Have you got a muse?

 

Occult Whispers

 

Occult Whispers 

Do you summon new or old

secret places?

Sanctuaries of Hidden Sacred Spaces?

Transforming and restructuring unseen realities, and visions of old or new faces?

To even build bridges to cross contradictions of ego, self and even trauma?

To walk away from low places: linked to old cities like Sodom and Gomorrah?

Using a diverse mixture of letters as a supernatural or mystical quality?

To create and help override everyday experiences of regression or depression? 

Using wisdom, spiritual insight, and intuition?

If so, this occult spell is for just you, to help you win.

"Quasi ventus surgas et vincas omnia peccato coniuncta." (L)

(May you rise like the wind and conquer all things linked to sin)

 (C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Occult: 

A term that was originally used in Latin to designate the hidden or unseen properties of things and that, since the 16th century, has also been used to characterise religious traditions that include belief in unseen forces or that otherwise behave in a secretive or mysterious manner.

Sodom and 

Gomorrah, in this case, reflects any situations linked to corruption and sin.

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A voice at midnight

 

(A lone voice whispers)

As I walk alone in here

Just looking for a strange city called Redemption and a means to atone

Surrounded by whispering, crying voices in this ominous new darkness

Of The Great In-Between

Which swirls all around humanity, but to the profane 

All around you

It still remains today totally unseen and unnamed

I always really wonder deep down inside as I move and peruse

Does she honestly still miss me, that lady in black who was never satisfied

Even though I was famous and talked about every day 

On every world news

That young war bride I once met when I toured worldwide

Who I once used to sit with in secret and in the low hours by candlelight

Converse in-depth about love life and all its sometimes painful mysteries linked to death and power

Which always used to remind me of Macbeth

As we sat underneath that magical old blackened oak tree, no matter where we were

Somewhere hidden in the many fluctuating realms of the forbidden

Just connected by a portal, I used to call forth by a secret incantation the name of a dandelion

One of The Great In-Between's most beautiful flowers 

Only known to a few of the last descendants of those deemed immortal

From where I was born and raised in Tupelo, Mississippi

To then be known all the way to the wet sandy shores of the Baltic Sea

Am I soon to be just a faded, jaded memory

A part of a now-old and forgotten legacy

People come and go in your old life 

I suppose

Friendship, heartbreak, and love go hand in hand with something resembling Damocles' sharp knife

So I'm told now I'm wiser as each day I grow older

Some relationships will seem to last forever, and some will inescapably be cut so deeply by their biblical silvery blade

That no matter how hard you may have cried, shedding such sad tears 

Or kneeled for hours and prayed

You'll eventually know that's why love and friendship are entwined around treasured memories of others

You once so dearly cared for

Sometimes choose capriciously to slowly just fade away

But if I could only just see the face of my precious, treasured memory once more 

Starting from today

I would thank the Almighty until the final day of my baptism into a new holy Jerusalem

If only he would bless me with the power and the magic of an endless Midsummer Night's Dream

To once again in this darkness

Sit together and talk under this new blackened old oak tree

After I once again try to just summon her

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

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The Strict Mistress from the House of Hidden Books

 

  

I had a rather intriguing conversation today about the power of seduction through words. 

It's a tad risque.

"Whisper into my imagination and you can gain my attention,

But if those whispers reach my soul, I could be yours  forevermore."

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

The Strict Mistress from the House of Hidden Books

(A lone voice whispers)

Within these conjured hypnotic words

Lies, my secret binding spell

To you 

To control and contain 

No matter how loud you shout or yell out

In happiness or pain 

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

While waiting for new life-changing glories 

Will you 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

Will you 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 

Will you give me all those deep, pamphagous thoughts

You keep bajulated under strict locks and keys

That no one sees

Forever confined 

Landscapes, or should I say mindscapes 

Filled with such visceral, enticing written words

Which brings forth such irrational coercive armies 

Heralding banners of such a hypnotic binding power

Just waiting to liberate minds in the low hours

In the new battles of Middle-Earth

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 

From my House of Hidden Books

Appearing like S & M

Mistresses or Masters 

Right out of the blue

Will you pray for us to embrace 

While these soft words upon your mind's delicious lips 

Are gracefully worshipped

For by hearing these whispers, 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 

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Visions from The Great In-Between

Visions from The Great

 In-Between

(A lone voice whispers)

Did you know that demons prowl like a clan of hyenas while you sleep? 

They come close, creeping in from the dark shadows and sniffing for the odour of your soul. 

Their presence may signal that you are becoming increasingly corrupted by the insidious manipulation of society as you grow older. 

They seek the sweet smell of cabbage, a feast to collect, much like Bob Marley, as your soul grows weak.

As you carry more and more unnecessary chains and baggage. 

So the question is: 

Will you pray to your God of choice to strengthen your soul? 

For when you sleep, the night dwellers come prowling, creeping in to seek you as their ultimate goal. 

For they look for corrupted souls who are drawn to all things wicked, linked to defilement.

As they use soul metastasis to help their wickedness grow, like falling black snow. 

(C) Copyright John Duffy

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The Angel of Fatima

 

Foundation.

In a corrupt world, do angels of any faith watch?

The Angel of Fatima

 (A lone voice whispers)

Sometimes, in the sight of such mindless violence

In this deep silence

I kneel to pray in these grey shadows

That peace will prevail, one day in your world

That mountain tops worldwide will joyously sing, with unconstrained laughter

And in defiance

As we, The Watchers

Angels

From the Great Hereafter 

Smile, as our Silver Towers in Heaven

Hum with a sweet medley 

Of 

Praise Be

Praise Be

For sinners below

Will be baptised

In a new sea of Galilee, by a reborn John the Baptist

To be winners

To find true love 

Walking freely

Now in open forests

Pleading to be plundered

Daydreaming souls will no longer need to wander

In frantic visions

Alone

Since purification, not self-sacrifice

Will lead them to divine wonders 

To block their pyramids of pain

With Hope's capstone

Will you 

Call me

When the moon's

High

Past the tree's 

Hiding the skies

When the Eclipse 

Comes

For I can see and sense you 

Need that feeling

A loud drumbeat of need

That screams

Pleading

So

Will you open those tired arms

And let me in

So I may with sunlit kisses

Swim in all your inner vestibules

Sanctify all you know

As we dance as one

To a new song

Announced by life-changing, fast-moving octaves

As a glorious new world is built upon the many graves of

The secret slaves

Of an old empire 

Of such depravity and corruptible sin

With their rich leaders 

Just the seen knaves

Controlled by hidden hands

Of those

Our prayers

Can never save

©

Copyright John Duffy

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Hope

 

Foundation.

We are all born to grieve for one day, someone we love, will have to leave.

Finding a means to cope, will hopefully give birth to hope

By eventually embracing our darkness, we can find some sort of peace.

The Kübler-Ross 5 stages of grief:

Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and finally Acceptance. 

Can't still believe it

Why

I'd do anything, take me

I'm staying in bed

I do miss them so, but at least I'll carry their memories with me

Everywhere I go

If you have been through grief, you probably will relate to the five stages 

Hopefully, you are at the last stage but if not

The others are just another part of the healing process, and will help you turn their dark pages

Poem below:

Laid on the altar

Of Elizabeth Kübler-Ross

She finds hope in grief 

(575)

(C) Copyright John Duffy 

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Finding Catharsis

Some say pain drives art.

Is that how you fell in love with poetry?

Title:

Finding Catharsis 

(A lone voice whispers)

Conjuring stanzas 

Baptised sanctified with pain 

To keep on floating

(575)

(C) Copyright John Duffy 

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The Diary Letter to Beatrice

 

The Diary Letter to Beatrice

(A lone voice whispers, as the right hand, takes careful notes)

In the deepest of silence 

I always walk 

Deep in thoughts, into my own created Maelstrom of Defiance

As memories of you appear slowly, like a wild moorland winter fog

Which slithers, rolls and returns

With a soft hint of a time that was truly priceless

Announced with a slight shiver, running down my spine, that burns

As the air magically fills with that so familiar pulsating scent, of Chanel N°5

That makes me wilt and pine, as all my sharpened senses, quickly come alive 

An imagination mind trick, that if I told any doctor

They would put me straight into, any asylum, with this wrap up line

"Old man, isn't it time you dropped her?"

It's usually then, that feel your presence and visually embrace 

In my mind's cathedral of memories, all those lingering thoughts and images 

Whispering like feverish crows

About everywhere, we once went

Before our descent, from the pinnacle of grace, as we got old

Especially whenever I look in our old silver mirror, and start feeling cold 

When I still see reflected, your dark eyes, looking back at me

Which carries a hint of your sweet snarl, encased within a smile. I once used to call, heaven sent. 

But when those loving sensations slowly fade

And life winds once more, blows my way

And the mind fog, stops rolling in from my mind's, Highlands

Returning me to Reality Island

Just know, my twin flame in my Eternal White Room

I still carry you and your beautiful name, to the tomb

Deep inside, wherever I go

For your husky voice always rides and rules my internal highways, whenever I smell that so loved perfume 

Like a reborn Gail 

In a New Sin City

Called The Hippocampus

A place I call too, like George Kelby Jr. 

Who once went to Cross Creek trying to find forgiveness

When Doubt calls and bills me

Whenever I try to remember

Why even after all these years, I still feel so guilty 

About there no longer being, a living tale about us

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

The Poetic Wheel

 

Have an inspiring week.

Salute.

Want something deep to carry into 2025? 

Title:

The Poetic Wheel

(A lone voice whispers)

Be courageous

For some things last forever

This is the Universal Law

Regardless of your flaws

So you must keep running or walking on the towpath of Redemption

Not towards self destruction

But towards salvation

Keep making spiritual contracts

And contacts

To meet and experience

Support

Hope

Love

Pain and even sorrow

Regardless of the hindrances

Tomorrow

For this is the norm

So, if you're reading this

With curiosities, kiss

Your higher form has already made contact

You see

It's a strange ebb and flow

For even chaos, death, and night

Doesn't last forever

This you probably already know

For we are all like faraway stars which will never fade away

Souls turning their Eternal Wheel

Powering it by our written soul contract

Under a magical seal, 

And so we must never yield 

Therefore, no matter how depressed or happy you feel

Know and keep 

Going

For there will always be someone, writing or speaking

Taking their turn,

Turning the spiritual, poetic wheel

To maybe help you heal

Souls perhaps

Like you

Experiencing 

A 

similar life

Others can sometimes, never see

(C) Copyright John Duffy