Thursday, May 19, 2011

run away

my feet pound on the ground and i run
my muscles burn and i run

i breathe out of my mouth so fast
my heart bangs and almost falls out of my chest

i clench my fists
and i run

run run run


  1. I have read a few of your poems. You are desperate for God and this is beautiful.

    The Lord healed me of manic-depression (demonic bondage) back in 1986. It is great to be freed from that darkness.

    I have been hitchhiking the United States for most of 15 years now. Here is a poem that I hope you like:

    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

    --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 enviropaganspeak

    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

  2. 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.

  3. 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.

    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.”

  4. Can you send me your book, nomad man?

  5. i read into the wild and loved it- i think i would like yours too :)

  6. I won't be able to send you my book (High Plains Drifter) (because I don't have much money), but you can read my book for free on the Internet Archive.

    Go to this link:

    I hope you like it. Take care.