In a frigorific and caliginous dungeon,
You ensconce me along with the dust.
Our flesh is so terribly pungent,
With the scents of a violent lust.

Two vile and barbarous lovers,
Indulging in our brutal embrace.
Teeth stained with vermillion colors,
As a baneful grin adorns your face.

You pounce upon me like your prey,
As I helplessly lie in pure rapture.
Mauling and kicking away,
You have me blissfully captured.

I am entombed in your grip,
As vermin between beastly jaws,
Leaving my heavenly ichor to drip.
Soon to be torn by bellicose claws.

Quaff the crimson from my veins,
Suckle at the jugular nectar,
For I shall bide in these chains
As a bloodless and pallid white specter.

The remains of weary waifs forlorn,
Lay scattered across daisy meadows.
Burnished bones with garments torn,
Intertwined with sunlit billows.

Through the skulls a zephyr whistles,
Quivering the efflorescent verdancy,
Swaying every blossomed bristle,
As the early sun gleamed fervently.

Light reflects upon those perished,
Illuminating bygone, derelict graves.
Neither ****** nor at all cherished,
They repose in obscure haze.

Resting in a vanished empyrean,
Clouded and embraced by flora,
Blooming different shades of green,
Around the skulls it casts an aura.

Caressed by gleams of moonlit nights,
Brushed by sunrise upon morning.
Shone upon by hallowed lights,
In death the bones recline aborning.

So shunned, forsaken upon birth,
Adopted warmly by their Death.
With him they putrefy in mirth,
Sipping the ethereal waters of Lethe.

A complex psychological poem of a vivid portrait of a person caught up in a morally wrong, intoxicating passionate affair.

Inescapable, aware of its moral and social implications, but still addicted.

It reads both like a love letter and a confessional piece.

Layered with dark beauty, guilt, defiance, desperation, and an intriguing question?

Can two cheaters ever be truly happy?

A theme portrayed endlessly in soaps, drama's, film but more realistically, life.

Well, what do you think?

Can two morally corrupt individuals live happily ever after?

Title.
The Affair.

(A lone voice whispers)

We always meet under the moonlights priceless silvery rays

We dance like entwined consummated eternal lovers
Forever engaged

Married insidiously by Father Darkness through our wicked salacious old ways

The thoughts of the world
and all outward consequences

Simply burn on our old relationships funeral pyres

And like grey smoke
Simply float away

Carried aloft by the cold now dystopian midnight air

This crazy relationship which once started as a Facebook and Twitter conversation, and
now such a thrilling, exhilarating irreducible dare

Is now my every living breathing prayer

This may last or may break

It may end in a heartbeat as we share a slice of the Devil's
delicious seductive cake

But you were always worth the risk and long waits

Your three words now just bind me and sing to me

Whenever my green eyes close

Three words within eight letters, I just love to hear

I love you

It just keeps me star-struck
Like a Hollywood big actor
Lost on your big screen projector

Regardless of our sins before God and humanity, and our unspoken marriage

As we ceremoniously slide through dark shadows like unseen lepers

I know we'll win and buy that beautiful dream, we often speak of together

For we're just one of the world's many unknown sinners

Swimming valiantly in one of life's many deep rivers

Holding tightly to each other as we sometimes struggle to breathe

Trying to be together forever
Whatever this judgemental
world believes or conceives

Married together insidiously
through our wicked ways

As we weave gaslighting Machiavellian plans

To always deceive

(C)
Copyright John Duffy

A mysterious, spiritual poem possibly unconsciously already heard by you, if you're already swimming in the deep red rivers of poetry, writing or just creating something.

A mysterious voice offering to absorb or transform your sins, through poetic expression, and eventual emotional catharsis.

Raw, powerful, and redemptive, like a mythical Sin Eater.

Trying to forever guide you through your moral and daily struggles, and helping you find a way, to stay afloat in the complexities of life.

While swimming in the deep red waters of its poetry.

Have you unconsciously heard this holy ghost?

Title.
The Congamphlgh Caller.

(A lone voice whispers)

My name tastes like raw poetry

As I compel you to try to swallow all your sins overtime, and just express one of my exotic hymns

Summon me by using a mixture of synonyms or antonyms

To then use and abuse sweet or sour rhymes and light and dark whims

For I'm like a mythical Sin Eater

Who could be sent like an arrow from your God's Chambers

To help you swim
If only you'll welcome me in

(C)
Copyright John Duffy

Congamphlgh: Holy Ghost

Do you like mysticism, anxiety, atmospheric rich imagery, layered within mythological meanings?

A bending of surrealism, personal confession, and fantastical imagery of obsession?

Then this could be for you.

Salute.

Title.
The letter on the fireplace

(A lone voice whispers)

As if cursed by the son of perdition

As I go about my final solo mission to gain admission

With Aphrodite's dead ringer, who whispers songs of exquisite rendition

A window opened and a lone green arrow from Eros bow struck, that drew gasps from the angels watching

In the midnight sky

I breathed in a sweet aroma and passion filled scent like pure oxygen

And felt like a king
Like King Solomon

I felt an aura and my soul was captured like a moth is attracted to a flame

So now all dark nights appear so long and so black

As the shadow people murmur and whisper my name

For they all know

Way back to Quekith, I have been changed by someone so radical

As I entered the fifth dimension by finding a love so sacred and magical

But that's the magic of the fantastical

For as the winds ****** trees by subtle caresses

As the world wakes in a new spring and new life begins

I write this before I go to The Hidden Forest

Where the White Ash trees stand in neat rows like prizes at a country fair

Where green ivy hides the entrance to her lair as it grows, and other slaves play music on demand, while chained to metal stands

With the smell of Frankincense incense on patrol in the electricity filled air

Ready to invade lungs and take control

It's ten to two as I write this in the morning, and I have to appear there at four

So if I don't come back I leave this for you to know I'm fine

Keep the house
The car, money and all my collection of vintage red wine

For I go to a new place where fear no longer exists and have to be on time

A place, I hope, welcomes me in

Just pray for me that I don't lose my soul and become another flesh slave, chained to a metal stand

Playing music on demand

Another prisoner trapped forever in her cave

As she sits on her golden throne singing with her crimson red lips

You're now mine
Now get in line

Your time will come to play

For now, you're caught
And can no longer run away

For you're just another familiar

One in a trillion,
No longer a civilian

All this I know for a German call Schiller

Told me over the internet
Told me to come

Told me I'd be a member of a wolf pack serving a queen in The Great In-Between

So here I am

Pray for me
Ma ***

Forever yours,
Your loving son.
Jimmie.

(C)
Copyright John Duffy

A piece evoking heartbreak, initiation, and resilience through friendship.

Relating to a club which may not exist in the literal sense, but exists in the spiritual.

A club for those who have felt broken, but lifted by others who have probably been through the same rituals linked to heartbreak.

Title.

Are you a member of The Midnight Losers Club?

(A lone voice whispers)

I joined last night
Went through the initiation

Got my heart broken in two
Took proof

Showed them all on the big screen

A picture of my ex-husband smiling as I stood crying

Now I wear the secret brand under my right sleeve in French.

Une fois brisés, nous nous relevons grâce à l'amitié

Car nous sommes membres du Midnight Losers Club

(Once broken but we rise through friendship

For we are members of The Midnight Losers Club)

(C) Copyright John Duffy

Those who search beyond the veil
Know the pain of toil
And wear the witch's wicked kiss
And bathe in Mandrake oil.

Thou shalt not fornicate with those
Summoners of demon, unborn spirits.
Those who writhe and suffocate 'pon
Elder roots and elder stems.

Have you ever made a connection despite adversity, or at a time when emotional warmth is especially cherished?

A connection based on Jung's concept of synchronicity:

Occurrences that are linked by meaning rather than cause?

A fleetingly moment maybe in a challenging time, where meaningful contact that seems both accidental and profound.

Is needed?

A brief pause with a stranger that felt overflowing with meaning?

An unsaid unity formed in a profound silence between new or old friends?

Or just someone appearing into your life at the right time that almost felt like fate?

So, have you ever felt this sensation with someone?

Title.
Synchronicity

(A lone voice whispers)

We came together
Like two autumn leaves touching
In winter's weather

(575)
#Senryu

(C)
Copyright John Duffy

Senryu, like haiku, has three lines with 17 or, but unlike haiku, which focuses on nature, senryu tends to center on human nature.

Foundation.

Does your Summer miss the snow?

A poem reflecting the persistent, almost seemingly never-ending, haunting nature of loss.

Exploring how bereavement can follow you—turning every place into a somewhere filled with old memories of someone special, whose absence still lingers.

Like Irish Sea Moss

The imagery of Summer missing snow represents grief in an eternal, kaleidoscope.

Relaying the sentiment that heartbreak can be an up and down internal season all oñ its own, discounting external context.

As life continues to spin as sadness slowly creeps in.

Title.
Bereavement.

(A lone voice whispers)

Stranded forever
Everywhere I seem to go

I now know heartbreak
Like Summer misses the snow

(C)
John Duffy

Foundation.

Even after all these years, do you still remember someone special?

Title.
A View to a ****.

(A lone voice whispers as a man in a nursing home writes his last diary letter)

From beyond the sacred river

Came fear like a lone-wolf stalking in the Wild Canadian cold.

I know what we had I should have clung onto like precious gold.

But curiosity called me like Ligeia, the siren into her red fold.

So now I'm lost at sea like Peter, who was fishing.

Before someone special appeared at Galilee.

So like autumn leaves, all now on the ground, blowing through my memories wild forests.

No longer green but brown.

Just know I still treasure all the sunsets where we were by angels seen.

For even though the Fallen One opened his wings and broke us down.

Our old love still sings such a sweet symphony.

That follows me still and makes my  heart beat faster every time.

I swallow one of your memory pills.

That returns me like a spy but with no free will.

In my own version of View to a ****.

This last letter is for Annabelle, my childhood love, who I once knew.

Just know, I've always missed you.

(C) Copyright John Duffy