The Forgiveness Tree

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Don’t load it up, it’s prone to
falling down, branches strong and true,
but even they wilt—

The song of childhood plays in the
ears of the Heaven-seeking; dream your
dreams, reach and achieve.

People, “brothers,” “sisters,” friends
who become better brothers and sisters
than blood bonds yield:

They snub you, cheat you, set you up and knock
you down.  Hurt, hit, hire or call on others
to hurt and hit.

You are on the ground and wonder as you
get stronger finally, “will I ever forgive
this transgression?”

Jesus said forgive your brother not seven
times but seven times seventy, or 490.  A lot of
times, but sometimes:

I wonder have I reached that threshold?
Do some hurts count as more, and so to
forgive them I get more credit?

I place it on the tree, forgiveness a great blessing
that can’t always happen overnight.  I water
that tree with prayer.

The best is still the one Jesus gave us, “Our
Father,” because it has so much forgiveness
in it.  “Forgive us, LORD, our trespasses

as we forgive those who trespass against us.”

And sun on this tree might be our willingness
to listen to love, to truth, to a whispering wind
that visits in the night,

Sometimes coming to us in dreams.

I return to the tree over the years, for sometimes
the hurt of error has lasted this long.  I stay willing
as sure as the sun it shines,

Even behind clouds it shines, I swear it! “Do not
swear,” reminds Jesus, and pray the prayer—water
running into wells made at planting.

Fertilize the spot by talking to other people about
your pain; perhaps they’ll have a story to share
with you that can help.

Forgive us LORD, our trespasses as we forgive
those who trespass against us.  Seven times seventy,
or 490 times.  Don’t count;

St. Ignatius of Loyola reminds us not to count:
“to give and not to count the cost.”  To forgive…
divine, to err “human,”

Alexander Pope poetic over words to Shakespeare
and Frost prophetic, Longfellow the men read
and quoted by men,

As men and women, sisters and brothers, friends
and family who do God’s will try to amend and
work through another day.

Poems smile the pause that made Frost famous,
with him it was a sigh: Something true, firm and
spectacularly fallible reaches

up on the horizon of best intentions:

The forgiveness tree is in full bloom, the flower green
but dewed and so golden as we turn another cheek
in God’s time not ours.

To abuse I shall never bow down, but to forgiveness’
open door I shall never close and lock for I want
Heaven’s gate open as well.

As a child, hoping, believing and as forgiving
as moths trapped in a flame.  Perhaps it was my
fault, and if not:

Stay away next time

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Flynn’s a Patriot Again

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Flynn1

-by Bill Watkins 12/2/2017

***

Unreported so far to my knowledge around the December 1 Michael Flynn guilty plea, is the part of the Mueller deal that says:

“Michael, you get to become a patriot again.”

Powerful.

I blast this country’s government every other day.  Easy to do.

CIA has been clearly running it since November 22nd, 1963.  We killed off and ran out a native people that were one with the land—its caretakers.  We brought in the sin of slavery; abused a people because of the color of their skin; then gave “freedom,” forgetting to truly make amends for the sin.

But I am still a patriot.  More because I criticize the United States and fact check its leadership, than because I carried a gun or shot people.

I love the First Amendment of the Constitution, some others of our Bill of Rights—and I generally love the land, as the native people did.   Am sad by our noise, trash, metal and concrete, believe helicopters to be the devil, but I have hope.

***

General Michael Flynn turned his back on the United States after being fired by President Barack Obama in 2014.  Fell for the trap of easy gains, got himself into debt, Russians perhaps using anger, resentment or another way to blackmail him into loyalty to them.

To him…  Vladimir Putin, the KGB spymaster autocrat in chief of another land rich in potential and history.

A slippery slope of relations fell into place—Flynn moving on to accept other shady deals with an autocratic Turkey.  He seems in every way to have been not just an “unregistered agent” of Turkish interests while in the employ of Donald Trump and the United States.  He looks to have been an outright treasonous spy.

On December 1, 2017, Bob Mueller of the Special DOJ investigation into Russian tampering with the 2016 American election, possible coordination in that tampering with Trump and/or his campaign, and Trump’s possible obstruction of federal investigations:

gave Michael Flynn not just a deal to cooperate with him for a lesser plea, but…

Bob Mueller gave Michael Flynn a second chance to become an American.  A patriot.

Welcome back, Michael.  It’s a mess here, and there are lots of problems, I’d say.  But here we are, and we do our best where we are born.

Welcome back to the fight to make our flag mean something good.  Donald Trump disgraces us every day, on 11/27 using “Pocahontas” as a racial slur against a political opponent in front of veteran Navajo World War II code-talkers.

Now you have a chance to convert Trump into a patriot, too!

Matoax

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Never in vain.

God keep me whole and pure
as I try to explain.

Words fail to describe the oneness
with falls, rocks, streams, and nature—
a people at one, praising in song,
movement and dance.

The hug with your land complete
on a shore invaded by armor.

British with Bible were a different
thing; in 1607, written on a Roman
guide, people came and Oneness died.

But not before a native princess kept
my people alive.

She came, first to save a captain,
then she visited us when in the Winter
of our wanderings we had run out
of warmth, food and all other
provisions needed to live.

Dead and left in the wind, until
Matoax and with her God came.

Native Great Spirit—the river of life,
warmth and skins, food and love.

We were dead in the Winter, beheaded
in a tent, our armor and fortress failed,
weapons of war useless.

She came to us, brought by God.

At the princess’ feet we prayed thanks;
she, at one with God.

Us, white and ignorant of the land,
the lowest of her ranks.

Trump Whispering

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Puerto Rico is an island.

Nobody knew.  It was surrounded by
water… Still is, in fact!

You see, folks:

When land stops, water takes over.
Their country is such that it is like
a circle, maybe an oval or a long
donut without anything in the middle.
In fact, the land is the middle of the
donut, and the water is the outside,

like the cream in the center.

No, I don’t divide! We’re going to bring
America back, workers back, because that’s
what I am—I’m going to get rid of all
business regulations, bring coal back!

Clean coal!

Clean coal is like a donut.  Without the cream,
more like a Danish—which is in Scandinavia—
nobody knew!

So clean coal, untouched by Muslims—who
are like a day-old donut you buy at one
of those truck stops.

Those are my people.  The trucker, the worker.
You don’t see them taking a knee during
the national anthem.

They are at the rodeo drinking beer, and hot
dogs—which by the way, sounds pretty good
right now!

McCain hates dogs! Make America Great!

Stand for the anthem. Fake news and
radical Islam is killing us.

We should be friends with Russia!
It’s better to be friends! They stole
Crimea. They stole back their country.

It’s none of my business—I’m a business
man, politics is okay—I’m draining the Swamp!

Pocahontas!

Andrew Jackson was a saint!

Are you tired of winning? So what!

They say the English language is good.

I speak good. Say words no one else says,
and I say them in a way that makes America
great!

I’m sick of winning! And fake news! Look at
them taking pictures in the back!

Fake coal, real news, winning without rules,
bring back Andrew Jackson!

You hear that?

It’s a trail of cheers! That’s how I got an
A on every test. I was a great student;
better than these other guys.

Believe me!

Puerto Rico is in our country, you say?
Well. Maybe.

But it is an island. Very hard to get to, if you…
Here, look at the map.

It’s mostly blue.  Then there’s this tiny bit of
orange and green—that’s the land.

So, Puerto Rico is special—their people
very special, and they are tough and
we will get through this thing.

And women!! Very special.  I love women.

Very special to me.  I’m glad they are
speaking out—I love to watch them speak.
When their lips move, I feel like kissing
them!  And believe me, they kiss back!

I’m winning! Are you tired of winning? Take
our country back for white—for workers!

Like Russia.  They just took back
what was theirs, let’s be friends—

Fake news!!

Anger and Alcohol

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We muddle life’s glory—that
which inspires gratitude!

We aren’t satisfied with the way
things are.  So we ferment the truth

until it springs fire, the grape
alone no longer good enough!!

“Let it spoil!”  Yes, let it rot—then
we take the poison and waste it not.

We mix it around, get high, build
Babel from the ground, the apple

and the orange—nothing compared
to altered states, it takes us away

we think to another place of love.

Meantime the Devil has us burrowed
in our drink, so much so that we lose

the power to think.  Wide is destruction’s
path, and we are on it when we steal

God’s righteous wrath!  We say
“it’s okay.  I deserve to be this mad.”

We justify burning cells in our brain;
alcohol distilled to kill the hard part

of being alive, missing its purpose
to perfect its diabolical roll—becoming

a false god before you look up—addicted,
we bow to the flames before many die.

Pick yourself up.  Which is worse, the drug
or the anger bug?  When not drinking,

the alcoholic lashes out.  We take it as
Christians, turn the other cheek.

Forgive.

It is tempting to wrath back at wrath,
but it does no good, two wrongs never

adding up to Right, the only path a tough
one into the forgiving moon of night.

Sorrow sinks, the sunrise brews on our
worst fears.  Breaks suddenly through!

Feeewww.  It’s good to resist the devil.

But first, we must know who he is.

Kennedy Murder, 54 Years Later

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Oswald's 6th Collage1

The Glaring Conspiracy Fact:
Oswald’s Rights Have Been Stripped

***

-by Bill Watkins 11/22/2017

CIA killed John F. Kennedy on November 22nd, 1963.

I have written a lot on this, after reading a lot of evidence and credible testimony that point away from the famous suspect Lee Harvey Oswald, and toward Howard Hunt and CIA for the horrible murder and its sad cover-up fifty-four years ago.

New York defense attorney Mark Lane took up the defense for the suspect Oswald after Lee was murdered by Jack Ruby on November 24th, Ruby infiltrating a garage full of Dallas Police officers to strike.

Lane did what any decent attorney would have done—he broke down the prosecution’s case, poked multiple holes in it.  To me, Oswald would have been acquitted of the crime ten times out of ten in a just court.

Hence the murder of Oswald, and the subsequent “Warren Commission,” a convenient prosecution of Oswald without a defense—which allowed Lane to testify, but not to represent the suspect, call witnesses and cross-examine witnesses for the prosecution.  This being convenient to CIA, who planted the Kennedy-fired Allen Dulles on the “commission” to make sure no investigating got too close to the truth.

Our country has a Bill of rights. In them are the Fifth Amendment assuring that no American citizen “be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law.” And a Sixth Amendment:

In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and district wherein the crime shall have been committed, which district shall have been previously ascertained by law, and to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him; to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor, and to have the Assistance of Counsel for his defense.

Lee Harvey Oswald was denied his fifth and sixth amendment rights—first by being murdered.

And then, when his mother, Marguerite Oswald, hired Mark Lane to defend her son before the fraud Warren Commission, the deceased Lee was denied his rights a second time when the “commission” denied Lane’s plea to represent Oswald in the proceedings—eventually citing that Lee’s wife had already denied her husband’s right to counsel.

The Warren Commission was part of the CIA cover-up.

The murder of Oswald was part of the CIA cover-up.

The Commission and biased media outlets denying the deceased Oswald to be represented and defended by Mark Lane was part of a CIA cover-up.

Who locks up documents?  Calls them “Classified”—the American Government word for omerta?  Who has admitted to an assassination program?  A disinformation program?  To meddling in Central American, Iranian, Korean, Vietnamese politics?

Who hated Fidel Castro?  Communism?  John F. Kennedy for not offering air support to the CIA’s botched Bay of Pigs invasion in 1961?

Who heard Kennedy say he was going to dismantle the CIA?

Who hated Kennedy for firing the godfather of American spies, CIA’s big boss Allen Dulles?

Who hated Kennedy for firing Dulles’ right hand man, the brother of Dallas mayor Earle Cabell?

Who was threatened when Kennedy made it known his intention to pull American forces out of Vietnam?

Who was mad that Kennedy kept getting in the way of CIA’s efforts to kill Castro, and retake Cuba for American capitalist interests?

***

The mob hated Kennedy and his brother Bobby for going after them and for allowing Castro to kick them out of the Havana hotel/casino scene.

The racist south hated Kennedy for his overtures to Martin Luther King and the Desegregationists on the move in 1963.

But then there was Howard Hunt.

Blood brother and son to Allen Dulles, moreso to his kill-Castro Operation 40 army mates, training out of Miami, some of them in Lake Pontchartrain, Louisiana.

The blood brothers who formed to stop Castro. They thought they would have their president behind them, as Truman and Eisenhower had always been.

But that young, handsome, intelligent Kennedy, with his high-brow background and education.

A fly in the ointment.

“He got us killed and captured in Cuba that day.  He is a traitor.  Deserves death.”

So, let’s keep paying Operation 40 in Miami, keep training.

Only now, let’s turn those guns against Kennedy on November 22nd, 1963 in Dallas, Texas. The mayor is a friend. His police will help us!

Hoover will help, when he commits to Oswald, and sees what we have on him—and that FBI should have kept a better watch of him. “National Security” will depend on FBI discretion and complicity with our spy community.

We’ll caravan from Miami to Dallas by November 21.  A two-car caravan, one with personnel, the other with guns and costumes—just as Marita Lorenz would later say in a court deposition and in her book.  (Lorenz Depo Highlights)

We’ll hunker down in our motel, wait for Hunt’s money.  Get Ruby his instructions, just as Marita testified…

Then we’ll execute.  Kill the man—our national enemy.  The traitor Kennedy who had turned on his own CIA!

***

But it doesn’t stop there.  The cover-up must be perfect.  We’ll hang Oswald.  We’ll be in Secret Service and DPD uniforms, directing traffic from the start.

We’ll get Hoover and the Dallas D.A. making statements of Oswald’s guilt immediately.

We will out-voice the Mark Lane’s of the world who call out for constitutional rights and the rule of law, due process and all that horse manure.

We’ll pull out all the Hoover stuff, get journalists on our side—write our own articles, get Hunt to forge a telegram implicating JFK in the murder of the Vietnamese president. (Lane, Plausible Denial, 1991, Thunder’s Mouth Press)

We’ll get National Geographic, Time Life, CBS, RCA’s Military-tied NBC to push out the official story, have our agents and sub-agents go around the world, quell the European certainty of conspiracy.

Capture -- CIA release JFK1

Many will doubt and object, but we will push our story. Lock up relevant documents for seventy-five years. Burn and misplace stuff.

p.s. Don’t forget to print some gossip about JFK womanizing to keep people from caring about him too much!

—Love, CIA

***

A sad day today.

Remember John F. Kennedy, the greatest voice for peace in the world on the day he was murdered.

Conspiracy is a fact, when you focus on evidence and testimony in this murder case.

Slander and libel is a fact when you read Wikipedia’s Oswald page, calling him a murderer WITHOUT A TRIAL.

Without his fifth and sixth amendment rights in tact.

Wake up, reader! Join the side of right, law and truth!

Start easy and watch Stone’s JFK.  Then read Garrison.  Then read all of Lane’s first three books.  You will be convinced like me, many times over, that CIA murdered our president.

God bless us to truth, apologies, and better policies!

Celibacy

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Some of them like to say “it
can’t be done!”  The body produces
something, there’s an instinct—
it’s gonna find a way to come out!

Men are in the spotlight of late—
“abusing women with our abuse,”
Power trips, there’s no excuse!
I wonder if we went a little deep—

We could bridge the gap between
what we know and what we Tweet.
Where is the factory putting out
healthy little boys?  Let’s please Teach!

Some feel the penis is not born right;
snip off foreskin, snipping off protection.
God and nature flawed?  We’re going
to “fix” the gun, taking off its safety?

The hood gone, the helmet exposed,
now let’s wish instead of will the boy
through sex education, neglect the
Bible talking Wife of Youth—

Follow Mom and Dad’s example of
what’s easy, convenient, and if it
comes to the surface—let it go.  Wide
is destruction’s path, many don’t know…

God is waiting for our prayer, but
often in vain as we pull this adjusted
tool out, after years of repression and
alcohol consumed, whip it out inappropriate

in the face of workmates and clients,
we cannot have a female friendship without
instincts to mate—ones we do not stop
nor know it’s possible to stop!

Stop!

I gave up sex three months ago.  Then
failed to follow through, relapsed a couple
times but am back on the horse of zipping
it up in honor of the Wife of My Youth and God.

I pray in the morning.  Say No all day.  Pray
at night, saying thanks, and saving the sex
release for One Person and One Person
only!  In my case, she is far away, a woman

who was a beautiful girl in my past…
My first crush, the wife of my youth!  We
teach our boys to laugh these off, then they
go on to another flower, another girl.

Then another.  Then another.  Then another…

The bad habits add up.  With unprotected
private parts, the boy becomes someday a
man without instruction.  He abuses women;
he pays society back for being abused.

Urban Retreat

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Give me poetry!

A retreat into snow on a cloudy
day, sun the shine of yester-
mornings, regret a post-idea fact
of a Kennedy effort at World Peace.

Give me Poetry!

A reading in the sun, times with
you, my mountains—this could be
fun!

A Santa Barbara beach, a Pasadena
moon over hills, the Los Angeles trash
of bad budgets a thing of the short-
term past, as suits decide their
next robbery.

Give me Poetry!

Not in the urban sweat and swing—
I want to retreat to God’s glory,
give words to gratitude in the winter
of now. The song of April in December
singing Christmas Carols way too soon,

the death of hate and hope eternal!

Give me Poetry!

I want to live another day, despite
the night’s salty margarita I should
not have imbibed—

I should have looked “alcohol” up
in the dictionary, studied something
I considered a right to enter!

I should have dreamed another dream,
but maybe God will give me a second chance.

A blast to a second wind, a lost dance—
a far off romance!

Chastity is the wise course of failures
like me.  A handsome waste of sperm,
reaching you as you turn—

The way back home revved up
in the worst inventions of all time,
loud motors, the rotors of choppers
the motorcycle berm, another earth
burn, the fuel of fools

to go faster past our five senses’ need
to sense, there’s no sense in it,
could I get my change back?

My apple pie with fries, a bad combo
of meals taking hours for my
stomach to decide—

should we let Bill live or die?

Coughing at night!

Your choices do come back to
haunt if not chosen right!

Will I have nine hundred years to
live like an Old Testament wise man?

Will I die in the breeze of forgotten
memories?

Never, if sober.  God is just, and
takes away pain when you ask the
right questions.  Ask for support
or rest… and receive.

Give me poetry!!

Give it to me today,

Come, read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay,
That shall soothe this restless feeling,
And banish the thoughts of day.

Read it to me not here.  Make me travel
and strive to receive it, LORD—
written in capitals from the mighty
Torah, not as the Lord of love brought
by your rebellious rabbi son.

Make me travel to the mountain.

Surprise me with a dream.

Give me poetry!

For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

A Question to “Pro-Life” Governors or Bible Belt States

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-by Carl Stilwell

***

Why
do we kill people who kill people
to show that killing people
is wrong
and why,
if we kill
people who kill people
to show
that killing people is wrong
do we kill
poor people who kill people
but not
rich people who kill people
and why,
if we kill
people who kill people
to show
that killing people is wrong
are we four times more likely
to kill
people who kill white people
to show
that killing white people is wrong
than we are
people who kill black people
to show
that killing black people is wrong
and why,
if we spend six times more
to kill people who kill people
than we do when we
imprison without parole
people who kill people
and why,
does a country which has more
people who believe in God
and who kills
people who kill people
to show
that killing people is wrong
still has a lot more
people who kill people
than countries who have less
people who believe in God
but imprison people who kill people
to show
that killing people is wrong
and why,
if our country has so many
people who believe in God
and so
glories in the cross on which
Jesus was killed
but that cross was how
Roman people killed people who they
believed had done something wrong
and why,
if killing people
who have done nothing wrong
is wrong
and we kill people who we later discover
did not kill the people
we believed they had killed
and/or kill people
who had not been proven
beyond a reasonable doubt
to have killed the people
we believed they had killed
and we are not
GOD
but people
do we kill
people who kill people
to show
that killing people
is wrong?

Edging God Out

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Ego is burning earth, flying above
her in a loud metal can reporting
on traffic conditions—cars burning earth,
flying over her at high speeds making
too much noise.

Ego is wanting a human king to rule
over us, to believe there are “good”
people, an expression admonished
by Jesus when called by the young man;
Only God is good.

The noise of planes is our soundtrack.
Locked in the city by financial uncertainty;
we accept abuse, when there’s no better
option. We edged God out, starting with
the apple tasted.

Forbidden fruit—real or a metaphor,
we were almost fully godly is the story,
until the Devil tempted Eve to be God—
to know things.  And she tasted.  And she
tempted Adam.

And he tasted.  And they knew stuff—including
guilt for transgressing God’s command!
Cain killed Abel next, and look at Samuel
asking for a human king?  Edging God out
started innocently…

We keep burning earth, going fast, making
noise—forget the bible a moment let’s talk
Tao Te Ching!  Zing, the yin and yang of hate
and love, noise and peace—we have a choice,
are powerless, actually.

“You cannot change the world.  It cannot be
done!” was not just true, it was fun—taking
pressure off us, but then we move a mountain
through faith, Wyatt Earp standing up to gangs,
stopping hate.

We stand up and do good things, but
not until we thoroughly meditate! Let
the horse out of the gate—naked let
your spirit find the native Great Spirit once
again, friend!

Stop driving.  Walk.  Breathe.  Use senses
gone to the devil in a propeller plane.  Gone
to Satan in a whirling, horrible helicopter
chasing “bad guys” that are actually just
you and me!

Shhh!  It matters what we do and say—this
our life, between the posts of birth and
the eternal—ideas sputtering in the wind
for us to Grab if gumption yearns more than
the ego burn.

Grab something better than your first move
to run!  To escape—the Jonah’s in the whale
heartbreak!  Listen to God and/or the most
high spirit impossible to reach through traffic
noise and speed.

Stop the rotors.  Get out of the chopper before
it crashes and burns into the hillside of Spring—
purple and orange by the sea impossible to
see, the glory of waves crashing impossible to
hear unless…

Unless we trudge back in history to grab some
provisions like God and prayer to help us
conquer the Ego and Fear.