Are you a storyteller too?

 

The King of the Fallen.Speaks.

Press play.
 

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 shared under fair usage policy.

Political Obsession

Throughout history, those obsessed with gaining power litter history books.

Blinded by ambition, they usually sacrifice, lie and gaslight their way to the top.

Looking at politics today, do a good few still drink or seek a sip

Of its all consuming wine?

Who do you think is the next dictator, who will go down in history?

Title:

Political Obsession 

Like a sad scene from Macbeth

By William Shakespeare in 1606

Do those seeking control

Suffer cognitive decline 

As they drink or seek a sip

Of Dictatorship Wine

To get drunk 

Totally obsessed with political ambitious tricks

While seeking powers 

Absolute taste

As the world around them 

Where innocent people die in huge numbers and social economic structures 

Collapses

Quickly going to waste 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Images shared under fair usage policy. 

The reason for the first two images:

USA holds so much power in the world and influence.

There is no reflection on the two personalities in the images.

Just a reflection of the many society posts on social media.

X (Twitter), YouTube and other prominent channels.

Moral of the piece.

Let’s find a way to stop bad actors taking office and learn from the past.

And if we do have someone bad in office, find a better way than war and aggressive confrontations, to remove them.

Or the past could repeat itself.

Salute.

 

Arabella's Monologue

 

Press play.

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.

 

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 

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 

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