Calliope. The Muse sent by Angels.

 

Press play before you read. Salute.

Shall we begin?

Amongst the murky misty encroaching images

Resonating temptation filled with seductive sin

A surreal scene the creators of Casablanca 

Would have been proud to call their very own

My new muse

Calliope 

Wandered and appeared

Walking like a real siren

Stepping straight into view

Wearing a stunning Fashionista's white dress 

She appeared right out of the blue 

Bent and with tasty red sweet lips

And French kissed me back into life 

Watched by cautious eyes

Who had sent her 

To help me get through

Dwellers 

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 them an unconscious seat and bowed to welcome them in

Into their bedroom

In the falling night rain

I now seem to reach out earnestly to crave her soft touch 

As those old emotions of being alone 

That my spirit just once loved

To clutch

Systematically kneel  

Submitting to be slain 

Like a marked Cain

My Calliope came gliding in majestically last June 

Riding on the backs of handwritten messages

Exchanged through friends one glorious day 

As they discussed my story 

And all its 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 meditation and contemplating 

How my once sad life

Suddenly turned to gold

I still in these quiet moments of soul-searching introspection 

Embrace my newly found harmonious serendipity 

And all these treasured moments and intimate reunions

Where two newly introduced souls 

With such effortless proclivity  

Merged 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 

Right 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

In 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 plead for help and 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 

And for your attention

Things casually waiting until the moment is right 

To maximize your depression

But still beyond this cosmic ever-swirling dust of reflection

As I still breathe

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 

So 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 sea of 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 

Have you ever really looked at your life?

 

Do you ever pause and

Look back within

Memories deep raindrops 

Of how your life's been run

Remembered all the happier times 

And indulged the melancholy moments

As you sat quietly under life's giving rays

Of the first day of Winters or Summers

Hot early morning sun

Do you still remember 

Walking with the ones

You once dearly loved

Or kissing inexperienced 

In the low shadows

Hidden in the dark

Playing with childhood friends 

On swings and slides

 Down at the local parks

Do you still remember old faces 

Now perhaps with Noah and his family

Sailing through Heaven's blue seas

In a newly built Ark

Or do you just choose to sit 

Sad lonely and empty

All alone

With no cherished memories of your own gospels

Like the one once written

According to someone named Mark

Life is for living

To the peak of your endeavors

Don't let your dreams die

But inspire hope to help 

Others conquer all weathers

Don't give your soul 

A new season to cry 

But share kindness and compassion with all those 

You see through

Non Judgemental eyes

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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Copyright John Duffy 

The Repentant Soul Whispers

I now live alone

Looking out of this 

The tear-stained window to my dearly beloved dreams

That most men will rarely see

For blessed are my ilk

To have once loved like a true breaker

Of all known rules

And drank precious milk from its sweet red river 

Called after some forgotten gods

Wandering musical fool

Called Zeuhl

For I now know my sins

 

Wild Women

Pontoon and Jack Daniels

Made me carry the devil's tools

But now blessed am I

One of the many 

Who raise their hands in defiant rage

Praying to be set free

 Someday

To turn a new page

To dance wildly in freedoms

Soul refreshing rain

To ride the Midnight Love Train

Once again

To Pleasure Paradise

To just get lost in that forbidden crystalline city

In someone's eyes

It's what I look for now

In The Great In-Between

When I open and look out of

This

The tear-stained window 

To my dreams

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

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The Unseen Shadow Lords of Balfazaar

 

Soulless husks

Narcissistic and pessimistic 

They stalk the living

The mindless parasitic critics

The political envoys

Of Father Darkness

Slave drivers

Bringing in new and old decrees

From The Book of Revelations

Hidden in the stillness

And fluctuating vibrations

Of secret arenas

In the Underground Streams

Of Kal 'Ku' Sula

The indentured puppets 

Seduced by the trumpet calls

For power and wealth 

By The Unseen

Shadow Lords

Of Balfazaar

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

Would you sell your soul for money and power?

To be a rich slave?

From politics to music, the puppets are everywhere.

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Lilith. The Gas Lighter of All Known Worlds

Press play before reading. 

Salute.

Her fake but effective pagan tears

Fall violently

Crushing spellbound gods and living souls

Kings and queens 

Into crudely obsessed entities

As she casually makes her occult translucent potions and mesmerizing spells

Filled with twisted versions of the truth 

Which she uses as her prayer summations

That systematically amputate

Conjured human worlds to stand still

Mesmerized as they in unison yell

Summoned by her black and golden orchestral bells

Rendering the importance of adopting fraudulent glamour

For customary regulations

As divine authorities  

High up in unseen nations 

Cavort 

Twirl and shake their immortal sledgehammers

Mere mortals can’t glimpse beyond the red scope and dark rim

Of that infinite unbroken Dream Kingdom 

Of Depravity and Sin

A purple niche where she's built a heavily guarded silver penitentiary

To sustain the endless cries of incessant desperation and petitions 

Of unspoken dark desires and to hold in absolute bondage 

The poor casualties of an ever-increasing surge

Of whaling dispositions

Who cry out from all ages

Seeking pleasure like white shining smiling crystal meth or cocaine addicts

For a familiar taste of that sweet lie 

Which will lead them marching up the Yellow Brick Road 

High on her metaphorical white powder

To a glorious waste 

For a quick fix

To a new Emerald City where she stands clad in black leather and red lipstick 

To welcome them

Her new acolytes 

Holding her strong muscular golden adorned hands high

Shaking to the ever-watchful afterlife in the ever-fading lights

Filled with shadows of unfulfilled hopes and broken dreams beyond

Death and decay  

She screams as she sows the seeds of Degradation with

'I'm coming for you

Umba Yay

Before you come for me

So pray  

You don't get in my way

Before I welcome you into my depraved scary Garden of Eden

Are your hungry eyes and contorted souls 

Ready to give me

What I gloriously need

Before I start feeding'

(C)

Copyright John Duffy  

Quite a dark piece viewing 2023, as the world descends into depravity.

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The Ministry of Ezekiel

Press play before reading. Salute

(A lone voice whispers)

This is to you

My lifes white feather

Now my lifes sunsets are spent and sunk forever 

For at the end of all my once long rigorous days

I now stand lost and lonely 

Like a Shakespearean version of Puck 

In a Missouri daydream that's all mine

One where my heart would beat on perpetual fire

 If it could

One with my ears filled with whispering spellbinding words

That no longer take me higher

And when the ever-watchful Moon retires

I always watch from here

Behind this silver shimmering barrier 

Of The Great In-Between 

And think as the new Sun of the Living 

Rises

Are we all simply silent prayers blowing

Like soft tender snowflakes

In an endless night

Each carrying quiet songs

Filled with woe

Love and all human emotions That make us all glow 

Skywards

Just to be lost in whirlwinds of Heavens glittering golden dust

Symphonies of hearts ablaze

And screaming for someone To just love and trust

And even though now my time living has expired

I still feel rapturous but always blue

As my now silent heart 

Tries to sing love songs

For just you

But I know as long as I still exist in here

As tall as the high nights and as long as the wide days 

I hope my God-given prayers

Will be answered with my soul cries to be rescued

For when the final sunset has gone and died

And this dark night I wander in

Stalks all the lands

Even your lands

When the low Angelic Drums 

Announcing The Book of Revelations 

Rumble

And the old black and white pianos start to sing

As stars fall and start to tumble

Declaring openly the arrival of Seven Angels foretold

When the eerie white noise 

Between the Living and the Dead is no longer cold

And falls like a crimson stage curtain 

Once again I pray 

I'm certain 

Hopefully 

I’ll stand tall like a Tolkien King 

A strong reincarnation of Aragorn

Proudly on the Tired Bridge of Broken Dreams 

With you as my newly returned queen

Living in a new scene

Beyond the shimmering barriers of The Great In-Between

In a place where my broken heart no longer screams 

As we watch the Purging on Judgement Day

Of all the Immoral and corrupted

Tainted and marked

 With the many forms of its seductive disease 

Standing strong and happy like Megara and Hercules 

Before we turn

Holding hands

And walk to a new place

Guided by a mysterious white light

Only the anointed see

Copyright John Duffy

The Watcher

Like a lone Merovingian king

Stood out in the purifying freezing cold

 

Watching old Luna

Rise

Slowly creeping in

From the Middle East

Frankus

Wine-rich and sinfully tempestuous

Feels the icy grip of Freyr

The Aesir

Against the backdrop of the star seed night sky

Watching the Ominous Night Garden 

Warden

NYKOMA

Open up its lit-up Black Emerald Gates 

To let the Fallen Elementals play

Welcoming The Pit Hordes

To cross way

Over the Threshold 

From Babylon of Old

To their new homes

As once foretold

Into the soft and weak hearts of faithless men

And tarnished women of the night 

Where they will sit and gleam

Like rare blood diamonds  

Smiling in the stalking shadows

Of The Great In-Between

As they invade and conquer

The sweet sacred virgin landscapes

Of their hosts 

Hopes and dreams

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

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Are you being influenced bt The Archons?

  Press play before reading.

Salute.

(A lone voice whispers)

In 2022

In the eternal battle between the Light and Dark

Do you really want to know what to do 

To defeat the metaphorical Archons 

That surround you 

Knocking on your spiritual door

And waiting behind it 

(The Torment of Saint Anthony” by Michelangelo)

So quietly and patiently

In perfectly dark uneven 

Inconspicuous lines  

Archons 

Who pine

And whine like feral dogs

For a taste of your soul

The slow but sure followers 

Of a second eternal Father 

Called Darkness  

So beware of lying

Politicians

Professionally paid and bought 

Gas lighters

Owned celebrities 

Pushing

Pharmaceutical DNA transformers

And even hack writers

Polluting the rivers of social media

By reciting the paradigms 

Of their 

hidden supervisors

Who constantly try 

To invade your 

Circle of Happiness

You must use whatever your 

Allegiance 

Be it spiritual prayer or your beliefs in your religion

As an unspoken Magical Charm

To protect your Angelic Stillness

From harm

For by wielding whatever your

Devotion 

You'll create your own magical Salt Circle

Materializing an unbreakable 

Sword of Conjured Silver

That can never be broken

 

To hold back the swaying Dark Hordes

Like a dam 

As they knock on your souls 

Many doors

Imbued with your Virtues 

As your Mighty Defender

To protect your Family  

Friends

Hopes or Dreams

With honor 

For at the Core  

If we are

Stripped bare

To all that can be seen

That's all you can do

Whatever your calling

For that thought has already been planted  

Split into a Trinity of Divine Seeds

To be encouraged through prayer to grow 

For

Within us 

Those seeds are all we'll ever need

If in it 

We can trust and believe

Before we turn to dust

And return to the Universes 

Never-ending cathedrals

Of ever-expanding atoms

As we are once again forced to kneel 

In submissive acquiescence

To Life's brother

Called Death

 When he finally chooses to visit

And we are then 

Mortally crushed  

  

 

(C)  

Copyright John Duffy

Image shared under fair usage policy via Pinterest.

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Gnosticism Explained

The History, Mythology, and Worldview of Gnostic Christianity

Archons

Interesting future information by the author listed below.

All shared undertake usage policy. 

“Th Torment of Saint Anthony” by Michelangelo

In Gnosticism, the archons (from Greek arkhon, “ruler”[1]) were malevolent, sadistic beings who controlled the earth, as well as many of the thoughts, feelings, and actions of humans. 

They assisted their master, the demiurge, with the creation of the world, and continued to help him administer his oppressive rule.

According to a Gnostic text called the Reality of the Rulers, the archons “have bodies that are both female and male, and faces that are the faces of beasts.”[2] 

Thus, they’re not truly male nor female, nor human nor animal.

 The ancients found this kind of boundary-crossing to be deeply threatening, and this description of the archons implied that they were forces of chaos, so “mixed up” as to be “the farthest that a created being could be from God.”[3]

Despite their sometimes lacking in competence, the archons were extremely powerful beings whom the Gnostics dreaded. 

The Reality of the Rulers quotes Ephesians 6:12 

(“Our contest is not against flesh and blood; rather, the authorities of the world and the spiritual hosts of wickedness”) 

to make the point that the archons were what stood between humankind and salvation.[8] 

It was they whom Christ had been sent to earth to overcome.

In the ancient world, the self wasn’t seen as being as autonomous as we today think of it as being. 

It was a playing field where various forces intermingled and battled, ultimately giving rise to our thoughts and actions. 

For the Gnostics, the archons were among the most powerful and ubiquitous of these forces. 

They were the ones who were ultimately responsible for all of the evil thoughts and actions of humankind.[9]

But it gets worse: since the archons had created humans in the first place, they had created humans to be extremely susceptible to their influence, and to be almost unable to resist it. 

Only the divine spark from Heaven, which had slipped into creation despite the archons’ intentions, gave people any kind of a chance of resisting the archons’ temptations. 

But only a few people – the Gnostics – were even aware of that divine presence within themselves, and even for them it was a tremendous ordeal to act in accordance with that presence rather than the wishes of the archons. 

Most people were just the puppets of the archons. 

Thus, the normal, default state of humans was literal demonic possession.[10]

It’s fitting that the Gnostics identified the archons with the entities that were worshiped as pagan gods.[11] 

How could you fail to worship a god that already possesses and controls you?

The number of archons varies across the Gnostic texts, but there are commonly said to be seven archons (whose identities and names vary as well). 

These seven corresponded to the seven planets that had been identified in antiquity, whose movements were credited with producing astrological fate.

 Astrological fate was the main means through which the archons controlled people’s lives.[12]

After giving a list of the seven archons, the Secret Book of John adds, 

“This is the sevenfold nature of the week.”[13] 

The seven archons also corresponded to the seven days of the week, which could be expected since the days of the week were already named after pagan gods and the planets to which they corresponded.[14]

Through this string of connections, the archons also corresponded to the seven days of creation in the book of Genesis.

 The Gnostics interpreted the plural “us” in Genesis 1:26 – 

“Let us make man in our image” 

– as referring to the archons.

[15] (In its original historical context, that “us” almost certainly referred to the divine council in ancient polytheistic Near Eastern mythology, a concept that Judaism hadn’t fully left behind when the text that’s now the first chapter of Genesis was written.[16])

There’s one further correspondence to note here. In ancient thinking, each planet occupied one of seven celestial “spheres” or layers of the sky.

 Each of the seven archons, therefore ruled over his own celestial sphere.[17] 

This provided the archons with a further way to inhibit people’s spiritual progress.

For the Gnostics, when someone tried to gain salvation – which they called “gnosis” and characterized as mystical insight rather than intellectual belief or moral action – his or her spirit ascended up through the celestial spheres toward Heaven. 

The spirit of the Gnostic made this journey both during the Gnostic’s life in moments of ecstatic enlightenment and after death to reach its final resting place. 

But as the spirit ascended to each sphere, the archon who presided over that sphere would detain the spirit and ask it a series of questions. 

If the spirit didn’t know how to answer those questions properly – if its gnosis wasn’t yet fully realized – then the archon would be able to prevent it from ascending any higher. 

It would be trapped by the archons and still subject to their tyranny.[18]

But the mature Gnostic was able to overcome all of the archons and ascend all the way to Heaven, which made him or her superior to the very creators and rulers of the world.

Precedents for Gnosticism’s Archons in Christianity

As bizarre and un-Christian as Gnosticism’s archons may seem, the concept probably came from the Gnostics’ good-faith interpretation of the scriptures and mythical traditions they shared with other Christians of the late first and early second centuries AD.

This process seems to be encapsulated in the first paragraph of the Reality of the Rulers. 

That text begins by quoting the apostle Paul’s aforementioned statement in Ephesians 6:12: 

“Our contest is not against flesh and blood; rather, the authorities of the world and the spiritual hosts of wickedness.” 

The text then promises to inform the curious reader about the nature of these “authorities,” after which begins a description of, and commentary on, the archons’ role in the creation of the world.

[19] The entire text is essentially an exegesis (interpretation) of Paul.

Much the same can be said for the idea of the existence of the archons in and of itself, which makes it highly probable that the Gnostics received their inspiration for the idea from Paul.

In almost all of the books attributed to Paul that would later come to be included in the New Testament (something that didn’t exist in any formal capacity when Gnosticism arose), the world is said to be ruled by mysterious “powers” or “authorities.” 

The words used to denote these beings differ from passage to passage. 

They can be “principalities” (archai), “dominions” or “authorities” (exousiai), “powers” (dynameis), or “lordships” (kyriotetes).[20] 

Most of these passages specify that these powers are evil, the enemies of Christ and Christians.[21]

In some cases, these passages could simply refer to human political authorities. 

But in other passages, this is clearly not the case. 

Ephesians (3:10 and 6:12), for example, specifies that they dwell in the sky.[22] And Colossians (2:8 and 2:20) refers to them as “elemental spirits of the universe.”[23]

Paul never develops this doctrine directly or systematically. Instead, his letters (including the letters written by others in his name) seem to just take it for granted that the world is ruled by evil spiritual powers of some sort.

 Much the same can be said for some of the other texts that would later come to be included in the New Testament. 

The Gospel of Matthew (4:8), the Gospel of Luke (4:6), the Gospel of John (12:31, 14:30, and 16:11) and 1 John (5:19) all say that Satan or a similar being (whom the Gnostics equated with the demiurge, the chief of the archons) is in control of the world. 

The Gospel of John even specifically calls this being “the archon of this world.”[24]

The New Testament writers therefore presupposed that the world is ruled by villainous spiritual beings of one sort or another. 

This has long been recognized by scholars of the New Testament, who have usually attributed it to the fact that it was taken for granted back then that spiritual beings – pagan gods – controlled the elements and often directed events on earth. 

Rather than deny the existence of pagan gods altogether, the New Testament authors simply demoted them to demons.[25] 

They also drew from the apocalyptic Judaism out of which Christianity arose, which posited that, for obscure reasons, God had allowed Satan to gain control of the world at some point in the past.

Jews of the period and early Christians also believed that good angels in the service of God presided over the elements and various facets of life. 

These angels were pagan gods who, instead of being demonized, had been de-paganized and placed in the service of God.[26] 

The leaders of this troop of angels were commonly said to be seven in number, with countless lesser angels under their command.[27] 

Each of these seven angels dwelt in his own celestial sphere.

 Even Irenaeus, a second-century Christian bishop who wrote extensively and passionately against the Gnostics, believed in this notion.[28]

 Since the Gnostics believed that the creator god of the Old Testament was really the evil demiurge, it would have made perfect sense for them to demonize his seven commanding angels and identify them with the malevolent rulers of the world described by Paul. 

After all, as we’ve already seen, the Gnostics explicitly identified the archons with the pagan gods whom Paul had in mind in at least some of the aforementioned passages.

As I argue in The Origins of Gnosticism, Gnosticism seems to have arisen from within Christianity rather than from outside of it. 

If that’s correct, then the process by which the idea of the archons came about is a particularly interesting instantiation of that wider process.

© Daniel McCoy 2019-2021. All rights reserved.

Dolores Speaks

 (A lone voice whispers)

  

Press play before reading. Salute.

I always wondered

In those quiet moments spent on my own

When I was young

 

Alone in Limerick

 

How it would, all

Eventually, end

 

For all great things are so temporal

 

And my beloved family and

Friends

 

Are so badly missed

Now I’m reborn as something else

 

Just one of the many

Dearly Departed

 

Like Julius Caesar and Cleopatra

 

We all once lovingly sang together in unison 

In our own divine

Red Church

 

In the Spire of St. Mary's Cathedral

 

A place I retreated to

Filled with lingering hopes and deep dreams 

When everything just hurt

But in the end

 

Like ridiculous childish thoughts

Golden red rose promises and

All great things

 

They now

Lay in memory-filled ruins

In here

The Great In-Between

 

Where the grey zombies

Sometimes surround and analyze me

In these dark corners

 

As they once again

Live amongst us 

 

The heartbroken mourners

 

Now just like in

The Quiet Man

 

Those broken old promises and thoughts

Are slowly been blown away

Softly

 

But I still stand strong like

A reborn Maureen O'Hara

 

Entangled forever

Emotionally

 

Within this southern

Wind-blown dirt

 

You were so beautiful

My old love

But now you dance

Alone

 

In that

Ralph Lauren

White polo tee-shirt

 

I once bought

 

I was your

Raven-haired queen

And you my only king

 

But now

I'm just another lost soul

Filled with wild animal instincts

 

Stuck in a black cloudless

Prison

 

A kangaroo court

Which finally tore us

Apart

 

No matter

What I hear

Or feel in here

 

Wherever I fall short

 

No matter how hard those memories

Of my old life sing out like rock stars concert

 

No matter how they all cut so deep 

Like a butcher's sharp

Devoted knife

 

I will always rise

 

Because I know

I was born under the protection Of The Lady of the Seven Dolours

 

To always survive even in this

The afterlife

 

I know I can’t be with you all

And it's not my imagination

 

Or anything else that calls

Or even me

 

Playing new games

 

In here

From the Great In-Between

Where I now live on

Unseen

 

But just a kind soul

Who tried to be a friend

 

To many strangers

 

I hope you all have a wonderful life and shine so bright

With as many names

As you all own

 

As my time before you

Quickly ticks out

 

But I promise 

I'll take all those stage full of playful memories

We once shared

And keep them safely tucked away

 

Now I’m on my last journey

Home

 

You were once all

My sparkling treasures in the dirt

And the darkness

 

When old childhood memories returned and

Everything

Just felt overworked

 

I'll see you all so soon

Because I’ll always wait by the

Holy River

 

Of which everyone speaks

 

Where I know the Lord

 

Will bless

Anoint and forgive us

 

For all those moments we sinned

Whenever we were weak

 

My song may have ended

But I can only pray my memories still linger on

 

I was on born on the sixth

Of September 1971 

In Ballybricken

 

County Limerick in Ireland

 

It’s where I’ll return

If I can

 

Home to The Emerald Isle

Where I was once laid to rest

 

I still love you all

And it’s because of that love

 

I return

For I still feel so blessed

 

To have this final chance to say

Goodbye

 

Even though

Deep down inside

My poor soul still cries

 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

Image shared under fair usage policy via Pinterest.

An old monologue for a theatre project which covid stopped.

Logline:

What would the dearly departed say, if they got one last chance?

Dolores Mary Eileen O'Riordan was an Irish musician, singer, and songwriter.

She was best known as the lead vocalist and lyricist for the alternative rock band Cranberries.

She, unfortunately, passed over in January 2018.

Would you watch a supernatural film with poetry as its dialogue?

The Daydreamer

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

Salute.

When the sunset is spent

At the end of a long rigorous day

Lost

In a daydream that's all mine

While my thunderous heart

Beats on fire

Filled with whispering

Spellbinding words

To take me higher 

I always wonder 

Are we but one of many

Silent prayers 

Blowing yonder

Like soft snowflakes

In an endless night

Pagan Songs carried skywards

Just lost 

In whirlwinds of golden shimmering dust

Symphonies of hearts ablaze

And screaming for someone to just 

Trust

Rapturous but maybe blue 

Does my own heart still sing love

Songs

For just you

I know 

As long as we both live 

As long as the days are long 

With so many God-given treasures 

To give 

I hope my God-given prayers

Will be answered

With my rescue

For when the sunset has gone

And died 

And night stalks all the lands

When the low drums rumble

And old pianos sing

When the eerie high pitch noise 

Of self-doubt 

Returns

Once again

I’ll dream that old favorite daydream 

Living with you as my queen

In that classic scene from Casablanca 

Where my broken-heart 

No longer screams

(C)

Copyright John Duffy