I'm only going for one

 

I'm only going for one.

Foundation.

From late nights saying they're only having one, which could lead to infidelity, gambling, narcotics, and other subtle forms of sin.

Do the partners of today need a medal for continuing to love their partner and never giving in?

Have you ever heard the line above or below?

Title.

I'm only going for one.

(A partner looks at their partner's picture and quietly thinks after receiving a late Friday afternoon text message)

 You.

My now unspoken pact, which was nearly broken.

So many times. On the sacrificial altar of sin.

Oh, why do we constantly love those sinners, like you? 

Who always nearly let's Temptation, unfortunately win.

(C) Copyright John Duffy 

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Was Bram Stokers Dracula simply based upon addiction?

 

Was Bram Stokers Dracula simply based upon addiction?

Is that magnificent novel, Dracula, partly based upon Bram Stokers keen eye as he regarded people as he strode daily through London and helped him conjure up a magnificent and frightful character that has transcended time and space for generations?

Is Bram Stokers Dracula simply a well-known London socialite—a well-heeled drug pusher of the time?

A well-dressed, wealthy, and striking-looking character with a dominating personality?

A man—unknown to the many but to the few—who created legions of addicts prowling the streets.

Seeking money by any means to get more of the magic powder he gave them via an injection.

Did Bram Stoker infuse the symptoms and behaviour patterns of the heroin or opium addicts and their suppliers to create a mythology that survives to this day and beyond?

Was he not a typical drug dealer, but was he instead a socialite?

Did he know or mix with those who engaged in such activities, supplied by a well-heeled dealer, who he based his iconic mesmerising character on?

Dracula's character is a hypnotic figure that creates a faithful legion that eventually falls under his control; did Bram Stoker witness the demise of actors within the Lyceum Theatre and fall under the control of a Svengali-type character supplying them?

In today’s climate of regulations, it is hard to believe, but in early- and mid-Victorian Britain it was possible to walk into a chemist’s shop and buy, without prescription, laudanum, cocaine, and even arsenic. 

The recreational use of opiates was popular with pre-Victorian and Victorian artists and writers.

The Signs of a Heroin User for modern addicts, but can you imagine the signs in 1890!

Change in Behavior

Risk-taking 

Isolation 

Disorientation  

Anxiousness 

Changes in appearance

Heroin addicts who use needles will have needle marks on their bodies

Does the trademark puncture wound simply represent the needle marks of an easily bought set from the local chemist or the expensive tools of a wealthy dealer supplying a certain circle of writers or actors?

Does Dracula's thirst for more victims represent a certain character within Bram Stoker's horizons?

A person who strove to create an endless line of victims to line his pockets?

Are all the victims pale, always exhausted, and looking ill due to the addiction taking effect?

Did the Svengali character only appear at night searching for new victims?

Writers all base stories around people or landscapes they are privy to —have we, for all these years, simply watched a clever storyline interwoven with tales of Want created through drug addiction by a Svengali of the late 1890s?

The Want been reflected by the Svengali forever chasing down more victims, and the victims wanting to experience a newer magical essence that is permeating the social scene.

Seeking to become newer members of a secret club?

Like today in Hollywood?

Copyright John Duffy 

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Are you a type A, B, or C personality when it comes to writing poetry?

Foundation.

Can people be characterized by how they approach creating poetry?

Well, let's see if points A, B, or C leave an impression?

Title.

Are you a type A, B, or C personality when it comes to writing poetry?

(A lone voice called, Alya, whispers)

Well, hello, are you ready to listen to my voice, and hear what I think I know?

 

Are you: A.

A rhymer?

A gatekeeper to old or new emotional sensations?

Demanding the freedom to live in a new format?

For real eyes to read from the human nation? 

Or are you: B.

A young or old timer, like a goldminer from 1827.

At Coker Creek?

In the high country of Monroe County, Tennessee?

Searching for the right lines, like pure gold?

To express and extinguish a cold, uncontrollable fire?

To turn your soul into one of Poetry's many soldiers, who love all-nighters filled with unquestionable desire?

Going to war every day against tones and metaphors.

Juxtapositions or cold terror?

Or are you: C.

Just another lonely driver?

Stuck on the highways of dreams with a blown tire?

Searching for someone new to become real fighters together?

Who also loves Poetry's all-nighters?

With a mirror image to hold tighter and to help make the load so much more lighter?

Or are are you just a mixture of the three? 

A: represents the need to just write poetry for pleasure.

B: represents the need to just write poetry for catharsis. 

C: represents the need to just write poetry while seeking solace, in someone special.

Who shares the same bliss of experiencing, Poetry's deep kiss?

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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Neglēctiō

 

Foundation.

A path walked by many.

Loss, in its many forms, can change oneself in many subtle ways.

From failed relationships to the passing of loved ones to opportunities.

One subtle way is simply forgetting to care for oneself, physically or mentally.

Reaching out always helps.

Sending blessings if you're walking the path or have walked its nettle-filled roads.

Salute.

Title.

Neglēctiō (L)

(A lone voice whispers)

I never really knew what the slow death of the soul genuinely meant and all its many difficult sensations.

Until the apparition appeared, creeping and bent.

Introducing himself as the dark master, known as Mister Neglēctiō.

The master of the soul's descent.

Armed with his armada of spiritually, self-depreciating, equations.

To breach my trust with his fraudulent intent

(C)

Copyright John Duffy  

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The Secret Book of Dzyan,R

A dash of creative writing.

Magic and love entwined.

Why?

Don't you feel, with reflection, falling in love is like being under a strange binding spell?

A spell that compels you night and day to behave in a strange way?

Did love cast a spell over you like the mage below?

Title.

The Secret Book of Dzyan,

As the Mage watched from afar, through remote viewing. 

He channelled a secret prayer to the brightest star in the four winds.

As he assumed the meditation pose.

He began reciting his evocation to the spirit guides, watching from the 5th level of the Astral Realms.

For them to take it back to her, from Beyond the Purple Rainbows.

As they swirled all around him. 

________________________

(A lone voice whispers)

Your dark eyes are like priceless blue oceans 

  

I whisper to the watching Elementals

I dream to dive in deep and drown within

For they are deeper than any of the known lakes

To bathe in their once-tasted waters

Is where I want me to always fall

And reveal my soul as it experiences its first taste of sin

For your inquisitive eyes, soft, tender lips, and smooth skin

Is a treasure I seek where I'd nightly kneel to pray 

For a new Atlantis

To be reborn

Within

Your eyes are like magnetic dark portals

For my souls

Astral nightly projections 

As I conquer its many strange citizens with my own supernatural powers

To reach you

Defeating 

On one of its many long ethereal roads

Architects of so many devious deceptions 

Just to see your twin eyes, for they are like the best friends

Love could ever possibly buy, and that’s why

I just love popping by

To rejoice in The Coming of our own Divine Invasions

The once lost words

Recitals and such memories of succulent prose

Once written for your eyes only 

Are just my own divine stanzas

Like written in The Secret Books of Dzyan

A silver shimmering sea

Where we will soon forever fly

Like dark eaglesPaired, Forever wild and untamed

For as our lonely souls once met

So long ago 

In the Great In-Between

We were anointed to be simply 

Free and Unchained

And it's why I always pray to return

To finally conjure you into life

And your love to earn

But until then, I'll just breathe you 

Into my dreams

Whenever I visit 

The Great In-Between 

So be it

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

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Josefina

(A lone voice whispers)

A rare beauty I did once but see.

By mountain tops, by the raging blue sea. 

Where white clouds bowed themselves too in fealty, when my bell:

She did ring. 

Oh, how I still love to hear her sing. Playing that golden guitar.

In deep dreams, poetry and sweet rhymes. 

Remembering incredible times.

Walking by mountain tops, near that raging blue sea. 

When white clouds smiled nearby, in a show of fealty.

As they too saw that  rare beauty, who once seduced me.

By the raging blue sea

(C) Copyright John Duffy 

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Cogitation

 Foundation.

Depending on your age or  having a busy schedule, have you forgotten your younger years?

Title.

Cogitation

(A deep thought whispers)

Have you ever sat under the sun and looked back over your life's many old pages?

Remembering how you once ran, with whom and at what age?

Or have those old memories turned to dust?

All family and friends. Young and old love.

Moments of misery compounded by huge moments of victories.

People you once trusted now resigned to your own pages of history?

So, I'll ask again and use this as a prompt within this prose.

Have you ever paused under the hot sun?

Sat in the shade and looked back at old memories as they replayed?

 

Remembering happier times when you were having such fun?

The best ones, with maybe those, no longer around, as those incredible memories are eventually found? 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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Zinzino

 

Zinzino

(A lone voice whispers)

For many years I have seen your world get darker, be it by brooks or societies underground streams.

I've wandered through dreams with Morpheus.

Saw political-hungry eyes gleam.

Free from light but dark, beside brooks or underground streams.

Just know this, from I, Camael.

A beast hides his face amongst those where it sows its seeds, of greed and disgrace.

As it's welcomed willingly, into corrupt places.

By hungry eyes that gleam, bereft of any of humanity's God's graces.

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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The name "Zinzino" is of Italian origin and translates to "a small piece with great value",

Melancholy Love

 Foundation.

Books, film, poetry, and songs are saturated by broken love.

Sometimes people get together who were never meant to be together.

This is but another.

Title.

Melancholy Love

(A lone voice whispers)

Even though we loved so deeply and fought so many picky wars

That invisible tears still stain our faces

Marked by emotional scars, which bare our flaws

I know one day we'll meet again as friends 

For true love never ends

And as long as our hearts still beat

There's still time to achieve this feat

But if there ever comes a time, when Charon's Obol arrives 

And you survive, as I sail by

Just know now

Some men are just mundane fools, to fall in love.

But with you, I've fallen in love a thousand times, with a gift bestowed from Above

For true heavenly revelations, sometimes lay scattered, within small moments, of casual conversations and picky fights

To then make up at night

 

As two embrace last year's New Year's resolution of:

“This year will be the making of us.”

For even if I lay with Charon's cold silver Obol

I'll sing to you, within that new flux

My life's final absolution, 

My only love song

And it's why my love

You'll live forever 

For loving you was truly  never wrong

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Image by Jeffrey Lewis Bennett, shared under fair usage policy

Bordello Thoughts

 

Within these low whispers, lost in the brothels of my mind 

Revolving in the deep depths

As I sit here 

Alone at my old desk

I can feel the subtle arrival of you, and the vibrational presence of other viewers

Maybe on their beloved cellmate, their phone or computer 

So here's to you all

You the bohemians 

Eccentrics 

Originals and mavericks

Of mankind 

The kingdom builders of visual new world's that shine through 

Like Morpheus's Looking Glass

Using the power and brilliance of inspired words and fluted thoughts

I pray you continue to seek more 

Like l do

Searching for the one I still adore 

Calliope

Who walks on rivers of crimson fire and grey ash

In memories gardens to be reunited, after she stepped through another stage door 

You 

The Ones blessed with the brilliance of words and fluted thoughts 

Only you I can praise

You the searchers and creator's

Poetic

Time abusers

Just constantly try to be free and never bought

Or caught like me, by always chasing poetry's, new dammed train of thought 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

 Image shared under fair usage policy.