'Star spangled banner'

'Star spangled banner' timothy r gates, 9/28/2012

Heroes,

rockets red glare -

dammit, this is metaphor

for

people killed by people,

like

collateral damage-

blessed, euphemism

for

presidential cowards.

a little honesty,

genuflecting more tiresome -

like

"We the people" -

job is done,

we tear up

knowing few Heroes

giving the red in

"The flag was still there."

Jesus loved me at four

"Jesus loved me at four"              timothy r gates, 9/19/2012


Jesus loved me at four,

i know because I heard him.

Told others at twelve

Jesus loves them too,

i know because they heard.

Guys in used car sales suits -

wide lapels, wide ties and bold plaids -

ministers taught me to call Jesus, Lord.

They said, "Jesus wants you

to forgive and forget."

Scars didn't matter to them.

A Rabbi told me,

"Yeshua was a Rabbi."

Unlike what i was told as a boy,

he, or Jesus

didn't try to "Jew me down."

Wearing cassocks and robes,

public and private

affirmations and accusations, still saying,

"God loves the sinner, but not the sin,"

picking which ones still rank as taboo."

I bet all the "little children of the world -

red and yellow, black and white"

(all the other hues too not written in the song)

heard God, or someone

when they were four.

'9/11 11yrs after'

'9/11 11yrs after' timothy r gates, 9/11/2012




9/11 11yrs after?

Why do bad things happen...

to good people

bad people

indifferent people

insignificant people

(some with no person grieving their

loss, or them lost)

to people

other species

kinds

things

(some have no pictures for their

memories, no ashes for their urn)

to innocents

thieves of innocence

the poor

wealthy

(some offer theocentric platitudes, also

not knowing, being broken with others)?

“My God, my God why have you forsaken me?”

silence. deafening, as screams.

In my youth i had answers,

when a friend's grandmother died.

Then my grandfather died.

'Pie on the windowsill'

'Pie on the windowsill' timothy r gates, 9/09/2012




pie on the windowsill,

awaiting my coming

my tasting

my savoring,

enjoying my quiet approach

my licking of my lips

my hesitant perseverance.

Ate.

Problem?

Pie on the windowsill,

awaiting my return,

and yes –

she knew i'd come again.