My channeled impressions linked to the pandemic during 2021.
Seems things are going to change.
The paid-for news channels, not reporting the surging sudden deaths worldwide, will be exposed.
A march was recently reported outside BBC offices.
Be safe and be well.
Salute.
Narration by the so-talented, Clinton R. Johnson.
For even
Though
Lost in a new maze
Like a doomed Martian
Trying to survive
The Purple Covid Haze
in 2023
With majestic resistance
To strike against creeping
Extraterrestrial
Secret overlords
And their human-hypnotised
Political minions
And paid for influencers
Seeking total dominion
Like the Bureau of
Secretum Sigma Four
And all who answer
Their cunning knocks
Upon their Astral Doors
Armed with fistfuls of bribes
And soft seductive lies
When they suddenly appear
While conscious thought is
Sleeping
Those Dark Ones
Who exist outside of mankind's Scope of Existence
Only found hidden
In The Nag Hammadi Library
Defying their Lord Pascal
With a Wild West showdown
My own shootout at
My spiritual O.K. Corral
With subtle movements learnt
Reading banned books
Of The Council of Nine
I found you
Like a rare discovery at
The Gates of The Great Sphinx
My new holy mission
Into the Danger Zone
Before my lonely ship
Sinks and I return home
My original
Electric Schumann Resonance
To remind me
Into strange lands of Zion
And beyond
We all seek that most fragile of all things
Called Love
Because we're only human
Copyright John Duffy
Foundation:
A lost soul mourning his only true love.
Who now lives in The Great In-Between.
Press play before reading.
Salute.
Title:
Hakim. The Gatekeeper from Esagila.
(A lone voice whispers)
In ancient Babylon
I once stood alone and mixed fire
Iron and clay
All day
Creating a spell
To entice
My only light
To come my way
Sent merchandise of gold and silver
To her
The Pythoness of Endor
Hidden in dark woods
Over the deepest of rivers
Bundles of finest fresh linens and purple silk
To satisfy her and her ilk
Citron wood and every kind of object
I could ever find
Made of white ivory and black marble
Whenever I could
No matter the expense
Incense sticks
And scented Egyptian
Candlesticks
Made of expensive Frankincense
Delicious crates of red wine
Bamboo baskets filled with white flour and yellow wheat
Fields of fat cattle and herds of baying sheep
Priceless trained horses and golden inlaid chariots
New slaves of broken souls
Lascivious ladies and ravenous men
To do her bidding
Even acts of depravity
Linked to the forbidden
For the fruit of my soul
And to be joined to her again
A bright light
I once saw
On a seemingly endless night
But in the year 323
When my leader
Alexander the Great
At only 32
Died and was eternally set free
In the opulent palace of Nebuchadrezzar
She
The Lady of the Wild Woods
The Pythoness of Endor
Cursed me to chase her
Forever
The Queen
I once conjured by fire
Iron and clay
So today
In the 21st century
Her I still chase
Since eternal life
Is now my only penitentiary
My only great living version
Of Babylon of old
When I desired to sire
A queen I once met
Dancing
The Raqs Sharqi
So fiercely
That her raw beauty
I can never forget
Adorned in soft crimson and glittering purple linen
Clad in silver
Wearing gold and shining diamond stone earrings
Reborn into the likes of
Badiaa Masabni
It's why I still chase her
If I could confess
For underneath
Beneath all things linked
To trying to achieve immortal strength
It's why now
To seek her out
Once more
I always choose to break free
From the external grip
Of The Valley of Death
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Image courtesy of Pinterest.
(A lone voice whispers)
.gif)
Within divine insight
Within such spectacular magic
Whatever causes something so tragic
Within the darkest tributaries of your soul
That burns
Like a molten volcano
In every second and minute
Leaving such painful scars
As you quietly grieve
In the formulation of an internal fountain
Of cascading emotional memories
Falling like flashing stars
Good and bad
Always remember
That Love can be classed as a potent living curse
Because it's so insidiously melodramatic
For it has held
Princes
Princesses
Kings and Queens
And all of Life's seal-bearers
In-between
In total ruthless servitude
Even me
And probably you
So armed with this knowledge
Just know this
Loves an illusion
A construct and liar who never tires
A thief
Of visceral energies
Who'll never retire
For lost within that first soft kiss
Maybe from being a parent's new baby
Or even from a lover
Who likes men
Or leading ladies
You're just one of its many hostages
Held in tight bondage
By an invisible exchange of spiritual contracts
To his beloved sister
Called Grief
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Image courtesy of Pinterest.
.gif)
Foundation of the piece:
Everything we love is born to die.
(A lone voice whispers)
In my dying fire
At any given midnight
Or in their faint amber embers
In any particular silvery
Light of day
Right before the Blackbirds
Or Crows
Come out to play
They
The Night Rulers
Of such lucid empires
So dim but always so well lit
Those who stand patiently waiting
On my many unseen bayways
In strange mystical
Lands of such Contradiction
Dressed
For adventure or
Flight
Always
Smiling with
Shiny eyes
Looking my way
Dressed in black and white
To lure strangers
Like me
To their incredible bright places
To swim
Talk or slow walk
Carefree
Within dreams
Red Rivers
Hidden in the Great Fissure
Out of sight
Where the invited
Can then kneel and pray
When they're summoned
With these softly spoken lines
In Latin
Esto sicut servus
Donum in somniorum
et estote parati ad nos
Maiores et manes
Exspecto et
Stans
Ad flavum & rubeum litora
Magni Inter (L)
Come be like a slave
In our gift of dreams
And be ready for us
Ancestors and ghosts
Waiting and
Standing
On the yellow and red shores
Of The Great In-Between
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Image via Pinterest.
Theme:
I have recurring dreams quite often with strangers, I've never met.
And always wonder in quiet moments, when I'm awake ;
Are they standing waiting for me to dream?
(A lone voice whispers)
Deep state influencers
Pushing the narrative
Condemning so many
Is sudden death
The new normal
And are some of these
Charlatans and thieves
Humanities true
Enemies?
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
A piece related to the high rise in sudden deaths, worldwide, and the part influencers played in convincing people to receive one.
Did someone convince you?
(A lone voice whispers)
As a talented Meraki
Born with an incredible gift
Are you
But a mysterious seducer
Who tries to lift
The inquisitive minds of
Others
As you create emotional
Teasing bridges or
Captivating red doors
That need to be crossed
Or opened with your
Secretive sensitive keys
For the silently hidden
Readers
To follow
Willingly
Into your divine sacred
Hollow
Guided by your glowing
Weaving trails
Of enticing delicious vivid
Verbs
Into a familiar darkness
They sometimes need to
Visit
Even if they get lost
Before they lose their
Nerve
Or even swallowed
Whatever the cost
For even though
Some may call you
A charlatan
A new reborn King
Or Queen
Of somewhere
Totally
Cosmopolitan
A devious seducer of
Fragile minds
Who hold you upright in
CSF Fluid
Perhaps as sinners
Bringers
Even singers
Of so many lucid
Tragedies
Or sovereignties
That binds them
Within their
Seams
But are all your great
Epiphanies or epistles
From The Great In-Between
If they're translated
At their irreducible
Core
Can they be
Simply this
Live for any form of
Happiness
That you can ever find
And a loving muse
Who brings you such incredible
Bliss
As you try to guide them to
Paint touching emotional Pictures
Through creating
Lasting stories and
Legacies
Filled with sweet kisses
Music
Laughter or poetry
As your eternal fountain
And lyre
And to encourage them
To put them to good use
To never lament old age
As it tries to abuse their
Eternally youthful
Spiritual body
Once so beautiful
But still full of relentless
Fire
For their hearts may
Seem so heavy
And tired
In some sad moments
And they lose
All sight of the power
Of hope
To cope
Feeling raw emotions
Linked to grief
Love or serenity
Which suddenly appears like an Iceberg
Or gentle snowflake
As their peace burns
As it goes up
Each morning
As they wake
In swirling grey smoke
Like a sorrowful melody
But look me in these deep
Poetic eyes
And be lifted up in
Dawn’s rose-flushed arms
To truly live
To find the courage
To look into life’s deep ever Changing mirrors
And always remember
You have so much more
Mysteries
To still give
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Meraki
A Greek word meaning to do something with soul, creativity, or love; to put something of yourself in your work.
Epistle
A poem or other literary work in the form of a letter or series of letters.
Take this
As a now bearable parting gift
From someone who will always love you
The most
As we bid our last painful goodbyes
After renouncing
All known ties
And departing
Like two lonely unloved ghosts
Into life's
Slow moving mists
For
It's been a wonderful dream
But the dark god
Deimos
From The Great In-Between
Now let in
By emerald eyes
Hidden or seen
To slow shadow walk
Towards us
As we drift
Has gloriously
Destroyed us
Smiling
Wearing
A white Captain Bligh
shirt and
Old nineties
Faded
Levi's blue jeans
Grinning like a mad fool
In our slipstream
At the joy and wonder
Of all our frail emotional screams
Which creep in
In extreme
Sinful ways
As we fall apart
At the seams
In the fading lights
Each midnight
Or in so many dark secretive corners
Everyday
For our deep love
Like an abandoned
Nightingale
Has upped suddenly
And flown
Away
Once
In a vision
Or a divine play
I saw you
Lovingly
Looking my way
On Malibu Street
But now
Feeling cold and
Numb
Eating crumbs of
Defeat
Like an outcast
A leper
A reborn
Fletcher Christian
Sailing away
On a new mission
I beg you
Please look away
For even though
I'm broken in two
Constantly
Thinking of you
My sad heart
Will once more soar
Like Martial Eagle
In full flight
When true love
Eventually returns
And she knocks
Hard
On my tired hearts
Beating
Door
Pleading to be let in
But until then
Gossips
Racketeers
Gaslighters
And every incarnation of the known Devil
Hear my rebellious lions roar
As my soul
Stands so ready and majestically
Tall
Holding a golden sharp diamond-encrusted sword called Hope
Clutching a solid silver shield
With
Veniet Amor Cum Paratus Sum (L)
Inscribed on the front in gold
Love will come when I'm ready
To banish despair
Forevermore
For this pain and old memories are no longer civil
So here I stand
In pure spirit
On
Freedoms
Sandy
Yellow shores
As my higher self
Prepares
To go to war
To earn some more
Golden and red medals
For my old true love
Has walked right out of my life
And joy doesn't live here
Anymore
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Image courtesy of Pinterest.
Deimos /ˈdaɪmɒs is the personal god of dread and terror in Greek mythology
(A dark voice whispers)
We the dead
Envy you
The living
You know
Crying
Watching
Everywhere you go
From our new bedrooms
In quiet tombs
Underground
Worldwide
In this endless winters snow
Saying
Look at all those crazy fools
Suddenly dying
They'll all
Be coming here
Soon
To gather in our
Dark Black Watchers
Fields
With us
The new night breed
Turning slowly to
Pitiful dust
Filled with dry tears
And crying eyes
Endlessly
Whispering too
Why did we listen to paid-for lies
For when that bastard Covid Man
Comes a calling
With his shiny black medication bag
Filled with backhanded bribes
All living things
Filled with rarer than gold
Pure loosh and fear
Start
A falling
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Image courtesy of Lightmaster via Pinterest.
Shared under fair usage policy.
