Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Tag

In My Beginning Is My End   Leave a comment

T.S. Eliot

“In my beginning is my end. In succession
Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended,
Are removed, destroyed, restored, or in their place
Is an open field, or a factory, or a by-pass.
Old stone to new building, old timber to new fires,
Old fires to ashes, and ashes to the earth
Which is already flesh, fur and faeces,
Bone of man and beast, cornstalk and leaf.
Houses live and die: there is a time for building
And a time for living and for generation
And a time for the wind to break the loosened pane
And to shake the wainscot where the field-mouse trots
And to shake the tattered arras woven with a silent motto.”

“Dawn points, and another day
Prepares for heat and silence. Out at sea the dawn wind
Wrinkles and slides. I am here
Or there, or elsewhere. In my beginning.”

“East Coker”
Four Quartets
–T.S. Eliot

Four Quartets
Choruses from The Rock

_________

The Eyes of Mariel Hemingway

By Tim Shey

Song of Solomon 4:1:  “Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves’ eyes within thy locks.”

Lovely
Sidelong glance.
The light of day
Dances brightly
When you smile.

Eyes of heaven,
You have
Wounded me deeply.
Eyes of heaven,
You have
Murdered sleep.

Posted December 28, 2012 by Tim Shey in Uncategorized

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Francis of Assisi   1 comment

St-Francis-Icon

Francis of Assisi

Here is an excerpt from “The Wreck of the Deutschland” by Gerard Manley Hopkins:

Five! the finding |&| sake
And cipher of suffering Christ.
Mark, the mark is of man’s make
And the word of it Sacrificed.
But he scores it in scarlet himself on his own bespoken,
Before-time-taken, dearest priz{`e}d |&| priced —
Stigma, signal, cinquefoil token
For lettering of the lamb’s fleece, ruddying of the rose-flake.

Joy fall to thee, father Francis,
Drawn to the life that died;
With the gnarls of the nails in thee, niche of the lance, his
Lovescape crucified
And seal of his seraph-arrival! |&| these thy daughters
And five-liv{`e}d |&| leav{`e}d favour |&| pride,
Are sisterly sealed in wild waters,
To bathe in his fall-gold mercies, to breathe in his all-fire glances.

Mark 8: 34-35:  “And when he had called the people unto him with his disciples also, he said unto them, Whosoever will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me.  For whosoever will save his life shall lose it; but whosoever shall lose his life for my sake and the gospel’s, the same shall save it.”

Cuthbert of Lindisfarne
The Cloud of Unknowing
Dark Night of the Soul
Interior Castle
The Spiritual Man
Francis of Assisi:  “the devils did not crucify him, but you”

Egypt is Burning   Leave a comment

.
[4 February 2011]
.
Yesterday I hitchhiked from Jackson, Wyoming to Bozeman to Columbus, Montana. I got some fast rides; the Presence of God was very strong all day. Last night I slept on a stack of lumber at the Timberweld place in Columbus. While I was laying in my sleeping bag, I began to compose “Egypt is Burning” in my mind. This morning I finished composing the poem at the McDonald’s here in Columbus.
.
_____
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Egypt is Burning
By Tim Shey
.
Sons of Ishmael,
The Scriptures have come full circle.
The angel of the Lord said
He would be a wild man.
Abraham’s firstborn was Isaac.
Mount Moriah pointed towards Calvary.
.
Malachi said:
Was not Esau Jacob’s brother?
The Lord said:
Jacob I loved, Esau I hated.
Cain murdered Abel;
Joseph was hated by his brothers.
Jesus was killed
In the house of his friends.
Hagar’s offspring mocks
The Messiah to this day.
.
Egypt is burning.
Isaiah walks naked among you.
Your sin and rebellion is
Broadcast twenty-four seven
On FOX and CNN.
.
Israel is no longer Jacob:
He has power
With God and men.
Who can resist God’s will?
.
The Lord is transforming
The bloody Middle East.
Shiloh is here in power:
He couches as an old lion.
The Tribe of Judah
Rules in Zion.
The City of David
Is a state of rest:
The Book of Hebrews, Chapter Four.
Those who abide in Him
Are already in New Jeru-Salem.
All you have to do
Is meditate on Genesis 49: 10.
.
Who is this
That cometh from Edom?
His Cross is splattered in red.
Egypt is burning.
I will tread them
In mine anger.
Egypt is burning.
The handmaid despised Sarai.
Egypt is burning.
Do not reject
His Precious Blood.
Egypt is burning.
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Genesis 49: 10
Islam is Slavery
Bereshith
Egypt is Burning
A Sign in Paris
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A Prophet’s Eyes   28 comments

A Prophet’s Eyes
By Tim Shey

I piped to you
But you did not dance;
I mourned to you,
But you did not weep.

I abide
In the furnace of God.
My breath
Is the fire of Heaven.

A writer once said,
You look
Like Leo Tolstoy.
It’s your eyes,
He said.
Your eyes . . .
. . . like Leo Tolstoy.

A circle of fire
Surrounds me
Protecting me
From Satan’s arm,
Warning me
Of Satan’s charm,
Keeping me
From Satan’s harm.

An intense burning
Within me
Is stoked by
The Word of God.
A deeply felt yearning
Within me
To warn them
Of the wrath of God.

Isaiah, Jeremiah and Elijah,
I know you well,
Because I am baptized
With the same
Holy Ghost Fire
That empowered you
And kept you from Hell.

Jesus died
So that
I can see
Events
Before they are born.
I was birthed—
Not of flesh
Nor of the will of man—
I was birthed
In violence
By the Precious Blood of God.

His body was pierced
So that my eyes
Could pierce
The dark night of Adam
And help unblind the blind.
The white-hot heat of Heaven
Is the color
Of my sight
That leads us upward and onward,
Spirit-filled warriors of mankind.

Ethos
February/March 1997
Iowa State University

Amos 3: 7: “Surely the Lord God will do nothing but, he revealeth his secret unto his servants the prophets.”

Shiloh
The Prophet by A.S. Pushkin
Locusts and Wild Honey
The Life of the Prophet IS the Warning
The trial of a prophet
Wearing a Rough Garment
Vintage Footage of Leo Tolstoy
Obedience:  The Bondage Breaker
A Biblical Definition of a Prophet
The Spirit of a Prophet
Not Diplomats But Prophets
True Prophets
Prophets, prophecy and fruit trees
Prophetic eagles are gathering
John MacArthur Rebuked by a Prophet
The Spirit of a True Prophet

[Hebrew:  navi (prophet); einayim (eyes)]

_____

“Methinks I am a prophet new inspired . . .”

–John of Gaunt, from Richard II, Act 2, Scene 1 by William Shakespeare

Shiloh   23 comments

Shiloh
By Tim Shey

Brutal deathdance;
My eyes weep blood.
Pharisees smile like vipers,
They laugh and mock their venom:
Blind snakes leading
The deaf and dumb multitude.

Where are my friends?
The landscape is dry and desolate.
They have stretched my shredded body
On this humiliating tree.

The hands that healed
And the feet that brought good news
They have pierced
With their fierce hatred.

The man-made whip
That opened up my back
Preaches from a proper pulpit.
They sit in comfort:
That vacant-eyed congregation.
The respected, demon-possessed reverend
Forks his tongue
Scratching itchy ears
While Cain bludgeons
Abel into silence.

My flesh in tattered pieces
Clots red and cold and sticks
To the rough-hewn timber
That props up my limp, vertical carcase
Between heaven and earth.
My life drips and puddles
Below my feet,
As I gaze down dizzily
On merciless eyes and dagger teeth.

The chapter-and-versed wolves
Jeer and taunt me.
Their sheepwool clothing
Is stained black with the furious violence
Of their heart of stone.
They worship me in lip service,
But I confess,
I never knew them
(Though they are my creation).

My tongue tastes like ashes:
It sticks to the roof of my mouth.
I am so thirsty.
This famine is too much for me.
The bulls of Bashan have bled me white.
Papa, into your hands
I commend my Spirit.

Ethos
February/March 1997
Iowa State University

Genesis 49: 10: “The scepter shall not depart from Judah, nor a lawgiver from between his feet until Shiloh come; and unto him shall the gathering of the people be.”

A Prophet’s Eyes
The Passion of the Christ
Psalm 22
Standing at the Altar
A Prophetess from Minnesota
New Jerusalem and New Shiloh
Obedience:  The Bondage Breaker
Pilate’s Report on the Arrest, Trial and Crucifixion of Jesus
Warning to American Pastors
Broken Bread, Poured Out Wine
EXPOSING THE POSERS
Ye Shepherds
To the True and Everlasting Shiloh
Hymne to God the Father
Wisdom of the Ages
The Spirit of Mockery

The Hidden Streets of Babylon   10 comments

The Hidden Streets of Babylon
By Tim Shey

Adulterated
With selfwork
Intoxicated
By traditions of men
Stumble down the hidden streets of Babylon
You are a puppet on a hellish string

Many words are spoken
Sterile speech into vacant air
This is how the heathen pray
The Lord wants your heart
No faith, no life, no Jesus
I am surrounded by white-washed walls

Summa Theologica is for aesthetes
Solus ecclesia echoes nothing
Most Latin is Greek to me

Rituals and liturgy
Feed the pride
Of the unsaved seminarian

The Council of Whitby
Ushered in the Dark Ages
We have strayed
From the Word of God
And His inspired Scriptures

Idolatry is a habit
Worn by blind people
Watch them
Groping, crawling
In a dark, overchurched ditch

Living by sight
And the wisdom of this world
Is fashionable and insane
Its compass points the maddening crowd
To nowhere
It paves a smooth, broad path
To perdition

The Death of Voltaire
‘London” by William Blake
Pagan Christianity? by Frank Viola and George Barna
Breaking off the Greek mindset
Do You See?
An Intellectual Dilemma
Babylon the Great
Theology and Educated Man
A Sign in Paris

Goodbye, Las Vegas   19 comments

LasVegas-pano_

Las Vegas

Goodbye, Las Vegas
By Tim Shey

“Unreal City,
Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,
A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,
I had not thought death had undone so many.”

“He who was living is now dead
We who were living are now dying”

“Falling towers
Jerusalem Athens Alexandria
Vienna London
Unreal”

—T.S. Eliot
“The Waste Land”

_____

Desert jackals
Run to their destruction
Hollow eyes see nothing
Behind shades of glass
Painted Jezebel faces
Unrecognized by man
Mourning becomes electric
As piercing city lights
Rape the virgin night

This place never sleeps
And never awakes from death
Black Jack table bait
Roll-the-dice breath
Throw your money down
This is casino heaven
Idolatry never felt so good

This harlot language doesn’t speak
Straw fires always burn fast
I see the Prophet Jeremiah weeping
Over a people brought down to bankruptcy
By a Queen, a King and three Aces

A hitchhiker wanders hardened streets
With his burden on his back
This is the heart of darkness
Lifeless buildings built with foolish gold

I see Sodom burning
And bodies turned to ash
They were very fluent
In arrogance, pride, adultery
And enviro-paganspeak

You have sold your soul to Satan
Do you remember Noah’s Flood?
The City of David was sacked by Romans
And America by Marxist-Darwin thugs

The Stranger leaves the graveyard
And the stench of Vegas Past
And hitches a ride to Barstow
Across the relentless Mohave
On Interstate Fifteen

Apocalypse Now
Las Vegas Earthquake
This is Sodom! This is Sodom!
The Death of Voltaire
California:  The Great American Wasteland
The Nakedness of Noah
apocalypse santa rosa

Cut the Anchor, Oh Lord   1 comment

images

Cut the Anchor, Oh Lord
By Theresa Shreffler

cut the anchor, oh Lord, I feel the swell
compel me forward, a great wave
of humble beginnings. I know
I shall not walk this shore again,
not in the daylight clasping slender hands
nor at evening, when we gazed high and low
to the gentle stars setting, rising, spinning–
swept of their own volition, here I have laid
moored for seasons to a firm dock
and stone paths where feet have come and gone.
I once sat upon the shoreline and watched
ships of all sizes, full of children
drift back and forth to the horizon, and wondered
how far and long, and how cold that sea
and where the lands that only others see,
our sails are waiting for an errant breeze
and here it is, at dawn, mercilessly
playing with the flap and fold. cast the rope
my pilot, compass, ocean’s guide and captain’s cloak;
I know the shore, and I greet the endless waves.

Posted November 2, 2012 by Tim Shey in Uncategorized

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