. Poetry from The Great In-Between

Saturday, August 31, 2024

The Monologue of David

 Press Play.



(A lone voice whispers)


Although 

The Divine Pacatari


Took me tragically over the precarious edge 

Of the final dark mountain


To cross the Silver Bridge 

To witness Heaven's illustrious 


Beautiful fountains


While Star Child Orion

Watched in such profound sadness


From so far away


Riding the endless night sky

So high


With the sacred White Universal Mare 


Rode by Uriel 


Watching

In the Celestial Garden


As I look up in this thin fading air and patiently stare


Into the deep colours revolving like spinning tops in this abyss 


I know and pray 

We will be reunited in another lifetime


On another glorious day


To sparkle in such bliss 

Like a rare pair of twinkling diamonds


To prance and dance 

So close together


Like the tiny particles found in red wine


In the Holy Silver Communion Cup 


For even though fire and ice


Death and sometimes the misery of time

Will try to destroy our love


These feelings

Will never stop


For ours was just a brief rehearsal

In this lifetime 


Not a farewell from The Eternal Circle


For our love story will live on

Forever


In a place beyond worlds


In quantum realms 

Places unseen


And when you awaken in the half-light of lucid dreams


In the deep Realms of Sleep


I shall return 

In my only wedding suit

For nothing is truly lost


And even though love has a high price


We will walk 

Together again


Hand in hand 

So soon

One night


The cost of our reunion

Will be our secret reminder


A unique revelation

In the pristine Harvest Moon


For we are all but just

Golden leaves


Spice 

Blown by ravenous thunder 

In God's never-ending Monsoon


For I now know


No one weeps

When reunited in the Labyrinth of Sleep


To be remarried

In The Great In-Between


For living a mortal life


Is just the start of a new honeymoon 


(C)

Copyright John Duffy


Image shared under fair usage policy.

Friday, August 30, 2024

The Dream Bringer. The Monologue of Morpheus the Greek.

Press play.


(A lone voice whispers)



I watch unseen

From The Great In-Between 

Carrying your heart's dreams


In my brown and blue suitcase 

Filled to the seam


And when the daylight sun lays to rest and the night stars


Look down for souls to mark and Illuminate, ready to confess 


I appear sparkling like rare diamonds through a purple portal in time and space


To open my brown and blue suitcase 

And quietly whisper


Mortal

Take these dreams as yours

As you run your race


Fear not failure 

Or feelings of disgrace


Which might take you 

To a hard place 


But revel in the freedom 

My dreams will bring


Be them good

Or filled with sin


For either way, 

They'll help your soul 

Sing


And with a transmutation spell


I then disappear 

Back to The Great In-Between 


To watch the night stars


Looking down for souls ready to be marked and illuminated


As they plead to confess 


So I can then appear

To help those 


Who might feel low

Or oppressed


Rise up with all they possess 


As my dreams

In their tired minds


Slowly unravel and take off their dress


So they can never be by Darkness 


Tethered and 

Conquered


For I'm just one

Of the universes many good shepherds


(C)

Copyright John Duffy

Thursday, August 29, 2024

The Prophet Of Dumaz Speaks


 

(A lone voice whispers)


Hey you

You do realize 

You picked this life 


Before you were born


All the people you've met

Loved 

Hated


Family

Friends

Lovers

Situations


Hardships

Encountered

In whatever nation


When you signed your soul's timeline

Up high


Somewhere

In the Deep Divine


It may be a strange thing 

Knowing this


But consoling

All the same 

In a bizarre way


Souls

Some say


Need to face 

Trials and tribulations 

To soar higher


To be refined


So maybe

What you're presently 

Going through


Is a journey of love or pain

You


Yes

You


Have already planned

To go through 

Again


So view challenges 

In a new way


Don't be daunted 

Scared or swayed 


Face them with courage

And fortitude 


For to not do so

This time around

Would be rude


Or you could just crumble

And turn to dust


Only to ask 

For the same experience 

Again 


With your soul

Entombed in a new husk


So trust your instincts

And I hope and pray


This got you thinking 

That all you're enduring 

You've asked for


Even knowing me 

Via this poetic review

To remind you


Keep going

You still have

So much to do 


(C)

Copyright John Duffy


Image shared under fair usage policy.

Tuesday, August 27, 2024

Confessionalism of The Soothsayer

 

(A lone voice whispers)


Am I cursed like poor Orpheus

The son of Apollo


To just wander through life

Wasting my time


Cursed by the Three Crones 

To now write rhymes 


For just you

Who I silently 

Follow


Writing about love and sorrow

Whilst hid in my hollow


 For only

Two invisible pennies

 Or dimes


 Because my Goddess 

 Divine has called

 In all my sins


To be tormented in every way 

Like Orpheus by the Maenads 

To play


With this as punishment 

For all my eternal crimes


 Every night

 Or at the break of morning 


I'm now doomed

To write


Sometimes 

In darkness 

Sometimes in light


Writing for my soul

For my freedom 

To really see


Unlocking old mysteries

Hidden deep within me 


To take back control


Using secretive newly found keys 

To mysterious occult doors


To traverse through 

Strange literature about inner kingdoms 


As I now speak to you

The silent viewers


Hiding cleverly amongst life's many moors


Hidden in the vastness of The Universe or simply forgotten kin


Or quiet fallen watchers 

Parading silently


Through my paradigms of words or simply perusing 

In my inspired biosphere 


Am I but one of the many cursed 


Maybe like you 

Too


 To walk at the front like a brave foot soldier or simply following


Like a loyal Bannerman 


Coerced beyond belief 

To seek continuous relief


Is that why I 

Perhaps like you 

Always now write


For sleep doesn't come easy to us two


Walking these precarious tightropes

At midnight


Filled with such unknown delicious and sometimes devilish mysteries 


 Now cast me

 My two invisible pennies 

 Or dimes


By reading on with those eager eyes 


As I serve my penance 

For all my own earthly crimes 


Urging you to absorb all my otherworldly experiences while you read


With unrestrained greed


For know

 All our mistakes and crimes 

Are to be judged by our own

Head Watchman 


Our own judge and jury

When it's our time


No matter what you've got 

Or where you go 


And it’s why I now saunter through life


Perpetually seeking salvation to be un- dammed


Spreading inspiration through through words


Painting tapestries created within carefully selected adjectives and verbs


Before I meet the primordial and eternal king and prepare to be judged as I pray and hold my nerve 


In the apex of the all the universe 


Where used up stars fall like molten snow as golden bells sing a soft melody 


Who the faint whispers tell me is called the Tall Man 


The ruler of all 


Who are tainted to live within realms of neverending jeopardy


Copyright John Duffy

Confessionalism of The Soothsayer




(A lone voice whispers)


Am I cursed like poor Orpheus


The son of Apollo




To just wander through life


Wasting my time


 


Cursed by the Three Crones 


To now write rhymes 


For just you




Who I silently 


Follow


Writing about love and sorrow


Whilst hid in my hollow


 


 For only


Two invisible pennies


 Or dimes




 Because my Goddess 


 Divine has called


 In all my sins




To be tormented in every way 


Like Orpheus by the Maenads 


To play




 With this as punishment 


 For all my eternal crimes




 Every night


 Or at the break of morning 




I'm now doomed


To write


 


 Sometimes 


 In darkness 


 Sometimes in light


 


 Writing for my soul


 


 For my freedom 


 To really see


 


Unlocking old mysteries


Hidden deep within me 


To take back control




Using secretive newly found keys 


To mysterious occult doors


 


To traverse through 


Strange literature about inner kingdoms 


As I now speak to you




The silent viewers


Hiding cleverly amongst life's many moors




 Hidden in the vastness of 


 The Universe or


 Simply forgotten kin




 Or quiet fallen watchers 


 Parading silently


 Through my paradigms of words or simply perusing 




 In my inspired biosphere 




 Am I but one of the many cursed 




Maybe like you 


Too




 To walk at the front like a brave foot soldier or simply following


Like a loyal Bannerman 




Coerced beyond belief 


To seek continuous relief


 


Is that why I 


Perhaps like you 


Always now write




For sleep doesn't come easy to us two


Walking these precarious tightropes


At midnight


 


Filled with such unknown delicious and sometimes devilish 


Mysteries 




 Now cast me


 My two invisible pennies 


 Or dimes




By reading on with those eager eyes 


 


 As I serve my penance 


For all my own earthly crimes 




Urging you to absorb all my otherworldly experiences while you read


With unrestrained greed


 


For know




 All our mistakes and crimes 


Are to be judged by our own


Head Watchman 


 




Our own judge and jury


When it's our time




No matter what you've got 


Or where you go 




And it’s why I now saunter through life


Perpetually seeking salvation to be un- dammed




Spreading inspiration through through words


Painting tapestries created within carefully selected adjectives and verbs




Before I meet primordial and eternal king




In the apex of the all the universe 




Where used up stars fall like molten snow as his golden bells sing a soft melody 




As it's eyes glows




Who the faint whispers tell me


Is called the Tall Man 




The ruler of all who are tainted to live within realms of jeopardy




Copyright John Duffy 

Monday, August 26, 2024

Memories


Press play.

Memories 


In the silence of it

Does it still make you smile


If so 

Treasure it


(C)

Copyright John Duffy

The Invitation

 



I rather like creating supernatural pieces, littered with light and dark references.


I just have a strange ethereal kaleidoscope, I use to describe emotional driven poetic short stories. 


Are the stories just whispering voices in the darkness from the Great In-Between?


Are they reflective in nature? 


I suppose it's just a reflection of how I see humanity shaped. 


We each have our own individual styles. 


Mine are all poetic monologues in essence.


For to know and treasure the light of happiness when it comes, we need to have drunk a sip from darkness hot liquor.


To then stand tall in front of all. 


Without a flicker and accept Loves Invitation 


Whenever it's presented! 


Salute. 


Title:

The Invitation. 


Let me in

I whisper in the darkness.


Across deep blue oceans and rocky yellow sandy shores


To warm you my new love

For I am so hot


Let my whispered dark spells


Carried by grey smoke in the gushing four winds


Reach those once frozen tears


Falling from those beautiful eyes and reach deep into your lonely heart.


Feel its red flame

Crimson


As it engulfs you with total ease


Hot to the touch like fire


So addictive and seductively consuming


But beware

When it touches humans


Some are forever emotionally 

Ruined


Like a rare expensive bottle of red wine


Bestowed from the dark places unvisited 


Let me melt those cold glaciers that surround you with soul-warming fires


Burning and spinning within my endless dark eyes


Feel the heat from my hands on your chest


The breath of my mouth

Tasting each word as your soul opens up 


Its dark doors and pleads to confess


No more to wait

But to climb my red ladder out of the darkness of Naamah's 


Endless grey void


Before your beautiful soul is tainted and stands inline 


With so many others who make a mockery of emotions


Before they are destroyed 


No more to lie frozen under heartbroken spells


Conjured by dark shadows 

From leather-bound grimoires from the Lesser Key of Solomon


As you bathe in deep silence under a darkened purple-hued sky


Let that flame that once flickered so low but never really died


Those discarded old dreams which once laid forgotten in old days and lonely nights


Come back to life 


As I force back Damballa's darkness with my shining Astral knife


Are you kneeling naked and vulnerable in your red room

Awaiting my soft touch


Can I baptise you like Saint John the Baptist


To walk knee-deep into new seas of Galilee


Is that low spark of Longing


On fire in your centre


Your precious divine spiritual altar


Aflame and burning so bright


Are you ready to get drunk on this lascivious potion 

I always carry


Stolen from the encampments on the perilous mountains of Asmodeus


Called Mother Temptation 


Will you drink and feel the burn


To melt as all those old once hidden feelings 

Slowly return


Will you then sleep unfrozen as they creep in


Is it then you will ask me


In hushed soft whispers to take you under and whisper new red love spells


To listen as you then slowly confess 


As your soul no longer weeps 


Just say yes

And acquiesce

My new muse


I'll be that willing shoulder and ear to listen


As all your previous fears have a means to be expressed


As your eyes shine in a new half-light and begin to glisten


Copyright John Duffy


Image shared under fair usage policy.

The Moon Goddess. Dianna.


(A lone voice whispers)


Take this, 

These softly spoken words 


As the sacred keys to my Tower of Regeneration 


And as my high moon sets

Call to me with all your power


From any nation


And I'll help you conquer your abyss 


With a full life and a real love


Guided by my light 

At your side


To open your heart wide 


Replenished by the warmth of my belief, 

One of my greatest of gifts


For if you don't

My energy, and moonlight you will always miss


As you look back at me 

One lonely night


And reminisce 


(C)

Copyright John Duffy 


Image shared under fair usage policy.
 

Sunday, August 25, 2024

Renewal


Press play.

(A lone voice whispers)


Is this the final time for you and me


To part from visiting my white room
In the Great In-Between


For this morning I read
As God once said
In Isaiah 43:18-19


I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland


And I can faintly hear brass bands playing a sad tune in the distance

Via my automatic scrying machine


And a soft voice whispering
It's no use staying

She needs time to heal 

To restart and feel


So maybe
Another time around in this crazy circle

With no rehearsal
It may last


Even though our love is dead and buried


Maybe next time we can just find a way to continue to be true friends

Who makes each other
Gasp

To try to make it better than the last


So tonight I open up my old tired diary

And just write in big letters


Never forget
Your only love
Mary

The kind woman who once carried you
When life once got so heavy


(C) Copyright John Duffy

Saturday, August 24, 2024

Musings


 “Is a just and true life — one stirred by love and escorted by experience?


Neither a love devoid of experience, but a realization of love and experience — can it help to produce a virtuous existence?” 


To know love – do we have to jump all in – swimming valiantly?


Thrashing feverishly around within its deep, mysterious pools of emotions?


To really feel the ecstasy, the highs, and lows?


Do we have to go up above and below?


Does the emotional roller coaster of a sublime bliss—catch you within its first soft, sensuous kiss?


Can the suddenly harsh voice of its sudden disdain, sometimes enduring such immeasurable pain — stop you from ever chasing it again?


What is a life without trying it?


Do you turn into the French Inquisition, and see transgressions everywhere,

So you don't get burnt?


Has love burnt a hole in your side?


A few I have known weep from its soft velvety touch, and only having enduring its rollercoaster once, seek it no more.


Do they not know — climbing back on board with a new passenger: might be the answer?


Love is the most complex enigma we will ever know in life, and as the saying goes, fall down seven times, stand up eight!


The average woman will kiss 15 men, enjoy two long-term relationships, and have her heartbroken twice before she meets, “The One”, a study reveals.  


Researchers found she will also suffer four disaster dates, and be stood up once, before she finally settles down with the man of her dreams.


Men, on the other hand, face being stood up twice, and will have six one-night stands before they meet their ideal partner.  


This figure could be coming down, though, because a separate study suggests that men are becoming less afraid of commitment.


The average young man is ready for a committed relationship from the age of 22, two years younger than ten years ago.


Have you fallen down seven 

But still get up eight?


Copyright John Duffy


Thanks for visiting. Salute.


 

Merry Christmas