The Visions of Sacco Vanzetti

 

(A lone voice whispers)

I've lit so many small fires

Inside this dark labirinto

Within my mind 

To push back the conception or creation 

Of deathly darkness 

By flickering light 

I've saw raw visions as wicked voices 

Draw sharpened claws 

To bleed the Black Mud 

They

The corrupted 

Bend to pray 

Kneel and love 

Before they go to war 

With crazy political applause

Saw countless coffins 

In lines of black and gold 

All shiny

Caused by sin 

Filled to brim 

As young and old 

Grave diggers 

Dug 

Saw roots of Chaos 

Toot 

In victory

As being sown 

Watched a new man 

Like Nero 

Sit on burning throne  

While ash and lava

Welcome him home 

 

Seas  

Boil from black to red 

With sweet embrace of the dead 

Heard battle songs 

Of false strengths and gory 

As I stood in circle 

Seeing new tapestries

Before me

Of an old story 

The greed of man 

Chasing 

Dark versions of Mary 

For a sip 

Of her black cherry 

Or whatever's 

In her inventory

But near when end 

Seems to run its course 

As people flee 

On foot

Or horse

I dreamed or saw

Angels appear 

With those we miss 

And love the most 

Standing side 

By side 

With Holy Ghost 

Whispering 

Fear not 

The Great Rot

But see this day 

And know 

Faith lives on 

For with prayer 

It's never gone 

And it's why the Dark 

Will always die 

And Light 

Will always 

Rise again 

For although they seek to corrupt 

The world of men 

With wicked plans 

They will not succeed 

For the love of power 

Corruption 

And greed 

Will be their undoing 

For it's in those gardens 

The Lord 

Your Lord

Regardless of Name

Has sown his 

Judgmental Seeds 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

Image used under fair usage policy via Pinterest.

Mirroring from the Abyss

An old book filled with such interesting voices.

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Salute.

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Mirroring from the Abyss: 

Do long deceased ghosts recite poetry in the spaces in-between? 

And so it begins with voices in the dark.

In the darkness of sleep, an angel called Poetry appeared. 

She whispered tales of how many would visit and pass on stories as I slept. 

She whispered I was simply a conduit from the Abyss and with a parting soft kiss, she disappeared and then the voices appeared. 

The following are all those whispers in the middle of the night, within a year or so, of those strange ethereal dreams. 

Where strange unknown visitors suddenly appeared within my lucid deep streams. 

Do long-deceased ghosts recite poetry in the spaces in-between? 

And so it begins with voices in the dark. 

As I sit lonely in my darkened room with my black Remington typewriter for company, in my mind’s eye a stage has appeared. 

All black save for a type of spotlight in the middle. 

A figure has appeared and stepped into view. 

Rugged, bearded and wearing a white shirt and a dark Mac with piercing blue eyes, he speaks. 

My name is William, John. 

Will you recite our stories to the world oh narrator from the lands of the living? 

Who am I to say no, I whisper and so it begins. 

William speaks, will you listen? 

If you were worth nothing or rich beyond compare 

I would still stand beside you and just try to love you 

If you were scared frightened or just weighed down with life and all its baggage 

I would gladly rush in to carry your burdens 

If you were mad or just simply sad 

I would quickly reach out with empathy overflowing with an electrifying passion 

to just embrace you in a hug of complete compassion 

If you needed some love and light in the middle of a lifetime 

I would just simply appear through inspired lines and prose to hold you tightly 

Simply to remind you 

All your feelings of guilt or pain are also mine 

If you needed anything profound beyond my care or abilities 

I would just try to simply love you 

For ours is but a silent union dear reader 

Free from physical excesses but entwined and spinning endlessly 

Lost in the spiritual cosmos beyond time and space 

Serenading our opened third eye 

As we ride over landscapes of blue and green 

Visiting newer realms unseen as two 

Shall we begin?

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Salute.

Mirroring from the Abyss

The Conversation

 

(A lone voice whispers)

Teacher

There's still a magical circle I wish to find

Said the lonely old Preacher to his mentor 

Father Time 

As they both stood looking at history's many 

Intersecting blue lines

It's a place where true love resides 

In a time loop called Once in a Lifetime 

I read about it a thousand years ago 

Before I was recalled when my Golden Bell chimed

And to find it through all of lifes puzzles and paradigms 

I now know after opening so many old books

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 and give up all self control

Sometimes O Father Time

When I look back over the thousands of years 

At my chance of 

Once in a Lifetime 

I can still remember I came so close 

And that in itself is a crime

For I too once knew a wonderful soul 

My own Red Rose of Jericho

She was so beautiful and as gentle as falling snow

But like all things that came to pass

I lost my way in the grip of the 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 the many distinct time frequencies 

Streams

Thinking and dreaming about the one 

She 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 

In broken stories of her life of waiting  

Lost 

On the outer edges of a grey world

Regaling her only thought 

That I would arrive like a hero 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 

But as I still 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 

Awashed with new and old sinners

I still know that is the only place one day I pray I might reach 

When I have paid my dues to you 

And after going back through time 

As I appear out of the fluctuating ether and blue

To wipe away all her soft wet tears

Maybe then 

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 realisation 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

For to find inner peace and divine glory  

To know what that real devotion can bring

You have to fight to reach it 

For that's one of the many secrets 

To what true love is

If you really want to live 

(C)

Copyright  

John Duffy

No claim to image.

 

The Island

 (A lone voice whispers)

Grief my friend 

Is like losing the way to a  beautiful island 

You once swam to

To see someone you loved to hold and adore 

An Island 

A home 

Which seemed 

Forevermore 

But when 

Mister Heartbroken and 

Mister Hopelessly Lost 

Called

Causing silent 

But vibrant energy filled tears 

To run like a wild river 

Down your souls walls

You'll sometimes pray 

As all that's left

Will be 

The trumpet calls 

Of a beloved paradise 

Screaming 

Its directions 

Night and day

So you'd willingly sacrifice 

All things 

You now worship and know 

Into the fire and ice 

To go 

And hold them 

Twice

On that precious island 

Always hiding behind 

Your tear filled eyes 

For that's the price 

Of true love 

And why I always 

Remember 

The night 

My beloved Sarah Lou died 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

Requiem

 The opening lines for a Roman Catholic mass for the dead.

Requiem.

------------------ 

Press play before reading.

Salute.

(A lone voice whispers)

I can still remember an incredible time 

When we loved holding hands

Like we did

On that sad

Sunday afternoon

Lost now 

Somewhere 

Forever in June

The last night we

Dipped our toes 

In exchanging prose

Following each other's souls 

Like fireflies

Into unknown deep 

Emotional places 

Where anything goes

Until the cock crowed

But tonight 

Lonely and

Separated by plight

Memories of mind and spirit 

Call to me each night 

Like the Sirens of Anthemusa

Before I sleep 

Especially those exceptional ones 

Of walking underneath the Willow Tree

Exchanging precious thoughts 

Pressed together 

Really close 

On those long walks

By the raging blue sea

Looking like the eclipse 

Of the Sun and Moon 

As we relentlessly talked

Dancing mentally 

To a thousand new tunes 

As the Shadow People 

Watched 

It's why I still miss 

You so much 

Clutching onto those beloved memories 

Like a pauper 

Of the only soul 

I once followed 

Into true darkness 

To emerge into light 

Led by touch 

"Te desidero in aeternum

Amica mea"

Even though Death 

Only makes you more faithful 

Even though 

You're in the arms of an 

Angel

My love for you 

Never changes 

For I know 

You'll watch over me 

As I face life 

And all it's quiet 

Dangers 

As I find some respite tonight

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

(Latin translation :

I'll miss you forever 

My love)

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The Voice of an old Disciple. Speaks.

 (A lone voice whispers)

I can only pray 

You'll kneel 

In moments of profound silence 

As this world suffers in 

Painful acts of such wilful violence 

I can only pray 

To the Silver Towers of Heaven

That the sinners below 

Feel his presence 

And remember 

In time 

Only the righteous are sometimes driven and tempted to sin 

Because all the lost immoral ones 

Have already walked 

Or will soon walk 

Through Hade's great black gates 

And be welcomed in 

Herded into pristine 

Rapscallion Confessional Booths

Corrals or prisons for their souls 

To then wander lost and dreaming 

Through many dark lucid forests 

Looking for silver diamonds 

Filled with some versions of their God's truths 

To purify them

When found and consumed 

As they are reminded 

The Devil was created to seduce 

To collect many of his new recruits 

As he whistles 

His green pipes that toots

So always cleanse yourself daily 

With a prayer 

To the God of your choice 

In your deepest wells 

As you rejoice 

For the Devil is everywhere 

Casting such seductive spells 

Chanting charms and tolling bells 

As his minions 

Smiling 

Prepare so many 

New cells 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Image shared under fair usage policy via Pinterest. 

The Immortal Ouroboros

 

Press play before reading. Salute 

(A lone voice whispers)

With eager eyes wide open 

Hearing faint whispers of hidden doorways and portals 

Ritualistically been opened 

To a place and time 

Where rhymes are cast for a penny or dime 

In real time 

Over hallowed tambourine music  

Like church missionaries into 

The Red Country 

Offering black leather bibles 

As free gifts 

To their versions of 

Heathens 

To use it

The Immortal Ouroboros 

Consumes all who live 

Who blindly seek

What it gives 

Power 

Fame 

Or 

Greed

Through faints whispers from hidden doorways and portals 

To satisfy a temptation 

Their soul needs 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Image used under fair usage policy via Pinterest.

The Occult Process

 Into immortal mirrors

We look 

Binding our Eternal Books 

Meditating                               

Lost in holy dreams 

Thinking about 

Things or people 

Life or Death has took 

Some we may forget 

Or overlook

But never those who shined like 

Morning sunshine 

On dam or brook 

For true love or friendship 

When finally hooked 

Can never be mistaken 

0r shook 

But simply used as the glue 

The binding paper

In our Eternal Book 

Of The Afterlife

Of this 

Our current life 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

The Goddess Speaks

Press play before reading. Salute.

(A lone voice whispers)

Come pray to me 

Calliope 

The Muse who presides over eloquence and epic poetry 

Chief of all Muses 

For I will always welcome you 

With this as my subtle invitation 

Let my soul reach out in the magical act of conjuring and transforming words 

To hold hands 

With your higher self  

Through the power of influencing your thoughts 

And releasing your deeply repressed emotions 

As my worldly introduction

Let this paper or screen 

You read from 

Scream 

Burning with our own act of friendship

Sending yellow crisp embers 

To the edges of your unseen universe 

Calling to you 

In a symbiotic verse

Like a Christmas ritualistic offering of goodwill 

From a caring nurse

Come, and I’ll lay these words on this altar 

As our Altar cloth

Porque de tal manera amó Dios a la humanidad. les dio palabras

With bouquets of Forgiveness and Love  

As its centerpiece 

For 

It's all I have to give 

As I strive to help you live in peace

To embrace and understand the gift of sincerity 

In a spectacular rebirth 

To inspire a new beginning

For not all living 

Do

So feel my presence 

Like a sweet sensation 

That makes your libido 

Salivate 

Pining to be consumed before it's too late

 

I pray to angels to shower you with hope 

Inner strength and self-belief 

To write your words 

Your glory 

Wounds 

Wars 

Your story 

To cope 

It's why I burn 

This sacrificial note 

As an offering to a higher God 

Like a paper boat 

That still floats 

For we are linked to the frequency of the divine wild spirits 

Now just running

On new versions of the eternal canyon floors 

Of the Mid West 

Sometimes

Alone 

Sometimes in 

Groups 

But still badly needing each other 

To pass this 

His final test 

In the long night 

Now say after me 

Praise be 

And write

(c)

Copyright John Duffy

 

(Translated piece:

For God so loved mankind. He gave them words)

Hellen Love

When I lived

I was the son of Deucalion 

Hellen 

Greek 

King of Phthia 

The blood of my grandfather 

Prometheus once ran like molten lava  

In my now still veins

And in this new stillness 

Filled with thunder 

I sometimes wonder

Am I now the new son of the biblical 

Condemned Cain 

Like so many others 

Abandoned by and tainted by life's tempestuous mothers 

Reborn 

In The Great In-Between

Again 

And if I had listened to  

Genesis 4 

Verse 7

Would I now be in Heaven 

For:

If you do what is right, will you not be accepted? 

But if you do not do what is right, 

Sin is crouching at your door; 

it desires to have you, but you must rule over it. 

Well

Sin took my pride

Opened my door real wide and 

Traded my inheritance  

For hysteria 

More fear

Pills and all other things 

Once found on Pablo Escobar's window sills

But

Each night 

Underneath and in reach of all Pangorian Delights 

I close my eyes to see your plight

Which always still shines so bright 

Like one of those rare Sabbatical lights

I hold my breath  

In this white noise and haste 

As I watch the world around you fall and

Go to waste

But I always open my ears to feel or hear your siren call

Dive below the confusion and delusions of my cognizance 

Before Father Darkness  

Makes his sudden entrance 

To find that old spark of the sacred Prometheus torch 

Wherever it slumbers 

So lightning bolts can flood through my cells 

In huge numbers

As my soul yells 

My grandfathers name 

Prometheus 

Prometheus 

High in the lost canyon 

Where he will surely hear me  

Even though chained to a rock in the Caucasus Mountains 

Enduring eternal pain 

And I will explode into a new version of our cherished Prometheus flame

And from that climbing smoke 

Past sins will fall away like grey ash 

As they choke

Watching me smash old false idols  

Once worshiped  

In guilded mirrors 

Praying 

When the shadows start 

Clearing 

I'll be able to cross the Red River

Full of drowning sinners 

Headed slowly  

To the Nine Circles of Hell 

In terror 

Beyond 

The Great Hereafter

As I look to free my old hero 

From that hard rock 

In the Caucasus Mountains 

High in the canyon 

My grandfather 

Prometheus 

And go find her 

Again

My life's one and only 

True companion

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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