The wounds, though deep and ugly still,
Were sown in dirty soil tilled 
By broken, crimson-stained cross built 
To bear the one who bore my guilt. 

Injected, I, with rank poison 
To kill - they say - my cells, but sin
Still seeps and reaps a certain fate
Unhindered by what men create. 

The ground soaked with my blood and tears, 
Cries Lord of Heaven please draw near! 
If pruning brings the harvest near,
Then can I pray, "Lord, use your shears"? 

The sun ablaze eviscerates 
The flesh that reeks with pride and hate. 
The one who hung on wooden cross
Pays my wage, so nothing lost. 

The Farmer toils, the devil boils, 
The angels guard the fragile soil. 
The company of saints withhold 
Their breath as fire warms death's cold.

The wounds and growths still foul with death,
But Adam sighs and takes a breath, 
And slowly points to final sign, 
An empty tomb, a tomb not mine. 

Now saplings sprout from soiled earth. 
Death now spoiled by life's new birth.
He waters earth and blazes through
The darkness.
			   He makes all things new. 



~ Joey Shaw, 2026

O to have a thousand words
Each of them of highest praise
If I had a better mind
Much better I would say

Great are you Lord!

O to write a thousand songs
Of sweet melody and beat
If my heart were only strong
I’d forever repeat

Great are you Lord!

O to live a life of faith
To live worthy of your name
If I live a thousand lives
I’d give them for your fame

Great are you Lord!

O to die a death for you
No more fear, no doubt, no shame
I’d be the blessed few
Who by their death proclaim

Great are you Lord!

O to meet you in the clouds
Heaven's glory will be mine
All the witnesses so proud
We'll never cease to shine

Great are you Lord!


~Joey Shaw

I play my trumpet for the world
beepity bop, beepity bop!
Now at Torrassa stop 

A nickel here, a quarter there
bop beepity squaaaaaaa bop!
Now at Espanya stop 

I play the world, I gain my soul 
squeeeeeekkkkity boppity beep
Now at Marina stop 
 
Listen now man, don't just watch
smbaaaa bap oop baaaaap ooo baaaaap
Santa Coloma stop 

Play your hearts with me, world
phoooo squaaaaa oopah oopah bop
Let's go, it's Fondo stop


~ Joey Shaw
[Photo by Alex Quezada on Unsplash]

The rush of the wind 
against the upright trees 
demands that we bend 
our hearts as well as knees.  

This rush is a hush 
of silly cries and wines. 
It commands us "shhh!"
"Now listen to the pines." 

The tall trees now pinned,
for stronger is the force 
though unseen, the wind—
so fearless—makes its course.

"Shhh!" again it speaks
then whispers timeless law
that drifts on the creek
like leaves from forest walls.

         ~ Joey Shaw

We were chatting about an email
who wrote what when…
then the world split open
when Marla said "enrobed."

We saw the Prince sit down
and take his iron scepter
to shatter the nations
and our mouths went dry with wonder.
His lips widened, in the peace
of a skilled oarsman floating down
an ever widening river.
The court trembled in anticipation
the walls beat to the laughter
that pulsed from the throne—
it was an enchanting beat that unlocked
the song of the celestial nymphs.
The word was a trumpet blast
ripping the fabric of time,
a mysterious warp of space—
oh we are but dust!

Then the world was quickly knitted back together
And a quilt was thrown back over our eyes.
So just like that we moved on to other important things,
like where are we going to lunch?

If the darkness covers me 
And light about me be night 
In my sadness you shall be 
Bright as immaculate light.

If in gloom I cannot see 
How bright he has made my day 
I trust he’s full of mercy
He sees and directs my way

If my body refuses 
To rise on a sunny day 
Even my bed he uses 
To comfort and make me stay

If I say, “night will prevail
My doom is but delayed”
The doom of devils will fail
To tarnish what God has made.

              ~ joey shaw 

I play my trumpet for the world
beepity bop, beepity bop!
Now at Sagrada stop 

A nickel here, a quarter there
bop beepity squaaaaaaa bop!
Now at Espanya stop 

I play the world, I gain my soul 
squeeeeeekkkkity boppity beep!
Now at Marina stop 
 
Listen now man, don't just watch
smbaaaa bap oop baaaaap ooo baaaaap!
Now at Coloma stop 

Play your hearts with me, world
phoooo squaaaaa oopah oopah bop!
Let's go it's Fondo stop


              ~ joey shaw 

Son, hold it in your heart if it is gold.
The rubber and the wood just throw away.
You have to fight for things that will not mold.
Beware the dust and moths will have their way.

Go give away your treasures don't withhold,
For loss of them gains greater revenues.
He is no fool who gives what he can't hold
To gain eternal treasures he can't lose.

Like slaves your classmates they will cling to stuff.
Consumption, their disease, will never please.
May hope of the new earth be now enough 
To wash your soul in joy in our great King.

The world will stroke you as it's precious pearl.
They'll call you names that make you feel so big.
The prizes, houses, cars, fast jets and girls, 
All empty, empty pits that dead men dig

Do not forsake the passion of your soul
For pleasure, yes, embrace that deep desire.  
But don't believe the smoke from the world's coals.
That smoke will burn you with eternal fire.


            ~ joey shaw (with thanks to Jim Elliot, truly not a fool) 

[Trophimus was an Asiatic Christian, a friend and travel companion of the apostle Paul. He is mentioned in Acts 20:4; Acts 21:29; 2 Timothy 4:20.]

Sick, in Miletus 
Write, friend, my overdue missive 
For my son, who’s been dismissive 
Of his now ailing father’s God.
Perhaps the Lord will give me nod. 
Sick in Miletus left to be
In bed unhealed physically.

Speak! Speak now my ever weak frame 
With the Spirit’s fire aflame.

First Encounter with Paul
Long morning habits have me stroll 
Jew's quarters on the western knoll. 
So by fluke or intention I
May be blessed with the god's delight 
And meet with a sage who might
Tell how my thirst is satisfied. 

Son, recall that day I came home 
And told the family 'bout my roam.
When I passed the synagogue’s door 
I heard Paul speaking Jewish lore.
"Vow keeper, ha!," thought I was he. 
"Peripatetic pharisee!"
But drawn was I to his preaching
"A Rabbi! Who speaks of freeing."

My name is Trophimus, son, it means 
"Foster child," my identity?
I'm Gentile, with propensity 
Unprovoked by my family 
To ask the Jews' Divinity
That He would somehow favor me.

So on that day I probed the Jews 
About this Paul and what of the news
He brought. But the Jews turned their backs 
On me. “Uncircumcised! You lack
God’s blessing.” They scolded me for 
Presuming that I, pagan, poor
Could pray and fast on Yom Kippur 
And lose my shame forevermore.

I bore their moral tyranny 
And asked Paul himself to teach me.

With his surprise response he showed 
A signpost on the Calvary Road:
"Not this time, shall we be my friend, 
Parallel wheat rows that contend
The year’s winds with hopes for harvest. 
This city’s souls like soil in August.
No, now like corn that sows its seed
With each kernel’s death harvest speeds. 
Yet in planting, the corn bereaved,
I thus with my preaching take leave. 
If God wills that I shall return,
By Zeus’s bolt, have no concern.”

So he left us, ha!, with our thirst. 
And this departure would be his first 
Of many leavings, though people 
Begged him to stay. With no evil
He displayed a true disciple’s
Mark, in tune with Christ’s example:

That though his love with them stays 
His love for unreached lands remains. 
There was a greater vision than
The Gospel to our Asian clan.
Yes, God’s angels blazed and blared
At Christ’s birth good news of joy, where? 
To all men with whom his favor rests
Of Ephesus and the world no less.

2 Years Stay
After a while our sage returned.
And by preaching Christ he soon learned 
The Jews of Ephesus had closed
Their hearts to the good news proposed. 
For they repelled in obstinance,
Cheap slurs their hollow contrivance, 
To vilify the Way this Paul
Proposed, a Way, the Way, God’s call. 
What Paul then did, I thank God for: 
Withdrew he from the Jews and more 
To Gentiles now. 

                                So two years hence 
At Tyrannus's school, at Paul's expense 
He taught many seekers like me.
Paul preached ev’ry day just one creed: 
"Jesus Christ the Resurrected
High King, Lord, with death rejected 
Sin's wages, our wages. Now He 
Adopts foster children like me
And breaks the wall of enmity
‘tween God and man, and Jew and Greek. 
By death his work now all complete.
He enthroned on His Victor’s seat. 
Forever his promises 'yes!'
Jew-Gentile equally blessed."

Recall my son how I used to wake 
Pre-dawn so learning I may take 
From Paul at Tyrannus’s school 
With a cohort of Gentile fools
Who braved the stubborn Jews' scorn 
That we may ponder God’s first born. 
Paul shunned not the slightest word
Of counsel from God’s Word. Preferred 
Paul to teach night and day, each hour 
Exhibiting God’s present power.
He healed the lame, the cross obsessed, 
In the Name he freed the oppressed, 
Made glad the Gentiles, and some Jews. 
No power of darkness could refuse.
Christ’s cross he preached above all, 
Humbly worked among us, this Paul. 
The sons of Sceva who tried to mimic 
Paul’s power. Demons to gimmicks 
Cry ha! and devour.

                                    I dreamed 
Of the future, if ever it seemed
Right to Paul’s Jesus to heal such 
As me. In Miletus, God’s touch, 
Now on this dying bed, goes
Not To my plan. For, His “no's"
To Paul’s prayer for healing for me 
Fits me in this world for leaving.

Leaving Ephesus
Soon, too soon, Paul left us again. 
His fate beyond Jerusalem.
Adolescent, our church confused;
Why would Paul leave us young and enthused?
 
Left us once before, his return
We thought would end our concerns 
And we’d rely on Paul’s leading.
He'd guide our church through his teaching. 
Yet, Paul’s vision we learned was not 
Ephesus, alone, for God bought
People’s beyond our Asian homesteads.
In Rome! Spain! Past our ships’ mastheads! 
But his farewell altered my thought.
I was not knowing what God sought.

Brother Paul looked at my Greek frame 
And saw a man called by God’s Name. 
He asked me go to spread Christ’s fame, 
And joy of nations set aflame.
Had I known then all that would come, 
My care for dear Paul might have won 
And kept me far. Curse I’ve become! 
For fate made me Paul’s broken thumb.

Remember, my grown Son, I left 
You to be. Recall how bereft
I was that you, my son, my horn, 
Had despised my Christ and scorned 
Me with him because He stood first 
For me, before my son or worst. 
Before our home, our great city,
Our Artemis, our family.
Oh how I wish not this great cost! 
My son’s cold back to me, my loss! 
Great Father, once more do I plead 
To give me my son, him with me!

Well, we now with Paul took our turn. 
My keen, Greek eye caught his pattern: 
To vast cities we were planting,
The Gospel to the believing. 
But not long after our seeding, 
We sowers were to be leaving!
I charged Paul with my objection 
That he’s forsaken discretion 
And left many churches needy 
Which need his services plenty. 

"Put Syria, Rome, Spain aside!" 
To which Paul sternly replied:
"Leaving means cleaving to greater
 Treasures. For dumb men cater 
To pleasures of short term leisure. 
But forever gaining treasures 
Which never, ever displeasure
A believing man, is measured 
As favor from the Creator, 
Who’s Name is Just Vindicator."

Humbled, quieted, I resumed
My position as pupil. What loomed 
Ahead I shall never forget.
For almost to Miletus yet,
Paul asked me to get his men plus 
Elders of Ephesus to discuss
His pathway to Jerusalem,
Where mad Jews would imprison him. 
And God might surely take him home 
But not until he sojourned Rome.

Through tears and wails, Paul explained: 
"I modeled how a Christian strains, 
Through careful word and deed no less, 
To preach the faith and repentance.
In the Spirit I am constrained 
To go to Jerusalem pained
There by chains, affliction, and what-
Ever the Lord, my Rock, might wrought. 
But my life I do not account
As precious or of some amount, 
If only to finish my course
And preach Christ Jesus my Lord, 
Whose Gospel is grace and truth 
Which rescues the old and the youth 
From good works and bad works both. 
Christ’s blood, my lone atoning oath.
Take heed, therefore, tested pastors 
To yourselves and flocks you master. 
Wolves shall surely come from within. 
Protect the sheep, let them not in.
Make sure to not covet a thing,
But work hard - be blessed by giving."

And with that Paul ended his speech. 
So the elders wept and clung each 
To him that he would not soon go.
But in leaving, again, Paul spread
Seeds of the church, with Christ the head.

After Ephesus
After that things are a mere blur. 
For that scene in Asia recurred 
In each new city we traversed.
The good people tried to coerce
Him to stay, more than once, clinging 
To him to the cities edge - weeping 
Both that they without their parent 
Will be, and that they might inherent 
The struggles of overseeing
The church.

                      Sometime before reaching 
Jerusalem, I asked Paul why
Such leaving. Then he with reply: 
"A builder’s boredom births with his 
Building’s habitation. This
Is the curse of the workman: that 
Visions of completion beget 
Homes with their residents absent, 
Of pictures with builder present.
Why? Because the builders’ ascent 
Starts with land without compliment--
Beyond dreams of urban aspirants. 
There, in sharp hopes, the apostle’s bent 
To settle, to wrangle, to arouse
First foundations of Christ’s house."

It’s unlikely that you’ve not heard
Of scandals from then that occurred 
With Paul and his traveling band.
Conspiracy did we withstand! 
Think not, not now, shall I rehearse
Those trials, save some simple verse. 
The Jews, obtusely, accused
Paul saying that he abused
The Jew’s high law by bringing me, 
A once pagan Ephesian Greek, 
Into the temple. We then prayed
Knowing what would come. Thus Paul made 
His descent, no ascent!, To Rome.
His plans to bring shalom
To Rome and then of course to Spain. 
"Lord Christ crucified!" his refrain.
 
The brothers from Jerusalem 
All the way to Ilyricum
Knew that Paul was leaving them. 
Once for all, for he’d become 
Raptured by a much greater prize: 
Reconciling the world to Christ.
Leaving them was love’s cleaving then 
To Christ and His global mission.
Departing is the destiny
Of Christians who are sojourning 
From Ephesus, to Rome, to Spain. 
Even this bed, God does not disdain. 
For if God ordains now my death,
Well then soon I’ll take my first breath.

Son, with leaving there is grieving. 
And in grieving there is sieving
Of deep loves first and last. Death's might, 
As a stern and ungrateful light
On each man's deepest affections, 
Reveals God's perfect election
Of those whose love for Him makes them 
Despise (oh son! even their kin!)

Thus, if you read my words and frown 
On your father, let it be known:
My allegiance to Jesus stays. 
And I pray my Lord's future praise 
Of my Ephesian kin, not yours,
Would be that their first love endures.

The devil danced and thought he won, 
God sighed and laughed, then sent the Son. 

The flicker of the devil then,
Extinguished by the great Amen. 
The saints who suffer gain delight 
Not only in the day but night. 
The night is bright as summer day. 
The hatchet of the devil may 
Sting but short it’s bloody force, 
For Jesus comes on his white horse.

He holds a man in downward slope 
So he might know the Living Hope.
How happy are his saints in pain; 
Affliction works to make them gain.
In pain and trial, his promise sure,
Affliction makes his saints more pure.
When devil smirks and bites again 
God gives them faith and claims the win. 

Adrift, some men have closed their eyes, 
And sleep as though it is the night
They think they’re prepped for final sun 
But Son of sons with greeting none 
"I know you not, though works you did 
To drink of my life, I forbid."
 
The devil takes his part, and flees
Like air before a sickened wheeze
The hatchet, chop, and blood appear
To be the end but oh not near 
Is death. The slice is but the key
Of heavens gate, eternity. 

The saints who never thirst again 
Know thirst as blinks from what has been. 


            —joey shaw
  

Ever never satisfied
My work forever nullified
By sin and treason vilified
Forever ever vanity.

Endeavored I, not justified
I made a wager from my side
And ever with my power tried
Forever never victory.

And when I tried, my body died
Then a man with severed side
With single spoken word replied
tetelestai!
An ever better Savior he.

If though so clever I as bride
Drift as dead and not abide 
The promise writ never denied
However my insanity.

Though haver on, my wills subside
By ever-flowing grace supplied
Bind my heart and burn inside
And never less yourself in me.


        — joey shaw

Set apart from others he,
Took my sin so I’d be free. 
Fixed upon a wooden cross,
Bled for me, my gain his loss.

Suffered death for least of these,
Bread and wine — his new decrees.
Devils feast in lonely night,
Darkest death in darkest fight.

Death of darkness in the night,
Burning shadows in the light.
Son of Man walked from the grave,
Rescued all he came to save.

Interceding priest for me,
King forever, triumphed he.
Prophet speaks, his mouth a sword,
Heir of all, the risen Lord. 

Flaming fire, his eyes see all, 
Judgment day, the Son stands tall.
Kings of earth bow at his feat,
Angels mute, He takes his seat. 

Goats and sheep, on left and right,
Final word with final might.
World aflame, he makes all new,
Happy are the chosen few.


                — joey shaw

I saw you smile the other day. 
It was just another, “another day.” 
And this time, like always,
The smile made me pray: 
Thank you God. 

It was like a theatrical play,  
And I was in the stalls on Broadway 
Watching a master of style and grace
Sing until the curtain fell, “hurray hurray!” 
And I in a similar way
Fell, in love again, at this display. 
My heart now falling, as if a ray 
Of light caught me—me who was astray—
In the dark and me repaid
(in some mysteriously wonderfully gracious way)
With charm and play.
The lady you, who, if I may say,
Makes me melt, melt, and melt away,
Until I, so smitten, laid
On the ground of the stage
My heart.

And so I, with the crowd that day, made
Our desire loud: “encore, encore!” And they,
Stunned that the smile was directed my way, 
Bowed to I, a man of unimpressive clay, 
Not celestial, as you were that day, 
And are everyday, my love.


            —joey shaw
          

When I’m scared, I need not fear
God is strong and he is here.

When I’m nervous, I won’t fret 
God has never failed me yet.

When I’m angry, I can know 
God is good and in control

When I’m lonely, truth be told
God is with me till I’m old 

When I’m sad, I’ll look above     
To my God, for he is love.

When confused, this still is clear
Daddy, Momma love me dear. 

When I’m glad, I’ll say this rhyme 
God is good all of the time 

When I’m bad, I’ll admit sin 
I know that I’m forgiven

When I’m home, yes finally 
I’ll be with my family!


            — joey shaw 

When unceasing storms arise
And the bruised mast tilts
The battered ship nears capsize
The sails ripped to their hilt.

Think not like common men
On such thund’rous nights
Who look into the wind
And think they’ve lost the fight.

Look rather to the ballast
This time in human flesh
His pow’r more than amplest
Though he looks as if he rests.

This Ballast keeps you steady
Firm and focused through the storm
With Him you will be ready
For every tempest that may form.


            — joey shaw

Prophet speaks, prophet weeps — not 
Seeing what he groans 
Judah free, yet slavery
Chained to fashioned stones

“Idolatry!", “Misery!” 
Cries the chosen youth 
Irony, the prophet’s key 
To unlock hidden truth

A potter’s jar, crafted clay 
Made for wine and oil 
Shattered, so the nation — they 
Potter's wasted toil

Officials scorn and beat him 
Baal their chosen guide. 
Speaks the man, stretched limb to limb
“So terror on every side!” 

Prophet chained but prophet free
Stocks his guarantee
The broken jar of clay — he
Seals his victory 



              — Joey Shaw

A Krystal deep in darkest mine 
Brighter than the brightest shine. 
Sharpest cut from ancient earth 
Stars awake from mystic birth.
Spoken of in whispered lore, 
Hidden deep in flaming core.
Dancing fairies mark the way, 
Say the name and children play. 
Poor the man who never sees, 
Seraphs only dream of these. 
She the art of Artist’s hand, 
Starlight on the blessed man. 
Chosen to, his fire fresh,   
Wrap the precious gem in flesh. 
Kill to keep his treasure sure, 
Strong the scent, his honey pure. 
Ring the bells the treasure found, 
Wake the nymphs, aloud the sound,
Mark the day, and call the stars, 
Best of songs, the song is ours. 


                    — joey shaw

oh warrior of the heavens come 
in fury draw your righteous blade
may angels beat their battle drums 
as wicked run to rocks afraid 

the prince of heaven ready stands 
his wrath no strength might hope evade  
he waits above the darkened lands  
to rend the very skies he made 

command the armies at your side 
to tear the earth with fire and sword
destroy it all but save your bride 
and ready her for her reward 

your warhorse shakes and smells the blood
that stains your robe and drips to earth 
she rears and snarls and stomps the mud
hearkening earth's childbirth  

the care-free birds that fly above 
are hungry for the flesh of kings
the feast of flesh—a sign of love—
for those you hide under your wings 

we long oh warrior for the day 
when justice rides unyielding wind 
fulfilling what the oppressed pray
that wickedness would find it's end

when full the count of chosen souls 
whose lives for you they freely gave
now buried deep in holy holes 
you'll come and raise them from the grave 

the reckoning is hell for most 
yet even thus your people pray 
so make your bloody sword our boast 
maranatha, oh God, today.  



               — joey shaw

                

Lazarus still sinned against
         Jesus  
After Jesus raised him from the  
         Dead  
Until Lazarus died and saw 
         Jesus  
Alive after killing  
         Death  



                 — joey shaw