finding the courage to welcome someone into your inner sanctum and in turn 

Illuminating all your late-night prayers

You'll never need to kneel to pray

But instead eventually rise above all the labyrinths overrunning with sin

As they slowly appear each day 

For that's why the Broken

Just love the Broken

For behind all those silent lines 

Never spoken in any particular way

Lines hiding so carefully behind so many well-worn masks

Those that seem to know and be drawn to each other in the bustling crowds

Of life

Like moths to a flickering flame

Wherever they are

Maybe are always tasked to wander before Sister Love eventually appears

To hear the same tragic love poem of the Broken 

Before finding a true soulmate

Whilst living life and trying to walk towards Mother Fate and all she brings

Whilst their lifes bells still rings 

Getting forever wet but always stronger

In all its invisible rain called Emotional Pain

As they wait for a new light to shine 

As they play lifes many eternal games with no names

Designed by Good Old Father Time

Copyright John Duffy

The 200-year-old man, speaks.

Press play before reading. Salute.

(A lone voice whispers)

Sometimes blowing out these ripples of purgatory fire that burns deep inside

Like a raging inferno

The suffering of standing alone here

In this ever falling soul purging rain

Compelled to just think

By mysterious powers wherever I go

I sometimes remember my long-forgotten lover's cherished name

In abundant waves from yesteryear

Even though it brings such discomfort and disturbing pain 

But still, I'm forced to remain

And this blue apocalypse I feel is now so surreal

As I stand here 

Burning up in the falling rain and snow while trying to heal

But my spirit guide who I currently know 

As Harrington the Third

Says it's no big deal

For emotions are soon to be made redundant by a higher power

As we ascend 

For in moments or even centuries

We'll all be part of this galaxy's ethereal dust

And all they are

Emotions

Are representations of the human condition

Distractions linked to our once mortal interactions

That lingers as we try to atone

For we are now entrusted to be freed from the husks 

Of who we once used to be

To forget all through being commissioned to review and plead our case for absolution

Through well-learnt prayers and profound beliefs

We were once brought up to trust and use as our shields

With some even begging and kneeling 

To be welcomed into Elysium Green Fields

But I'll always remember her

Even after all these years

That red rose I once met

Downtown in good old Tennessee

By the petrol station 

When I parked on the junction 

By that black expensive marquis 

On the state line

And when I looked over and her green eyes met mine

I can always recall how they turned a golden key

And opened up in my soul

A portal to a new world of opportunities within a sly wink

No one else could see

Which made me feel so human in time

And now with real eyes filled with burning fire

That never tire

I can finally see some strands of truth 

As I think 

This fickle universe is so dammed percutaneous

Purging all who once had skin in a blink 

Is that why we the dead 

Are now cursed to whisper and speak about our past lives

Forever in rhymes 

As we stand in this grey shade on the precipice

A brink and link between two dimensions

Harrington the Third calls 

The Purgatio Cauldron

A woeful place filled with the universe's many lost children 

Waiting and praying to see the 9 Spheres of Heaven

Copyright John Duffy 

(If you're on YouTube tube, subscribe to the music channel. The quality, emotionally driven content is superb. Salute.)

The Sunday Voice

(A lone voice whispers)

In this grey shade of semi-darkness

I've sat down by the IPFT and looked again down through time 

Past all the fast-moving images and those sad heartbreaking ones

Portraying illnesses 

Lit a white Dominion protection magic candle and pondered

Is she with another I just can't see

Someone else's older or younger brother

That soulmate who once professed and confessed 

She was only mine

Would she still love me beyond all she feared

If I could somehow suddenly appear

Would her sweet kisses taste the same as before 

When we first met and I told her my sacred name

As I stood at her front door

But would she forget me this time when she got home

Delete my old number on her phone

I know she's a siren 

Lord

A beautiful beacon

A light in the dark who all fall to their knees

Whenever she calls

Is that why I'm cursed by the green shards of Belazor 

In this grey shade of semi-darkness 

As I embrace my own form of crucifixion

Charged to look down through time forever 

And tasked by Malachi

To always light a white Dominion magic protection candle 

From the sacred box of self-introspection

And ponder

Is she with another that has my reflection 

Who looks like me

Someone else's younger or older brother 

Now I've died and can only use the IPFT

To see

Copyright John Duffy 

Channelling Carlo

Press play. Salute.