‘Dixie Land Jazz’ or ‘I’ve cried, too dry socketed’ timothy r gates,
9/14/2013
I’ve cried, till dry socketed.
Baptisms of joy did not remoisten.
God songs, into the woods songs, surreal
songs,
priests and prophets promising
pie in the sky,
only, now, red eyes are what
remain.
Happy tears are not alone.
Metanoia helped the podvig,
yet the path is well worn,
and knowing that others have trod
it
well, only, let you know that
there’s company.
this purgatorial breach,
like Beatrice’s unrequited love –
there’s an end, but not
anytime soon.
Oh, moonlit Queen,
you know these wet sheets,
no one to hold you in the loud
night,
come to remind me, like your
dark night of the soul,
yelling to the heavens about quiet
hells,
remind me that this too will know
a blessed repose.
Just when you think there are no
drops to fall,
another one does,
this baptism has been trespassed,
and I join the Dixie Land Jazz,
where Blues is not merely sad.
Note: Metanoi: Change, repent, metamorphosis-Greek;Podvig:Struggle,suffering,transformation-Russia
'Love remembers' timothy r gates, 9/11/2013
Love remembers
the day God died.
the day The Bomb dropped
and Pearl Harbor was attacked
the day called D-Day
the day JFK was murdered
and MLK was murdered
the day the Birmingham Church was bombed,
and the Girls murdered
the day Nixon ordered
Boy soldiers to shoot their peers
the day we remember at Kent State -
4 dead in OHIO
the day John was murdered.
the day the Twin Towers fell
the murder of innocents in them
the plane flown into the Pentagon
and into the Pennsylvania field
the Heroes and Heroines -
living still, and those murdered.
(others in other lands remember theirs too,
and others remember other days and others)
the day my Grandfather died
the day I pulled the plug for my Brother
the day love is murdered
and you're left feeling dead.
Love rises
Love remembers
Love knows no cessation,
like the day God died -
we remember
and look for the third day.
'This too is love" timothy r gates, 9/8/2013
fifth grade, then eighth
kissing behind the bushes,
taking a break from
sock-hop dancing .
fell in love,
adults tell you,
"it's only puppy love."
Bullshit.
love is love,
known in
hues, views, time -
then you meet
timelessness.
Yet,
the time when you're six,
for whatever stupid reason
you throw rocks at a cute
Shepherd puppy.
"Yelp!"
Don't forget this.
(Don't forget that last
beating, either,
sixteen - vowed never to do this,
Never did -
bent over, grabbing
bottom legs of a kitchen chair,
told,"Stop screaming if you want me to stop."
Bullshit.)
timelessness,
poetry read
paintings displayed,
the pauses between
the words and breaths,
the embracing of pigments on canvass,
here is the unforgotten kiss.
This too is love.
'To bomb, or not to bomb?' timothy r gates, 8/31/2013
pluck each petal,
"Loves me, loves me not,"
social fatalists
not unlike theological determinists,
tossing aside undesired blooms,
(would've picked "the best"
for gym class sports,
leaving others to feel unpicked).
Carnage
Collateral damage
"They've" killed "their" children.
Bombs don't kill children,
people, bombing people,
"they" kill children.
Bullshit talks and walks,
war orders the murder of children,
matters not the side bombing,
as long as we miss the little ones
playing,
we'll miss that their children are ours.
A Child did lead them?
Chosen warrior's say,
"Screw their freewill,
it's time to play the game."
And original Tom Waits... http://m.youtube.com/?reload=7&rdm=up56e1md#/watch?v=1wfamPW3Eaw&feature=related
Cult followers. timothy r gates, 9/2/2013
need a leader,
blessings
to do right.
He just did right.
Eucharist candies,
metaphors for
triumphalism
exclusivity.
Cult sects
need addicts,
like puppies
trained with treats.
He blessed the blessed.
Messiahs
come and go,
important to
apocalypse hunters.
He said, "Occupy," not be preoccupied.
Presidents and kings,
Saviors and gods
expect allegiance,
pledges with bows and salutes.
He was friend of the marginalized.
i like my candy
wrapped in cellophane,
easily unwrapped, re-wrapped,
opened when desired, till "all gone."
He fed 20,000 people with a few loaves and fish.
(If the 5,000 only had small families --
in those days women and children weren't counted.)
One person's cult
is another's extended family --
one way to tell if it's a "1984 group speak:"
when asked to kiss a hand, or bow respectfully,
simply say, "Kiss my ass."
Holding her dying child, timothy r gates, 9/2/2013
you'd think tears were well spent,
dried up.
But they continue,
baptizing her once beaming face,
bragging about her only Son,
calling him Lord.
And so, Maria weeps
till she has none,
awaiting joy, someday.
But, like sorrowful mothers anywhere,
she finds more.
"Incline your ear, queen,"
we ask,
because we know she knows this chant.
We hold our innocent babies,
daughters and sons,
praying that our happy tears
will never adjust.
Praying that
they won't murder ours
and,
we won't murder theirs -
that we won't hide behind euphemisms.
Enemies ignore their children,
making the passover's dark lord fat,
not even giving a nod to parents weeping.
Children do lead us.
I pray that they do not
learn to prey.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cZwTfPKW6v0&sns=em
Mercy.... in Egypt they're killing their children, as with all war this is what we dare not talk about. When we truly love our children, then we will stop hiding behind euphemism and metaphor, and cease their murder. Love. Namaste. Mercy.
'Jesus and The Flood' timothy r gates, 8/20/2013
Cain murdered Abel.
figures God kicked his parents out
for their not getting it.
notes, the serpent
has his feet removed
for being a tool of
providence.
Towers toppled.
Cities rained upon with brimstone.
Firstborn killed by a Death Angel.
The Flood's redundancy,
collateral damage's justification,
how many innocents killed for the common good
finally
are remembered as murdered,
martyrs by way of a divine plan?
Jesus,
knowing cries from Ramah,
knowing divine excuses,
knowing the grief, and love
of his Mother -
sobs in disenchantment,
"My G-d, my God!
why have you turned your back?"
Egypt murders their children.
Jerusalem and Palestine
reciprocate bombs,
still not getting the question,
"Am I my brother's keeper?"
as rhetorical by way of silence.
"Blessed are the little ones,
because such are the kingdom of heaven."
Jesus, or The Flood
Koinonia, or lakes of fire --
"A child shall lead them,"
or continue the bullshit,
that it's okay to kill "their" children,
the costs of doing war,
just as long as ours are safe.
Children do lead us,
if we dare follow,
or drown them again.
Mercy.
