. Poetry from The Great In-Between

Friday, August 19, 2022

The God of Sleep Speaks


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(A soft voice whispers)  



Are you carefully scrutinized by undiscovered forces from another realm?  



**Do we in the mist, live forever**  



Many of your types I pass daily but especially at midnight  



When I sit on the edge of their bed  



Have always asked


Even though we're all invisible  



We still hear you  



As you struggle to confide in the forbidden silence  



Especially in the last dregs of sunlight before dusk  



**Are we, immortal souls**  

You continuously question  



**What would you do with all that time**  



**Would it drive you right out of your mind**  



Well, here's my answers


Just for you to read before you turn to dust  



**In here**  



This dark place known to the enlightened few as The Shadow Lands  



Where I now exist and drink almond ambrosia to worship and pray alone


Commissioned until eternity to strive to excite lost souls  



To confess as a penance  



I've been anointed with as my chance to find a means to atone  



**Sacrificed deserted lonely souls who stumble and end up my way**  



**Through random long or short legions of linear sleep poetry**  



And like a drunken James Brown  



I gather them around to listen to what my words and conjured dream states


Really mean and say  



While high on whiskey and singing  



Papa's Got A New Bag globally  



Dressed like my prototype  



Good old Bob Dylan in black


When he once faced his own faithful hurricane  



I sometimes entertain them by dancing wildly and singing


Lyrically adept in a smoke-filled circle with the all-time king of pop  



Michael Jackson  



Whilst moon-walking in grey skies  



Watched by others and the occasional falling star  



**My** **agastopia** **of** **delicious lines grace their minds**  



**Like a new friend I was recently introduced to**  



**Hugh Hefner**  



The one famous for all those damned but hot  

Playboy’s pictures  



**That still send adolescent and immature mind's cerebral cortex's** 


**And** **l****ibidos totally insane**  



**I sometimes stand in the half-light** 


Smiling wryly  



**Telling them** **I'm so strong and powerful like that heroic Thandie Newton**  



**The one who once found strength** 


**Self-worth and power** **in a new Westworld**   



Whilst being reborn again and again  



**My words are softly whispered enchantments you see**


**Spells sent just to serenade your tired bored five senses**   



**Filled with a crescendo of rising fire like when Marlon Brando**  



**Embraced emancipation while causing total carnage**  



**Death and eventual apocalypse**  



**In Cambodia**   



**As he boarded that fateful flight 707 from The Seventies**   



**Dreaming of his girl next door he left home**  



**Called Sophia**   



**Am I a sceptic like some say or just a wide-boy spectator**  



A majestic soother like an out-worldly philosopher  



Or just a beguiling collaborator  



Can you feel me  



**You ought to**  



**I am simply giving you a mixture of my powerful prescribed words**  



Which are imbued with the power to grace **your insatiable eyes**  



**Through those cheap or expensive plastic movie screens**  



**As I hide in the dangerous deep depths**   



**Of the twenty-first century's fast-flowing mobile streams**  



**For I'm just a beautiful old beast**  



**A heaven-sent narrator**  



**Steamrolling through with lustrous glossy keys**   



**To all the so many wet lesser brothels of your mind**  



**As you sit watching and casually sipping these sweet-tasting letters as you read**  



**And just like so many**  



 **I already know**   



**You'll soon become gloriously addicted to my cheap bottles of poetic mead**   



**You see**  

**I'm just a non-living fossil**  



A mesmerising essence from bygone days  



Mentioned only once  in The Great Golden Books of The Byzantine  



**I celebrate on Tuesdays and Sundays**   



**By going knee-deep into humanities new future**  



**MK Ultraing new intellects forever**  



**To live just to love me**  



**As I program them**  

**Like an expensive computer geek**  



**I'm a mixture of all of life's sweet-tasting**   

**aromas and scarred sacred baggage's**  



Can you feel me yet  



**Am I just behind you**  



**Watching and walking**  



**As you stride out bravely in front**  



**Or am I standing hiding**   



**Just beyond sight and keeping firmly closed**  



All the smokey doorways to all your dreams  



**Can you feel me like Old Nick**  



**One of my dearest buddies whose everlasting**  



God that guy loves stalking you all like an ageless Marquis  



Me  



**I'm just a once unvisited world of beguiling words**  



**Just conceived into being by the** 


**Elemental unspoken old Gods from mystical** **Talen**  



**Tasked to slowly just consume your earthly time** 


**Of three scores and if you're lucky, ten**  



**Can you feel my bony fingers stroking those secretive rooms**   



**The one's barely visited when you're awake and drunk**   



**With this plane of existence many addictive potions**  



But the secret ones you always use your golden keys to open and visit  



**When you dream**   

**and it's then and only then**


That you'll see me  



As I appear before you


Dressed in black and  blue  



To stimulate your mind to carefully unwind  



All those old sometimes painful threads  



And through finding your own for of catharsis  



**The freedom to write** 


**Sing or just to express yourself to be free**


It's why I was birthed


To help you find your inner soul while you live here


On Earth


(C)  

Copyright John Duffy


I wrote this a few years ago.

Watching, The Sandman, made me revisit it.


It's a strange old world.


Have a great weekend you talented readers.  

Salute.

A tragic poem of Lost Love. Codex Consecratio


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Santiago's Love Letter to Sofia

(A lone voice whispers into the night. Lonely and cold)


The last time I saw you

Was like cataclysm’s of 

An unquieted mind


I tried to decipher my own 

Codex Consecratio


To overcome 

And conquer 


My own self-deprecating 

Code Red


For

You are my dangerous solo

Mission 


My one-way ticket 

To Loves

Dark side of its crimson prisms


And Moons


I dream to manifest 

And wait until the 

End of Days 

At your much-sought side


For I have been metaphorically 

Blindfolded and willingly

Cohersed and

Dragooned


For I’m but a naive hostage

To you 



My penance 

To serve my own red devil

My majick


My 

Scarlet Lady 


Without notions of fears

Or that human weakness 

Betrayed through wet tears


Am I but a pitiful man


Tied and lashed to your 

Never-ending 

Crosses Of Gaslighting

 

And infernal 

Damnation's 


Overflowing 

And drowning in tribulations 


Forever embroiled within 

Lost lunacies of 

Dark Confessions

Of love


Do I speak in unfathomable tongues


Is that why you

Leave me lonely 

Always


Drowning in this red symphony

Awaiting the much sought-after days


When 

I appear as your own

Red churches


Self-imposed 

Crimson 

Altarpiece


Only 

Epiphany 



Copyright John Duffy

Image shared under fair usage policy.

Thursday, August 18, 2022

The Seducer



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Running your soft hands up  

And down my


Warrior’s hard dark  

Chocolate skin  

  

You gently pulled me in  

  

To  

Bathe forever in deep pools  

Of visceral emotions


In the forbidden darkness  

  

Of irresistible pleasure beyond measure  

  

  

The circle of Shadow People


Surrounding us  

  

Watched in  

Green envy


By red candlelight  

  

As I claimed you


With a secretive anointing of a  

Rekindling of two lost souls  

  

As mine forever  

  

Lightning  

Struck on the timeless stroke of midnight


And I followed willingly and  

Wantonly in unison  

  

As the wet rain poured down


On that old hotel's box  

White painted windows  

  

I saw it in your fevered opulent eyes


As exquisite sensuous deep pleasure


Entered your inner realms  

And kingdoms  

  

And as you smiled  

I saw  

  

That unconscious greed


For an unadulterated unexplored passion  

  

That old yearning for newfound  

World's


Golden kaleidoscopes  

  

Of intense pleasure  

And the overwhelming urges to just......escape  

  

That I  

Alone can truly express


That I alone  

To you can really give  

  

Now as you lay  

Once more before me


Totally vulnerable on that  

Sweet bed of red Roses  

  

And you begin to take off that red dress  

And high heels  

  

**Are you really ready**  

  

  

To step willingly


Naked and waist-deep  

Into deep emotions of otherworldly sins  

  

To  

Look me deep in the eyes


And all your dark fantasies confess  

  

For I am One of the Unspoken Mages


One of The Masters of all In-between  

  

I can see you now  

As you read this  

  

And listen to your whispered lines


As you revel in this newfound bliss  

  

Just hidden beyond all that blue ocean


And those snow-covered mountains  

  

Where I type to you  

Just hidden and unseen  

  

  

For you know


I can take you wherever you want to go


And you know deep inside  

What is to come  

  

You have been caught spiritually  

  

To never again run


But to sink slowly in new rivers of  

Molten gold  

  

A new unexplored world  

To review  

  

In treasures of just you and me


Priceless memories  

  

To ignite your soul  

Whenever you feel cold...


(C)  

Copyright John Duffy


Image shared from Pinterest under fair usage policy.

Wednesday, August 17, 2022

Theda Bara. Speaks from Purgatio.

 

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(A lone voice whispers)



Alone in here 

In the Great In-Between


Standing unseen

In the shadow-filled darkness


I love caressing the soft fingertips of Mother Twilight


As she passes her unrequited lover

Father Daylight as he retreats


Looking up like a two-dollar voyeur at her glorious open night sky


I always wonder why


Nobody now calls my name even though I've died


Am I forgotten like all the lonely dead


With only a blessed few 


Now only alive by those just blindly clinging onto their legacy and fame


Is that why I no longer see the bright lights from the shimmering door


For I'm now just another vampire stalking the living at night


Walking silently upon many well-worn floors


No longer loved or remembered 

But simply abandoned on Love's ruthless highways


Will you take me in

Say my name so I'm reborn


Free of sin


Help me stand straight and proud in this grey neverending storm


So I know deep down I'm not alone


I know you're reading this on your computer


Tablet or phone


Why can't somebody like you just love me

Be brave enough to set me free



My name is Theda Bara  

The First





 A true queen of the silent screen

Will you dream of me tonight


And in doing so


Invite me in to visit to sate my unquenchable thirst


(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

 





Sunday, August 14, 2022

The Servant's last words


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(A lone voice whispers)  



I once met my true love in Down Town LA


In 1987


By the Palace Theatre


A place she loved because she said she was there when it opened in 1911


To watch the third home of the Orpheum Vaudeville


Come alive with all sorts of wild entertainers  



When my soul called out for it needed her


While at some rich place in Bunkers Hills  



After watching the Lakers  



And now every 15 years


She still all appears even though she still goes to meet new takers


And every night when she chooses to suddenly appear  

  



To the chosen few like me  

  



Stories abound in darkened rooms online and secret circles


Called The Hidden See  



That causes all her restless slaves  

  



To try to raise their weary heads from their feathered pillowed pews  

  



Enchanted beyond all belief  

  



Pleading telepathically to climax and find some sort of mental release as her new or old muse  

  



Praying she'll she stand over their ramshackled lonely beds  

  



For she's deceptively beautiful as every single spoken or written human rhyme  

  



Some paint tapestries of her beauty through any worthy words they could find  



Secret ones uttered down through the Ages  

  



Clever Poets  

Mystics and so many unknown Mages  

  



Some speak of long leather-clad legs  

  



All men cry to touch and pray inwardly to caress  

  



Ravish me red lips  

  



Women say they forever daydream to just taste  

  



Emerald eyes they all speak of  

  



Orbs to invade and conquer your eternal soul  

  



Until the very end  

  



Whenever it's time for your human life to be laid to waste  

  



Has she entered your room and watched you sleep  

  



As your soul wandered its many inner spaces


And unspoken keeps  

  



Her name  

You may ask  

  



Well, her occult name is simply **Rèn nan vle**


**The Queen of Want**  



For we all deep down crave something  

  



Be it fame


Power  

Money


Friendship or even Love  

  



Amongst many others  

  



And only our occult Mother called Want can guide us to provide  



Or so she said  

Over the years  

  



Regardless of the price of wet tears


It will cost us in the long run  

  



As we struggle to survive while she still lives


Lingers and thrives  

  



Feeding off our inner suffering  

  



As we sustain and strengthen her


With our foolish needs and self-defeating lies  



That in the middle of any given night can always make us cry


As our mortal time flies  



I send this out as I await her return


Sitting and drinking in the rain


For I don't think I'll make our fifth anniversary at The Palace Theatre


For the doctors say I'm too ill to leave my home in Beverly Hills  



Years of need and greed have given me a disease  



Now my time is short and my message to you


Be careful what you wish for


For Rèn nan vle could appear to open new doors


To old lands of want and greed  



And if she comes tonight to see me in my room


My only want  

My only need will be


To sink slowly to sleep and wake up new by the Silver City


Somewhere by its blue seas


Where the mythical pink and green flowers bloom  


Free of this life-changing disease



(C)  

Copyright John Duffy



Saturday, August 13, 2022

Are you one of The Ficta Crew

 


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(A lone voice whispers)



In the graveyard shift


Do you

The old or new hands


Young or even older poets or writers 

Songwriters 

Singers

Lyricists or filmmakers


Seek and use profound delicate words like a mage or sorcerer 


A blessed mystical physician


Who carefully merges consonants and vowels 


With an invincible wand


With soul bringing satisfaction 


Like the proud leader of a Sunday morning marching band 


Or one that forms intense bridges to happiness that must be metaphysically crossed


To escape from fatal feelings filled with juxtapositions 


To help the lonely souls reading or listening 

But all watching 


To find a plateau to distract themselves from the sounds of the ever-ravenous world 


While the rising Wolf Moon and Suen 

The Sun 

Smile in hunger and watches 


Transfixed


As Father Times 

Runes and magical symbols


Trapped with its minutes and seconds 

Burns


Like Raidho




The rune of travel

Rhythm and ritual action

An integration of all aspects of the soul


A literal journey to another place that can help other spirits grow



Slowing down the ceremonious absorption by hidden vampire entities


As they seek spiritual essences to be endlessly consumed



Are all like you 



Just the true kings and queens of the ancient art of the Latin world called


Ficta


When they choose to use it 


Which swirls in the Universes fast flowing flux


Translated for the Uninitiated

As


Make Believe 


Because they're so skilled at making things up without a fuss



That can sometimes bring solace and comfort to those 


Who needs something emotional to help carry them through the low hours


And change their mood by its connective emotional power



Especially at dawn

Midnight or dusk


When old painful sensations can suddenly bloom like an irremovable wound


Beginning in any unwanted morning or afternoon


From heartbreak

Grief 

Lost love

And silent yearnings


So are you one of The Universal Ficta crew


Those extraordinary souls who bring a burning glossy torch


Lit with incredible connective words


To create a raging maelstrom

A holy conjunction


To help those who need solace


To guide them through a depressing or desolate night


Wherever they are


As the four winds blow


Filled with golden and silver visceral invisible kingdoms conjured


And summoned

Through the magical transforming spell called Ficta



To help them heal and face this realm of many challenges and characters as they try to renew


I can only pray and hope you carry that torch


Everywhere you go before you turn to grey dust


Until next time

Your friend on the blue bridge of hope and creativity


Hiding in the Great In-Between

Waiting to see what you produce


Your eternal friend who you may call Benedictus


(C)

Copyright John Duffy



Friday, August 12, 2022

The Strict Mistress from the House of Books

  


I had a rather intriguing conversation today, 

about the power of seduction through words. 


It's a tad risque.


"Seduce my mind and you can have my body,

find my soul and I’m yours forever."


I created this piece as I mused the above when a familiar voice appeared. 


Press play and let the emotional music wash over you as you read. 

Salute.

The Strict Mistress from the House of Books


(A lone voice whispers)


Within these conjured hypnotic words

Lies my secret binding spell



To you 

Control and contain 

No matter how loud you shout or yell



To attach you to me forever or temporarily 

With lashings of lascivious dark stories


As your soul salivates in total submissive anticipation and slowly starts to weep



Let me devour your curious mind like a cavernous thief

and take you to new heights of wild unconditional excitement


As your higher self suddenly

Wakes from its repetitive mundane sleep


Let me take you so damn

Deep


To new apocalyptic wet shores 

Through exchanges of whispered hirquitalliency

Of unexplored crimson heat



And let my hidden fingertips 


Trace pagan pictures of intimate lambitions and reunions

Across that succulent exposed spine in your mind 


Give me all those deep 

pamphagous thoughts


You keep bajulated

under strict locks and keys


That no one sees

Forever confined 




For landscapes or should I say mindscapes 


Filled with such visceral enticing written words

Brings forth such irrational coercive armies 


Heralding banners of such a hypnotic binding power

Just awaiting to liberate minds in the low hours


Those willing to sacrifice everything they once knew



To then be gently or vigorously 

deflowered


As they use aroused imaginations

To explore new verbs

Or sentences 


Appearing like S & M

Mistresses or Masters 


Right out of the blue



Will you pray for us to embrace 

As these soft words upon your mind's delicious lips 

Are gracefully worshipped



As you've now been duly baptised throughout this


Our soul's reintroduction 


As your hypothalamus is stimulated by black and white


Ethereal leather whip


 (C)

Copyright John Duffy 



Thursday, August 11, 2022

The Monologue of Peter

 

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(A lone voice whispers)  



Like a common pale beach stone

I stand alone watching eternity's ever-rolling seas  

.  

On one of its relentless sea shores  



As God reaches down to teach my eternal soul


With new experiences before I'm buried 6 feet under the dark soil


Some good  

Some bad  



With a few good people, I've known


A few I've loved  

A few I've hated


A few beyond my reach but still my soul beseeches to preach whilst on patrol


And like a stone


I like now being alone for my last jaunt with Life lessons still hurt


My heart got broken and now lays bleeding in this now red dirt


She came in so darn fast  

Like a dervish whirlwind


Kissed and confessed she loved me


As we shared a moment in time where she promised she'd never leave


And our love would last


But that life lesson taught me wild oaths made in the low hours


Proclamations of fidelity


Loyalty and hope should be taken with a pinch of salt


For the Dominion, we can't see  

A part of the Occult


The Principality who watches all things alongside the Lord


A dark raw power


Will do all it can to crush your dreams and leave them dying like autumn leaves


In the Universes dust


If in a higher power you no longer trust


So like a beach stone


I stand on the edges of time and watch out for the Principalities minions


Cult members of The Dominion


As my heart heals and prepares for another of lifes lessons


When God once again  

Starts to teach  

  



A new type of soul purging but this time around


Now I have better experience  

I'll pray harder that I've found a similar stone on lifes beach


A watcher of the high seas just like me



So we can both be joyous for all eyes

Good or evil


To see


(C) Copyright John Duffy

The Call to Sophia

l

 Press play before reading. Salute.



(A lone voice whispers)


 

Is it nearly midnight

My beloved Sophia

Where you are

And are those invisible tears still falling again


As you dream of me


Is it supernaturally quiet
and do the streets beneath your darkened bedroom windows


Run riot as all sinister-looking shadows stand upright

Naked and bare

Does the scent of a new escape from an old oblivion

Follow you everywhere like an expensive perfume

A newly conjured Heaven above an old distorted Hell


A welcoming warm haven to lurk within
Lost like Theseus its long sensuous green grass


To hide within its long shadows

Except for the beating
Of your soft heart


And the vibrations of your slow breathing as you hear this spoken within your mind

By that silent reading voice you carry that no one else could ever find

Can you hear any other sounds like the heartbreaking lone wolf cry from the mythical Misty Mountains


For I have seen you in conjured visions dreaming of me



Felt your beating heart with my soft Astral palm as you lay sleeping and tasted the soft lush sounds of your slow breathing


Again and again

As you deep dream of the forbidden


Where those wild untameable horses of unseen obsessions and precious yearnings
Are ridden

Do you just crave a sweet taste of my red wine
Your delicious lips upon mine

So I can them whisper your secret name to the four passing winds and claim you as mine


Will you promise to give me all I need
With our time together

I sometimes dream of the sweet visceral taste of you


Knowing it will linger like divine-tasting honey
And my mind


Will cry out in elation

So Mon Cheri

In the deep realms
Of Morpheus The Greek's deep sleep

Will you wait inside those wrought iron old gates
In those so real lucid United Nations

For if you do


I will rush to you
Like The Count of Monte Cristo


Through all the falling raindrops


Caress you without fear before all who stops to see

Touch you wantonly so you will never leave
For it’s what I believe when I close my eyes

As I see you sleeping beyond the sacred old ruins of Gilgamesh

Beyond the grey skies of Emersha Amu

I just can't see you


With my eyes open
Only when dutifully closed in Neverland

It's there I can truly worship you


As I travel to warm your soul with my inner reverence


Touch you spiritually
As you too caress me unconsciously

For I need you
Like a moth bows to a flame


Like all living beings
Need a name

I am weak for you
My Goddess Sophia

My eternal wisdom in this overgrowing darkness

In the Twenty-First Century


Let me drown forever
To be lost and spinning tempestuously in your deep pools

Hypnotized forever within your dark eyes


As I stumble
From the stroke of midnight to early sunrise

Let me feel every drop of your pain
As I purge them away with my own cleansing rain

For I am your own rain
For this purging rain has always been foretold

It has just lain with the old Crone in the deepest ancient unvisited woods


Waiting for the right moments to awake as we are finally ready

When we are old

This I was told on my last visit


So now listen as my astral eyes glisten


Do you hear that outside
That lone wolf cry from somewhere mysterious

It’s me just calling

For I can see you in my silver scrying mirror

Any time
Any place
In the middle of the day or night

Beseeching or taunting


Or just teasing with dark promises of unknown deep pleasures

Do not be afraid
Shy or inhibited

Our ancient souls know
No set boundaries or red tape

No entrenched laws or written law-abiding treaties

No known teachings

For we are but two of the untameable
Blessed to be indomitable and wild

For we are truly free my child


You now know how to access my realms of In-Between

You now know where to go


Where I’ll meet you by those wrought iron old gates

This is the great underground stream
A sacred secret no one else knows even when they deep dream

And we’ll meet there ecstatically
Like the Blameless who are but truly pure

To then lay under the indigo umbrella in the falling pink rain

To love with abandon in those new lands filled with no more pain

But tonight is but a long way away


Do you too want to go beyond those wrought old iron gates to play

To lay blissfully under that indigo umbrella and get totally soaking wet

To French kiss in deepest desires
To relight old fires and relight old pyres

If only I could carry your hand from that world into mine


But it only makes it sweeter
Only makes it more cherished

For these delicious exchanges whilst we are apart


Are just our living masterpieces using written metaphors as our communication


As our refound old art

Your heart may still be ravenous
Your mouth still parched


Your arms may be empty and forever still
Reaching

But my Goddess Sophia


I'll soon have you to myself every night in those mysterious dark swirling isles

So high above

An old place above a new place


All you have to do is walk through those wrought iron old astral gates

Into those lands where we will just lay
Underneath that indigo umbrella

Where it always always
Still rains just
Love

(C)

Copyright John Duffy


Memories