'Tis the Season'

 

'Tis the Season'                                timothy r gates, 12/19/2013

i've been a bookseller,
from a late teen a bibliophile.
ran two book stores,
one called 'the Bookshoppe,'
both swallowed up by mega stores.
funny, they're gone now.
ran four video/Dvd stores.
they're gone too.
more retail stores?
yes, "it's a job."
never thought people would say,
"No,"
to face to face sales.
strange, they have.
Next? Perhaps more of the same.
Safeguard?
People enjoying complaining
People swearing about getting what they requested
People blaming stores for their procrastination --
"Tis the Season!"
Sarcasm?
"Have a happy or merry whatever you celebrate."
"Tis the Season!"

'Young children'

'Young children'                             t r gates, 12/18/2013

Young children,
no religion, ethnic, or political
prejudices.
Then they're taught,
our religion, ethnic, and political
prejudices.
Turn your head and
cough,
check for inflammation,
once bigotry moves in
it's hard to see in
a new way.
Some might ask,
"Please, I'd like to cough again."
Next thing, we'll hear of
a God with genders,
which mean she's a he.
Or, there are many races.
No way!

'Into her eyes'

'Into her eyes'     for my granddaughter, timothy r gates, 12/16/2013

Into her eyes
i behold beauty,
said and unsaid sadness
said and unsaid joy,
yes, happiness too.
i behold natural innocence,
loving growing older
loving not hurrying to grow up
yes, even giggling and giddy.
i behold belief practiced,
expressed and unexpressed doubt
expressed and unexpressed wonder
yes, even what i lack without this insight.
Into her eyes
i behold beauty,
reminding me of what i never knew, was
reminding me of what is, now
yes, even the baptism by her eyes of mine.
Here irony is eclipsed by the beauty of
beholding.

'John died' and 'i have met Angels'

Talon Abraxos photo

 

‘John died’    and ‘I have met Angels’     1980 into presence Memory Etrrnal's love. Love.

John died,
murdered by another of our species.
John
sang, preached, protested
chanted, intoned, sometimes yelled-----
learned
Peace, hope, and love
are lived.
John opined,
"Don't believe in death;
I think we get out of one car
and get into another."
I miss my Grandfather more,
yet I miss his voice too.
Maybe they're singing
"Imagine,"
driving a Model A.
Maybe not.
Maybe not knowing
is their sweet stream's ripple?
Then I recall,
breathe a refrain:
looking for angels and gods
goddesses and fairies
when right before our eyes,
if we dare,
we'd see humanity's divinity.
here, in your eyes I behold -
i see.

      "Angels can fly because they take themselves lightly; devils fall because of their gravity. "— G. K. Chesterton

'i have met angels'          timothy r gates, 12/2/2012

walking
i do not always see
or stop to perceive.
i have met angels,
at least I think so,
while asleep - while awake.
children are easy,
only seeing what they see
no need to know,
damn, I love their perceptions
when they go on in storytelling I hear myself,
with my illiterations and thoughtful exceptions.
i have met angels:
wee ones who shouldn't have hope, love
hoary haired ones not hearing clearly, listening
a friend crying at my hospital bedside, praying
worn out searchers, knowing
unknown soup kitchen servers, loved
candle trimmers and incense lighters, ready
alone mums nursing in public because there's no house, at home
children playing with strangers - children too, hoping.
Angel feathers fall to the ground,
unnoticed save for these dancing with them
Angel wings often melt and fall to the ground,
but they're still Angels
Angels soar,
except when they tumble downward
Angels fly, again,
when another one below joins their flight.
i have met angels.
at times i've beheld them and said,
"Thank you,"
they nod, knowing i'm not too good at flying.

'How many times can you die?

'How many times can you die?'               timothy r gates, many dates

How many time can you die?
"Jesus loves me this i know,"
sung when a wee lad.
"Jesus wept."
Me too.
Too many have fallen asleep,
"their time," some say.
Reposed, tried,
woke up too many times.
"Freewill,"
convenient excuse.
So many loved,
none thought it was time.
No one heard.
Yes they did.

post script: inspired by a friend's hug, i penned down on a piece of paper, "some days the cumulative tears dried up is like baptism in sand."    love.

Memory Eternal in Blessed Repose:
Nelson Mandela, John Lennon, Hal(for my oldest children), and Norma(for my oldest children, my first love), newly departed infant Braden, all the innocents forgotten and those who turned away from them, or have become busy with today. My heart goes out to all, and to all in their grief, knowing this all too well. It feels like no one listens, knowing this too, I thank those who have listened, as well as those who have heard.

'Sometimes just tears'

Painting by, Kelly Louise Judd

'Sometimes just tears'           timothy r gates, 12/1/2013

Sometimes you look
for reasons for tears.
Sometimes they're
just tears.
A George Jones song
Hank tune,
still hear my dad singing these,
as a boy -
immediately I knew the harmony.
Still do.
The look in your children's faces,
that one that never changes
no matter their age.
Waking up,
realizing that laughing with grandpa
was only a dream.
Or, was it?
Jesus wept.
David cried out,
tears overflowing his bottle,
"Absalom!"
Sometimes there are reasons.
Sometimes you find none.
Sometimes you breathe,
"Lord, why have you forgotten
to be gracious?
Why have you turned away?"
Answers only satisfy
if answers are what you want,
when rivers dry up
you remember,
tears are just tears.
except when they're eclipsed.
http://youtu.be/1F916U9H8nM

'Thanksgiving?, in 2 parts'

"Thanksgiving?"                                timothy r gates, 11/28/2013

Thanksgiving?
Separatists or Pilgrims
Calvinists or Anglo-Catholics
Indigenous or Nomads - run out of time?
People already here
were used by
People who left their indigenous home
due to being violated by
People who thought it their right to violate
People they believed to be less than real
People.
Sound familiar?
First "American" Thanksgiving, it
was what it was.
Eucharistic aphorisms,
grateful hallelujahs
(same word in more than a few languages)
join in Leonard Cohen's
never innocuous hymn --
I do not pretend that the story of my youth
was, or is true.
I am grateful,
it is not the first Thanksgiving
it is not the time of State religions
(yes, originally States had these, like State birds)
it is not the time of the misogynist,
or the misandrist
it is not the time of slavery,
or even indentured servitude
(note, debt is a voluntary servitude)
it is not the time when gay only meant happy,
or that happy cannot describe being gay
it is not a time of legal segregation,
or a time of the illegality of "mixed unions"
it is not the time of the fewest controlling wealth,
(Oops! This is still the same, different time, same %.)
I am thankful,
for love lived
for love lived
for love lived.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lfnCX6hj_9I&list=RDSHPgBd-T0pU
'Lord have mercy'

 

‘Thanksgiving?, part 2’                                                                             timothy r gates, 11/29/2013

Gospodi pomilui 
Kyrie eleison
Yā Rabbu ram
Adon raem na
Domine, miserere
qiúzhǔ lián mǐn
A Thighearna, dèan tròcair oirnn,
Namaste.
For every soldier,
Lord have mercy.
For every enemy,
Lord have mercy.
For every innocent,
Lord have mercy.
For every child used,
Lord have mercy.
For every violator,
Lord have mercy.
For every violated,
Lord have mercy.
For every peace maker,
Lord have mercy.
For every person filled with hatred,
Lord have mercy.
For every person living love,
Lord have mercy.
For every person hungry,
every person lonely,
every person thirsty,
every person without a bed,
every person forgotten,
please let a person who sees God before them in these --
share mercy they too know.
Mercy is known
as it is shown,
please let me be both.
i know not eternity,
heaven or hell,
God or,
save for now --
i hope i remember this.
Namaste.

'Who will save me?'

'Who will save me?'                           timothy r gates, 12/18/2013

Who will save me?
Jesus, Ava Maria, Buddha,
Krishna, Shiva, Allah?
Quantum Physics,
Synthetic quibbles,
Apophatic ironies?
To be transparent,
some days you're left with,
"To hell with all of you!"
Once in a theofrantic fit,
i yelled at the God hidden,
"F' you, i don't believe in you!"
Then i laughed
my ass off.
Irony, redundancy,
euphemistic quarrels -
opens the door,
knowing and unknowing
no need for salvation
unless you're lost.

'You burn bridges'

"You burn bridges "      timothy r gates, 11/15/2013 for Marisa

Been told this
since my teens.
Of course this is
by those well compliant.
make no mistake about it,
whether i'm the "hippie"
or just "antiquated,"
matters not, to me.
if the bridge
is in the way of honesty,
being dismissive
of those without voices -
like the ancients and prophets
said,
like Jesus' saying,
"How you treat those considered least,
you are doing so to me."
No equivocation,
a job, a raise, a recognition for efforts -
if at another's loss,
I still have the same response,
like when "i was a young hippie:"
"Hell no!"
So you think that I burn bridges. 
Quite perceptive, are we?

'yet heaven's gift'

'yet heaven's gift'                        timothy r gates, 11/16/2013

My heart is caught      
from the first line,
"........Once in a midnight dream"
the Earth and Moon embraced,
time and space were so in awe,
they tried to express
what they observed,
looking at each other
they paused, and said,
"and time stood still."
Shakespeare's Fairies
sang a similar song,
speechless otherwise,
their wit and banter
silenced by such a prayed for,
non-realized,
yet heaven's gift --
An angel leaned over to this Mother
and whispers,
"Have you ever seen such a love?"
She inclines her ear, whispering,
"Yes, one other time."

'LaoTzu, cares not'

'Lao Tzu, cares not'                            timothy r gates, 11/13/2013

Lao Tzu,
cares not for the notion,
Yin Yang
balance between
good and evil.
Ohm,
inter-permeating
female<>male,
like Celtic knots,
not synchronous
but synergistic.
People playing,
expecting a monk's transcendence, with
Jesus prayers
Sitting
Breathing
Worry beads
Prostrations
Rosaries
Dervish dance
Chants --
Hindus, Buddhists, Jews,
Pagans, Nihilists, Christians,
trumpeting
Enlightenment, Nirvana, Theosis.
Lao Tzu, like Jesus,
has no friend, called
Evil and Good -
Synergy's symphony
cries,
harmony.
The elusive
overtone
kicks everyone's ass,
each of us hitting their
own note, spot on,
held out until
we're shining like
Moses--
that note
not possible solo,
not elusive,
now heard,
Lao Tzu
pauses, smiling.

'Morning Star'

'Morning Star'                           timothy r gates, 11/11/2013

Morning Star
fell to earth,
everyone blaming him,
like Judas,
for their own vices,
yet not blaming God
for their rejection of grace.
Lucifer,
told for 10,000 years, plus
how it was his fault
for humanity's malcontent -
buys his lack of redemption.
Yet, what he's forgotten,
you've never ceased being
an Angel,
Elohim's most delightful
Star.
(Note: devils are angels
who lost their way of flight.)
British monks, and a couple of Greek monks,
prayed their whole lives,
hoping that since they might know
redemption,
that such a diamond studded
Apple of Elohim's eye
certainly
get his wings back.
Romantic?
Redemption is romantic,
believing in the intensity
of love,
knowing its improvability,
yet we attempt to write,
"How do i love thee?
Let me count the ways..."
A feather fell to earth,
perhaps since i've learned
to walk in joy --
the Morning Star
will once again
soar in flight.