The Letter to Sophia

Press play.

Some whisper 

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 

Doomed forever 

To hovering above my prose 

Created in my version of Michelangelo's poetic studios 

That screams to be heard

With wide eager eyes

Like a love-struck 

Hummingbird 

Do you still tremble like when we first met 

In Downtown Manhattan 

Talking for hours and wanting the warm caress of loquacious re-introductions

Of newer verbs 

Opening mystical golden gates to strange supernatural realms

And their guile to bind us together 

Like love-struck Siamese twins

Creating welcomed sins 

Of dried intellectual sweat and sweet mysterious tributaries 

Of deep-seated 

spiritual yearnings 

That once made your mind so damn wet 

Tales of the unknown 

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 set 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

Vibrate in echo chambers and dreams whilst waiting

For the midnight call on 

New Year's Eve 

When we gather to sing pagan songs of King Solomon 

Counting down from 10

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 are quietly summoned to 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 

Water's

Famine or disorders

So in 2025

We can share our much loved algorithms 

In all our holy quarters 

So shall it be

What will be 

Will be

For we two are blessed with real eyes

Opened 

To see

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Image courtesy of Pinterest.

 

The Pact

 Press play 

(A lone voice whispers)

You know

Who you are

If this reaches you

The one 

I still love at the core

Lit inside 

Like a divine cathedral candle

Forevermore

So let the serpents

Come 

For like Moses

I'll stand strong

My mighty rod

Will open up a new road

To Damascus 

Guided to you

My own Euonymus alatus

Who still burns me 

Inside

So much

With such love

My soul cries

For although our paths 

Are divided by fate

By vultures and lions

Which prowl 

Hidden 

Restless

Unseen

Just outside our spiritual gates

Ours is a sacred pact

Sealed when we first met 

At eighteen 

One 

No fowl knoweth

And which the vultures and lions

With eyes green

Hath seen

And it's why they prowl

For they know

We have been endowed

To love each other forever 

By The Almighty Flame

From The Great In-Between

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

Need inspiration?

 

(A lone voice whispers)

I've met you before

You know

When you were young and wild

Before the world corrupted you

And your soul defiled 

I was present when you were born

Just hiding my true form

As I wait in here

In the shadows

Watching you act around and perform

Before you come home

To me

The eternal eyewitness 

Beyond the norm

So 

Live your life

Explore and experience all you can

Before you meet me again

And read after me

My Lord is my guide

I shall not want more

Before I die

He takes me through all doors as he rebuilds me to be whole

For my salvation is his only goal

Temptation shall call and bother me not 

For my Lord 

Regardless of my choice of faith

In who I believe 

Like a divine thought

Shall show me the way

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Image shared under fair usage policy 

Rebirth

 It's the weekend.

So here's a brief distraction for those needing something to read and absorb.

Salute.

Q:

What made you write poetry?

Was it an unconscious calling?

A need or just a natural progression of self-expression?

Or maybe even the 5 stages of post-traumatic growth from a break-up or bereavement?

Or just a need to change?

In my opinion, there is no midlife crisis if this term comes up.

It's just an awakening.

An awakening to a new way of life from the deep slumber of the old

Through perhaps one of these

All been told

A: A deeper acknowledgment of living.

B: Interactions with nature, family, friends, and strangers.

C: Brand-new eyes to see your own pathway.

F: A means to rebuild your mental strength.

Or even

E: Spiritual enlightenment 

My answer was post-traumatic linked to all 5.

Someone crossed over and experiencing the eventual demise 

Of their memory over time, in many. 

A thought suddenly appeared out of the Ether.

When my time comes, will I disappear only to reappear twice a year?

It whispered

Write.

Write books 

Create music

Poetry 

Anything 

Create an extension of you

To stay within the throes of Time

Don't just be a jaded memory visited on your birthday and at Christmas 

When people remember 

Why they miss us

So here's a memory of that ethereal conversation 

Recounting those thoughts from my flux

Title 

Rebirth

Child of mine

Who hears my calling

The strong 

The weak and maybe you 

The newly fallen

Will you be one of my prose soldiers? 

To help thaw out those whose hearts are now borne frozen

While trying to survive

Swimming in seas 

Of the Torn 

Amongst the Sloven

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Definitions of sloven:

noun: a coarse obnoxious person

Sloven in this creation represents, a myriad of negative Russian dolls.

What do Russian dolls as this metaphor mean?

It could 'mean' the many negative situations, carefully compartmentalized in an embodiment of a physical form

One encounters in everyday situations.

So, from A to E, which one will you pick?

Have a great weekend and hopefully, you enjoyed this brief distraction.

Salute.

 Sorrow comes in many forms 

Like a devious thief in the night 

A kleptomaniac who'll happily steal joy for pain

From parents

Lovers

To children

Friends and family

Have you heard him casually whisper your name?

Title 

Sorrow

(Mr. Grief whispers)

Do you want to experience pain?

Then

Fall in love

And let me break you down

Again and again

From birth until death 

When you wake up one day and only memories 

Remain 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Images shared under fair usage policy 

Need some love advice?

 Press play.

To truly love someone, do you need to know them, inside out?

Rules of Attraction 

(A lone voice whispers)

Will my eyes see deep

Will they see 

Where your soul sleeps

It's views

And reviews

All the intriguing intricate things

Which makes you 

Be you

When you welcome me

Into your keep 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

Rules of Attraction

 Rules of Attraction 

(A lone voice whispers)

Will my eyes see deep

Will they see 

Where your soul sleeps

It's views

And reviews

All the intriguing intricate things

Which makes you 

Be you

When you welcome me

Into your keep 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Who will you remember?

 

Christmas is a time when we remember those lost to us. 

But in memories stay. 

Who will you remember?

(A lone voice whispers.)

I sometimes

Still 

Dream about you

Right out of the pale and blue

Waking with a rare smile after watching what

They all usually develop into

 

All those intriguing memories

Of us 

So unprepared

Interdimensional moments

We shared

When we felt safe 

And not scared

Always

Flow like a molten spiritual review

They soothe my soul

Like midnight prayers

Silently spoken

In the cold but soft air 

At Christmas

That familiar feeling of walking

Carefree

Hand in hand

Down Clearwater's

Yellow sands

On those seemingly long summer nights

When the world seemed calm and not corrupted

By this new political song

Been played all around us

In this new storm

So that's why I always return

Here

To the

Cimetière du Père-Lachaise

To rewalk those forgotten ways 

By your grave

While the sun's rays

Still, stay 

As my tears play 

Je ne peux vivre sans t’aimer

(I Can’t Live Without Loving You)

In my eyes

Remembering when you were once mine

Until

Like all good things

We ran out of time 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

Image shared under fair usage policy. 

The Rider in the Storm

 The Rider in The Storm

(A lone voice whispers)

Hello

I still love you

As my dilated eyes have seen you

Shall I open the doors of perception

Where nothing is real and

Invite you into a

Strange marriage of heaven and hell

Will you wait for me

The Golden Man

Talking now

From beyond the silvery stars

Now living at Devil's Dam

Talking to my lambs

Sitting with JPL

And Ron

Talking about my wild love

Just working my own version of

The twenty-seven club

Here in an old Babylon

Opening old LSD new doors

Watching me as 

Mr. Mojo Risin

Taking over all the black and white dance floors

Shining like gold

In old portals

Telling my ghost song

Lit by a ring of burning fire

My old music

The wizard's new wand

Held by me

The immortal singer

Life's winds

Are blowing baby

And my wands

A singing

The Lizard Kings

Reborn to be retouched

Back on the road

Appearing in

Golden storms and through

Fire lit beautiful portals

Singing occult

Songs to still hypnotize

And preach to the listening

Mortals

For

I am The Golden Man

From beyond the silvery stars

Here to breach

All within reach

Who wants to live at

My Devil's Dam

To talk with me and my

Demons and lambs

To open old

Fire lit doors

Be seduced by my words

Used as

My golden lyre

Tell all the people

Around you

And

Will you just listen

As I relight

Your deepest desires

As I rework Old Babylon

Where we'll

Shine like gold

In old newly lit portals

Waiting with the Unknown Soldier

To appear on this

Moonlight drive bye

In these strange days until the very

End

When the music's over

And no longer plays

Will you wait for me

Under the eternal Grey Sun

To walk the soft LGBT parade

Filled

With loose L.A. men and wild women

I know

Billy the Hitchhiker came for me in

July in seventy-one

As I laid in that warm bath

Before we walked up

Devil Dams

Badly worn bridle path

After we shared a brown feast

A feast for well-loved friends

To celebrate me being down for so long

Now you know

I'm here with

Pamela

Riding the white crystal ship and thinking

She was always the one

That red-haired unhappy girl

I once met in the London Fog

When I was young

On the Sunset Strip in 1965

My cosmic partner now is in here with me

Watching the twenty-seven club play

On big screens

When I was once alive

The silk and wine

Are now together again

For true love

Can never be outrun

No matter what the Man

Or any old pagan

God's say

As long as their stories and memories

Are still sung

Under the 3 am sun

Shall I open the doors of perception

Where nothing is real and

Invite you into a

Strange marriage of heaven and hell

Will you wait for me

The Golden Man

Talking now

From beyond the silvery stars

Now living at Devil's Dam

Talking to my lambs

Sitting with JPL

And Ron

Talking about my wild love

Just

Working my own version of

The twenty-seven club

Here in an old Babylon

Copyright John Duffy    

Image shared under fair usage policy.

 

Mortality

 

As we all quietly age, one thought must surely creep into sight.

Did we embrace all our talents and our life?

 

Title.

*Mortality*

 

In days of futures old

When you see your tale told

Will you judge how your life was lived
Those long days and seemingly endless nights
Of your talents and silent dreams

Will you wonder what you achieved

 

Will you wonder if your dreams came true

Will you witness if you embraced you

Before you pass to see your maker

Before lodgings are took

Before the call of life’s old rook

Will you be a king or queen of adventures

Took

Or will you be forlorn

Will you question if you choose mundane

Or instead clasp bespoke

 

Will your gifts sing to courage and chances

Embraced and redeemed

Of hopes and cherished dreams

Or will you fall by the wayside

Soon to be unseen

 

Will you wish all your quick or slowly

Taken steps

Of happiness and times you wept

Stay forever in all those you love

As you enter above

Serenaded by mourning doves

 

Instead

 

Sing a sonnet of a life taken with courage

Where you will survive the ages

Like old mages of old

 

A story to embrace by others

Until they too are old

 

So instead of stupor filled nights

Filled with rituals of the same

Remember this life isn’t some easy game

To be cheaply played

 

Don’t be waylaid with visions

Unspoken

 

Rise and cash in life’s bestowed precious tokens

And don’t just leave broken-hearted with forlorn old reveries

Unspent

 

Make your life your labour of love

So you can smile from clouds above

 

To witness the smiles and laughter

Echo through the celestial serene halls of the hereafter

 

Be the captain of your own ship in the mists

Majesty of your vast empires of where you may struggle but still persist

 

*It’s how you’ll survive*

 

Copyright John Duffy