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David Hyatt-Bickle Poem
“Father of All, Hoopoe of the Shining Light
Voice of Truth, singing above pits of night
Light singing in heaven’s tree above the height
Barbelo in the heights unthinkable
Nous incorruptible, Word untouchable
Forefather whose voice is unspeakable
Father whose feathers are impenetrable”
Norea the phoenix cried with tears in eyes
Heaven’s birds heard and flew her to the skies
To the eternal garden of endless size
Under the singing doves of holy glass
That her head may rest in Epinoia’s grass
Resting under the wings of Adamas
To attain her first mind through Christ’s wings of brass
So, in this place, she breathes forth offspring herself
She has been gifted the Logos itself
She sings with the soul of Adamas himself
In unity with the undying birds
Singing immediately with life-filled words
With the eagle of Christ, the guide of herds
Resting in the light which she knew before words
Dwelling through the mind of mankind’s forefather
That Invisible Simurgh, the founder
She gives praise to the hoopoe bird, her father
She rests in the Gardens of rest and light
There are days where she beholds the Garden’s might
Her soul will be ever filled to the height
For she has the four doves, whose glass wings shine bright
The stained glass doves intercede for her again
To Adamas, in his heavenly den
That Hoopoe who rests in all the race of men
Housing Norea’s joy in his feathers
Who sings about the one name without measures
“All-Father, Hoopoe of holy pleasures
Voice of Truth, singing beyond earthly treasures”
Copyright © David Hyatt-Bickle | Year Posted 2024
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David Hyatt-Bickle Poem
Christ the Suffering is the fire of love
The red flame that flows within every plant, person and dove
Who sacrificed itself on each tree in sight
For the eventual victory of the tranquil light
Christ the Messiah is the flame of power
The golden fire that shines goodness into each flower
Showing its life to those asleep during night
Repelling the endless shadow of night through its hot might
Christ the Luminous is the flame of wisdom
The blue fire that unveils the all and heaven’s kingdom
Illuminating the caged brain all the way through
Releasing the caged bird to the endless expanse of blue
This is the triple powered flame unquenching
Shining as three endless lamps but is a single white light
Copyright © David Hyatt-Bickle | Year Posted 2022
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David Hyatt-Bickle Poem
Some say that God’s kingdom is in the sky, or in the sea
The birds would reach the sky before you, the small fish would have found it
The kingdom is in us and outside us, we’re children of its king
A poem based on a translation of the Gospel of Thomas (the language of the work being Coptic).
Copyright © David Hyatt-Bickle | Year Posted 2021
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David Hyatt-Bickle Poem
truth peeled
hearts healed
Copyright © David Hyatt-Bickle | Year Posted 2022
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David Hyatt-Bickle Poem
In days long past, my school did a pilgrimage to a small land of peace and reconciliation, that lay in the nation of passion and revolution. As a community from nations near and far, we all ate simple food in the daylight flavouring the fresh air, allowing us all to discover joy in pearls hidden in fields. I listened and sang hymns of honey given by the monks dressed in white. Through the songs on my tongue, I tasted gladness of heart and peace in mind, though sometimes the words were a mystery to me. I spent my personal time in the chapel, sitting in silent worship amid polished stone with orange windows. I listened to the peace of flowing milk around me, and the occasional drip touching my tongue. I did not understand the divine flowing all around and within me, though I felt its gentle touch. It was a mystery to me, incompressible and veiled by my shackles. A mystery that I had not comprehended at that time, till I took a bit of fruit in years after. But the hymns of sweet honey and the flowing milk was but a faint taste to me. I was not a Christian back then as I am now. I was still led along by the hope of a New Age back then. Though the milk and honey were sweet to my tongue, I could not have swallowed the medicine they contained within. Yaldabaoth had chained my neck tight by his words and by his mirages of the desert, until I found the Tree of Gnosis that unlocked my neck and heart later in life. As such, the milk, honey or any beverage of the spirit were not my found treasure there, but the friends that journeyed with me. They were a mountain filled with greenery for me. Birds were tweeting in laughter, and the trees were rustling in chatter. Wind was playing games in the branches, and the sun was shining over this all. We all slept and hung out in tents at night when there was no blistering sunlight showering us. That was a mountain of friendship I never climbed before and never climbed up again. Only memories of the mountain peak of shining white remain. I can no longer see that princess of moonlight now, though I was closest to her on the mountain peak. I felt her cool breath amidst the stars, and I heard her laughter among the trees at daylight.
On the green mountain
With honey and pearly milk
Laughing with the moon
Copyright © David Hyatt-Bickle | Year Posted 2023
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David Hyatt-Bickle Poem
In the large nation that nests
The Azure Dragon that now rests
There is a town with no pests
Where ghosts slain by the dragon rests
Who were angels of light sent
Linger and worship to the present
Within the sun’s sight so bright
In accordance with the moon’s light
These ghosts wear clothes of pure white
To mourn for those trapped in life’s night
Who will be reborn again
Till they see the living Mani’s zen
In the Sunlight Buddha’s beams
And the Moonlight Buddha’s dreams
Ghosts worship these twins in teams
Once knowing that these twins were streams
That carried souls from nightmares
To their living family who cares
Within the Buddha Mani’s will
According to the moon’s skill
No blood of flesh is to spill
No flesh is used to get a fill
These ghosts eat only things grown
From what the sun’s light has kindly sown
In the Buddha’s light so nice
And in their ancestor’s advice
Ghosts that roam the rivers and ice
Eat only three bites of white rice
In memory of the meals
They all once welcomed and how food feels
In incense smoke to ponder
Where the dragon breathed much thunder
These spirits do not wander
Into other realms and maunder
In the large nation that homes
The Azure Dragon that now roams
Copyright © David Hyatt-Bickle | Year Posted 2022
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David Hyatt-Bickle Poem
His lips are the west gates of night
His lips are the east gates of light
Bursting night and light, we say thus:
“Lord, Father, have mercy on us”
His height is the five depths we view
His height is the ten skies of blue
Deep chasm and sky’s tower, thus:
“Lord, Father, have mercy on us”
He sits on wheels of fate that binds
He sits on the wheels of blessed winds
Wheels of stars, wheels moved by wind, thus:
“Lord, Father, have mercy on us”
Has a burning scroll blistering
Has a burning scroll flickering
Destroying flames, cleansing flames, thus:
“Lord, Father, have mercy on us”
His hand holds a wolf with no love
His hand has an eagle and dove
Earth bound demons, sky angels, thus:
“Lord, Father, have mercy on us”
His eyes are the black stars of might
His eyes are the sun in its light
Dead stars and twin suns that shine, thus:
“Lord, Father, have mercy on us”
Comets shaking, planets falling
The earth shaking, the skies crawling
When Jesus the Splendour comes, thus:
“Lord, Father, have mercy on us”
We must stay away from the night
The bondage of the prince of might
Lord guide us to you; we say thus:
“Lord, Father, have mercy on us”
Copyright © David Hyatt-Bickle | Year Posted 2022
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David Hyatt-Bickle Poem
Basil the Bogomil and his good friends were preaching the truth in all its light, about Jesus Christ’s mercy in the world’s pitch darkness. Though they harmed no man or creature, asking for no riches, they gathered enemies while preaching in the Eastern Roman Empire. Emperor Alexius, the defender of error and deception, used his two-pointed tongue to sing a song of repentance. His second song was of conversion to the faith of the Beloved of God, aimed to Basil’s heart like an archer hunting for prey. Basil, in the mist of innocence, went to the palace following the piercing light of his eagerness from his divine spirit. Basil and his friends were welcomed gently by the guards who wore iron helmets, some helmets hiding dogs’ snarls while others hiding grins. Basil and his friends heard the voice of the siren emperor sitting on his throne of fish bone. Basil with his friends announced “We heard your songs inspired by the holy spirit, who has called us to answer your lamenting songs. In order for you and your subjects to make greater psalms aimed towards the one king sitting in the heavenly realm in holiness.” As they will all soon know, the emperor had no interest in their faith or in the God of truth, but rather in vindicating them. The siren emperor wanted to either turn them to his darkness of the deep oceans or to his lions made of bright fire. The siren emperor questioned them about their faith and practices in sweet eloquence and false humility, waiting to pounce. The siren emperor had one of his secretaries hidden behind green curtains of seaweed, to transcribe what Basil spoke about. In order for the emperor and his subject to catch Basil and his friends in their words and try them to get their church’s favour. As the sun was fading and the night being reborn in the sea high above, a full confession had finally been completed. The tired emperor with his eyes hanging on determination, ordered the curtains to be flung open, unveiling the trap. His secretary was unveiled with the confession now in full documentation which for holy Basil was a painful slap. Basil and the friends of light were captured in the jaws of the liar and deceiver, Judas as emperor of their worldly fate. The God of Truth’s very nature is truth and to speak the truth, so any liar and deceiver is not of the nature of God. But rather the so-called god Saklas, the father of lies and of all liars and deceivers, the maker of this Earth and of hate. The year was eleven-eleven after the birth of Jesus, this year was when Basil was arrested in the eleventh hour. Eight or nine years passed, and the fire within the emperor finally grew to the extent that cannot stored in any tower. So, the emperor gathered crowds of peasants and nobility with archons secretly watching, around a gigantic pyre. Basil was brought alone with only invisible angels at his left and right sides, to choose how to die and escape the liar. The two boats to freedom were to renounce the faith of light leaving him in spiritual death, or to be fed to lions of hungry fire. The first boat of death was in the form of the dreadful cross that killed Jesus, for the archons wanted to mock Jesus and his servants. Basil, not succumbing to the temptation of complying to the mockery of the archons, wished to be thrown into the lions of fire. As the guards he met while entering the palace got ready to throw him to be consumed by flames, Basil announced “Peace to all here. We the preachers of truth have done no harm to man or creature, yet we are charged with crime through deception from the siren’s lying lips. Some of my friends chose your cross of wood to stay alive, while my true friends in their bravery chose the kingdom that has no end. I pray that Jesus Christ will show you the light of his mercy, for you do not know what you are doing while in the world’s pitch darkness.” Basil the Bogomil was thrown down and died.
Copyright © David Hyatt-Bickle | Year Posted 2022
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David Hyatt-Bickle Poem
An eight-pointed star
Shone in the night in summer
He came from above
Not belonging to the stars
Stranger to them all
Is above the zodiac
Plundering its fate
He is from the pure greatness
A door to the heavens
Sophia prepared the flesh
For she had regret
Sabaoth sent his great light
For he was wrathful
Barbelo sent her power
For she had wisdom
Jesus the man sent himself
For he had mercy
He was laid in a manger
No room in the inn
The world hated him so much
For it was darkness
And he blinded it with light
News reached the dead king
His hair was a lion’s mare
His body a snake
His eyes were bright lightning bolts
Ruler of darkness
His mother rejected him
As a bad disgrace
He summoned all the magi
The wise foreigners
Followers of the fire
To find this small child
As the Magi were dispatched
He thought to himself
“What is the power of him
Who was born this night
Who is higher than we are?
A drop from heaven?
Whom dragons brought to a cave?
Where a child was born?”
Those magi sailed the bright sand
Ignoring the cold
The star became a lighthouse
Which led to the child
And to shepherds in pure white
They gave three blessed gifts
Gold and frankincense and myrrh
As the king waited
In silence and solitude
He realized something
Filled with jealousy and wrath
He ordered his slaves
“Extinguish this divine light
Do what is needed!”
An angel from the great star
Told the glad Joseph
“Flee to the land of Egypt
With your wife and son
To escape the flood of death
To escape the plague
The hot fire and sulphur
That killed the mature
And now will murder the young”
And so the parents
Carrying the eternal
Fled to the bare land
All the little were murdered
Rivers of blood flowed
Loud cries of pain and mourning
Flowed out their mouths
With the king in vain glory
Saying “I am God
There is no other but me!”
The sands of time fell
And so, Mary and Joseph
Returned with Jesus
The baby pronounced three words
Whom none can utter
Lest they be killed by cold stones
With knowledge we say
“Out of a pure foreign air
The light bringer came
Those ones he chose for himself
He turned them to stars
To shine in the pleroma
The kingdom of light
Which the only door to it
Being the eight-pointed star.”
Copyright © David Hyatt-Bickle | Year Posted 2021
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David Hyatt-Bickle Poem
By your red scars you crucified the moving stars
By your thorns you crucified the entire world
By your dolour you crucified the world-ruler
Jesus cried loudly “Why have you forsaken me”
Through your bloodiness you destroyed our drunkenness
Through your painfulness you restored all the fullness
Through your blood drainage you became unmixed knowledge
Jesus cried loudly “Why have you forsaken me”
You were nailed on a crucifix to heal the sick
You were nailed on a cross to retrieve what was lost
You were nailed on a tree for all to see
Jesus cried loudly “Why have you forsaken me”
Through elevation you cured the sin of wisdom
Through rising to the blue you caught and killed the brute
Through elevation you went into fruition
Christ at the near end calmly said “It is finished”
Copyright © David Hyatt-Bickle | Year Posted 2020
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