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Dreams, Visions and Augeries
Cosa Nostra Damus
from the
Psychic and Spiritual Realms

this material is Copyright Joan Griffith, 2001

A Short Bio of Joan Griffith

1. "Cosa" Nostra Damus Prophecy of March 22, 2001

2. Cosa Nostra Damus "Mother Shipton" Prophecy of 1978


1. "Cosa" Nostra Damus Prophecy of March 22, 2001

by Joan Griffith, March 22, 2001

Joan is a psychic in Florida whose material easily reveals a very talented lady with many departments. She took up the challenge posed in my article about Nostradamus and sent the following prophecy which she signed as Cosa Nostra Damus.  I read the prophecy on the Alex Merklinger "Mysteries of the Mind" show and it gave Alex goose pimples. Me too. It is a well formed prophecy which annotates the entire year. Like the big tent prophets, the real ones, this one contains all the power it needs to validate the authority of the voice as it unfolds. Frankly, it would not take much to convince me that this is Nostradamus' direct rejoinder to my efforts to decode some of his mystery. It provides some variation from my own  mental calculations, which is all the good. I have never supposed that my scenarios are anything but speculations. I suggest watching this prophecy very carefully during the coming months.


 "Cosa-Nostra-damus Speaks"

(threatened by Italian mobsters for heretic prophecies!)

a.k.a  Joan Griffith  March 22-23, 2001.


After Good Friday, a scourge on Texcoco,

Along with a sooty plume from Mt. Popo;

Its roof will fall, collapse in mud,

Where Cortez built on Aztec blood.

Quetzel shall fly in fiery wrath,

Disease and famine in the aftermath.


While off the Oregon coast, a shaky Coos Bay;

How lucky it wasn't city-centered, they say;

But down aways they find they're wrong,

As Santa Barbara sways both hard and long.

There'll be real salt in the Salton Sea,

And White Wolf Fault'll find fault with thee.


A stay on the June prophecy

Till late September;

And more will come to be

The 12th of December.

But Columbia's summer

Shall bring vulcan's rumpus,

Then shaking & quaking all over the pampas.

Notice some changes down at the tip,

Not-ice it's melting, faucet will drip.


The Sun on vacation, 2 days of confusion;

Then the Moon takes a whirl, an optic illusion.

Ill signs in the sky, a string hanging down,

Heavens that roar, and rain turning brown.

Then shall we know what the seers foretold,

In Bible and Koran, & legends of olde.

Islands will rise, their wonders revealed.

Then sink with treasures forever concealed.


Skeptics will snicker, sages will smile;

The message is different, according to style.

The day of the dawning, is not mine to know,

But say when it happens, that I told you so!


The gravity weakens, your feet will betray,

As birds stop their singing, go up and away.

Strange seed'll bloom, nutz goes the weather,

These are the omens, coming together.


MWM Note: Because of the tongue-in-cheek title and sig line, I asked Joan if this was a spoof. If it was, I figured it was so good it deserved to be published. If real, it definitely had to be. Either way, it was too good to pass up. Here is what she told me:

"Oh Michael~ (ye of little faith! lol) Heavens, no! It's not a spoof. I really do have precognitive powers...and can write in almost any style, especially quatrains. This stuff came "thru me," altho I was cogniscent of most of the omens and signs and dates....remember I sent you my letter to Van Auken which mentioned the upcoming Seattle/Puget quake, only days before it happened. That's on record."

"Is there any of the poem that is new or surprising to you, or that you really take exception with? Most of these omens have been visions of mine in the past or recently; much of it is old hat...there's little that is new actually in my poem, when you boil it down! I will stand in back of it, as I hold no univ. post etc. that would be jeopardized....it's just "me!" ... The structure of the poem, its wording, came "thru" me, as I was only a vessel it flowed thru. Kinda like automatic writing. I didn't sit down to compose it like I do reg. poems. And I had wanted to work on my book instead, but was compelled to do this."

2. Cosa Nostra Damus "Mother Shipton" Prophecy of 1982

by Joan Griffith, 1982

A few days later Joan casually mentioned to me that in 1978 she had written a "Mother Shipton" type prophecy of the end of the age.  She asked me if I wanted to see it.  I nearly fell off my chair when I heard the offer which came just a day after the sudden spurt of earthquakes and underwater volcanism off the Oregon Coast about 300 miles from, guess where, Coos Bay, on April 2, 200.  Since she had correctly zeroed in on an area she knew nothing about (living most of her life in Florida) and mentioned a few days in advance an area which subsequently began to quake with tectonic and volcanic activity. Since this may quite possibly be the precursor activity to deliver an even greater quake to Coos Bay sometime after Good Friday, what Joan had to say suddenly was very interesting indeed.

Okay, I wrote her and she wrote back and told me it was for entertainment only, not for prophesying!   She explained: "Are you are  acquainted with Mother Shipton;s prophecies from 100 years ago? I read these in 1982 and then wrote this poem in trance....so different from my usual poetic style which is more classic/ethereal! The Dec. 12 reference is my birthday and is also the date Jess Stearn once quoted Cayce as giving a day of a destruction, but no year mentioned.

Okay, Joan, for entertainment only...



by Joan Griffith, 1982

In the year twenty hundred and two,

There's nothing more that we can do;

For civilization is over and through

In the year twenty hundred and two.


While I'll be baking a birthday cake

The floor will crumble, walls will shake,

Houses will tumble and mess will make

While I'll be baking a birthday quake.


Sixty years from when I'm born,

The twelfth of a December morn,

The day that Gabriel blows his horn,

Sixty years from when I'm born.


It's time to live, it's time to die

When we see His emblem in the sky,

We'll all be meetin' Him bye and bye,

It's a time to live, a time to die.


What happens now, it's happened before,

Sun will darken, Heavens will roar,

It's carved in stone, it's written in lore,

Day of disaster is on us once more.


By year two thousand and twenty-one,

Some say the changes are over and done,

But sages know they've just begun

In the year two thousand and twenty-one.





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A Short Bio of Joan Griffith

this material is Copyright Joan Griffith, 2001


Joan Griffith: Born To Be Wild

Born in Port Chester, NY in 1932, Joan Griffith was the daughter of multi-millionaire real estate CEO Percy Tate Griffith and wife Helen. The family lost their fortune and moved to Sarasota in 1939. Joan's mother, Helen, became a columnist for Sarasota Herald-Tribune in 1945 ("Main Street Reporter," "Around the Town") until her stroke in 1988. Helen, who died in 1996, would have been 100 on Nov.16, 1999.

Joan graduated Sarasota High School in 1949. She was to have entered the University of Miami, but her father's illness and death altered her plans to study theoretical sciences, quantum physics. Her career has been diversified to say the least...model, showgirl, Hollywood film extra, comedy writer, insurance adjuster, legal secretary, lounge pianist, graphic artist and typographer (remember those?). She has written articles for umpteen magazines including Seventeen, True Story, Pursuit, and has penned two volumes of unpublished poetry.

Joan started her writing career in the 1950's by "ghosting" for Walter Winchell; feeding social items and gossip tidbits gleaned from the jet-set crowd she belonged to then. She became a gagwriter in 1964, joining George Q. Lewis' Comedy Workshop on W. 46th St. NYC.

She has held positions on the staff of several newspapers including Portsmouth (Va) Times, Ft. Wayne (IN) Journal-Gazette, Coldwater (MI) Daily Reporter, Shipping News (Norfolk, VA), and she contributed to the now defunct Sarasota Journal. She has been an opera critic, humor columnist, police reporter, wire editor, social editor, news photographer, and feature writer. What have we left out?

Most thrilling reportorial moment: While on the Coldwater paper, Joan was sent out to cover a hostage situation where three escapees from Jackson prison were holed up in a country home. She had to interview the gunmen through the walls. She wasn't fired...just fired at.

Joan moved back to Sarasota in 1988 to take care of her ailing mother, then became social editor of Phil Carlton's controversial weekly publication, The Sarasota Independent. Joan wrote "The Tattler," originally titled "Mainstream," for three years, covering the social scene locally, with photos of galas and openings (1990-1993). Reading her mother's old columns and personal notebooks was a great help to her.

When the paper folded, she joined Tom & Janet McLaughlin's Black Tie Magazine as social columnist ("Black Tie Affairs") and feature writer, 1993-1998. When the mag was sold, she joined McLaughlins' Attitudes publication (she'd already started writing features for it) as columnist ("Downtown Developments"), and is assistant editor.

Personal info: Married "several" times; one daughter, one granddaughter; single at present. Loves tennis, swimming, pre-history, metaphysics, NY Times crosswords, Lizard Blizzards, scungilli, Seattle and her Yamaha keyboard. Favorite poets: Anne Sexton, Sylvia Plath, Andrew Marvell, self.