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David Hyatt-Bickle Poem
Gaia in white flame burns
Yaldabaoth himself spurns
A second cycle turns
The Golden Age returns
The first-begotten son
Comes down from heaven’s sun
Barbelo, Armoured Queen
Look gently at this scene
Of Christ’s birth long foreseen
In this iron machine
Hearts of iron will melt
Hearts of gold will be felt
Hearts, gold and meek
Will rule from the word’s peak
Valis will rule and speak
With the lute of mystique
This birth in mystery
Will be our victory
As Polloi rules here
The first child will appear
Clearing the mist of fear
Every past sin and tear
Will be washed away
Clearing a narrow way
The world soul will rain down
Hedera all around
Lilies to make a crown
Acanthus for renown
Myrrh, gold, and frankincense
Without any expense
All goats will return home
All blind cobras that roam
Will be under death’s dome
Miles under farms and loam
Sheep will not fear lions
Men will see aeons
In the stream of Dead Sea
He’ll become a man free
Oak trees will weep honey
On every wild thorn-tree
Grapes will turn Persian plum
Gold will be the plain’s sum
But iron will remain
At sea, war ships will reign
Wars will bring pain
Walls will cover the plain
But when you will grow up
Gaia will drink the cup
Please, come soon, in our plight
You, the viceroy of might
The globe bows to your light
The earth and the blue height
Beseech you to be set free
From Yaldabaoth’s dark sea
You, our lord and brother
Child, smile at your mother
Speak words from the Father
If your lips will not stir
No light will bless your wine
And wisdom shall not shine
(Gnostic poem based on the ancient Roman Virgil's fourth eclogue, often interpreted as foretelling the birth of Christ)
Copyright © David Hyatt-Bickle | Year Posted 2024
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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
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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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
Charaxio
sky-scraping, dizzying
shimmering, revealing, writing
knowledge, revelation, hidden words, secret book
hiding, hoping, waiting
sunless, holy
mountain
Date: 08/12/2022
Copyright © David Hyatt-Bickle | Year Posted 2022
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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 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
As the last twinkle
In the brown eyes of Jesus
Faded to heaven
The morning star left Jesus
Darkness covered all
The sun of the archons set
The binding veil torn
Those ones in the sleep of death
Were awakened hence
For the sun of Christ rose up
Envy and dumbness
Were left in the empty tombs
Now they are children
Of the sweet infinite light
Of the sweet white lamb
Though the cup of bitterness
Was always given
To the sons of shining light
By Jerusalem
Yaldabaoth and his archons
In the pride of night
Refused to admit the truth
That they killed Jesus
Allowing Christ to succeed
Which destined their fall
Jews did not deserve their wrath
A wrathful sentence
From the sword of Yaldabaoth
With no foreign aid
The city was encircled
By an iron ring
Cutting them off from the world
Leaving the ash wolf
To burn in their sliced stomachs
The ash to the ash
Men ate the ash of their young
The dust to the dust
Young at the dust of the old
But both lost their soul
The city burned in fury
Turning all to ash
The temple of gold and white
Glory of Saklas
Met flames of orange and red
From his blind fury
Three towers of soot gazed down
At those ones enslaved
At Hades's consuming flames
And stood with the sky
As a last testimony
Of heaven's glory
By the order of Titus
The glorious gold
Of the second day's temple
Was ripped out proudly
By the gold feathered eagle
With a purple tongue
The temple's gold was taken
To his cage named Rome
Hundreds of thousands of Jews
And many Gentiles
Of innocents lost their breathe
Jews were crucified
Nailed by Yaldabaoth's anger
And nailed on despair
To mock the nailed lamb of white
The eagle of gold
Was too useful for Saklas
To tear apart yet
For he hunted and slaughterd
Sheep of shining light
In bunches of dripping red
With his claws of white
But this wrath tore the red veil
From the third temple
Veil of Mosaic patterns
Was torn from Christ's Bride
Showing her face of beauty
Showing her soft lips
Skin glittered with gold and white
And eyes of twinkling gnosis
Copyright © David Hyatt-Bickle | Year Posted 2023
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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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