. Poetry from The Great In-Between

Tuesday, June 18, 2024

The Apostle of Sin. Seeking freedom.


 


The Apostle of Sin. Seeking freedom.


(A lone voice whispers)



Watching that old world burn

I once knew


Through my rust 

Encrusted  blue

Scrying 

Mirror 


My blood 

If I had any 


Would be green with potent Invidia's envy 


For when I see couples happy 


Strolling

Hand in hand


A baptism of souls meeting


The lividity in me burns 

So slow 


Like an inquisitor's cruel act of Abacination 


Surrounding me within a lone cloud of Darkness and Desolation itself


From the 9 Circles of Hell 


And with a long night of

Squeals of demonic delights 


Ahead


A legion of guttural voices singing out and yelling 


Like a young Beniamino Gigli


Under meager skies 

Chanting dark spells 


I now know this place 

I'm in 


Resembles Hell 


A heavy breathing jealous consciousness 


Where the heartbroken live within 


Especially us 

The Canti


Baptized to grieve 

In The Golden Church of Flagellation


Through acts of Self-immolation 


Caused by the dark temptations of sin


A slow evisceration

A destruction in which there is no love 

Left 


But only green envy


This is the heavy price I now pay 


In Purgatory 

Now I've gained entry


With my eyes remaining forever open 

For I no longer sleep


With my soul praying to break free 


Now just cursed 

To just pray and weep

With frenzy


She doesn't forget me 


But remembers

No one alive is pure 


For we are all born 

To be slowly corrupted by love 


In any form


For no one is one hundred percent 

An Innocenti 


For even you 

Beyond the sacred shores 


Of The Ferryman of Hades 

River


You'll sin too

Seeking a place 

To be moored


It's not an accusation but a confession 


And it's why I speak 


Hoping to gain resurrection


For I still

Miss her


My first immature love from school 


When I lived in

Lumpur


(C)

Copyright John Duffy

Image shared under fair usage policy.

 

Monday, June 17, 2024

entatio (L) Temptation; trial.


 Press play.


Title:


Tentatio (L)

Temptation; trial.

 

(A lone voice whispers)


Belial


Came to me late last night

Just after three 


With Faustian promises

Of riches

And such auspicious

Delights


But as I prayed while he talked 


As my faith 

Shimmered but never 

Once swayed


A beautiful bright light

Suddenly appeared

And came my way


A soft voice

Spoke gently and 

Held me hypnotised 


As it whispered as the tiny molecules of golden light


Which surrounded its form


Defeated the encroaching darkness 

In every way


Listen not

To Belial 

The Lord of the Flies


But to me

The divine messenger 

From the Most High


Bend thy knees 

And pray 


Follow my decrees


Belial might promise you 

Promiscuous sins of

The flesh


Riches

Beyond all the eyes 

Can see


I simply offer freedom 

Beyond this lifetime 


A rebirth 

On the silvery shores and golden cities


By the blessed Holy Sea


Be careful what you wish for and choose 


You hold so much

Which you could so easily 


Lose


As the clocks through midnight ticked


As each soothing voice echoed deep


Within the many recesses 

Of my mind


I came to the realisation 


What my choices will cost


Resisting temptations 


I chose to make in this lifetime


I'll accept as payment 

When it's called

In time


For all choices I chose to make 


Will only be mine 

Free from the trials of temptation


As I played my earthly role


Every step I make

I will pray and stay in control


For I now 

Know 


I have something too precious to lose


My eternal soul which doesn’t want to wander 

forever lost 


In the Bad Lands 


Of Belial's

Burning Black Coal



(C)

Copyright John Duffy 


Sunday, June 16, 2024

The Cursed Writer

Am I cursed like Orpheus?


To just wander through life

Wasting my time


Cursed by the three crones to now write rhymes 


 For just you


 For only

Two invisible pennies

 Or dimes


 Because my Goddess 


 Divine 

 Has called

 In all my sins


 With this as punishment 


 For all my eternal crimes

 Every night

 Or at the break of morning 


 I'm now doomed

To write


 Sometimes 

 In darkness 


 Sometimes in light

 Writing for my soul


 For my freedom 

 To really see


Unlocking old mysteries

Within me 


Using secretive newly found keys 

To mysterious occult doors


To traverse through 

My inner kingdoms

As I now speak to you


The silent viewers


Hiding cleverly amongst life's many moors


 Hidden in the vastness of 

 The Universe 


Or simply forgotten kin

 Or quiet fallen watchers 


 Parading silently

 Through my paradigms of words or simply perusing 


 In my inspired biosphere 


 Am I but one of the many cursed


 To walk at the front or simply following


 Coerced beyond belief 

 To seek continuous relief


Is that why I always now write


For sleep doesn't come easy 

Walking these precarious tightropes


At midnight


Filled with such unknown delicious 

And sometimes devilish 

Mysteries 


 Now cast me

 My two invisible pennies 

 Or dimes


 As I serve my penance 

For my earthly crimes 


 For my otherworldly experiences as you read

With unrestrained greed


For all our crimes 

Are to be judged by our own Head Watchman 


Our own judge and jury

When it's our time


And it’s why I now saunter through life


Perpetually seeking salvation to be un-dammed


Before I meet

The Tall Man 


Copyright John Duffy

Beloved Memories

We come in the dark

Shot like silents arrows

To the heart


For excessive memories about us

Leave wounds

In the flesh 


That can never be suppressed 


Even if it causes pain

When that invisible dressing


Is undressed


Copyright John Duffy 


Saturday, June 15, 2024

Lost Love

Press play.


 Foundation of the piece:


Have you broken up with a previously strong relationship, only to get back together, to be stronger than ever?


Title:


Lost Love 


I had to let you go


Bet you 

Didn't know 


For if you really

Love someone 


You sometimes 

Have to set them 

Free


If she loves me

Maybe she'll come back


She'll knock on my door

With her sweet kisses and touch


Whisper

She still loves me 

Too much 


(C)

Copyright John Duffy 


A lone ghost whispers

 A lone ghost whispers


Surrounded by these

lit white candles 


As I sit here 

In this great stillness 


Filled with such proud grace 


Allowing soft tears to glide like the Egyptian Nile

Crocodiles


And

embracing the sentimental  comforting sanctification 


Of the salty water

Washing gently over my face 


I bind my mind to meeting you 


On that unforgettable afternoon 

Last June


You wore Gucci 

In black and gold and matching leather expensive bag 


The new moon whispered of such new beginnings 


But now 

When I see myself in this ethereal two-way smoke mirror 


I always see the tragic shadows of that old life and how it suddenly ended


Driving 

And smiling going home 

Then that deer jumped out 


As I stopped breathing and my heart surrendered


My Funeral 

The wake 

Then the silence 


As my name slowly receded from your worlds auditory radios 


We in here 

Listen to 


For our name being spoken 


To remind ourselves we are still remembered 


And I thank you for calling to me

For total silence means we are forgotten 


As so many sadly are 

When people get busy and all you are 


Is a familiar name at Christmas or on your birthday


So now I wish to stimulate that silence 

Reinvigorate it 


Into such a vibrational state

That our old devotion


Loveliness and harmony 

Reaches you on Monday 

Our first anniversary


Allowing myself to find the space and grace 


To slow time down and reconnect 


While sending my manifestations out to take effect


I wish to spread our old love 

Like the beautiful scent


of Jo Malone's natural Bees

Coconut and Soy wax


Unto others 

Through this two-way scrying mirror 


To those from my old life

Who still calls to me 


Sometimes 

In the great silence


On our interdimensional radio


In the hope that they too will feel our once-treasured love magic 


Before it all ended 

So tragic


And through them 

She knows I still miss her


So praising the four elementals 


Earth 

Air 

Fire and Water 


For their incantations to cross the constellations 

And create Way Stations 


In the hearts of others 


Sealed with these soul-lifting revelations


I now blow out these twelve white candles 

Lit before me


Dry my eternal eyes

Stare out into the sacred space between us


Releasing the intentions of my now still grey heart into the wild 


Thinking of you 


A red rose in the concrete 

Who always appears before me 


In black and gold 


Standing before my mirror as a living child in exile 


Slowly 

Alone 

Growing old


And with these words 


Ego semper amorem meum exspectes.


Ita fiat fiat 


(I'll always be waiting my love.


So mote it be)


I go


(C)

Copyright John Duffy 


.

Thursday, June 13, 2024

Need inspiration?


 

Own me. Control me.


 Title:


Meum

Imperium

me


Ita fiat illud

Be (L)


(A soft seductive voice, whispers)


In this

The darkest hour


In the Great Pit

Where I wield 

Total power


Sitting beside

IT


Read this 

In this very moment

Silently and patiently


For your soul

To be deliriously deflowered


Meum

Imperium me

Ita fiat illud


Be (L)


By me


The Un-Hallowed Queen

Of all sinful slaves


Just lurking

Tonight


Like a funnel-web spider

Waiting to bite


From the Great In-Between

When The Black Gates open


And I am allowed 

In


Meum

Imperium me

Ita fiat illud


Be (L)



Copyright John Duffy


Latin translation since I know you read the open invitation: 


Own me

Control me


So mote it

Be


Images shared under fair usage policy. 


Like all things, duality exists in poetry.


Duality introduces us to things having two parts, sometimes with fundamentally different meanings.


Similar to peace and war, love and hate.


Good and evil. And so on.


And as poetic and romantic as poetry can be, it too can have two sides to a metaphorical

coin.  


Light poetry and dark poetry.


While exploring themes linked to the darker aspects of the human experience.


From the macabre, personal suffering, death, and other dark themes. 


A few renowned poets still resonates today.


If one seeks to deep dive into the mysteries of the human condition.


You may wish to enter their realms and visions.


I've just listed a few below for the inquisitive.


Salute.


Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849)


Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867)


Sylvia Plath (1932-1963)


Anne Sexton (1928-1974)


Arthur Rimbaud (1854-1891)


Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)


Memories