Long Insidiously Poems
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(A lone voice whispers)
Did you know that curiosity can be the soul's only guilty heartfelt desire?
An irrepressible longing from emotions, many hidden fires.
That awakens convulsions in the newly possessed.
Of secretive things once never felt or expressed.
To the heavy loads, signalling the quiet redesigning of a pure soul.
As it explores new goals?
Like the falling of a tear, the feeling of fear or the bright sunshine of a rare smile?
Which shines like real gold in illuminated green eyes.
Trying desperately to devour all things before they die.
Only to then hear one day in God's low whispers:
"Did you seek curiosities only goals, the soul's only guilty heartfelt desire, my child?
When they were all presented by the Devil, and its insidiously lit warm fires.
Before you died?
To tempt you like Eve, right out of the blue?
Or did you try to stay pure with all the divine gifts I once gave you?
(C) Copyright John Duffy
I've known my love for what now seems to be a long time
And yet I'd forced myself not to acknowledge it
Not to let my heart intrude upon the determination of my mind
I'm dying for your love
I wish to dig your heart out and drink your blood
Now, words seem to beat against me as if someone else was saying them
Repeating them over and over again until they drummed in my ears ,growing louder and louder
Until my whole body vibrated to the rhythm of it
Oh darling I'm dying for your love
Though I'd never told you
You must have been aware
That my heart turned over whenever our eyes met
I yearned for you the very moment i saw you
I remember how beautiful you'd appeared as you walked towards me
We kissed as you made your way down to the garden of eden
Atleast I'll have that to remember
I admit now that since then I'd not gone to sleep
Trying to recapture the feels of your lips on mine
The strength of your arms when you held me against you
That kiss has spoilt me
Because never again would it be possible for another being to touch me
Even on the hand without feeling revolted by it
Now one , two ,three,twelve hours before midnight
When he kissed my hand
I felt a cold shiver run through my veins
As almost as if his lips had been those of a reptile
But then insidiously, frighteningly so
The fact was born in upon me that he was man enough to want more from me than a kiss
There had been a look in his eyes as he spoke which was impossible to misinterpret
Had he approached me closely I'd want to run panic stricken to safety
And what did safety mean ever since i entered the love era except you ?
I love you ..i love you
And as always i go back to the same drumming and throbing sound within my heart
The same yearning which prevaded my whole body
Like an aching wound until i knew
It was impossible to face life without you
Snow storm with a name
I faced the storm
A nor'easter came
With winds whistling
It howled with rage
Each hour it gotten stronger
Harsh winds were a blowing
I saw as the night start
Shadows of snow-flakes, shining
Tumbling into snowy ecstasy
Crescent moon smiled down
Hidden within the shadows of eve'
Before long, the moment of fury
Was devouring in twinkling vanity
Street seethe was making big appearance
In frantic, theatrical, vigor
Clammy with sweat, as the night ascend
Snowy scatter, whirly, whirl
Twisted, white and gemmed
Among, great white columns
Groaning in whitened envy
Rushing with mirth
Amid rustling sounds, through the weeds
As sobbing winter-end groaned saucily
Stagnant air was filling up
And breezing through without a care
Frigid wet snow vomitted, breathlessly
A la mode the terrestrial terrain
Whilst, morning rised in orchestral splendor
As pristine wintry morn' prayed faintly
Snapping and rippling with glee
In aftermath, the crystalline whiteout
Laughed and giggled, insidiously
Into the mist of peaceful bliss
As God drew nature in artistic flurries
And snow angels danced into the day
though I yam Caucasian,
tis rightful to honor that most bitter
racist genocidal crime
nonetheless ovation qua
quintessential significant contribution
vis a vis that doth litter
anonymous multitudinous peoples
many unknown dark skinned souls
bravely fought as non quitter
with melanin so coon sitter
this asthma feeble attempt
made to mind of literate
parent, guardian or sitter
adorn aye rhythmically twitter
to *****Sapiens with Negroid color
who, despite being human bondage
managed to adorn
worthy contributions to society,
though an American (though not so proud)
and civilization since time immemorial
hence, I wanna pay poetic homage
to persons born
akin to diversity exemplifying gamut
analogous to Indian corn
debased brutally and forlorn
and raised in cornucopia horn
of plenty with rare serf tenderness
whipped by wicked task masters
from the crack of morn,
aye cannot fathom why
a great proportion of humanity
must struggle on scraps of subsistence
viz with fifty plus shades of chocolate
vile shamefully opprobrious sworn
vengeance toward those
via heroic efforts escaped,
page number 2
manacled, tortured, et cetera history
as slaves an existence
until...pacified family dislocated
sans rent asunder, ripped and torn.
Once a proud family akin to Brady
bunch, now brutally, nasty
and short lived poorly destitute
(case in point) like Haiti -
once a nation extant with cultural finery
insidiously raped "Lady"
lacerated odiously robbing
unique peoples as owners didst slay
practically naked "Primates"
encaged like wild animals in zoos
culturally robbed while
abhorrently marched in ones and twos
shredded souls without shoes
(analogous to persecuted Jews)
of singular ambition to break shackles
though tightly fused
to life as they chose.
On dark Halloween Night
The moon will lose its light
The goblins will hunt you
To cook your entrails into barbecue
There will be loud screams in town
Cry of crows will be heard all around
Ominous howls of wolves will be the worst
They’re Draculas’ Foreboding Blood-thirst
Ugly wraiths will hung themselves in gallows
On ghost gum trees with monster shadows
Hunchback men will haul caskets with their spade
Putrid carrions will soon be insidiously laid
Witches will set scalding poisons in cauldrons
Tarantulas will scuttle out from their alley holes
Be wary and wear your red-lighted horns
It pre-empted them from feasting your eyeballs
On that very dark Halloween Night
Your friends will be out of sight
Grave yards will be widely opened
Zombies will be searching all hunky men
If you are really one of them
Better hide from those arrant Zomb-women
A warning for both adults and children
To ignore a bloody and one’s horrifying mien
There will be more scary creatures
On that Halloween night if you go out and venture
Just wear your spooky costumes and make sure
You cannot only walk but fly and crawl
Sept. 12,2014 1.50am
The world's greatest tragedy?
Maybe it's when someone you used to talk to,
for hours on end,
someone you used to be so close to,
someone you used to love;
disappears.
Possibly it's when you give up on yourself,
when you laze about,
resigned to a miserable fate,
resigned to little but sighing and crying;
surrender.
It could be when a child cries,
for a lost mother,
for father, brother, sister, anything,
for innocence fading and reality suffocating;
discovery of sin.
Whatever the case, whatever one thinks
is truly the most sorrowful event to take place,
I know which one is mine.
Not to lose a love,
not to acquiesce to fate,
not a child learning of the wicked;
though indeed they nearly head the list.
No, for me, for anyone, the worst:
to lose who you are.
Not just surrendering it, or death,
nothing so dramatic or even close to sudden.
I speak of a gradual shift, and not growth,
for that is a happy occurrence.
No, letting your identity slip, slowly, over time -
allowing events in your life, or the forces of eternity,
or, most insidiously, other people, to shape
how you react, think, and speak;
such is tantamount to spiritual suicide.
I wouldn't wish it upon the worst scum of the earth,
for the simple thought of it hangs heavy on my heart.
So stand fast, friends,
for you alone dictate your core;
you alone can choose to die
either a pawn of the pressures that surround you,
or actually yourself, in the flesh
and soul.
Just mooning
and buffooning
Covertly stepping behind the veil
Dancing and prancing under the new moon
Burning candles and chanting, leaving no trail
Dark, unscrupulous wishes coming soon
Now, laughing and frolicking under the full moon
When you should be wishing upon a star
Daytime you appear as an angel but when night falls, you're a goon
My, what a selfish, controlling parasite you are
Like a fisherman at his favorite pond
You insidiously cast your rod of malevolence into the night
Reeling in an unwitting victim's essence just for kicks and fun
The poor soul didn't even know he was in a fight
But this is no fun and games
The stark thirst for manipulation and control can be tragic
The Universe is watching and recording faces and names
Karma is the return to sender of black magic
A cocooned cacophony of crickets serenades overgrown fields,
drowning out the creaking of rusted cars long since abandoned.
Maroon and sable tents blot the dilapidated ground—
bloated and weathered,
strips of fabric flapping in the harsh elements.
Legends of wraiths wander,
replicating whispers of infected insanity.
Laughter lingers in suspect echoes,
Rippling from pasts reborn in presents: futures to be later replaced by the past.
The smell of burnt sugar crackles with the purr of buttered kerneled corn: invading the nostrils with senses whose stimuli feign belief.
A faint humming of Entry of the Gladiators creeps in loudening crescendos, adding to the cacophony deigning dormancy in the field
Fragmented timelines intersecting by the call of the Barker
Stained cotton candy melts, reconstitutes, melts once more
Saturating replicating stands with insidiously sticky omens
Ghastly sickeningly sweet mori mementos
Resurrecting the dead from preternatural slumber.
Within fractured milliseconds, the cycle of the tormented deceased rise
From the ashes of unburnt airwaves,
Rippling through screaming minutes yet frozen in the midst.
A varicosed bearded woman floats aloft grassy overgrowth
Reanimated tigers lurk and phantasmal elephants howl,
Rings round the air in gaseous hush, like cigars puffed by moustachioed men of game,
Insufflating smoke with striped suits in candied reds and white.
The air rises to the resurrected show,
Cries confused for laughter tickle cochlea of the living.
Avid interest prevails
for this "news junky" to get affix -
hence kudos for journalists,
who risk life and limb - bricks
bats clobber such
daring persons, who strive
like fledgling chicks
to get bonafide storied scoop,
especially when video flicks
capture shame faced
depravity, or worse,
these days many brave souls
killed for kicks,
nonetheless paltry posthumous tribute paid,
with primitive cross made of sticks
assassins gun down, (or kill some other way
to silence frontline factfinders),
sans brutal, short and ruses and tricks.
as a concerned global
citizen, an ache
prevails to glean abhorrently
base, corruptly demonic,
evilly ferocious, gory henchmen,
insidiously kindle and break
king the lofty liberty, laudatory
ambitious aims of
REAL versus "FAKE"
information, and praise to die hard,
fearless, and intrepid soul who make
searching for raw bits their mission
so such valuable
nuggets of verity slake
my unquenchable thirst
to gain insight take
a moment of silent
appreciation so I a can wake
without a trace
of doubt within
mine cerebral space
the outrageous naked
issues afflicting race
religion, nationality, et cetera
co opting and out pace
sing modern day torch bearing
apostles amazingly grace
fully doggedly persevering
despite the ugly face
of thuggish sinister rogues
damning to erase
any iota of factual happenings
emboldened duty bound scribes chase.
News Flash! News Flash! An epidemic of dumb,
A vaccine is yet to be found,
It’s covered the U.S., the U.K. and Japan,
A dumb virus is hitting the ground.
First diagnosed in the White House in the States,
When dumb raised its ugly head,
Now dumb is sweeping all over England,
The scourge of dumb has insidiously spread,
Emergency Help Lines for the dumb have been set up,
For our first line of defence,
Treating those infected with a dose of reason,
A fresh dose of old common sense,
So please, if you suspect someone is coming over all dumb,
Give them this number to call,
Else they’ll continue to be dumb, believing what’s said,
And then we can do bugger all.
Written 20th Feb 2018, entered into Robert Haighs "make me laugh contest" Ranked 9th