'Aficionado satiates' timothy r gates, 6/02/2008
sepia, b&w, colour, all the same
icons of truth
ours, yours, mine, none, some
falling into the leaves,
not jumping as when a boy
not as easy to pull out
not a need to pull out
don't jump up and down in them either
but to fall,
unexpectedly into their foliage
-this more than kicks ass.
'Aficionado satiates, even...
Read More
sepia, b&w, colour, all the same
icons of truth
ours, yours, mine, none, some
falling into the leaves,
not jumping as when a boy
not as easy to pull out
not a need to pull out
don't jump up and down in them either
but to fall,
unexpectedly into their foliage
-this more than kicks ass.
'Aficionado satiates, even...
Read More
'tears' timothy r g, 6/02/208
Tears, matter not why they come or go, fill our eyes but do not come out, or flow like a river, seeming to not ever dry, but still they stop. Like laughter, we either let them come or we are stuffed till they become refuse, unused, unappreciated, giving us sympathy in the place of empathy for others and ourselves. Tears,...
Read More
Tears, matter not why they come or go, fill our eyes but do not come out, or flow like a river, seeming to not ever dry, but still they stop. Like laughter, we either let them come or we are stuffed till they become refuse, unused, unappreciated, giving us sympathy in the place of empathy for others and ourselves. Tears,...
Read More
booksartyoume:
'tears are not merely salty' timothy r g, 6/03/2007
she sat there,
not knowing why her daddy had to go;
he was drunk, again
he was terminal, no use of going to AA, dead soon
too young to know,
only, 'why?'
there he reclines asleep, blessed repose, I pray.
sitting there again,
grandpa, then another grandpa;
sadness is now better understood;
someone else has her daddy's ashes,
both grandpas' energies flying with her daddy
old enough now to know,
only, 'why?'
sleep doesn't easily come to the eyes of a, 'why?'
'tell her that god loves her,' one, two, three insist to me,
'I love her,' I raise my angry voice of protection,
- Job's well intended comforters;
(once hurt is known we have no need to give words, reasons, excuses)
sixteen year old lovelies weep like four year olds,
with anger wed to the bawling.
way too many, any too many
stolen from us, energy still someplace,
but we want to hug them, 'please once more,'
today I'll tell her, she thinks, 'grandma, I love you oh so much.'
- my beloved friend is awakened to, 'she's gone,'
doesn't matter that we've not talked today,
I hear her sobbing, wishing that I could do more than give a band-aid.
'why?
I don't know any better than Mary's Son,
he cried out, 'my god, my god, why have you left me by myself?'
his mother cried out, pulling her hair, beating her chest, 'why my son?'
black-eyed, round faced, lovely baby,
black-haired, when she chooses, maybe her voice is more lovely than she
I taste the salt in my tears caught at the corner of my mouth.
I bet that her tears are not merely salty either.
she sat there,
not knowing why her daddy had to go;
he was drunk, again
he was terminal, no use of going to AA, dead soon
too young to know,
only, 'why?'
there he reclines asleep, blessed repose, I pray.
sitting there again,
grandpa, then another grandpa;
sadness is now better understood;
someone else has her daddy's ashes,
both grandpas' energies flying with her daddy
old enough now to know,
only, 'why?'
sleep doesn't easily come to the eyes of a, 'why?'
'tell her that god loves her,' one, two, three insist to me,
'I love her,' I raise my angry voice of protection,
- Job's well intended comforters;
(once hurt is known we have no need to give words, reasons, excuses)
sixteen year old lovelies weep like four year olds,
with anger wed to the bawling.
way too many, any too many
stolen from us, energy still someplace,
but we want to hug them, 'please once more,'
today I'll tell her, she thinks, 'grandma, I love you oh so much.'
- my beloved friend is awakened to, 'she's gone,'
doesn't matter that we've not talked today,
I hear her sobbing, wishing that I could do more than give a band-aid.
'why?
I don't know any better than Mary's Son,
he cried out, 'my god, my god, why have you left me by myself?'
his mother cried out, pulling her hair, beating her chest, 'why my son?'
black-eyed, round faced, lovely baby,
black-haired, when she chooses, maybe her voice is more lovely than she
I taste the salt in my tears caught at the corner of my mouth.
I bet that her tears are not merely salty either.
"memorializing the dead" (memorial day, timothy r gates 2001/2008)
we memorialize the dead
warriors, who have done what few
are willing to do -- die
these soldiers, "where have they all gone?"
"...long time ago," many have sung
yet, this too is more often
a song sung by the opulent, more
afraid of the loss of
"a decent standard of living," first
coined as a...
Read More
we memorialize the dead
warriors, who have done what few
are willing to do -- die
these soldiers, "where have they all gone?"
"...long time ago," many have sung
yet, this too is more often
a song sung by the opulent, more
afraid of the loss of
"a decent standard of living," first
coined as a...
Read More
sunshine:
I know it's kind of a late thank you but, thanks so much for commenting on my set and helping it to go up!! 
You rock!
thanks for taking the time to remember our fallen heroes!
xoxo
Sunshine
You rock!
thanks for taking the time to remember our fallen heroes!
xoxo
Sunshine
amina:
Thanks for your comment on my set in member review, you know that every little comment helps! I appreciate it!
'how many times will i cry, still? Timothy r gates, 5/24/2008
too many guns, too many boys,
girls too, now
i still can feel that day,
'four dead in OHIO,' then the rest
-the boys shot real bullets,
their bosses still blame them
cowards gave the order;
cowards blame the ones following the command
(if one had refused to fire,
the same bastards would've court...
Read More
too many guns, too many boys,
girls too, now
i still can feel that day,
'four dead in OHIO,' then the rest
-the boys shot real bullets,
their bosses still blame them
cowards gave the order;
cowards blame the ones following the command
(if one had refused to fire,
the same bastards would've court...
Read More
'more than memory;twins we' timothy r g, 5/16/2008
twins we were
twins we are
twins we'll be
the dance is never alone,
even when we presume it to be;
we choose to bow and nod to each other,
take hand in hand,
say, 'thank you,'
and,
'would you like this one?'
and if we're not sloppy drunk
we remember how we love,
yes,
each person...
Read More
twins we were
twins we are
twins we'll be
the dance is never alone,
even when we presume it to be;
we choose to bow and nod to each other,
take hand in hand,
say, 'thank you,'
and,
'would you like this one?'
and if we're not sloppy drunk
we remember how we love,
yes,
each person...
Read More
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
bushka:
happy birthday to you
shanti:
happy birthday!!!!
'Gentle Creature' * timothy r gates, 5/13/2008
No escape, it seemed
Gentle Creature,
Fyodor imagined her
no emancipation in those days
-is there any for most these days?
Beauty did not elude her,
though the tough called her his.
She felt the sweet kiss of the Mother,
in her arms she held freedom
'god's wings,' she prayed
'her mystery infant would catch her fall.'
-the...
Read More
No escape, it seemed
Gentle Creature,
Fyodor imagined her
no emancipation in those days
-is there any for most these days?
Beauty did not elude her,
though the tough called her his.
She felt the sweet kiss of the Mother,
in her arms she held freedom
'god's wings,' she prayed
'her mystery infant would catch her fall.'
-the...
Read More
gaea:
Aww Honey thanks so muchas for the comments on my set! You are lovely! Have been just going through them all again recently to see if I've missed anyone and there yours were and they are heartwarming. Thanks so much for your continued support!
Two for Mother's Day:
'kiss dries' timothy r gates, 5/10/2008 (day before Mother's day)
the earth knows her own
the moon too
sun's kiss may burn
a lover's song,
known or not,
either,
still touches
we awake in the middle of the night,
moistened cheek,
no one around.
Smile,
maybe chuckle
say, 'don't worry, only dreaming.'
the kiss dries.
'Mother' timothy r gates, 5/10/2008
'Mother,'...
Read More
'kiss dries' timothy r gates, 5/10/2008 (day before Mother's day)
the earth knows her own
the moon too
sun's kiss may burn
a lover's song,
known or not,
either,
still touches
we awake in the middle of the night,
moistened cheek,
no one around.
Smile,
maybe chuckle
say, 'don't worry, only dreaming.'
the kiss dries.
'Mother' timothy r gates, 5/10/2008
'Mother,'...
Read More
This week a friend through my business found that his best friend, also a friend of mine through business, was 'blown' up in Iraq. His prognosis is excellent, long, very long, but said to be projected at a 100% recovery. His whole Butt was blown off by a RPG shot under his 'Hummer' and exploded. He chose not to run over a child, used by...
Read More
Read More
abbiss:
These aren't great news at all 
'two unconnected pieces, so it may seem' timothy r g, 5/06/2008
often I've wondered:
do zebras think we're colour blind
or, colour dyslexic?
do they zebrathromorphize, while we're
anthropomorphizing their pajamas?
under her parasol,
she waits
Van Gogh to return,
colours he too adored
sit together, seeing
what only those that choose
do.
often I've wondered:
do zebras think we're colour blind
or, colour dyslexic?
do they zebrathromorphize, while we're
anthropomorphizing their pajamas?
under her parasol,
she waits
Van Gogh to return,
colours he too adored
sit together, seeing
what only those that choose
do.
_nobody_:
i know i repeat myself.. but thanks so much (i just saw your comment on my attachement album! it is so sweet! kiss from paris ; )
'aloof?' timothy rg, 5/06/2008
aloof?
pensive, yes
but, aloof?
never more than the wait
anticipation of her beloved's return
she prays,
'please, break through to me,
even as the troops did
at Normandy,
but please not like Hiroshima.'
the Bomb does make us aloof,
just that someone dare used it;
makes one more than pensive,
aloof
or, even, dare day, demure.
voices in the night...
Read More
aloof?
pensive, yes
but, aloof?
never more than the wait
anticipation of her beloved's return
she prays,
'please, break through to me,
even as the troops did
at Normandy,
but please not like Hiroshima.'
the Bomb does make us aloof,
just that someone dare used it;
makes one more than pensive,
aloof
or, even, dare day, demure.
voices in the night...
Read More
'sometimes i weep, slightly' timothy r gates, 5/02/08
Van Gogh,
Mulberry hues,
yes, tears filled my eyes
my profane Scot friend, Bill
whispered in my ear
(didn't know he was right behind me)
'You want to touch it don't you? Alive, it is.'
-i miss my profane friend.
Philadelphia, the movie,
scene after scene,
lovely sadness, a phrase i like for this
AIDS, love, death,...
Read More
Van Gogh,
Mulberry hues,
yes, tears filled my eyes
my profane Scot friend, Bill
whispered in my ear
(didn't know he was right behind me)
'You want to touch it don't you? Alive, it is.'
-i miss my profane friend.
Philadelphia, the movie,
scene after scene,
lovely sadness, a phrase i like for this
AIDS, love, death,...
Read More
jaie:
Thank you for the kind words on my set 
bastet:
Nice words. I like this... 
'your x is intelligent' timothy r g, 4/30/2008
your x is intelligent
brilliant
lovely, now, again
never as good as everyone else tells you
never as bad as you recall
never as cold as they became
never as IQ challenged as you thought
never as bothersome as they were.
an expatriate is a better x,
not prone to wander, gallivant
not prone to find another...
Read More
your x is intelligent
brilliant
lovely, now, again
never as good as everyone else tells you
never as bad as you recall
never as cold as they became
never as IQ challenged as you thought
never as bothersome as they were.
an expatriate is a better x,
not prone to wander, gallivant
not prone to find another...
Read More
lyric:
beautiful words as always <3