i am a 30 year old overcomer of many addictions and mental illness.
this is one of my outlets to dealing with an addicted mind that still fights... i want to be a source of hope.
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 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 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
Egypt is BurningBy Tim SheySons of Ishmael,The Scriptures have come full circle.The angel of the Lord saidHe 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 killedIn the house of his friends.Hagar's offspring mocksThe Messiah to this day.Egypt is burning.Isaiah walks naked among you.Your sin and rebellion isBroadcast twenty-four sevenOn FOX and CNN.Israel is no longer Jacob:He has powerWith God and men.Who can resist God's will?The Lord is transformingThe bloody Middle East.Shiloh is here in power:He couches as an old lion.The Tribe of JudahRules in Zion.The City of DavidIs a state of rest:The Book of Hebrews, Chapter Four.Those who abide in HimAre already in New Jeru-Salem.All you have to doIs meditate on Genesis 49: 10.Who is thisThat cometh from Edom?His Cross is splattered in red.Egypt is burning.I will tread themIn mine anger.Egypt is burning.The handmaid despised Sarai.Egypt is burning.Do not rejectHis Precious Blood.Egypt is burning.
ShilohBy Tim SheyBrutal deathdance;My eyes weep blood.Pharisees smile like vipers,They laugh and mock their venom:Blind snakes leadingThe deaf and dumb multitude.Where are my friends?The landscape is dry and desolate.They have stretched my shredded bodyOn this humiliating tree.The hands that healedAnd the feet that brought good newsThey have piercedWith their fierce hatred.The man-made whipThat opened up my backPreaches from a proper pulpit.They sit in comfort:That vacant-eyed congregation.The respected, demon-possessed reverendForks his tongueScratching itchy earsWhile Cain bludgeonsAbel into silence.My flesh in tattered piecesClots red and cold and sticksTo the rough-hewn timberThat props up my limp, vertical carcaseBetween heaven and earth.My life drips and puddlesBelow my feet,As I gaze down dizzilyOn merciless eyes and dagger teeth.The chapter-and-versed wolvesJeer and taunt me.Their sheepwool clothingIs stained black with the furious violenceOf 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 handsI commend my Spirit.EthosFebruary/March 1997Iowa State UniversityGenesis 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.”
Can you send me your book, nomad man?
i read into the wild and loved it- i think i would like yours too :)
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:http://hitchhikeamerica.wordpress.com/2011/06/28/high-plains-drifter-on-the-internet-archive/I hope you like it. Take care.