To my readers

 

(A lone voice whispers)

Some whisper and will

In secret occult circles 

About these last days of 2022

That 

Humanity will fall in unruly petulant desire

Consumed 

and devoured by a blazing infectious fire 

But what happens to you and I

Your mind and mine 

Do you still shiver 

inwardly 

at the vibrational thoughts 

of my words 

Do they bind you

Submissively 

To always return 

Doomed forever 

To hovering above 

my prose 

That screams to be heard

With wide eager eyes

Like a love-struck 

Hummingbird 

Do you still tremble 

like when we first met 

Wanting the warm caress 

of loquacious re-introductions

Of new verbs 

Opening mystical 

Golden gates to new 

Poetic realms

And their 

guile to bind us together 

Like love-struck siamese twins

Creating welcomed sins 

Of dried sweat 

and sweet tributaries 

of deep-seated 

spiritual yearnings 

That makes your mind 

so dam wet 

Tales of the supernatural 

Light and darkness 

Filled with movement or stillness

Sovereignty or loneliness 

New flames 

of innermost desires

Contained 

in unspeakable 

words or unfamiliar names 

As our Zisurru

Poetic stories to be set asunder 

In the footfalls 

of Zeus's approaching 

apocalyptic thunder 

To burn new Hurricane lanterns 

in Imaginations darkened 

Halls of Fame 

To live in the hope 

Of a new life

An everlasting dance

With a drop of a wild transmigration 

 

As our new Nexus 

To savor in your mouth

Like an intense-tasting holy communion wine

A strong touch of such wantonness  

Your 

Voracious soul needs 

To carry to all empires 

You may visit 

In the North 

East

West or South 

As it swallows new 

Stories with ravenous greed

Will we survive 

Still together in 2023

With such

Intellectual thoughts

You might still whisper 

and silently ask 

You and me 

Does 

Will it last

Echo in 

Dreams whilst waiting

For the midnight call on 

New Year's Eve 

When we 

Sing pagan songs of 

King Solomon 

As we fight back 

the encroaching darkness 

With shining 

drunk Astral eyes 

as our Athame

Our sacrificial knife 

Inwardly praying 

to always believe 

Under the sharp eyes 

of the Winters Midnight Sun 

Which for so many lost souls 

We know 

She will still shine 

ever brighter 

As she quietly watches 

and grieves 

As they collect 

their angel wings as they leave

Who knows my child 

Everlasting hope and

Peace could arrive as one

So we could conquer this new normal and continue to rise

Or it could all go wild

And turn into a new dark nuclear history 

Where dreams and people 

Are consumed and defiled 

As good and evil 

Battle for victory

And apart 

we may have to survive 

On mean streets 

As quantum tattooed vaccinated

slaves or unvaccinated exiles 

In a New World Order

Called a

Fool's Paradise 

Without

Any known borders 

But either way 

know this

May your spirit guides 

Lead you 

to continued health and safety 

Across all fast-flowing political wars 

Waters

Famine or disorders

So in 2023 

We can share our much loved

algorithms 

In all our holy quarters 

So mote be it 

What will be 

Will be

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Image courtesy of Pinterest.

The Preachers Story

  

(A lone voice whispers) 

 

Teacher
 

Can you help me

For there's still a magical circle 

I wish to find 
 

Said the lonely old Preacher 

to his mentor 

Old Father Time 
 

As they both stood looking 

at history's many 

intersecting blue lines 
 

Teacher 

It's a place where my true love 

resides 

In a my own time loop called 

Once in a Lifetime 
 

I once read about this 

magic circle 

a thousand years ago 
 

Before I was recalled 

when you rang my Golden Bell 

and it chimed 
 

And I dearly wish to find it 

through all the mazes 

of all my old lifes puzzles 

and paradigms 

And I now know 

after opening so many old books 
 

The ultimate secret I've found is 
 

You have to truly encourage 

your heart and soul 

To embrace its magnetic flow 
 

And some say 

You have to be willing to sacrifice 

everything you once chased 

Materialism

Wealth 

And some say all who you once 

used to follow and the Great Hunt 

You used to race in and 

give up all control 

 

 
 

Sometimes O' Father Time 

as the seconds no longer roll 

 
 

When I look back 

over thousands of years 

at my chance of 

Once in a Lifetime 
 

I can still remember 

I came so close 

to the greatest of finds 

 
 

And that in itself is my penance 

and one of my many 

mortal crimes 

 
 

For I too once knew a 

wonderful soul 
 

My own version 

of the 

Beautiful Red Rose of Jericho 
 

She was so beautiful

Graceful 

and as gentle as 

falling snow 

 
 

But like all things 

that came to pass 
 

I lost my way 

in the grip of the seductive 

shadowy abyss 
 

And never got to feel 

her sweet gentle touch 

or soft velvety kiss 
 

But now I'm a part of you, 

O Father Time 
 

And as I look back 

taking up your 

so very long reach 

 
 

Using your 

supernatural telescopes 

 
 

To look at old hopes 

and dearly once-loved folks 
 

I can still see her waiting, 

sitting there patiently reading 

 
 

Fluctuating heartbroken 

throughout your many 

blue distinct intersecting 

time frequencies 

Streams 
 

Thinking about the one, 

she always dreamed about 

and so wanted to love and teach 
 

But who was suddenly 

snatched by death 

beyond her reach 
 

The book she's always holding 

and reading 
 

When I zoom in 
 

Is a collection of her own poetic 

sad words linked 

together tragically 
 

To broken stories of her life 

of waiting 

Lost

Standing alone 

On the outer edges 

of a now-grey world 

 
 

Now all that once 

cherished color and light 

Smiles and laughter 

have flown away like a 

Starling and now live in here 

The Great Hereafter 
 

I always see her regaling 

her only thought 

 
 

That I would arrive like a hero 

 
 

Riding into her life 

from the Ether of time 
 

And fill her life with magical 

moments 

of such soul-changing happiness 

and glory 

That so many people 

would be so surprised 

and beguiled at our new story 
 

But as I still sadly see her 

from in here 

Hiding and crying at midnight 

Using your Scrying Mirrors 
 

In this Dark Tower 

which connects all things 

and places 
 

Lost in one of history's 

many bands of low resistance 

To a familiar place 

flooded with no new 

and old sinners 

 
 

Where I can only pray 

to sit with her 

For it's the only place 

one day I plead I might reach 

 

 
 

When I have paid my dues to you

To then go back through time 

 
 

To then appear out of the 

fluctuating blue Ether 

 
 
 

To wipe away all her soft wet tears 
Maybe then 

In that spiritual moment 

We can both be happy to clasp our 

**Once in a Lifetime** 

 

To then walk upon 

the soft yellow sands 

And smell the life-changing winds 

Blowing across that 

circle's secret beaches 

 
 

And then in the realization 

of that long-lost dream 
 

We may both just smile 
 

As we finally fade into 

just being another part 

of your secret anthologies 

of love stories 

 
 

Is it true

Teacher 

That to find inner peace 
Love and divine glory 

To know what that real devotion 

can bring and what it looks like 
 

Do you have to know 

what to give 

And how to fight to reach it 
 

And is that one 

of the many secrets 

To what a true love story is

 
 

(C)

Copyright 
John Duffy 

Image shared from Pinterest. Fair usage policy applies.

Egyptian Dreams

 

Egyptian Dreams

I first caught sight of true love 

In The Valley of The Kings

Where the land water was tainted

Following her crimson and gold

Diamond studded  

Scarf

With my new road map

And saw the spot where she waited

By the Niles shore  

In the form

Of the gift from the gods

To steal my heart

And infuse herself into its molten core  

(C)  

Copyright John Duffy

Image courtesy of Pinterest.

The Covid Widow's Monologue

 Press play before reading. Salute.

Like an old wounded soul

Returning from waging 

a spiritual war 

in my own never-ending 

version of Armageddon

In the mythical 

middle East 

Where I eventually subjugated 

and slaughtered 

my own inner fears 

Which paraded around 

like a crimson-red beast 

I saw you again 

my kin 

like a surreal beautiful nightingale

In a deep incredible dream 

Slowly looking my way 

in the bustling crowds 

In the Great In-Between 

With such exquisite 

dark extraordinayy eyes

Such climactic things 

I'll reflect upon 

Until that final expedition home

That preordained 

mournful day 

When I'll finally whisper 

and softly say

Goodbye Mother Earth 

And willingly collapse 

to eventually die

We were once 

completely heartbroken 

outsiders 

Lost on life's so 

complicated unexplored 

wild roads 

Just stuck on it's 

sad ever-moving fast trains

Seemingly permanently 

riding around in 

revisited tragic circles 

In life's never-ending 

falling rain

But with that memory 

Of that one glance, 

within that one look 

I took by chance, 

I knew then why I was 

continually hooked

We had surreptitiously 

found a new hidden hand 

signal 

To an underground realm

Where we trafficked emotions 

mysteriously 

And no longer felt lonely 

or tainted

Emotions 

to help us stop walking 

through life feeling 

Jaded  

like one of the painted

condemned

It must have been fate 

or divine Gods 

using synchronicity to be kind

For when I saw you 

I finally remembered 

a long-lost memory 

That floated up to that 

undulating cerebral cortex

Within my mind

A vision that we were 

married together 

in another time 

Forever deemed 

to be just happy 

in another lifetime

But sometimes this version

Of life doesn't play fair 

and I again 

Have to kneel 

and blow you 

a soft tender kiss

Put some beautiful red roses 

on your much-beloved grave 

As I remember 

all those fateful mistakes 

I once unfortunately made

And as I return 

from fighting my anxiety

Drinking Southern Comfort 

to drown out the stress 

On my nightly crusades

I know you'll return 

to love me once more 

wherever you are 

No matter how far

For we'll be both soon reborn 

Because this universe 

was told to baptize us 

to never be apart 

And who am I 

to judge the great Almighty 

The true King of the Graveyard 

Who holds all those sacred 

secrets 

Of the heart?

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

My muse. The angel called Calliope.

 

Press play before you read. Salute.

Shall we begin?

Amongst the murky misty 

encroaching images

A surreal scene 

the creators of Casablanca 

Would have been proud 

to call their very own

My new muse

An angel called Calliope 

Wandered and appeared 

walking like a real siren

Straight into my view 

Wearing a stunning 

fashionista's white dress 

She appeared 

right out of the blue 

Bent 

and with tasty red sweet lips

French kissed me 

back into life 

Watched by cautious eyes

Who had sent her 

to help me get through

Dwellers 

Ancestors and spirit guides 

Who stood hidden 

in the crescent glow 

of the Full Strawberry Moon 

Which hung high 

in the purple-hued sky 

Like an unearthly tribute 

to mortal pain 

Where all those suffering 

Made her a seat 

and bade her 

Welcome into their 

bedroom 

And in the falling night rain

I now seem to reach out 

earnestly to crave her soft touch 

As those old emotions 

of being alone 

Systematically kneel 

Submitting 

to be slain

My Calliope 

came gliding in 

Majestically last June 

Riding on the backs 

of handwritten spiritual  

 messages

Exchanged through eternal 

friends 

one glorious day 

As they discussed my story 

and all it's many open 

and well-known wounds

Notes that said I was available 

Now I've found freedom 

from old sacred vows 

of fidelity

Once spoken 

In hushed verses 

which someone else 

had recently foolishly broken

We now stand firmly 

upright 

Whenever we meet

In straight lines 

In new lands of holding 

hands whilst we're walking

Enjoying talking 

and telling each other 

funny stories 

Like meeting each other 

was foretold to be our calling

At this very moment 

as I sit here 

By the attic window 

by this old Riverside Cafe 

In the Parisian winter cold

Looking out in quiet confinement 

and contemplating how my once sad life

Suddenly turned to gold

I still in these quiet moments 

of soul-searching reflection

Embrace my newly found 

harmonious serendipity 

And all these treasured moments 

and intimate reunions

Where two newly introduced souls 

with such effortless proclivity  

Merge together 

as if guided by a strange sense of 

supernatural compatibility

Was I carefully scrutinized 

by those Hidden Watchers 

I sometimes wonder 

Angels

Who stand on blue milk crates 

in those black unknown voids

Fluctuating between time and space

Trying to find ingenious strategies 

and heavenly constructs 

to illuminate

I hope 

my much cherished 

and treasured face

Who knows 

but now I've found a compatible 

world

A fascinating realm 

replenished endlessly 

with laughter

Celebrated and baptized 

at midnight by soft wanton lips

Which collide together so passionately

Forever I hope in close proximity

I may never know all the answers 

but in scripture 

Song of Solomon says

Set me as a seal upon your heart, 

as a seal upon your arm, 

for love is strong as death, 

jealousy is fierce as the grave. 

Its flashes are flashes of fire, 

the very flame of the Lord. 

Many waters cannot quench love, 

neither can floods drown it. 

Oh, how now it matters 

for while I used to be sinking slowly 

but surely

In those former dark ominous depths 

like a twisted scene 

out of Twin Peaks 

Sitting drunk and in love 

with shrewd old Mother Gin 

and her kin 

Brother Depression 

and her twin sister

Madame Anxiety

All rebellious juveniles 

of the dark angel 

of which I will not speak 

Beneath all those whispering 

entities 

bringing worldly self-ruminating 

illuminations

Are we as human beings 

simply all the foolish choices 

we make in the low junctures 

revealing themselves to us 

before dawn

The Witching Hour

When we are weak and spiritually 

weary 

Forgetting our true selves 

and God-given powers

For I now know 

with the courage to call forth 

the light 

Love does call to us all

Even the self-righteous 

or the frightened 

If we can be brave enough 

to open up to embrace 

and welcome those who 

Watch 

and their games of Astral Chess 

as we open up our souls 

to confess

We must I suppose 

after talking to some of Father Times' 

much-admired guests 

and his many mistresses 

As I walk this life and 

greet so many of its new 

witnesses 

Always try to find the strength 

to overcome all that hides 

scurrying in the darkness 

of your mind  

 

Fighting for your attention

Just casually waiting  

until the moments right 

to maximize your depression

But still beyond this cosmic 

ever-swirling dust of reflection 

as I still breathe

As my heart beats slower 

each day as it now begs and pleads

Whenever I think of her 

my new muse 

Calliope

My soul's only intimate secret 

in a corrupted society 

who holds in her soft delicate hands

All my beating 

Red Churches keys 

Here in this present moment 

as each joyous new day 

breaks upon the upcoming horizons

Within my mind 

as I take a deep breath 

and abruptly awake from contemplation 

In this silence 

I still crave her pure voice 

and a little bit of her warm touch

For I know deep down 

as my soul for her yells

It will always be forever

For we have gone through a lifetime 

in such a short while

Ran through intense miles of pain 

and endured and conquered 

too much

And it's now why I live in hope 

as if caught living under a spell 

as I clutch and ring this 

metaphorical doorbell 

To be welcomed 

as just another kindred guest at 

The SoulMate Hotel  

Well thanks for reading but before I go

Always remember to ask for help because you never know who's watching 

Sending love and light and always try to 

Look after yourself

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Image courtesy of Pinterest. 

The Last Words of Atticus

  

Press play before reading.

Salute.

(A lone voice whispers)

Now my life's great party 

is over and this Black Hole  

 

I now live within 

Ruled over by Father Sin  

Which just loves to breathe 

me in and out 

Like the silver flutes once did 

When I used to walk by 

and watch the marching Bands 

of Manhattan play 

Smiling 

as the Majorettes 

twirled their shiny batons 

High in the sky

Oh, what I wouldn't give 

in this loud sound of silence

  

To quieten this startling pain 

that still hurts the most  

Even though 

I'm now just another 

lonely ghost

My cherished memories 

Of you 

Will always be my 

Immortal key 

Home

As I wait in here 

to atone

 

I used to pray 

that I'd wake up free 

from this asylum 

In the warm arms 

of my beloved 

but now lost Angel 

But no matter 

how hard the memories 

or even how painful 

 I'll keep it 

as a happy place 

Filled with all her love 

and photographs 

So, I'll just wait here 

In a hidden place 

found on no handwritten 

or drawn maps 

 

Somewhere 

Lost 

As I flutter 

my white flag of defeat  

In the cold and hot heat 

of The Great In-Between 

 

Lingering 

by these bright lights 

like I was 

walking on the Moon 

Kicking up broken 

white stones 

 

Singing sad songs 

for the hordes 

Standing 

in the creepy shadows 

On these mean streets

Watching me crying 

like a wounded King 

 

Come Back   

Don't fear us 

you won't fall 

They all chant 

as the Golden Bell rings 

 

The Crying Game 

needs feeding 

The eleven-inch nails 

need pulling out 

to stop the bleeding 

 

Stay with us 

The Nameless Things   

We who whisper and sing 

in the Dark 

all around you 

 

But all by myself 

I'll try to stay alive 

Somehow 

 

 They can keep their 

Poison and Red Wine 

Their Civil Wars 

Where even gravity falls 

 

Either way 

Here is my lone call 

 

You'll always be my reason  

My every time  

My light in this dark 

No matter the seasons 

For all my rivers of memories 

and worn-out road maps

Interweaved 

in my heavy head 

and embedded 

in my weary heart 

Always lead me 

Riding in paper boats

Back to you 

 In this mad mad world 

Even though now everything 

has fallen apart 

Just like us two

A pair of Father Times 

many heartbroken 

sweethearts

Mon seul espoir dans un monde sombre 

 (My only hope in a dark world)

 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Image courtesy of Pinterest.

The Angels Voice

 

A whisper I once heard, talking to me in a deep dream. In the low hours.

++++++++++++++++++++++

We who have lived 

and walked for more 

than a thousand years 

Invisible amongst you all 

The ever-growing 

and changing masses

Have heard and tried to answer 

so many heartfelt prayers 

as we were called 

Invocations spoken 

in the long shadows 

When pain

Suffering 

Emotional anguish 

Or grief suddenly strikes 

And convinced many 

to try to stay the course 

And be part of living 

this lifes wonderful dream

Whenever they felt doubtful 

As things seemed 

to fall apart at the seams

To always remember

No matter how magnetic 

The seductive pull 

of dark temptations

How green their own grass is 

whilst they still live 

And have so much more 

which to share and give 

We've held soft and 

hard-working hands

Of the rich or poor 

Consoled the young 

and old and tried to comfort

So many crying silently 

In the painful 

mazes of their own darkness 

Its unspoken number 

is truly unfathomable

We've appeared in many forms 

before so many others

In the dark and cold 

Sent by the Almighty on High 

To try to nurture 

and encourage those who cry

Endowing them 

with a higher power 

to always find the strength 

and courage 

In rekindling their inner flame 

Once lit so long ago 

by a sacred candle 

As we first heard 

and learnt their soul's 

secret name

To stand up strong and 

be willing and able

For we're indomitable

Angels 

sent to bring hope 

to the inconsolable

Bringers 

of so much inner peace 

For God is our strength 

and ministry 

One that speaks of 

everlasting mercy and promise

No matter how dark your worlds

Many changing political landscapes 

or forests 

My favourite name is 

Archangel Gabriel

And 

If you find one of my 

billions of white feathers 

That I sometimes leave

Especially 

for those heartbroken souls 

who in these sad times

Linked to Covid  

Grieve 

And need to once again 

Be encouraged to believe 

That their beloved 

is in a better place 

So 

As you live through your limited 

mortal life

Just pick one up 

and keep it really close

For it will bring you peace 

and tranquillity

Throughout all those morose 

long cold winters 

or hot summer nights 

When you need a new belief 

or phenomenon

Whilst seeking to conquer 

or accept 

Your physical or 

mental vulnerabilities 

To help you carry on

(And then the voice faded.....)

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Image courtesy of Pinterest.

A Christmas Poem

In the silence of staring

At a beautiful red luxurious Christmas card 

Laying on their once well-loved king-size bed 

Then looking coldly ahead 
As she paused and slowly remembered

A true love
Who was once so caring 

But is now hidden amongst the many sleeping dead 

With inscribed headboards made out of marble and stone 

In the cemetery 
Downtown

Laying forever with a bouquet of white Lillies 

For company 

On his own 
All alone

And as she stared longingly out of that open window 

Thinking 

Where do the dead possibly go

And to what Kingdom

A sudden gust of wind from her backyard
Blew a white feather 

Onto that card 

Catching her off guard
And reminding her 

The world and all its joys which were once theirs 

Which now feels so bitterly hard and unfair

Those incredible smiling ones
Tied together with a golden bow of fun 

Before came that card on their bed

All the way from Barcelona in Spain 

The one sent 
With the rising of the sun

But now filled with pain 
Before he flew 

In it said 
Written in gold and blue 

Happy Christmas
To you

My beautiful boo
And see you soon

Get that tree up so snow and happiness can reign
Xxx

But he never arrived 
He never came 

Instead
He died in a car crash at sunrise 

But worry not 
This is just a piece of fiction 

Just a poetic reminder 
That you never know your earthly time 

So take this as an open invitation 

Filled with a supernatural conviction 

Try to be happy before fatality breaks you up 

For the world’s not as pretty as it seems 

This Christmas

Celebrate it 
As if it's your last 

If you can

Try not to be like one of the lonely people

Baptized forever to sit staring 

By the cruel Gods of the Despairing

No more caring 
But bearing a heavy load

Perhaps like Scrooge 

Painfully pondering 
And always wondering 

How long
Will the pain they feel 

Linger and last 
As they live 

Cold

Like one of lifes
Lonely outcasts

(C)
Copyright John Duffy

Image courtesy of Pinterest.

If Life was a Senryū

I give you freely 

Relationships love and pain 

In any order 

(5,7,5)

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

Senryū is a Japanese form of short poetry similar to haiku in construction: 

three lines with 17 syllables. 

Line 1 has 5.

Line 2 has 7.

Line 3 has 5

Senryū tends to be about human emotions while haiku tend to be about nature, and senryū are often cynical or darkly humorous while haiku are more serious.

Image courtesy of Pinterest.

Questions for an inquisitive mind

 

Lost like Captain Briggs 

On the Mary Celeste

In the graveyard shift 

And 

Sailing into wild seas 

of crashing fast words 

With metaphors following our ship 

like relentless Seagulls 

or other scavengerous birds

Do we as poets or writers 

Seek out and use profound words

To help the sometimes lonely souls 

Reading even this

To find a plateau to distract themselves 

from the ever-ravenous world 

With our divine gift 

As they temporarily anchor 

their ships

Maybe a world filled with heartache 

Abuse 

Grief 

Depression 

Anxiety 

Or even sudden death

While the rising Wolf Moon smiles 

and watches 

As their time and spiritual essences 

are endlessly consumed

Are poets and writers 

like me or even you 

Just the true kings and queens 

of the art of 

Creatio Ex Nihilo

Because we're so skilled 

at making things up 

without little fuss 

To say hello 

So the readers know 

That they are not alone

With stories 

that can sometimes save 

and comfort those 

Who needs something emotional 

to help carry them 

through the low hours

And change their mood

Especially 

in the middle of the dawn 

or dusk 

When old emotions or pain 

Can suddenly bloom 

like an irremovable wound

Without a sound 

By all the Gods

Known to man

Praise be to the Universe 

For the answers to all 

Those monumental 

Questions 

Has always been 

Yes 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Image courtesy of Pinterest.