Section 16.. DJ’s Poetry

003white Statement of Faith       And      Final Message


DJ’s Poetry

The Garden of Yellow Flowers
The Call
The Choice
The Final Confrontation
A Plea For Peace
Questions And Answers
The Witness
Life, Found in the Shadow of Death
And The Rain


The Garden of Yellow Flowers
D.J. Quinn (May 1993)

The garden of yellow flowers lay within the city gate,
 Yet seemed so removed from the anger and hate;

 Who owns this oasis in this city of strife ?
 “It is the garden of peace, the garden of life;”
 In hushed voices they'd say,
 Yet none of the children ever went there to play.

 Once decided I took a peek,
 At the garden of paradise so to speak;
 The sight I saw took my breath away,
 Beauty which matched even heaven in a way.

 As the flowers fluttered and pranced,
 Radiance seemed to flow from their haunting dance;
I craved to climb that impenetratable wall,
 But somehow knew that I would only fall.

 Reluctantly I returned to the city with a sigh,
 Realizing why people passed the garden by;
 It made their lives seem so empty, so black,
 They ached, they longed to go back.

 To the life that was once to be ours.


D.J. Quinn. (1993)

From the time of ancient biblical prophets when the rest of the world was still in it's infancy, EGYPT was a kingdom of beauty, knowledge and riches. Ruled by the mighty Pharaohs who held majesty over a huge empire and lived in splendor and glory in their beautiful palaces decorated with wondrous ceramics, statuary, vases, furniture and paintings on Papyrus backgrounds. Much of it built by slave labour - Israeli Slaves.

Then one day God said “LET MY PEOPLE GO”

Dark and terrible is the night.
The moon and stars out of sight
Nowhere around is seen a light.

The trees are dancing in an eerie way.
The rain and night seem to play
and an enslaved nation shivers, awaiting the day.

Every window is bolted. Every door is barred.
Children's hands held ever so hard.

Even with the knowledge that they are being led.
Every heart is filled with a nameless dread.
Forcing themselves to eat the herbs and the bread.

The blood is dripping down the door.
Slowly trickling it reaches the floor.
As the Lord of Zion prepares to roar.

Tension fills the very air.
Hands are lifted in silent prayer.
And the Egyptians sleep on, unaware.

Now the night itself stills with fear.
As unseen, unheard by human ear
The angel of death draws near.

Just as the sky begins to light,
The God of Israel strike with all His might.
And a terrible wailing fills the night.

The deed is done, the battle is won.
The Pharoah sits beside his dead son.
And he is not the only one.

He challenged their God but he is only a man.
Defeated by the Almighty hand.
And the people set out for the promised land.


The Call
D.J Quinn (May ‘93)

The voice is quiet, yet so strong,
It gives man a chance to sing a new song,
For he has walked in darkness for far too long,
To understand that he is doing wrong.

The voice is far, yet so near,
Clear as crystal for man to hear,
So that he needn't shed another tear,
Or walk again with needless fear.

The voice is urgent, yet so calm,
Drawing man away from harm,
If only he could hear its call,
And save himself from many a fall.

The voice is calling you back home,
Never again to have to roam,
The voice is calling you to be free,
And choose to turn from that famous tree.


The Shady Tree
D.J. Quinn (1994)

The shady tree dipped and swayed over the bubbling stream.
With such a natural beauty, that it reminded me of a dream.

Of a dream I had a few nights ago,
of a place where love like my stream did flow.
And from every face that I could see,
Came a joyous, radiant glow.

Every where I dared to look, I saw His people running free.
He Himself watched over them, like my shady swaying tree.
I stood there staring, all amazed, only one questioned did begin to  ask.
Seeing the freedom all around... Who had accomplished this great task?

But before my lips could frame the words, I somehow already knew.
The answer was sitting there quietly, just within my view.
Because I could not see His face, I almost turned and ran.

But my soul that knows more than my miserable brain, whispered
"Wait, that is the Son of Man"


The Choice
D.J. Quinn (1995)

From the deepest regions, from far within,
A place no light can get in,
So encrusted it is with evil and sin,
Comes a cry of fear, a cry so clear,
A cry for all nations to hear.
A cry only torment can rear.
It is the despairing cry of a river run dry,
And somewhere a soul about to die.
The single scream is a question “Why?”

From the deepest regions, from far within,
A place no evil can get in,
So protected it is from evil and sin,
Comes a cry so clear. No, Not one of fear,
A cry for all nations to hear.
A cry of one to whom the Lord is dear.
A love filled cry of a river that will never run dry,
As the body, not the soul is about to die.
A soul about to join the most High.

He gives this choice to every man,
A choice as old as the sun and sand.


The Final Confrontation
D.J. Quinn ( September 1996)

I climbed the mountain humming a song, to a favourite spot of mine,
But when I reached there something was wrong, a shiver ran down my spine.

The sun was out, but the air chilled the bone. The eerie silence of  the birds a different story told.
I stood there feeling very alone, a strange foreboding made my blood run cold.

Then all at once came a fearsome roar. From somewhere in the East.
It shook me to the very core to see the army led by the beast.

A shroud of black covered the land. Over the legions of sin.
As they followed the evil hand to a battle they were sure they would win.

There seemed to be a million men in the troops of the dark.
More than a million, maybe ten. The fear I felt was stark.

They flowed on like a polluted river, destroying everything in their way.
Tho' not cold I began to shiver at the thought of what was going to happen that day.

As the dark forces began to loot and plunder, with a blinding flash of light.
There came a sound like the crash of thunder, and the earth trembled at this show of might

I looked with awe to the North, with breathlessness to the sky.
Just above the place the battle would be fought, rode the army of the most High.

Ahead He rode on a steed of white, His robes spattered with blood.
In all His splendour a terrifying sight, as His army rode down like a flood.

Written boldly on the thigh of the one who led the army of God.
Were the words that proclaimed Him most High. "King of Kings and Lord of Lords".

Before it began it was done, the evil ones scattered.
Far ahead of the setting sun, the beast captured, his army broken and battered.

And once again God showed He was the only one.


A Plea For Peace
 D.J. Quinn (1996)

Think of the children before you fire those guns,
 Think of the daughters, sisters, brothers & sons;
 Think of the children in a war they do not understand,
 Think of their fear when war came to their land;

 Think of the reasons you are going to fight,
 A show of strength, A show of might;
 Think of the children's nameless dread,
 When all they love will soon be dead;

 Think, all they will have to hold is deaths icy hand,
 Though they did not ask war to come to their land;
 Think of the orphaned & widowed too,
 And is it worth it? Answer me true;

 Then think of the daughters, sisters, brothers & sons,
 And if it is worth it, then fire those guns.


D.J. Quinn
 Somewhere a voice is calling,
 Somewhere a star is falling,
 Somewhere a life is dying,
 Somewhere a baby is crying,

 Somewhere a timeless song is being sung,
 Somewhere a saga's ending has begun,
 Somewhere an ancient bell is being rung,
 Somewhere on a cross a man is hung 

 Somewhere a child is growing,
 Somewhere a river is flowing,
Somewhere a candle is glowing,
Somewhere a cool wind is blowing

 Somewhere a bird learns to fly,
Somewhere a child wonders why,
 Somewhere clouds cover the sky,
 Somewhere a man begins to die.

 Somewhere a fire is burning,
Somewhere a windmill is turning,
 Somewhere a youth is learning,
 Somewhere a soul is yearning,

Somewhere a wolf is baying,
Somewhere the Lamb is paying,
 Somewhere a nation is praying,
 Somewhere in a tomb a man is laying,

 Somewhere a battle is being won,
 Somewhere the final deed is being done,
 Somewhere a different story has begun,
 Somewhere is seen the rising Son.


Questions And Answers
D.J. Quinn (1996)

What do we do Lord when the force of evil prevails?
What do we do Lord when the dark one assails?
What, when we know not what to do?
What, when we know not why or who?
Answer my cry Oh Lord!

Where do I turn when the night turns black?
Where do I turn when my soul feels a distinct lack?
Where, when all the doors have slammed in my face?
Where, when I run and cannot keep pace?
Answer my cry Oh Lord!

Who can I trust as the winds of destiny blow?
Who can I trust when my weakness starts to show?
Who, when filled with the darkest despair?
Who, when evil rules the very air ?
Answer my cry Oh Lord!

How do I know which path is right?
How, do I know when I am being led by the light?
How, on a road that is fraught with danger?
How, when paths cross with a deceiving stranger?
Answer my cry Oh Lord!

In among the darkest moments I see your light,
Guiding me towards safety, out of the night.
In the valley of death I feel you by my side,
In the shelter of the Most High is where I hide.
Lord I hear you answer my cry!

In loneliness I find you my comforter and strength,
In despair, I see you walk with me the road’s length.
Hurting, I feel your arms close around me, holding me close,
Feeling contentment heard of only in poem and prose.
Lord I hear you answer my cry!

Blinded by the principles of this world, I seek You,
Shackled by its lies, released only by your worlds so true.
Stumbling, I feel your hand steady me,
Tearing at the ropes that bind, setting me free.
Lord I hear you answer my cry!

People you bring into my life with love,
Leading strangers together, united under the almighty love.
In my foolish struggle, your wisdom calms,
Your touch more healing than oils or balm.
Lord I hear you answer my cry!

My hand in Yours, I walk confidently towards your glory,
Holding on tight as we approach the climax of my story,
I see in the distance the entrance to your home,
And follow You out of the darkness where I once used to roam.
Lord I hear you answer my cry!


The Witness
D.J. Quinn (September

It was a cold and stormy night,
I’d have been glad to have been home,
In it’s warmth and light.
Never again to have to roam.

I am alone in this cold and black land,
Where there remains no joy,
No clear blue sky, no golden sand.
No happy lass, no joyous boy.

All around the vicious scars of hate and fear,
In this land of sin and sorrow.
All is gone the heart once held dear,
The light, the love, the hope of ‘morrow.

War, sickness and death abound,
And everywhere I looked,
Black hearts were all I found
And worse, All the graves were booked.

For the killing and slaying would not cease,
Until they were all gone,
Victims of murder, mayhem and disease,
Would there aver again be a dawn?.

I rode on in a cloud of dust,
And only once I turned.
To see the results of hatred, greed and lust,
And cried as earth’s final fire burned.


D.J. Quinn (October 1996)

From all across the horizon
Came the break of day;
With the slowly rising sun,
The night just slipped away.

Not everywhere was seen the light,
Nor felt the brand new dawn;
In the heart of many t’was still night,
And the darkness seemed to live on and on.

Torn apart by grief and sorrow,
Worn down by anguish and pain;
With no hope left of tomorrow,
The tried to hold back tears... in vain,

Never could they begin to see,
That all this had been willed;
That with a falling curse of many a century,
The prophecies of ages were fulfilled.

Very soon after the sun rise,
To a broken hearted Mary first He came;
But she did not see him with closed eyes,
Until gently, softly, our Lord spoke her name.

All at once the sorrow of ages tumbled,
Gone was the fear of night,
The gates of hell crumbled,
The earth was flooded by light.

A new era had been born,
As man was set free;
Onward from that fateful morn;
Heaven’s doors are open to you and me.

The curse of death had been smashed,
Cause the Lamb of God was given;
Hell’s every hope dashed,

The SON OF GOD has risen.


 Life, Found in the Shadow of Death
 D.J. Quinn (April 1999)

 I was awoken by a thundering crash,
 The prison door slammed open,
 I flinched at the sound of a falling lash,
 A Guard stood, towering against the light.

 Dressed in full armour, a sword by his side,
 He gestured to me to move outside, fear racking me to the core,
 I stayed where I was, but there was no place to hide,
 Then more soldiers entered my cell & forced me through that door.

 I stumbled as I walked toward the prison gate,
 Beyond was a crowd of noble citizens, gathered from all around
 Screaming for blood, their voices full of venom & hate.
 That's when I saw it lying lifeless on the ground.

 Made by no craftsman, it was made to serve a task,
 It's ugliness holding on to my horrified fascination,
 Tears flowing freely, gone was my tough guy mask,
 As they threw me down beside the wooden cross, my final destination.

 I struggled up slowly, rising to my feet,
 Every move a nightmare, every thought still,
 Faced the roaring crowds that packed the street.
 Then put my shoulder under it and began to climb the hill.

 Through the roaring thong, the scream mass of humanity,
 Pushed forward by the soldiers whips, not for a moment did they stop,
 No feeling but fear, like a wild beast that has lost its sanity.
 I slowly reached the very top.

 I struggled for an instance when they grabbed me from behind,
 And forced me down on to the cross, to be crucified before the land
 Then lashed my arms with the ropes that bind,
 Screamed as one of them forced me to open my hand.

 Agony as the nail ran through the palm,
 And another smashed into my feet & other hand,
 I bowed my head, blessed by a shadow of deaths calm,
 As they raised the cross up high into its stand.

 Through the agony and the flowing tears,
 I could see the roaring crowds gathered to see the show for free,
 For the first time I prayed, but it seems as if no one hears,
 That’s when I noticed the cross on the hill next to me.

 Gathered all around it were the city's leaders and priests,
 He looked just like any other man, hanging from that tree,
 But the gathering at his feet were like demons gathered for their feasts,
 So I looked at the sign they had nailed above his head for all the world  to see.

 Here was the King of all the land it said,
 Ruler of the nation He had come to save,
 The pain was numbing, confused by what I read,
 I remember thinking that this must be just another knave.

 I laughed at him, and jeered with the crowd,
 But somehow my voice seemed to be empty, hollow,
 My smile was fake and my laughter too loud,
 Inside I felt cheap, my life suddenly shallow.

 Then he looked up, and for a second his eyes met mine,
 It seemed he looked deep inside the darkest regions of my soul,
 As he watched me, I knew His righteousness & innocence had to be divine,
 I felt as though I had been branded by a burning coal.

 His voice was soothing even at that time,
 In disbelief I heard him pray for those who had us crucified,
And He? The one who had committed no crime
 Pleading for his killers just before he died.

 My throat was dry and the words didn't seem from me,
 " Lord remember me when you come into your throne."
 He looked up, and I knew that my soul had been set free,
 No longer was I excluded, no longer was I alone.

"This day you will be with me in paradise"
 His words took the deepest pain away,
 Purified me of all my evil, taking away every sin, every vice,
 For I knew with him, I would see heaven this day.

 The pain still racked my body, a very small price,
 To see that face, to hear those words spoken,
 To be privileged to die beside the Christ,
 My spirit soared, though my body had been broken.

 Then he raised himself up again towards the sky,
 Pulling at the nails toward heaven as he cried,
Breathing deeply, filling his lungs for one last cry,
" It is finished ", and he bowed his head and he died.

 As the man on the cross breathed his very last,
 As the Son of Man paid the price, was crucified,
 Across the entire land a shadow was cast,
 Then for once in all time, the Almighty God cried.

 The wailing of the faithful, rend the strongest heart,
 As the earth began to rumble, the sky a fearsome dark
 Then the storm broke, the earthquake ripping the land apart,
 Leaving the hill top desolate, deserted and stark.


D.J. Quinn (February 2002)

Way down in the valley there is a mighty roar
Glinting in the sunlight.. The chariots of war.
Thundering hooves racing across the torturous sand
As the Pharaoh flaunts his strength of hand.

Trap well set, closing deadly as it’s sprung,
The last song of the children seems to have been sung.
Escape is not an option, blocked by the sea,
The hunted nation prays and drops to a collective knee.

Closer and closer, eyes hard as cold steel,
Terror that they cause, the fear is very real.
Slaves, thought free, prepare themselves to die,
Men tremble, women weep. “Hear oh God!” the only cry.

In all this commotion a cloud of blazing flame,
Roars like thunder and Glory answers His name.
The earth trembles but not of the armies of men,
Strangely aware of the coming wrath of heaven.

A single man with the weight of a nation to bear,
Stands apart, the breeze ruffling his whitened hair.
Raises his eyes to the heavenly light in trust,
Then looks at his people, numbered as the dust.

The roaring waves crash upon the banks,
Egyptian men of war taste blood within their ranks.
The bows with arrows ready to shed blood,
And run the sea red as it flows like a flood.

The heat, the tension builds and charges the very air,
The promised land seems so remote from here.
Turn to him who led them to this awful place,
As he walks to the waters edge, knowing his God’s grace.

Hold the staff out across the waters wide,
Confident that the mighty God stands by his side.
A sudden hush as a powerful wind begins to scream,
People rub their eyes, surely this can only be a dream.

The waters stop, parting before his extended hand,
For they cannot stop him reaching the Promised Land.
The chariots stop amazed by what they see,
A long line of slaves making their way home over the sea.

The sandy floor firm under their tired feet,
Fleeing a proud Pharaoh who will not accept defeat.
Ever forward, their destiny to meet,
To their oasis in the desert’s heat.

Then with a roar of anger and hate,
Thirsting for death the soldiers will not wait.
Surging forward as the last man crosses Heaven’s gate,
And a great army charges forward to meet it’s fate.

As the last man scrambles out onto the dry far side rock,
The sand runs out relentlessly as a ticking clock.
The great shepherd gathers to safety his flock,
While the angry waters close in on the Egyptians still in shock.

Amazed, a people watch their devastated foes,
Deep in his heart each one knows.
Their days of slavery have come to a close,
Turning to the only man who really knows.

Start to walk towards the given place,
Children of God, ever tasting God’s grace.
Far now from their shame and disgrace,
Homeward bound at last, led by the only man to see God’s face.


D.J. Quinn

Growing up just one of the other boys,
With sticks for swords and other childish toys.
Never knowing my destiny is chosen, my path is set,
Reveling in the fact I am my father’s pet.

The special treatment makes my brothers mad,
But this warm coat of mine raises my spirits, makes me glad.
Watching the sheep of my father’s house as they eat and graze,
Lying in the foothills, dreamed away the days.

Never seeing the hate around me, the anger and the rage,
Jealousy and envy soon to become a cage.
From behind they seize me. Beat me. Oh the pain!
What possesses my kin? Have they gone insane?

I cry and wonder why in this darkest pit,
Slavers coming to do with me as they see fit.
From the favours of my home now I am being sold,
They haggle over prices. How much I’m worth in gold.

Property of a rich man, his house told to keep,
How I long for the foothills and my father’s sheep.

This place they call the land of God and kings,
Working hard, do my best for the favour that it brings.
Not my own man but a roof over my head,
Fearful now as the mistress watches me in my bed.

Accused of crime I do not even know,
Things they say I did, evidence they did not show.
Again in a deep dark hole and alone,
My God, Don’t you hear me cry and groan.

Then from the night a frightened shout and scream,
A man awoken from a dark and sinister dream.
Frustrated by it’s meaning, the secrets that it holds,
Destiny revealing. The pathways that it molds.

I hear the words he’s speaking, the meaning oh so clear.
And answer him with boldness to take away his fear.
Reading out his future as one might read a book,
Never knowing the man I am addressing is the Pharaoh’s cook.

Pandemonium. Shouting. The pharaoh’s wise men have been jailed,
They could not interpret his dreams. They tried, they failed.
Who will tell the king what he needs and wants to hear,
Not the astrologers and magicians who come from far and near.

I settled down to sleep. For me things remain the same,
But now I hear them call, shouting out my name.
From chains to garments of silk and finest spun,
As I tell the pharaoh the meaning of his dream..

 My journey has just begun.


And The Rain
D.J. Quinn. (November 22, 2002)

With an almost deafening roar the rain is pouring down,
Drenching all who venture outside, saturating the ground.
Silently a small crowd stands braving the winds that rage,
History matching earths tormented groans, that come from a turning page.
And the rain... the raining just goes on.

Lightning flashes across the sky illuminates faces, showing all their fears,
Some crying openly, others attempt to hide their tears
They huddle there in silence, broken only by another thunderous roar,
Earthquake rips the land again, shaking it to its core.
And the rain... the raining just goes on.

A deadly hush falls across the land, the moon passes over the sun,
The universe in mourning, for what is done is done.
One man cries his loss, then brokenly falls down to his knees,
The end of all his hopes and dreams are all he sees.
And the rain... the raining just goes on.

Temple priests stand inside marveling at nature’s angry skies,
Turn back quickly to their prayers when once more the earth cries.
Blinded by the very rituals that bind them, till now they cannot see,
Even as the veil is rent, opening to the world the Holiest of the Holy.
And the rain... the raining just goes on.

On the hills, breathes His last, the man they accused and crucified.
The terrible anger unleashed as this mere mortal bent His head and died.
His blood still fresh, drips and trickles down the wooden cross,
Men and women, who knew Him, find no measure for their loss.
And the rain... the raining just goes on.

Finally they lower His broken body from that old tree,
From where the Romans hung Him, to mock this king and all to see.
Each wrist is smashed from the piercing of the nail,
The priests and soldiers flee, when the rain turns into hail.
And the rain... the raining just goes on.

Tired and hurting they carry His body to the tomb,
His followers, those who love Him and the woman who bore Him in her womb.
Clean the body and bind it in the clothes of purest white,
Then, in anguish, leave Him to His rest in anguish, go home for the night.
And the rain... the raining just goes on.

The soldiers came, ordered by their masters into the dark
Roll the heavy bolder across the entrance to the grave in the park.
Terrified but obedient the guards find a place to stand till the dawn,
As not so far away, disciples wail and mourn.
And the rain... the raining just goes on.

Curse the rain that has not quit since that fateful eve,
Hating to have to stay, but these soldiers cannot leave.
The body priceless because of the claims He made,
Though they hate this job, the Roman soldiers stayed.
And the rain... the raining just goes on.

Three days have passed, when the woman finds her way.
To the tomb of her master, to lay flowers there today.
She had risen early to make to this place by first light,
When she got closer though, not a soldier was in sight.
And the rain... the raining just goes on.

Slowed now to a drizzle, the rain of the break of day,
No longer angry the sky turns from black to gray.
But she cares for nothing, as panic chills her to the bone,
For the tomb that she stands in, the body of her Lord is gone.
And the rain... the raining just goes on.

Turning to the only other man at this place,
She begs for the body, but never sees His face.
A gardener she thinks, hears her broken pleas,
When He finally speaks, she opens her eyes and sees.

And the sun... the sunshine has begun.


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