Madame Poetry. The ghost who who haunts me, speaks.

 Press play as you read.

Salute.

It’s 4 am and the Ghost who haunts me called, Madam Poetry, has been.

Salute.

(A lone voice whispers)

You

Yes you

The one I shall conjure into life

As my ancient heart burns

Like a magnificent volcano

You need no man-made laws

 

Remits or long-standing 

eulogies that bleed

Like Lilith’s old red rivers

To truly embrace me

For

You are all like the darkness 

Its worldly settlement 

When you choose to hate

It's dark visceral vicious 

Sludge

But when you emit love 

You are like soft

Echoes of reborn

Angels 

Made of blessed

Anointed gold

But Who are you all 

Individually 

To view and 

Demonise 

When you choose to 

Ignore compassion and instead 

Judge

For 

Some human emotions flow towards 

My huge imperial castles

Hidden in these mists

Floating above your life cycles mud

Built by my

Old master craftsmen 

Out of solid silver 

Before the Great Flood 

In the middle of my

Spiritual Sun

But for those 

Who gravitate still

Towards Hate

Their emotions flow 

To One of my fallen angels 

Dark Wormwood Star castles 

As with our ethereal 

Pact 

Of free will 

Such as all abide by 

Who are

Born into life

The freedom to 

Choose which path

Their existence runs

But

Do I not discover in you

Something so darn exquisite 

Within your 

Ever-watchful luminous 

Translucent eyes

Lost musings of 

Hidden strands

Of something 

Implored 

That all cling to

Like an old addiction 

They call euphoria

A subtle hint of something 

Mischievous 

Or 

Insidiously so glorious

A divine echo of a tantalizing

Coveted 

Heaven

Or a seductive shadowy 

Towpath 

To Baiels destructive Hell

But

Within all the flowering 

Cosmos 

You shall never stand alone

For my words will

Carry me to you in the four 

Winds

Through undisclosed caves and 

Magnificent green trees

Fast-flowing brooks and carried aloft and whispered in secret

Underground streams

Beyond 

Old Villages and newly built 

Metropolitan cities

And wherever you’ll be

To hold you tightly just 

Once again 

Where I’ll stand still 

Just invisible 

Spirituality drunk and forever drowning 

Entwining and 

Overflowing with sweet 

Divine sympathy

Is it but an ephemeral 

Omnipresent God's never-ending deep dream

To once again dutifully bathe

And welcome you eventually home with 

Wide open arms

For you to embrace me forever

 

Your blessed chosen celestial deity 

Who once gave you 

Through my first creations appearance

Adam and my beloved 

Eve

To always be open

To extending kindness 

Through 

One of my old gifts 

Simply called empathy as I silently pray

You never have to grieve

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

Exanimationes Incidamus

Press play.
 

Depression is such an unspoken subject; I thought I’d challenge my imagination to create a poetic piece.

Exanimationes Incidamus is simply Latin for Depression.

We’ve all sometimes walked that long winding road. 

Particularly now with looming World War III, people suddenly dying, covid actual facts.

Cost of living. And so on.

Things will get better though.

The light will prevail. 

Just keep praying and believing. 

Salute.

Have you had Cowboy Thoughts yet?

 If you're here, I reckon you have.

Press Play and always remember...you're beautiful.

Salute.

Narrated by the vocally talented Clinton R. Johnson.

Astral Travels

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The beloved do live in The Great In-Between.

A journey into the Astral Realms, where I met my beloved mother.

Narrated by the talented Clinton R. Johnson.

Visions of The Future

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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.

Covid Dreams

Press play before reading.

Salute.

(A lone voice whispers and sings)

We're one

Just one

Not sorry

Never sorry 

Never sorry 

They may try to push us away 

In a hurry

In a hurry 

With lies  

 Deceit 

And tall stories 

But don't worry

Don't worry

My love

For

It's too late

To ever going back 

To that old glory 

Old Glory

From here to Missouri 

Missouri 

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

For when you're

Lost and on a feathers edge

Feeling all alone and hopeless

No solid ground under your feet

As you sleep

Banish those demons in your head 

And think of me

Your soulmate in the dark

The lone Shadow 

Forever waiting  

In your most precious and treasured 

Memory keep

For

We're one

Just one

Not sorry

Never sorry 

Never sorry 

They may try to push us away 

In a hurry

In a hurry 

With lies  

 Deceit 

But don't worry

Don't worry

My love

For

It's too late

To ever go back 

To that old glory 

Old Glory

From here to Missouri 

Missouri 

For I'll always love you

For you're my life's greatest story

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

Foundation:

A lost soul mourning his only true love.

Who now lives in The Great In-Between.

Hakim. The Gatekeeper from Esagila.

 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.

The High Priest of Heliopolis, Speaks.

 (A lone voice whispers)

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.

Foundation of the piece:

Everything we love is born to die.

Have you heard them call?

(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?

Questions for 2023

 

(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?