Can words seduce you?

 I had a rather intriguing conversation today, 

about the power of seduction through words. 

It's a tad risque.

“Seduce my mind and you can have my body,

find my soul and I’m yours forever.”

I created this piece as I mused the above when a familiar voice appeared. 

Salute.

The Strict Mistress from the House of Books

(A lone voice whispers)

Within these conjured hypnotic words

Lies my secret binding spell

To you 

Control and contain 

No matter how loud you shout or yell

To attach you to me forever or temporarily 

With lashings of lascivious dark stories

As your soul salivates in total submissive anticipation and slowly starts to weep

Let me devour your curious mind like a cavernous thief

and take you to new heights of wild unconditional excitement

As your higher self suddenly

Wakes from its repetitive mundane sleep

Let me take you so damn

Deep

To new apocalyptic wet shores 

Through exchanges of whispered hirquitalliency

Of unexplored crimson heat

And let my hidden fingertips 

Trace pagan pictures of intimate lambitions and reunions

Across that succulent exposed spine in your mind 

Give me all those deep 

pamphagous thoughts

You keep bajulated

under strict locks and keys

That no one sees

Forever confined 

For landscapes or should I say mindscapes 

Filled with such visceral enticing written words

Brings forth such irrational coercive armies 

Heralding banners of such a hypnotic binding power

Just awaiting to liberate minds in the low hours

Those willing to sacrifice everything they once knew

To then be gently or vigorously deflowered

As they use aroused imaginations

To explore new verbs

Or sentences 

Appearing like S & M

Mistresses or Masters 

Right out of the blue

Will you pray for us to embrace 

As these soft words upon your mind's delicious lips 

Are gracefully worshipped

As you've now been duly baptised throughout this

Our soul's reintroduction 

As your hypothalamus is stimulated by my black and white

Ethereal leather whip

 (C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Have you ever or even now, had a pen pal?

Have you ever or even now, had a pen pal?

Before you answer read the definition of pen pals.

If you regularly exchange letters or read some, (my opinion) 

Aren't you exchanging a form of a spiritual letter?

With a stranger like me whose relationship is based primarily, or even solely, on their exchange?

Salute.

Pen pals (or penpals, pen-pals, penfriends or pen friends) are people who regularly write to each other, particularly via postal mail. 

Pen pals are usually strangers whose relationship is based primarily, or even solely, on their exchange of letters. 

Source: Google

The Pen Pal Letter to Elizabeth Charlemagne 

Some whisper and will

In secret occult circles 

About these last days of 2024

That

Humanity will fall in unruly petulant desire

Consumed and devoured by a blazing infectious fire 

But what happens to you and I

Your mind and mine 

Do you still shiver inwardly at the vibrational thoughts 

Of my words

Do they bind you

Submissively 

To always return 

Like Anne Cécile Desclos 

Doomed forever 

To hovering above my prose 

That screams to be heard

With wide eager eyes

Like a love-struck 

Hummingbird 

Do you still tremble like when we first met 

Wanting the warm caress of loquacious re-introductions

Of new verbs 

Opening mystical 

Golden gates to new 

Poetic realms

And their irreplaceable guile to bind us together 

Like love-struck Siamese twins

Creating welcomed sins 

Of dried sweat and sweet tributaries

Of deep-seated spiritual yearnings 

That makes your mind 

so damn wet 

Tales of the supernatural 

Light and darkness 

Filled with movement or stillness

Sovereignty or loneliness 

New flames of innermost desires

Contained in unspeakable 

words or unfamiliar names 

As our Zisurru

Poetic stories to be kset asunder 

In the footfalls 

of Zeus's approaching 

apocalyptic thunder 

To burn new Hurricane lanterns 

in Imaginations darkened 

Halls of Fame 

To live in the hope 

Of a new life

An everlasting dance

With a drop of a wild transmigration 

As our new Nexus 

To savor in your mouth

Like an intense-tasting holy communion wine

A strong touch of such wantonness  

Your 

Voracious soul needs 

To carry to all empires 

You may visit 

In the North 

East

West or South 

As it swallows new 

Stories with ravenous greed

Will we survive 

Still together in 2025

With such

Intellectual thoughts

You might still whisper 

and silently ask 

You and me 

Does 

Will it last

Echo in 

Dreams whilst waiting

For the midnight call on 

New Year's Eve 

When we gather to

Sing pagan songs of 

King Solomon 

As we fight back 

the encroaching darkness 

With shining 

drunk Astral eyes 

as our Athame

Our sacrificial knife 

Inwardly praying 

to always believe 

Under the sharp eyes 

of the Winters Midnight Sun 

Which for so many lost souls 

We know 

She will still shine

Ever brighter 

As she quietly watches 

and grieves 

As they collect 

their angel wings as they leave

Who knows my child 

Everlasting hope and

Peace could arrive as one

So we could conquer this new normal and continue to rise

Or it could all go wild

And turn into a new dark nuclear history 

Where dreams and people 

Are consumed and defiled 

As good and evil 

Battle for victory

And apart 

we may have to survive 

On mean streets 

As quantum tattooed vaccinated slaves 

Or unvaccinated exiles 

In a New World Order

Called a Fool's Paradise 

Without

Any known borders 

But either way 

know this

May your spirit guides 

Lead you to continued health and safety 

Across all fast-flowing political wars 

Waters

Famine or disorders

So in 2025 

We can share our much loved algorithms 

In all our holy quarters 

So mote be it 

What will be 

Will be

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Image shared under fair usage policy.

Press play

 

The Servant's last words

 

The Warrior Queen

(A lone voice whispers)

There once was someone so special

A warrior queen 

Who held my heart in her hands

My own goddess and red devil

The most beautiful woman I've ever seen 

Oh, we loved slow dancing through words and intimate prose 

Like it was the last song of the night

Played by the Duke Ellington big band

In our favourite bar

Where everybody goes

Oh how nostalgia haunts you 

Stalks you

And tears you apart 

When their gone

And all you're left with

Are those sweet beloved memories 

Of big bands

And soft hands 

Goddesses and red devils

Of someone 

So special 

Who no longer holds your heart 

In their hands

For they've been called home

By the Great Primaeval

To listen to new sounds 

Played by Heavens big bands

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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.