Title:
Calvary Dreams

(A lone voice whispers)

I heard your sweet voice
Today

On our anniversary,
Your birthday

That old well-loved familiar sound

Whenever I press
play

To see and hear you
On that old wedding tape
We once made

You still look so beautiful and sound so soft and sweet
I couldn't sleep

But stand up straight,
Weep

Rewind and repeat

Oh, why does God give you such grief

Whenever
I see you or hear your voice

To then stand still
In total disbelief

And realise you're now living in new lands of immortality

And then I always remember
Calvary

A dark place
Enshrined in human history

Hanging
Painted up

In so many famous
Art galleries

So much wrong
Done to one
So strong

One crucified
For us and mankind
To sing a new song

A new song
So all could belong

To the light
Whenever their time came

And they could no longer fight

Cancer like you
Time or some other kind of pain

So now
Whenever hear your sweet voice

Or your name whispered
Like on your birthday
Today

That familiar lovely sound
When I finally find the courage

To press play

To sit and reminisce about my true love
On that special day

Our wedding

And her incredible captivating spirituality

I just know you're safe
Smiling down
Looking my way

My beloved
Still loved wife called Mary

Because Jesus died
For you and me

Even though
Crucified
By Evil

But never alone
At Calvary

So we could all rise

With the call of the
Golden Trombone

To atone
To then enter

Our true home
Under God's
Super Dome

I still miss you so much, but deep down I always know

God only calls the best ones home early and that's why in April

It will always feel like snow


(C)
Copyright John Duffy

Foundation.

How many hear the call and do the deal?

The Spell Caster.

Are you missing something magical, in your midnight  embrace

As you sit all alone
Feeling lost and out of place

Look out that window
If you feel unsatisfied, unwanted, or displaced

Put down that phone and if you see Mother Moon trying, with beams of her bright moonlight

To show you a way

Beseeching you to look up high, into her glorious night sky

If you see her angel shaped clouds slowly part, and start to play

You'll hear my soft voice, whisper and say

"Want to escape from your daily routines, today?

Come open up, and find my portal, and eternal doorway

By any old trees nearby, that I've commanded to sway

To follow that compelling feeling, to pay the toll

To  through and be mesmerised

Like my old muse,
Called Dorian Gray

Who to me,
Once sold his soul

When he too followed, the angel shaped clouds, at play

To open up my portal, and eternal doorway

By those old trees
Nearby

That I commanded to sway

(C) Copyright John Duffy

Should 21st Century poetry

For the new minds of a culturally bombarded generation

Be limited from 3 to 7 lines?

Before you answer

To me personally, even though to answer, makes my Heart aches

I like reading poetry built around subtlety

Concealed layers or secretive depths

Relatable interchangeable meanings

Powerful raw stuff that sometimes leaves your eyes wet

Unearthed within deciphering their carefully crafted imagery or subtext

3 to 7 lines of reading, might sound like heaven, but I'm old school

Give me Lord Byron
Shelley or Keats

But I guess
Like an Ode to a Nightingale

Maybe that's the beauty of poetry as She walks in Beauty

And like To a Skylark
It must sing

So I can only hope new generations enjoy poetry, so it continues to thrive and still live

Within whichever form, and exciting tales that will continue to make their own hearts beat

With all it can give

But for me
Reading deep poetry

Feels like sitting briefly, metaphorically, underneath a Cherry Blossom Tree

Enjoying a delicious drop of spiritual tranquility

Are you too, old school and what emotional fluctuations resonate with you?

Are you a three to seven or more like:

Eleven or more is heaven
Reader or writer

Who enjoys late all-nighters

(C) Copyright John Duffy

Foundation.

Have you ever met someone where everything just clicked but then, for whatever tragic reason?

They just disappeared?

The Calling

(A lone male, clutching an old photograph at midnight. Whispers, as a single white prayer candle burns)

Let me in
I whisper into this rising grey smoke

Let its wispy tendrils carry up my plea's to wherever you are

No matter how far

Hear me

For I'm looking back at our old feverish memories, in these black and white fairground pictures

In this semi-darkness
Between these two great voids

Separating me and you and so many others

Let me in
Through the ethereal panes of shattered astral glass

Filled with tangible strands of much-loved recollections

So I can once again cross the deep oceans of the Hippocampus

Flying for days and nights in and through its episodic sunshine, and rocky shores

So I can warm you with my old love

For I will never stop looking and calling

And lighting these white prayer candles

Hoping you're listening to this

Somewhere
Wherever you are

Listening and hearing my voice reading

My heart's whispered secretive spells, which l will forever yell

In silence throughout the day and in feverish whispers at night

So let me in
Now, it's midnight

To reach that forbidden place which connects all things

The Maelstrom

But which stays hidden, as it holds you in its tight grip of a new seclusion

Especially, when everything
Just goes wrong

I can only pray my words are carried like an angels song, to make your beautiful eyes blink

By this grey smoke gushing skyward from my incense candle, in these rushing four winds

Which will help to guide me

To find a way, to try to find you again

Be it on Earth or in Heaven

So we can continue what we once found in our old lifetime

A beautiful treasure the Nexus Seven, in their rare sacred manuscript, called:

A meeting of similar minds

(C) Copyright John Duffy

Let these words be transformed into a familiar voice

And be the driving force and divine noise

The supernatural heartbeat to help you conquer and circumvent defeat

Let this,
My voice, be the driving force to summon happiness and love.

Comparison and kindness.

Conjured into your daily rituals, through silent prayer.

To help open up your tired eyes.

So you can really see, beauty and strength flowing, everywhere you go.

(C)
Copyright John Duffy

(A lone voice whispers)


There's s an island
You'll soon all see

Depending how old you are
Or really feel

A mythical land by the Divided Sea

Called
Purgato

A place many are branded to go
To be if transformed

Reborn
In a new angelic form

What will you take through
Though

To hang around your neck
Like a golden yoke

Broken oaths of love
Jokes and painful stories

All of your lifes many now unwanted mistakes

People you tried to love
Some you still hate

It doesn't matter
We know and have seen all kinds

From film stars
Pop stars

World conquerors and all kind of leaders

Seen so many like us
Who once carefree

Entered these black gates

To eventually feel broke
Never to leave us

For at the point of salvation
They choked

But know this

Fate is a fickle friend
For what you do today

As you still live
With so much more to give

Could help you at your end

Be kind
Do more

Show emotion and some compassion

For we await
The hordes

To welcome you through these great gates

So what does that hidden side of your heart really sing of

Because that’s what you’ll need to bring

When your version of God demands and asks

Sitting and watching so high above

Will you, my child

Purge all your old mortal songs linked to sin

To earn my love?

(C)
Copyright John Duffy

Foundation.

With the considerable rise of AI software on all social media and business platforms, will humanity lose its creative edge?

Will you be tempted to do so?

Title:
Be You

(A lone voice whispers)

Be You
Forgo assimilation

And try to avoid being spellbound and tied into the new B System

Dream and aspire before you're retired

With all your soul's, inner resistance

Don't be bound to mundane hearts, no longer open to being plowed, with ravenous curious fingers

Hearts enslaved into a dark broken Labyrinth of unspoken, and untold things

Which could linger

From sad souls who've cried, as their creativity withered and died

Absorbed by the cleverly assimilated imagery and well created lies

To be one of the many lonely wanderers

Tumbling blind through inspirations now barren playgrounds

As the new, AI Hive Minds, long reach fires up to reteach

Newly breached, unconnected human firewalls

While wild valley blackbirds and starling flocks

Scream and call out in unison, at the lack of the rising poetry

Music or literature, filled with human energy

As spiritual temperatures worldwide, fall

Putting ingenuity into jeopardy

Screeching about the impending icy cold bath of human separation

As they fly as huge wailing flocks, into the Summer Equinox

With the frosty breath, of AI Death of the Soul

Lingering around like black mold

With bony fingers
Rattling without a sound

Awaiting its resurrection
As daylight recedes and people seem to lose hope

But on that Devil's Island for some of the Condemned

The one called Earth

The Exalted Ones
Maybe like you

Unassimilated and still free

Can lift up the trapped
Those poor souls caught up in The Hive Mind

Slowly been drained of personality and self identity

Lost in the humankind labyrinth of the unspoken and untold

Who needs releasing to help rebuild the new pillars of creativity upon Earth

With their eventual rebirth

This my friend with the bright eyes unseen

Has always been a worthy oath to follow

For you've always been free to share your gift of uplifting

Energetic, raw, and visual

Literature
Music or poetry

Maybe bestowed
From The Sacred Temples of Apollo

What's says you?

Are you going to strive to stay the real you?


(C) Copyright John Duffy