Author: B. K. Neifert

Mark 13:51Jesus saith unto them, Have ye understood all these things? They say unto him, Yea, Lord. 52Then said he unto them, Therefore every scribe which is instructed unto the kingdom of heaven is like unto a man that is an householder, which bringeth forth out of his treasure things new and old.

The Great Conqueror

The two greatest men in history died at thirty-three.
One, like Satan himself, conquered the unconquerable.
He laid the stones of Tyre into causeways, and his armies
Passed upon them into the isle,---it fulfilled prophecy
As a wise, good hearted preacher once said.
Years before, Nebuchadnezzar laid siege to it by the Trojan Horse.
Yet this, this conqueror scraped the town to the foundations
And built causeways out to the inner island.
It's been said before.

The other, Christ, none truly believe will bear a sword.
They say of Him, "He is gentle, soft, like a blanket
"Which a toddler carries upon his arm, and suckles his fingers
"And cries to." I say, yes, a toddler does this, yet a mature
Christian ought to feed upon more than milk and honey.
The mature Christian ought to look upon the nations
And see war, that this is what Christ will bring at the end.
A sword, which many tens of thousands, a greater
Army than Alexander's, shall purge the seas
And lay the valleys with blood to the coasts.
He will, in one day, accomplish justice, while the saints
Are huddled like Noah in their mystical arks---
They shall never see it, nor taste of it.
They shall huddle together with love
When Daniel's vision shall be accomplished.
We shall look up, and see our bless'ed conqueror---
And we shalt then be carried up, before
The great and mighty battle; where those rotting corpses
Shall remain in the marshes of hell for eternity. Those who remain,
The small remnant we are, shall inherit the Earth,
Never having tasted wrath; but like Jeremiah,
Shall bear our burdens, when we warn
Men not to ask, "What is the Burden of the LORD?"
We will say to you, "It is thou, o foolish man!"

Frogs and Toads

The internet is freaking out because
Frogs and Toads are two different species.
Precisely, what makes them different
Are that Frogs lay eggs, and make tadpoles,
While toads may lay eggs, but come out fully formed.

A toad is a reptile.
A frog is an amphibian.

Now, the internet does damage control
To obfuscate the clear differences.

Is it to hide from us evolution?
Or is it to hide from us God's existence?

I cannot tell.

Jordan Peterson’s Dream

Jordan Peterson sees a dream
Of kings raising from the dead.
They war among one another
But then submit themselves to Christ.

He goes on to talk about this prophecy
Like it were of psychological significance.

Jordan, you dreamt of the Resurrection
And the Kings of Old being raised,
And you dreamt that every knee will bow before Jesus.

Just today, a distant relative came to my Uncle's funeral.
Called to do so, she came and kept me company.
Up she rose, remembering my family.
Belonging to a distant, Great, Great Aunt.
Aunt Erma. On my Great Grandfather's side.
And cautious am I to call it a miracle.
Yes. I know not this. But, Jordan, as sure as I am
That what you saw was a vision of the resurrection.
Of that, there can be no doubt.

But I do believe that is the flaw of your ministry, 
Jordan. You doubt the miraculous, and the very existence of God.

Elvis Sings to Me

Elvis sings a song 
I wrote... Yet he sings the words
Better than my words. 
It is like angels singing.
I published in a journal---

The journal was called
Something, but on the barcode
The name was misspelled.
A dubious journal that
I had to pay to publish.

The Elvis song was 
Like my Hail Britannica 
Recording. Some words
Were sung for their lyrical
Flow, differently than the page.

It left some questions 
In my mind, whether my work's
Quality were true.
Yet, dreams of music mean I
Feel peace and accomplishment.

It seems Elvis' 
Song,---the true meaning had come,---
Is God's word. And my
Paltry poetry is a 
Close likeness, but not scripture.

Jane Austen’s Charade

I went down a rabbit hole, reading about Jane Austen's dedication to Prince Nash. The theory is that Jane Austen alluded to Charles Lamb in the Charade because of the words Harriet chooses. Mainly, "Mermaid, Trident, Neptune, Shark" (Sheehan).

I won't discount this theory, but merely add my input. For it to be true, there'd have to be a reference to Neptune and Trident in Charles Lamb's work. The poem "The Triumph of the Whale" has the words "Shark" and "Mermaid" in it, and seems to be about Prince Nash. But it doesn't have the word "Trident" or "Neptune" in it. So, I looked for a possible use of the word "Trident" and "Neptune" together. I found "Triton" and "Neptune" in an essay about witches, (Lamb, 76). Perhaps Jane misspelled the word from memory. Therefore, she might be calling Nash the "Prince of Darkness", and a "Witch".

Though, the connection is vague. There may be an acrostic anagram making the word "Lamb" on both stanzas (Sheehan). The evidence is quite striking. At first I thought it was specious, but there may be a connection.

My intention for writing this is respect. I love when people work to make connections like that. I attempt to add credibility to it.





Lamb, Charles. Essays of Elia. Harvard College Library, From the Family of Charles Eliot Norton, 1927. Text. https://www.google.com/books/edition/Essays_of_Elia/nXgRAAAAYAAJ?hl=en&gbpv=1&bsq=neptune. Web.

Sheehan, Colleen A.. "Lampooning the Prince: A Second Solution to the Second Charade in Emma." Jane Austen Society of North America, 2006. https://jasna.org/persuasions/on-line/vol27no1/sheehan2.htm. Web.

My Reflection, a Prose Poem

I sit. I think about Micah 7. But, I cannot sit for long. In the Black Screen of the TV, turned off, I see my reflection. I get nervous--- Anxious--- I even hate it. I see an arrogance. I understand what my family is seeing in me.

Inwardly, I feel peace. Like I'm accomplishing my goals, little by little. That I'm winning my battles. That my silence, my inaction, is not contrary to what I'm supposed to be doing right now. Like Micah 7. I sit in darkness. I do not know what else I can do. I say to myself, "I have sinned." 

Seeing myself from the outside, I can see how it drives my family crazy. To see the me perceived by others, it is hateful, arrogant, slovenly, lazy, prideful... That is how I appear when reflected in the TV. I see myself like I am seen by others.

Inwardly, I am not a ravenous wolf. Inwardly, I am calm, reticent, without fear, forming more understanding on the nature of being kindhearted, forgiving and able to trust. I see in my reflection someone else. Like I saw in my mother a sort of nonchalance reflected which wasn't her true feelings. Appearances can be deceiving. It seems like I am not at rest. It seems like I am unwise, lazy, prideful, vain, arrogant... inwardly, I know all of that is the opposite. I am trying my best to see the world through other's eyes, to draw from wisdom a cup of salvation. To understand.

I see what I look like to the outside world. I even am close to hating myself. But, that is not me. Like my mother's mien, I misread it for nonchalance when it was simply her playfulness. We put on an outward display which is not reflecting what is inward. I see myself from the perspective of others. It looks vain... Inwardly, I am contemplating the truths which are foundational to the world. I can see why people hate me. But, I can tell you, what you see in appearance is not who I am underneath. Outwardly, I am a ravenous wolf, but inwardly I am a lamb with a lion's courage and a serpent's wisdom. I look vain, stupid, insecure, lazy, prideful, arrogant,---like I am continually not at ease. But, I know from my reflection that what I seem is not what I am. Inwardly, I am at peace, readying myself to flee and lay aside this world's cares.

Jesus’ Personality Type

Jesus was an INFP. Not an INFJ. And I'll explain why.

Jesus was introverted. As opposed to extroverted. He had twelve apostles follow Him around, but he got most of His energy by spending time alone. We know that Jesus was in prayer at this time, so He was setting an example for us to follow. When we need recharged, to go out into the wilderness and pray. Yet, Jesus would also leave His disciples, and spend time in the desert, or in the gardens, or once even leaving them unmoor their ship, while he stayed on the coast, and then walked to them atop the water. Jesus was certainly an introvert.

Jesus was intuitive. Intuition is the ability to see things beyond what we sense. It's the ability to understand things without having direct evidence. It's a key aspect of faith, but Jesus was intuitive---prophetically---knowing details about people's lives without having known them. He wasn't a fortune teller, but rather had direct revelation from God, yet we can say this is a sort of intuition. Not to mention, His teachings peered into the very workings of true ethics. No sage in history had ever developed a more cogent philosophy. No sage could. Some tried, but they were far behind Jesus in their understandings.

Jesus was a feeler, not a thinker. He was empathetic, compassionate, and He loved very hard. He once made whips of chords and cast out the buyers and sellers in the temple. He had wrath, but He also had moments of great compassion. When He set free the woman caught in adultery, or when He had compassion on the Samaritan woman at the well. Or, when He healed the invalid at Bethesda. Jesus was compassionate---some men don't even understand the compassion of Jesus, and the goodness of Him.

And here's the controversial one. Many people place Jesus as a "Judger." Yet, Jesus said of Himself, "I have not come to judge the world, but to save it." Judgment is the ability to prioritize, create order. Jesus lived His life in disorder. It's an interesting thing about Him, that He moved almost like a ship being blown about by the wind. And the Wind was the Spirit. He didn't plan---He forbid planning---He forbid judging, and the Judge sense is one who constructs a sense of right and wrong, and orders things around them. The Perceiver is one who, rather, witnesses things going on around him, and attempts to understand it. Though, Jesus would understand intuitively what's true, He also saw things as they are, as opposed to creating a personal sense of "Ought". Which is interesting about His teachings is that there is no "ought" about it, but rather they are an accurate description of how moral truth actually is.

Writer not a Gamer

You were always better than me at games.
I'd fight my way to Great Tiger
And you'd fight your arch nemesis Mr. Sandman.
I remember at Stratego, you placed
Your troops in illogical order.
No bombs surrounded your flag.
I'd send my rows in columns,
My massive armies,
And you'd take one little guy
And decimate an entire force.
Haphazardly, the guy would walk
An eight getting blown up with a bomb.
My generals would defend, but the damage was already done.
Star Wars, Donkey Kong, and Punch Out
Mario, That game we borrowed from Meredith,
You were always better than me.
I play my cards... but lose.
I can see the strategy to win the game at Risk,
But I refuse to conquer the world.

You were a hero to me,
Able to get to Mr. Sand Man
And beat Soda Popinski.
Your epic foe, Mr. Sandman.
Once, I think I saw you get to the guy
Right before Mike Tyson.
We were never a gaming family...
My scrabble skills are par excellence.
I am able to score above three hundred and seventy
In a two player match regularly.
But, that just gets to my real talent.
Words---I love them.
Meaning. My childhood obsessions 
With gemstones, coins, rocks, plants, birds,
Animals, Alcohols---I wanted to know every kind.
I wanted to know all the different things.
I was very curious... always compiling facts
Data, in encyclopedic form.
Stories I loved, art... I still gorge myself on art.
The more fantastic, the more I loved it.

A part of me would like to be good at games.
But, I am not good at them.
I never was. I'd get to Great Tiger
At about the age of seven.
I showed no prodigiousness at games.
I can understand the rules...
I'm good at memorizing specific details
And remembering after a long time how games ought to be played.
But, even chess, I didn't know about En Passant 
Until I was about twenty-four.
When John played a trick on me, and I thought he lost his mind.
I thought I could get one past him
By jumping my pawn past his.
And that's when I learned it.

Our family, loving games, were not top quality gamers.
You could just barely beat Soda Popinksi. He was a rival of ours
And I'd watch you, with starry eyes,
Sometimes get to the Sandman...
And he, he was our arch nemesis.
And once you beat him. Only once.
And you got knocked out in one punch
By Macho Man.

I guess I'm saying I ought to be a writer.
As, the only other thing I could be is a gamer.
And I'm not very good at games.
Love you, Mom.

Uncle Don

A cherry Chevy in the Apartment's garage
Sits with a lock and a yellow sign with a handgun on it,
Warning not to enter. A laborer of Caterpillar
A father to two, a good husband...
His PA Dutch accent was thick.
He was simply spoken, a hard worker
Wore suspenders... He was Blue Collar Pennsylvania.
I already miss him.

He dated a black woman.
This came as a surprise to us.
He was soft spoken, and once told me
That on an occasion where corporal punishment
Was being used, he took the belt from Pap-pap
And told him, "That's enough of that."
He owned my Great Grandmother's apartment
Which housed her nicely through her life---
That apartment was in our family for generations.
Later he would rent it out and tell us about the tenants.
Some were good, some were bad.

He was salt of the Earth.

There was a twinkle in his eye
When I would tell him about my jobs as a Tree Trimmer.
I never made it at that job,---
A friend always "accidentally" sabotaged my work;
But, I don't remember Don making me feel inadequate.
Rather, I think he was just proud that I put in a day's real work.
He'd always tell me, "You staying out of trouble?"
I'd say, "Always."
We'd talk, while he would smoke his cigarette.
Cigarettes into his seventies---
He and his son would talk mechanic talk
Smoke cigarettes,
And I felt welcomed into the conversation.
He never judged me.
Probably because he and I thought a lot alike.
Mostly alike. That generation I have a lot more in common with
Than my own.

My Big Black Lab was---for a time---
Not a nice dog. Uncle Don walked through our front door
And kneed him in the chest and literally scarred the shit out of him.
He was not a guy you wanted to be on the bad side of.
He was strong, muscular even into his old age.
My Mom said of an old picture of him, that he was a "Hottie".
He was strong, forgiving, righteous,
And I remember him driving me home from my Aunt's
We had a long talk. We both agreed that our cousins 
From out of town were... well... a little bit too liberal.
I don't know if I talked about Jesus with him in that car ride,
But I lived and talked about Jesus a lot.
I only hope somewhere, through osmosis,
He gained a confession.

Yesterday, there was a light in the sky.
My dad and I thought it was a planet.
I went in, and brought out my farmer's Almanac
Which I had just bought, seeing if it were Venus.
It wasn't. Rather, it was a light in the sky,
And I'd like to think that it was his soul passing onto heaven
Checking up on us one last time.
I know he found Jesus.