Pyongchang 2018


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Winter Olympics 2018 Collage

Mike Pence should get her a
hot dog, for what else is the Games but
a chance to be human and celebrate

She came from the North, sister to
a Korean prince, and during sixteen
some-odd days there was peace
on the Peninsula—

And why not?

Wasn’t that why we had a United Nations
after the horror of two world wars?

We forget to love—that being the doom
of man, that and calling ourselves
“Christian” while we talk of waging
war and giving bloody noses to people
we don’t want armed and nuclear, again
forgetting our own arsenal, that log in our
eye picking at our neighbors’ splinters.

Pyongchang, rhyming with the North’s
Pyongyang—for sixteen days one unified
Korea in a glimpse of what could be,
the shining face of sports for all to

The North’s delegate above the American
“vice president,” so why he doesn’t look up
is a mystery, unless the awakening alludes
him, the one that taps us all on the
shoulder at different times in life to say:

“We are all human.”

Pence missed the first moment to win
the gold of brotherly love.


There are always two prizes in sports,
the trophy, the “win,” and the one we
garner when we shake hands—the friendship,
the nod for sportsmanship.

One Korea, a unified team brings tears to eyes
of people who love peace, while folks
who talk and believe in war and division poke
holes and criticize.

One day at a time.


Shaun White, Shaun White, the red mop
flying in the night, now with less hair full of
passion, focus and talent, a final jump into
the abyss that can kill on the way down,
“Gravity” thwarted but not beat, Einstein’s
bent space curling gold for the U.S.

Lindsey gets what she needed, another medal
like Bode’s in 2014, a great bow with Julia
covering events for channel four Los Angeles.

Athletes from Russia were tough as always in
the Winter Games, but Norway being Norway,
Sweden and the Dutch on fire.

Canada came to play, but the U.S. ladies borrowed
the gold back in hockey, the men as good
except in penalty shots, which require flare,

the Russian lady skaters showing plenty,
ballerinas on ice, old school beauty, while
jump obsession infected many skates minus
the spirited Adam Rippon putting art first.

American guns shoot children, while
activists debate murder as self-defense.

Meanwhile in Asia are lost arts and philosophies
of the martial kind.

The Sage is fully self-aware, aware of surroundings,
and is ready to help—abhors lethal weapons;
has no real use for them.

The preference in self-defense is never killing
but the restoration of peace!


And so the hot dog not bought, the frown
of the Pence in front of the sister of
the Northern Prince.

A sense of humor, a poem, a joke—anything to
cut tension was and is the gold we want
as we snowboard toward another medal
ceremony in winter snow, White’s tears
melting on the close of another Games,
four years in the making, four years from
the next time to make the snow light up
in Olympic flames.

We are at peace, and for those who are not
may we make a prayer.

The two trophies for achievement
and friendship, may you have them both;
Shaun White with three golds now, amended
for the little trash talk in Vancouver, grown
up and back from a misstep in Sochi.

He is the Most Valuable Athlete in the Games
for me, though you may put yours forth.

We watched Shaun grow up, and may he
help the next generation shine.

May we all rise up beyond our sports and
put love into every corner of the Earth.

It is not what we get that counts as
much as what we give.

“America First” dies gloriously when we embrace
humility and generosity.  God sees the lowliest
effort and rewards, so give up keeping and guarding.

Give all you have. Reach one more time past what
you think you have, because a power greater
than yourself has more.

Appeal.  Receive.  Reach for the finish line,
and make a lot of friends along the way.

A little life is lived every time the Olympics
torch is lit.

As this Olympic Games ends, I grieve a little
bit but gather steam to tackle my life
with the gold medal spirit I just saw on
display, a Korea unified in Peace.

Pray for the warriors and guard Olympic
flames and dreams for the young and small
just for today.

Jump into the stands and hug your mom.

Vow to never lose like that again.

Thank God for the win.  For weather in
your favor.

For being the best GS skier in the world,
but realizing that effort may leave you weaker
in another discipline!

We are so human!!  Wait, did your see the
Russian girls skate?  Maybe we are sometimes

We strive to overcome our shackles and restraints,
Shaun White one more time off the pipe…

Land, squat, Repeat.  We lost a bobsledder.

Land, squat. Repeat.

See you in Beijing…

Land, squat.  Repeat!


To Los Angeles:


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50/50 with a Fringe on Top


Welcome to Betty Ford.

We must recover, many of us know this,
but have we admitted yet that we have
a problem?

L.A. is not the greatest city in the world—

But it could be.

It could lead like the LAPD in Lethal
Force Policy—Matt Johnson and the
commission talking De-escalation,
Obama taking notice, the nation
watches and seeks good Ideas.


Something whose creation money cannot

Private Campaign Spending should be
now and forever outlawed, right
next to hiring a pedestrian cleaning
force—call them “Street Angels”—

We must clean this city from the bottom
to the top, let’s trim the budget of
fat—like the bloated salaries of political

This is supposed to be a humble service job;
how much did John Adams spend to
become President?  I think it was $0.00
because he was a lawyer with land in
the private sector—

I recommend to our leaders that if it
is riches you want… Invent something.

Get out in the private sector with your
skills, which should be protected by
the public sector… and make a ton of

City Council?  The Mayor?  A Police Chief?

A Supervisor for the County? Where wages
start at 200,000 dollars a year?

And we wonder why graffiti plagues us—
it’s a revolution, a rebellion saying “Screw
you, suits!  You have forgotten us, are not
protecting us, are not maintaining our
roads, sidewalks and communities so we
formed a gang to secure ourselves.”

“Gangs” could be budgeted out of existence.

Maybe fund Animal Services to enforce
every code instead of running a public zoo.

Enforce every code.

Don’t play with illegal fireworks—

eradicate it.  Budget them away, put our
heads together, take a walk from border
to border in your district and note how
many clogged storm drains you see.

People tell me sometimes, watching me
clean, that the problems are too vast
and deep—and what you clean today
just comes back tomorrow!

So come back tomorrow and clean again.

God bless us to rethink our bloated
salaries, “benefits” which often include
non-emergency “health” care which government
should never grapple.

“What is health?” is answered differently
by every person, like choosing a religious
faith—in fact my health program is my religious
faith (Christian Science) and by the First
Amendment, Congress shall pass no law on it.

Wake up!

Lazarus, take up thy bed and follow me
into the fixable gutters and graffiti of L.A.,
the bombs exploding from June through August,
the rebellion—folks without a voice, disenchanted
with you, voter turnout poor, as we shake
our heads at the mailbox—

Filling up with the Trash that is private
campaign spending.

“Vote for me!” on an expensive post card.

“Don’t Vote For Her!” in despicable color
and glossy font.

While our sidewalks crumble, the Homeless
waiting not on “housing” as much as
a purpose.

Give us day labor posts, a morning lineup
for a job to clean our city for eighty-five
dollars a day.

I’ll be first in that line, let’s fan out, out
of our offices and suits, but if addicted to
them, give me a bib and a broom, pay me

and watch this place start to shine.

Our budget should be fifty percent
safety, fifty percent infrastructure.

Anything not related to those two things
should, like fringe stuck in a storm drain—

be taken out

Trump Afraid of Success


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-by Bill Watkins 1/22/2018


Success is a peace of mind, knowing you did your best.
—John Wooden

Some people are addicted to people-pleasing.

Some people are not yet enlightened.

Some people walk the wide path to ignorance, fear and destruction.

Some people are racist because their father was racist.

Some people lie a lot because their father lied a lot.

Some people are violent and support violence because their father did.

Some people are Neo-Nazi/KKK sympathizers because their father was.

Some people are easy marks to be compromised by foreign intelligence operations because they are loose with sex and are highly in debt to foreign banks.

Some people never thought of others, or completed even an hour of community service work, then become the President of the United States because the President of the United States has only age and place of birth requirements.

Some people cheated to get elected by recruiting help from a foreign adversary.

Some haters allowed that to happen because they hated someone named Hillary and another named Obama.

Some people treat objects like Women, man!  Then treat money as a means to filling a never-filled, empty soul of hatred and fear of non-white skinned people.


Now, about Donald Trump…

Soft on CIA for 70 Years


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Our Complicity in Crime and Deception

—by Bill Watkins 1/17/2018


According to their corrupt, criminal-leaning Twitter bio blurb, the Central Intelligence Agency accomplishes “what others cannot accomplish,” goes “where others cannot go.”

They have been that blatantly un-American and pompous since their formal christening on the White House lawn in 1946.  Not without reason, the group was spawned from world war, fears of communism’s spread.  Fear was allowed to legislate, similarly to how President Andrew Jackson legislated Cherokee Indians off their native land to get to apparent gold reserves.

Greed and lust are neighbors of fear, it’s safe to say—a fear of not having enough.

Fear kept slavery around years after it was outlawed in England.  Few in the South could conceive of working their own land, having become addicted to the lie that their white skin made them superior to dark-skinned people.  Fear kept the slaves in line until the 1860’s blow-up of war and a start to freedom.

Fear reared its head in Jim Crow South, was confronted and defeated by Martin Luther King Jr. and others who harnessed the teachings of Jesus, God, the bible and a little man who kicked the British out of India after World War II.


But fear keeps the CIA in operation, even with their shady, diabolical mandate:

CIA Mission

“…conducting COVERT ACTION” and “safeguarding the secrets that help keep our Nation safe!?!?!?!?!??!!?” In a democracy?  Secrets?

No, thank you.


I’m all for discretion in diplomacy and government action; wait until all the information is there, then decide and publish. That is fine, to me.

But Secrets???  I don’t know a healthy one.  And I can’t imagine one surrounding the Murder of John F. Kennedy fifty-four years ago, for instance, that cannot be known by all Americans and the world today.

Oswald’s attorney post-death, Mark Lane, used to claim that in many cases, the CIA and FBI classify documents and information as “Top Secret” simply because it embarrasses those agencies.  In his book, Plausible Denial (Thunder’s Mouth, 1991, pp. 121-3), Mark relates a conversation he had with ex-CIA analyst, Victor Marchetti, who had written a tell-all about CIA activities that was not allowed by U.S. courts to be published until certain redactions were made.  (The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence, Knopf, 1974)

While defending Marchetti and Liberty Lobby against a 1984 libel suit by CIA’s Howard Hunt, Mark asked Victor about the redactions in his book.  None of the redactions had anything to do with national security, according to Lane—but all of them had one common ingredient: agents would be embarrassed, if the true story reached the public eye.

Mark then includes an example where the CIA spent American taxpayer money to cut open a cat and place a recording device in its tail, so they could get a feline grab of foreign leaders’ conversations at an embassy party.  The experiment failed, when it seemed the cat was more interested in caviar than espionage, and finally became obsessed with critter noise in the embassy walls.

The anonymous call to that embassy enlightening them on their rodent problem was an expensive home improvement tip to make, paid for by American citizens, locked up as a covert operation, classified “Top Secret.”

The CIA and FBI justify redactions and in keeping entire documents from public view with Section 102(d)(3) of the National Security Act of 1947, which states:

That the Director of Central Intelligence shall be responsible for protecting intelligence sources and methods from unauthorized disclosure;

(4) to perform, for the benefit of the existing intelligence agencies, such additional services of common concern as the National Security council determines can be more efficiently accomplished centrally; (5) to perform such other functions and duties related to intelligence affecting the national security as the National Security Council may from time to time direct.


What happened to Congress?  The Bill of Rights?  Democracy and transparency in a government supposedly run by the People for the People?

Slinking around secretly, killing, plotting, stealing…

Quite a resume for admission to the peace-loving United Nations!

That the United States of America would host that organization in New York is comical in light of all the acts of war perpetrated by CIA, from propaganda campaigns to propping up dictators, assassination programs and other war games too long to list, and too secretive to fully expose.

Martin Luther King has been widely quoted of late, as he should be.  A quote that keeps arising out of racist remarks from the White House refers to the complicity of those who do not stand up to such remarks:

“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.”

The CIA—its Howard Hunt, Frank Sturgis, and anti-Castro Cuban killers—were not the only ones to kill John F. Kennedy on November 22nd, 1963; Martin Luther King on April 4, 1968; Robert F. Kennedy on June 6th, 1968; Archbishop Oscar Romero on March 24th, 1980; and John Lennon on December 8th, 1980.

We all kill Jack, Martin, Bobby, Oscar and John every day we fail to probe into facts, call out the lies, demand justice, transparency and true democracy from our government. Our government, not the post-World War II perversion that is covert CIA, an organization which still plagues truth and accomplishes “what others cannot accomplish,” and goes “where others cannot go.”

Senator Diane Feinstein and Congress slapped wrists hard regarding George W. Bush-age CIA torture, but today I appeal to her and others to go further.

Join me, reader.  And go further!!

In Third Grade…


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In third grade I knew enough to
know what I wanted, who I wanted—
and was even a year from knowing
who I wanted to vote for in

But no adult asked or cared about
what I wanted, who I wanted, or
even who I might want to vote for
in November.

And the adults controlled me.  I backed
off my dreams:

To be a professional athlete, to love
and marry Anne Devereux, and to
have a vote because I wanted to be
a part of and help this country.

By eighteen years old I was drinking
flammable alcohol underage, breaking
laws, flipping the bird at hope and
politics, a racist, chauvinist pig unable of
expressing love for Anne or anyone.

At home was alcohol and “divorce,”
the misnomer some so excited to
pronounce against Jesus’ truth that “man
cannot separate what God has bound”—

it explains the private frown, as I walked
around, pretending to be fine—the Old French
word meaning “end.”


The devil is tough, and wide is destruction’s
path—this is not now nor will life ever
be easy!!

Take a hard line against alcohol, and at least
look it up in a dictionary “what it is” and decide
if it’s smart to imbibe it.

Maybe the grape is better than the spoil
that makes intoxicating wine—

the pain of loss and hardship felt better than
the alcoholic escape into buzz and fake
views on men and women breaking
vows before God.

It’s not the messenger but the message
that shines, when I attempt to bring you:


After God, “Children!”

Drink not spoiled toxic waste, feel your
short term pain to get long-term gain,

and listen to our children!!

They want what they want, for me starting
around eight—

Money for school could have been parlayed
to the serious coach taking my dream

Someone would have asked if I was in
love, and I would have said “yes,” but
I was not asked, felt judged anywhere
near the topic, and had no God to
give me courage to tell her the truth.


To give what we did not get is tough.


Listen to the child and what they’re worth.

Some even read better than a man forty-three;
are ready to vote, and help our country.

Racist “President”


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The devil is strong, don’t get me wrong—
and we humans are wise not to ever
judge other humans.

But stating truth is a good first step,
and though we’ve had corrupt and sinful
humans in “office” before—

(CIA killing people covertly, locking
up documents in government omerta,
pretending “democracy…”

The devil runs a lot of what we do—
wide the path to destruction, and many
people on it!)


But there is no excuse for the rise of
a KKK, Hitler-style mein Trumph red-faced
hater of a racist

in the highest executive office of this
often corrupt government.  Often off,
yes, but usually striving

until the hatred for the nation’s first
black president rose among the white
type, say “elites,”

and the misogynistic, ignorant ultra-white
wing tearing town a woman out of hand
as not “military” tough…

“We hate Hillary” turned by Russian bots
and linking hands with neo-Nazis into
the Donald Trump platform.

His dad, Fred Trump, was arrested for
fighting with the KKK against those damned
Catholic New York cops.


It is tempting to be hateful and judgmental
at hate and judgment, but I will refrain, pray
for Trump and

all confused, racist people.  People who
often were raised wrong, with lies
all around them.

The lies come from hard times, are a defense
mechanism against a real or perceived
block to one’s way of life.

Donald’s dad faced what he faced, being
German when he was—was he hiding
his Nazi card, making

a habit of lying, saying they were “Swedish”
to keep the money coming in as Immigrants
to America?

Did Donald see those lies, absorb them, become
a liar, develop defenses about who he was and
where he was from?

Was there a deep down and low inferiority
complex that created Hitler?  Did that same
inferiority create Trump?

Give Hitler credit for honesty, he was out of the
closet, an obvious violent racist—while Trump
harbors hate in

secret waters, stirred up by certain reporters
and probes at certain times.  “Take a knee”
slave and be whipped;

“Jews will not replace us” from “good people,”
the Confederate monuments are our culture
and history,

Never mind Heather Heyer, or that hate
produced a murder: “We must preserve
our racist culture,”

Trump seems to say, from a stolen seat—
one sold out by Republicans to any candidate
that could Hillary beat.

Forget morals, forget effort, forget progress,
and world peace.  (That could be a Twitter
bio blurb for CIA,

but I was at first thinking about Republicans
like my aging father now passed, who was duped
into a Trump vote.

A racist vote.  The vote for hate.  The vote stirred
up by people’s hatred for non-white advance,
feeling “replaced”

by superior education in non-white speakers,
pundits and politicians.  “Women should know
their place,” speaks Ignorance

and Trump’s every other word a lie to
keep his dad’s secrets safe.  It’s okay to admit
you’re a Nazi, Donald

and I’ll tell you why:

Nazis sprung from the first World War, a horrible
Hell of a place.  Violence, death, insanity and
a crippling treaty

lacking benevolence or thought toward
Germany’s innocent children, growing up
in the 1920’s while

we got drunk and flapper-danced our
way to record stock market highs.  The
rise of Hitler

and German hatred stirred up war and
Fred Trump.  It is understandable, as Fred
was a landlord

in New York, accused of discrimination
by Woody Guthrie: “Beach Haven is Trump’s Tower
Where no black folks come to roam.”

Fred’s son in Fred’s image, racist and
red-faced in private, “not a racist bone in
my body,”

he says until you discern and discover
Trump’s code-language, and here is the key:
Most major statements

he makes: the opposite is true.)


So, we have a racist person—who most-
likely stole the office—sitting in the White
House, supposedly

representing this region of the world to
other parts of the world.


Sad.  Embarrassing.  The first time any
“president” of the United States made
me cry.

Call me a snowflake, CIA—you have made
me cry many times, killing Kennedy,
Martin, Kennedy, and Lennon—

Taking out Romero in El Salvador to top
it off—any minister or peace-lover
against your war agenda.


Now a racist “president” character
assassinating every person world-wide who
is not “white” or European-rooted.

I pray for Trump, who was born into
racism; has never known the glory of
spirit that emanates

without prejudice from the spirited;

be they black, white, red or brown,
the healing blue I send to you, for
racism and

bigotry was in me once too!  I was
ignorant, pre-spiritual awakening, drinking
flammable liquid

(so praying to false gods), and I brought
down all “others” from women to
different races.

It was the wrong way, but I could not
buck it until I could trust someone
enough to tell truth.

Donald, may you find love and truth;
may God come to you, reveal Him
or Herself—

same goes for the CIA, its evil “covert”
insanity, and to the sellout GOP, who
stirred up hate

by standing with Trump against the
first Woman who should have been

To follow the first black man in the office.

Those words: “women” and “black,” “African
American” and “wives”—these are to be put down
to the racist,

not voted into office.  To the bigot.  To the
chauvinistic misogynistic, confused bedeviled

I love you.

The Christmas Spirit


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Christmas Spirit

It’s what we make of the season
that matters, as we light the fire—

Memories to mean something,
the pagan wreath unmistakably

smelling pretty, us and the earth
connecting at Solstice, the Roman
nose and will bending to the love
of Jesus and his words, a birth
reminding us of ours and those we love.

God shines no matter what we do;
the rose as sweet no matter the name.

Christmas spirit in a song or in a game!

Fun with Dad, because he so believed.
Shining paths for those we raise, it’s
theirs this canvas to paint, but
the wreath…

The wreath is a pre-religion relic
of the un-named God.

We are infants once.  We look up,
explore the five senses developing a
ready sixth that celebrates Christmas.

The staunch Jewish temple bows
to fresh greenery and lights.  The warmth
of the fire driving away the cold of night!

The Muslim heart as full as mine as
we reduce the height and all of life
to now.

God, Jehovah, One truth and bright.

By any other name we find
Constantine’s invention of a birthday
party in the middle of winter fun
like a brisk wind’s flowing kite, or
a clown’s smile at the speed of the clock

ticking away at bodies while the spirit soars.

We cannot escape the wind or the rain;
the cold an annual dance to make
us cuddle toward the sun.

We place a red coat on our back, smile
and celebrate Christmas—

the wreath on the kite of the clown’s
winter mask, rolling toward eternity.

The only place age cannot bother me

They’re Animals


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Believe me.

Anyone not white and Trump receives
Trump’s distrust and spit—
his dentures about to hit

The screen wet with his slime, the
great mob line:

Believe me.

“Forget about it…”

So, I cheated to beat a woman,
I beat them all the time, except
I call it sex.

Sex with me is great—

Believe me.


On the other side, the Democrats
are holier than thou in another way,
touting clichés like “fighting for the
middle class so your kids can go
to college.”  Might as well bow down
to the false god, money, once and for

Student debt?  National debt?

Samuel’s kings rear their heads again;
we kicked God out so many years ago,
it’s hard to remember or imagine what
it would be like to live day to day,
only God and/or Higher Power guiding

We used to say “thanks” more, until we
decided we not God, were providing

Believe me.


I saw a man shitting on the sidewalk
yesterday.  Yes, I was in L.A.

I heard the mayor was at the Dodger
game, touting some art project, funding
parties with plenty of beer and more
money to western medicine’s grip
on “health” monopolies and of course
to the public zoo.

John Adams and Thomas Jefferson were
not saints.  But they tried.  What would they
say to illegal fireworks for the 4th of July?

What would they say to funding a zoo with
tax revenue?

What would they say to the government
paying doctors to inspect you for
areas to snip, tear and cut?

When was the last time a lawmaker looked
up the word “health” and/or defined
it themselves?

Wouldn’t that be a smart step before
neglecting infrastructure spending in
favor of one white coat definition?

Drugs, needles and scalpels cutting and
intruding on the body God gave me is
not health, by my standard.

I’m weird, I’m Christian Scientist—
a faith healer.  A true believer.

Most of the time!

Believe me!!!


Donald Trump ragged on an El
Salvadoran “gang” today—called them
all “animals!!”

He called a black NFL player who kneeled
in protest during the U.S. government
anthem a “son of a bitch.”

What’s Donald Trump?

Did he skip, like many professed Christians
the part in Jesus’ teaching about not

Did Adams, Jefferson and the rest do
so when they conceived of the judiciary
branch of government with all its

I am a Christian man living in a land
whose courts are Jewish.

Believe me!!


The CIA killed Oscar Romero, too?

Or did they just back the side that did

They covered their tracks?

Are “secrets” something a democracy should
ever support?

Have you ever looked at the CIA mission?

Did you know they were officially
founded in 1947 at Truman’s White
House, in a ruse cloak and dagger

Was that supposed to be funny?

Have you looked at their Twitter bio

Did you study the murder of Kennedy,
or did you decide to trust our government
because you didn’t have the time?

E. Howard Hunt, Frank Sturgis of the CIA
led a group of pissed off skillful anti-Castro
Cubans and shooters from Miami to Dallas
in November of 1963, and killed our
president in front of his wife and millions
on Abraham Zapruder’s camera.

Believe me.


We litter land routinely in Los Angeles and
other American cities because we don’t care.

We kicked out the native people, who cared.

So maybe we should invite back the native
people, to help us care.

God, help us to care!!!

Believe in God!!!


My father winked to God before he
let his body die, I’m sure of it.


What if CIA just collected some
good information so that our leaders could
make good decisions?

What if our armies learned real Defense?

Sought more and more non-lethal approaches?

Took a page from the East, and learned the
Tao Te Ching and martial arts—meant not to kill
or be violent, but as a way of restoring peace
and balance when disrupted?


Honoring your parents is still a good
way to live a long time.  Try it!!


Remove the concrete and boards beneath
your feet, travel to a new place.

Remember our connection to Earth; each
other.  The animals…

MS-13 are animals, indeed, Mr. Trump.
As are you.  As I am—we, all of us,
fools while we think that it is
us the human, with the power—

Trump the king!

Believe me!!!

The fool needs a king to fool; the
king needs no one, so he thinks—

And Samuel scratches his head, wishing
he never made that trip for the people
to announce to God their defection.

Our defection.

We’re all animals!!!

Believe me.


Violence by Disney on Christmas


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Someone must push back, even if
the push sounds violent, when the thing
against which you push is

Violence by Disney on Christmas.

The happiest place on earth got into
movies years ago; laughing, feeling,
we loved Bambi, Dumbo, Cinderella

and the seven dwarfs!

But now, to make a quick buck, and to
move half-dead crowds in need of ministry
they come to us with Star WARS.

Lasers and swords, shooting bombs and
killing for your Christmas consideration.

Hey, it’s America, so have at it, Hoss!

But to the Christian I’ll say call yourself
one by turning the other cheek to violence,
bowing to God and loving your enemy.

We believe in One God, accept the metaphor
that is the Force, but couldn’t we celebrate
it and side stories after the New Year?

Constantine, the Eastern Romans and the
Catholic Church so cleverly gave us a
date during the Solstice to celebrate
Jesus’ birthday, so I’ll be doing that,
preparing gifts to leave at his feet, as the
wise men did—I think it’s neat!

But if you, instead of wreaths and aromatic
green, wish to glorify weapons of war,
say that one side won when standing over
death and destruction—

you have not read the Tao Te Ching.

Have not held the gospel to your heart.

You did not need it yet, so good for you
and God bless us in our ignorance!

Disney used to keep it family and sweet,
avoid extreme violence and killing.

Star Wars used to come out in May, allow
us to take a break from Summer heat
to see some crazy fantasy action…

Then one day they merged, blew up
Christmas—or have tried to—

All because an accountant somewhere
reported the returns would be great!

I’ve traveled long and far in my little
45 times around the sun, enough to know
that money is okay, but no other
currency yields better contented sleep
as Peace of Mind.

Peace.  Star Peace…

Hopefully, in theaters soon



, ,

And dreams and things.
Boom, the threshold, then…

There’s a signpost up ahead:
“All the things you used to dream”—
Break through!

Oh what a coup for you, this chance,
a dream returned, six senses sounding
and feeling and singing their properties
in noses of gold, roses behold!

Smells and sights, a dream in delight,
what supposes is and imagine that—

A fact!!

“The sweetest dream labor knows,” says
Frost, what a poet and indeed when visited
by rhyme and scheme sweet you know it!!

On this earth are arrangements perfect creating
choices to correct.  Yes, pick and choose, this one
for her this one for you, but choose wisely.

To choose “too much” is trouble, ask Willy
Wonka what happens to the greedy, six other
deadly sins keeping the white pearly gates of heaven
excellently white and pearly.

Good morning, Shirley!  Peanuts!  Strawberry!

To live every day as if it was your first!  To turn
a wreck of a day into a splendid hour, worth every
moment sour, just one minute to rejoice!  To
feel the ray of sunshine through the cloudy crack,
to spot the rainbow, the child’s smile, sparkle
apple pie, trees sharp—moon bright!!

Colors of spirit, perfect winning and growth where
winning’s a peace of mind and growth?

The kind we need’s what keeps us all
small as kids neat between sheets at bedtime:

grow in the mind.

Toward the child, more and more all the time