Press play.
America 2024
The people gathered
In their thousands
Like resilient members of a secret survivalist group
Day and night
To watch the main podium speaker
Preach to their audience and sing
While red and blue flags
Adorned with Stars and Stripes
Fluttered like butterfly wings
As the ignited ones
Looked to the one
Who promised to change
A million and one things
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Image shared under fair usage policy
Is to write for public consumption
A call to attract members of The Querulous Tribe?
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
What does it mean to be querulous?
Meaning of querulous in English
Often complaining, especially in a weak high voice
Forever Young
Frustrated and
Abandoned by words and verbs
Like Julius Caesar who once left Cossutia
The writer pined
And put on a Bob Dylan record
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Sunny Sonia Something to make you smile đ
I once knew
A beautiful girl from Stainforth
Called Sonia
When I was free and young
She was tall and blonde
With a mischievous glint in her eyes.
That whispered
“See me
For who I am
Miss Independent and for I'm so strong”
We smiled in class
Laughed
While having such crazy fun
And now that life
And many years have run
We still love each other
As friends.
Like in the beginning
In youth
When we first met
Remembering
When we were free and young
Smiling in class
Laughing
And having such crazy fun
And that's why my Sonia
The beautiful strong
Young girl
I first met
When I was young.
You'll always be my special friend,
My precious number one
Because
Seeing your wide smile
Always
Takes me back to carefree days
When life was free
Pain free and fun
Xxx
(C)
John Duffy
Press play.
Foundation of the piece.
A theme many don't consider until it's too late.
People taking people for granted, thinking they'll be around forever.
Title:
Mortality
(A lone voice whispers)
My name doesn’t matter
Only one question matters
Who would you really miss
If you could only give them
One last mortal goodbye kiss, tomorrow
Which one of your family
Friends or relatives
All beloved folks in your Houses of Representatives
Would leave you wallowing in true sorrow?
For as true as the cock crows
No-one is promised a date with Lady Tomorrow
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
I dreamt I was once a priest
And holding a sermon was always my calling
Especially to help those in the dark
Lonely and alone
Who feel like they are
Forever
Falling
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Based on a lucid dream.
Vague details are below!
I dreamt I was in a gigantic church.
Like a football theater. Dressed like a priest.
Another priest introduced me.
Asked if anyone had any questions for our new speaker of the night?
A lady then stood up, reading her question from a book regarding sin.
I answered.
Something like this to that lady and that gigantic audience.
Everyone sins at some level, for only one man was perfect.
And if we show remorse
humility and a form of reconciliation with God again, for our transgressions
We still have a chance to dance in heaven.
I went on to explain I have no formal training. Don't know hymns by heart but hear God everyday as I pray
Then the dream ended with the priest encouraging the audience to stand and clap.
Lucid dreaming is said, by some, to project your soul into other realities, you exist within.
Could I be a priest in another alternative reality?
Maybe it's true.
Quantum physics are undoing a lot of previously unknown mysteries.
The strange laws of synchronicity might be at play.
A few years ago, I was asked to start my own online church.
Would you listen to one of my sermons đđ?
Sending best wishes to my silent viewers.
Mr John Duffy
Priest in another realm
(A lone voice whispers)
They
Call me Ramon
The nightwalker looking for her
The one who summons me with her faint calls of
DĂ©pĂȘche-toi mon amour
DĂ©pĂȘche-toi mon amour
(Hurry up my love)
And when I finally appear
She disappears smiling and whispers
Pas ce soir mon amour, laisse le grand jeu continuer.
Cette poursuite passionnante est tout ce que nous avons maintenant.
Ne gĂąchons pas ce rĂȘve mystique de The Great In-Between.
Que la poursuite continue.
(Not tonight my love, let the great game continue.
This thrilling chase is all we now have.
Let's not spoil this mystical dream from The Great In-Between.
Let the chase continue.)
And then slowly glides like a vampire clad in black and gold
With long crow black hair
To where I can never go
As I lament with
Tasanna
O, my love
My Lylak Queen
O, my love
A potent power of living
Breathing carnal sin
Born from the Babylonian bloodlines
Freed once more
By the Deep Well
To entice
All in view
Who dare pine
To be put under
Your spell
When you arrive
Like a new Cleopatra
Dressed to the nines
In gold and diamonds
It's why I always wait
Like a faithful follower
Forever in the shadows
Hidden on the sidelines
For how can I win
Against such a goddess of potent sin
Elusive
So intoxicatingly
Seductive
I feel blessed by PÄgÄnus
If PÄgÄnus was a god
For I'd walk the two hundred miles of
The Four Pillars of Zanzibar
To see your smile
Swim in the hazardous Pele Waters
At dusk
Just for a taste
Of your sensuous hypnotic musk
For obsession is a crazy horse to ride
To dark places
Where low men scoop fire into their laps
Praying their clothes will not get burnt
As they wander
Lost
Like Bedouin Prince's
In the deserts of the mind
Walking the wet shores
Of the Lylak
Looking forever
For your silhouette
Never to ask for help
Or to go back
It's why I wait
Here
In The Great In-Between
Fearful of abandonment
Since the first day
We met
For chasing a love like yours
Is like playing a crazy game with Diablo
Like Russian Roulette
Sometimes as I hear
The footsteps
Of another arrival
And when the Great Golden Trumpet blows
In that moment
I always wonder
Is that your omnipotent power
With one kiss
Is one doomed to chase
And
Cursed to crave
To never forget
To then ride to
The wet shores of the Lylak
To dark places
Where low men scoop fire into their laps
Praying their clothes will not get burnt
As their souls
Cry out in thirst
DĂ©pĂȘche-toi mon amour
DĂ©pĂȘche-toi mon amour
Hurry up my love
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
The Nightwalker
Image shared under fair usage policy via Pinterest.
A long occult gift for the inquisitive
Tenebris Oculi (L) AKA Mr. Dark Eyes
(A lone voice whispers)
To all the mysterious souls just lost beyond my second sight and long reach
Maybe even you
Who are perhaps my number 2 from a pack of 7
Hiding somewhere unknown in Father Time's long silver grass
Watching my every move like Loki the Norse Raven
Lying scattered across all the oceans and before all the greatest of Antarctic lakes
Below (ŚֱŚָŚ)
Quietly reading this and trying to compose inspired poetry
Beseeching your inner mind's great portico to quickly open
And spill forth
Secretive words only once whispered long ago and spoken in the darkest of carved out corridors
Celebrating the Festival of Karneia on the Fourth
By the Pythia to bathe within its spectacular potency
In ancient Apollo's candlelit yellow temples in Pompeii
In cold winters nights
May these channelled words find a way
To weave a magical spell to beguile your own inquisitive mind and everlasting soul
To be slowly opened up with Apollo's ritual athame
Carving poetry with Apollo's knife into your deep mind many kingdoms
Everywhere you go
For you to then find the courage to breach your own inner great gates
To finally find and drink from that mystical ever-flowing well
Found in the centre of all things
To know how infectious Apollo's power is
Beyond those inner great gates
By only the true believers like maybe you and the many seekers of the profound truths
Found
In linking expressive verbs like daisy chain necklaces
Seeking to taste whatever their spirits really desire and then hoping to hold their nerve
And make the return journey home
Filled and sated
With smiling faces
Wildly mentally dancing to a new sound
Announcing the arrival of their life's only holy obligation
Like a true gift at Christmas
To then write profusely
Be it at midnight or throughout the long days
Recalling and narrating the many sacred strands
And complex explorations of the many layers of human emotions
From Love
Hate
Life and Death
And whatever else
That comes smiling or snarling their way
From those just hidden beneath all blue and green seas
The Great Old Ones
In the deep depths
Of the Final Abyss
Hidden somewhere in the fluctuating waves of the Fram Strait
A passageway taken by those who deep dream
Seeking that rare gift
Somewhere in the deep of the Arctic Ocean
Seeking their own Beginning
A journey into the deepest depths of poetry also known as The Exposition
For within that setting
At that time and place
They build like master masons
Characters and plots to beguile the watching world like a reborn Dante Alighieri
An occult philosophical theory found in the foundation stones of music and stories
Poetry
Awaiting to be consumed by a new Adam and Eve
In the form of a tempting rust red cherry
Escribe como debes No dejes que tus expresiones se conviertan en polvo.
Write as you you should. Don't let your expressions turn to dust
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Image shared under fair usage policy
