Revelation 22 Poetic Heart Cry

Revelation 22:1-4 Then he showed me the river whose waters give life, sparkling like crystal, flowing out from the throne of God and of the Lamb. 2 Through the middle of the broadway of the city; also, on either side of the river was the tree of life with its twelve varieties of fruit, yielding each month its fresh crop; and the leaves of the tree were for the healing and the restoration of the nations. 3 There shall no longer exist there anything that is accursed (detestable, foul, offensive, impure, hateful, or horrible). But the throne of God and of the Lamb shall be in it, and His servants shall worship Him [pay divine honors to Him and do Him holy service]. 4 They shall see His face, and His name shall be on their foreheads.

This poem is in loving memory of Scott Evelyn. He led me in hell. There was a time in 2016 when he was wearing black armor, I was a weakest vessel of female humanity desperately trying to survive, and John Paul Jackson was happily dancing up the stairs right behind us when we came up out of a hell room named ROBERT. It was awful but there is one thing I know: Robert Hilton Beaty, Robert Hilton Beaty, Jr, Robert Jackson, John Paul Jackson, Patrick Clayton Beaty, Edward Kenneth Beaty, Robert Paul Beaty, Edward John Klonek, Eara Davis-Beaty, Naomi Jackson, Alva Lewis Coffey, Lois Elizabeth Coffey, and Mary & Joseph the parents of Jesus and his siblings had my back. Yes, they are not my friends because they are my family. It is all glory to God how Scott and I made it even though he died, I cried, and that is that in hell. Yes, that is that all glory to God and in Jesus Name, amen. Scott was killed by a tractor accident on September 25, 2016–which was eight years to the day from when I was driven insane the day after my husband Curtis told me I was going to write a book entitled Uncovered No More, and now all four volumes of that series are gone since my publisher went out of business in January of 2017.

I may have the exact date of Scott’s tragic death wrong; however, I do not have the message of love in this paragraph and in this poem wrong. No, according to 1 Corinthians 13, I don’t have the love message of this blog article wrong no matter what anything anywhere looks like right now on April 9, 2017, which is Palm Sunday in Austin, Texas, and the world over all glory, all glory, all glory to God. Guess what? there are no friends in my midst anymore. You are my Loves: 144,000 elect according to Revelation 7 and 14 world and time-wide. Come on my Loves, let’s lead them to Jesus!

Interpretation: every Christian world and time-wide is in one of the tribes according to Revelation 7 and 14. At some point in every Christian woman’s life, she becomes the wise virgin of love who awaits her Bridegroom. There are NO CHRISTIANS by the time they are gone to the other side who are not a servant–male–who used that talent of his as a Calling Up Faithful Stewards finished 11:55 AM Steward–to the best of his ability to snatch out of hell according to Jude all glory to God. We do the best we can as Christians in this place. We are made fools for Christ 24/7. And God uses it according to Revelation 17 deliverance principles. This I know. I know because I’m known. Yay God!

One moment ago, in a time far away

Our Jesus whispers to me

Just a minute, little loves, remember, pray tell

And We All will be so free


I dreamed awake this morning, yet again

as I drank deep from mourning tea

Full moon last night, visions of love today,

a face touched; succor taken liberally


We are broken; known anew; learning again

how to tarry on this island’s love songs

Where should we go? How shall we stand?

Ministry, home, church, or framed in ocean throngs


I never lie; I always seasonally tarry; insane I am

It is hard and atrocious; wide paths somehow narrow

Reality broke forth despite storming civil wars

on snowflake’s winging visage of sparrow


I see Judah; He sees me; we smile Proverbs 15:15

Heavenly views springing forth sight forever true

Rainbows aplenty; flowers bloom; apparitions exist

No storms rage in the place of Sharon’s Rose darkest blue


I am an earth’s defining, wretch, insane enigma too

lying seamlessly within seasons of treacherous storms

Ugliness grasped; run ashore; dashed and flung anew;

tiredly worn; having dirty snowflake’s disjointed forms


Beings broken faithfully; beautifully; unseen yet grasped

because prophecy and testimony are privileged Named Three

Father, Son, Holy Spirit form mysteriously unity worldwide

worked graciously, fearlessly, and faithfully deeply silent


It was me, terrible visage, mothering spitfire Second John

smothering the flames with my Loves Judah a few years while

Austin heralded this work heartily ugly uncovered no more

This mother raged love strong somehow in my wombs dry


Time is relevant; space exists; fanfares made Revelation 17

Sackcloth rent; while hope’s faith always knows mysteriously

how truth extinguishes principalities while they dwell

and equally exists as principalities whom also know existence


Tongues have ceased; we are wordless, tribe-knowledge blessed

Boundary-less within prevailing storm’s place of Hebrews 11 rest

Obedience war’s gone, fruit blooms twelve; wow that river

where healing transpires; flowing beautiful truly, lovingly blessed


Set birdie free! Let her dwell! Queenly snowflake utters

and commands angel husband’s other realities

I see so much living dross among turtledove rainbows bright

inter-laid with love’s gold among my fatalities of sting love


Amid our failures, in less than a moment, stars fallen appear

as star-studded bright vessels of glorious appeal to God

where my throne room visage remains unified in 3:33

Arms of Father; Wings of Dove; Kiss of Light Justice Free


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