• AA Pitch
  • ABOUT
  • Anti-Alcohol Ads
  • Beverly Hills Cop V
  • Beyond the Grades
  • Bill’s Books
  • Church of MARY
  • CLEAN L.A.
  • Comedy
  • Contact/Booking
  • Election Reform — Los Angeles
  • Events
  • First Step Education
  • Guest Register
  • L.A. Budget Ideas
  • Love without Alcohol — Public Speaking
  • Music/YouTube
  • Oswald’s 6th
  • People’s Police Force — L.A.
  • Podcast — Bill’s Poetique
  • Poetry Arrived
  • Public Safety — L.A.
  • Return to Silverado
  • Submit
  • Subtracting Division

Bill Watkins, Traveling Poet

~ Words For You, Just Ask

Bill Watkins, Traveling Poet

Monthly Archives: May 2018

Looking for Native America

22 Tuesday May 2018

Posted by Bill Watkins in Native, Native America, Native American, Poem, Poems, Poetry

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Discovery, Earth, God, Great Spirit, Love, Mother, Native, Native America, Native American, Native Americans, Peace, Revival, Spirit, Truth, Wales, World Peace

It’s a long journey from Wales
to here;

400-plus years of wandering
makes one wonder what they feared.

We left our fathers’ graves behind,
Welshmen and women ground into
the winter soil, Celtic calls for
adventure, armored up and ready
to go, sir!

Captain John Smith is noble enough,
we can handle this sea, this new
land, the savage race—look at us!!!

We’ll make the Crown proud, become
stars, make names for ourselves,
but only if this colony comes off okay.

We’re British and militaristic; we see
these brown-skinned people, compare
and contrast, seek advantages, a way
to squat and succeed.

“Success is a peace of mind, knowing
you did the best you could to be the
best you were capable of becoming.”

Best Christians, John?

Best warriors?

Best Explorers?  Businessmen?  Reps
of the Crown?

People.  The best People we could be
requires more looking back than forward
if the looking causes you to cringe with
regret and shame.

Go back, see the poverty of the native
tribe, the reservations in shackles
of bison’s spoiled hide.

Hunted and sold, looking for gold—

Not realizing the real value was in
the wisdom of the land, expressed through
its proud care-takers.

There are many differences from nation
to nation today, and as much or more
between the native nations then and
now as the Great Spirit

hides under Western medicine, civilization
and money.

Stop taking it.  Fight for your land, still,
Native America, seek out the documents,
the treaties, the promises made, take
them to court, and win.

Hire attorneys and win.  Reclaim and rise,
never give up the spirit to try, we are
a part of the land, it is God’s

and is our pride.

They break the rocks for concrete, burn
the blood for rocket fuel, we pray for
the lost Europeans, that they find
their way back home.

Amends

22 Tuesday May 2018

Posted by Bill Watkins in Native, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Recovery, Slavery

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Amends, Joy, Love, Native, Native American, Peace, Recovery, Slavery

You feel good, yesterday a gem of service
instead of a face-down rumble into rum
and the glass,

All is possible looking down at a schedule
for one day, with God at the top, sleep
at the bottom,

Recovery the dream of getting back what
you never really had, so hallelujah!!  It’s
back to youth,

the dream of all that could be and the action
to “move the chains” toward it, as footballers
might try to say,

In love with life, just for today.

***

You feel good, no more running away,
acceptance the key before changing
what we do and what we say.

But before all that, truth must shine,
we must admit our faults to God,
ourselves and another human being

this is a basic AA thing, 12 steps
to freedom and growth, to
God only knows—sunshine and rain

producing a golden rainbow to block
out and record the pain.  Write a book,
or just plan this day, God laughing with you

as we climb the trail toward the
Great Mother’s sinewy sinew, a waterfall
worth a thousand pictures, a stream

trying to win back Los Angeles and
become her river once more.
Concrete from rock, we break down

our modern thoughts.  We seek
a Native voice, but must study and go
back to see the facts for proper choice.

God be with us, to turn our good
into better, to rise in our sobriety
to remember the native and slave

in chains.  To make amends for the
pain that stains, the rain that reigns,
the peace that shames because it

was not justice for all but for only
the white, privileged kings. God
grant us more than shiny new things,

but the wisdom to see what the
Chiefs saw and were: the Gold of the
land in its true love.  Gratitude.

The lost art of standing.  Sitting.  Laying
down in the midst of greatness when
the buffalo spirit returns, dirt to the shirt,

Take off our ties, go back to England
and tell the Crown at Last!!!!

“We found the gold, Ma’am. Yes,
it was the native people.  Their wisdom.
Their love of land and connection to it.”

Sound the pipes, rattle the skins,
scrape the strings, the Celtic song
revives to the native revival, a sign

from all the gods that to call yourself
a child of God, be grateful for what you
have, forgive the wrongs done you,

help another find shelter, if you are
blessed to have it, and join the alcoholic
as he or she marches backwards to

right the wrongs never more wrong
than now…

It feels good.

Yes, Animals

20 Sunday May 2018

Posted by Bill Watkins in Nature, Poem, Poems, Poetry

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

God, Love, Native, Nature, Peace, Truth

What is man without the beasts?
If all the beasts were gone, men would
die from great loneliness of spirit, for
whatever happens to the beasts also
happens to man.  All things are connected.
Whatever befalls the earth befalls the
children of the earth.
—Chief Seattle

I need to dumb down to reach
God and the masses, animals all of us.

Donald Trump uses the word “Animal”
as a curse or put down, which to me
puts himself down, as of course we are
all animals.

Donald Trump has no idea what this
poem is about, would bluster “he
doesn’t care,” but the truth is that
he deeply cares, and is ashamed at
how low his education is.

He cares, and is ashamed at how much
debt he is in, his sexual habits caught
on tape, money paid out to quiet
ex-lovers.

I love Donald, and so did his mom
and dad.

It IS PARTIALLY OUR FAULT—
ALL OF OUR FAULT!!!!—for letting someone
like Donald Trump be “president,”
for letting someone with NO
PUBLIC SERVICE EXPERIENCE even run
for president of the United States of
America.

(By “United” I refer to what rich
representatives in a Continental
Congress claimed this country was
in 1776, ignoring Slavery and native
people, who were not considered,
nor counted.  Women left out,
children discriminated against a few
years later in a Constitution that
sets “age” limits four times: to
run for Congress, Senate, President,
and to vote.  To judge a big group
of people on an arbitrary quality
like gender, race or AGE—and to
restrict that group
based on that quality from having
rights or access to something is called
discrimination.)

So, Donald’s campaign sought outside
help from foreign nations, Russian
money, and others who own FIFA
and where it plays its soccer games.

Bribe and play, pay to play, go
to work one day, and there you
are in the White House because you
sold enough racist followers that
“brown people will not replace us,
Nor will Hillary, or Obama and his
blacktivists!”—and they voted for
you to…

Lead or tweet?

Campaign for 2020 or lead?

Troll people online, watch Fox News
and play golf on the government’s dime?

Geez, you wanna change things,
Donald and Devin—you wanna root
out the deep state?

Stand up to CIA and its covert
mission of violence and secrets!!  Put
the spotlight on JFK.  The real
president of this Country IS
CIA!!!!

Since November of 1963, we are under
their covert thumb, the leash long
enough to feel free—

and although God is truly in charge
of all, we pretend down here that
we have power.

We do not, no matter how many Samuels
go up the mountain and ask God
for a king.

Diagnosed

20 Sunday May 2018

Posted by Bill Watkins in Health, Poem, Poems, Poetry

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

God, Health, Love, Truth

“Judge not, lest ye be judged.”

Why fight the wide path on our
way to wherever, most go with the
flow of the other ants—who wants
to make waves?

Western Medicine is not health, but
you wouldn’t know that in the States,
watching the news or the commercials
in between pitching drugs at patients,

Alcohol at kids.

Alcohol at alcoholics, but where else
but here?  We have a second amendment
protecting everyone’s right to break the
sixth commandment.

We have a National Security Act to grant
CIA a blank check and immunity from being
regular Americans, but this is typical of the
wide path,

the one Samuel asked for when he asked
for a king to be like other nations.

***

A new child is born and with the birth hope.
All can change, the rock and valley stay the
same, good and bad oppose—Lao Tzu
reminding “We cannot change the world.”

It cannot be done!

Then a white coat enters a room with a
“diagnosis.”

Eve came to Adam with a piece of fruit,
how big a deal can all of this be?

Can we go back up to the mountain of
Samuel’s mistake, make God king again?

Can we put the apple back on the tree?

Would we want to be innocent and free?

We are the moment we accept the child
within, that the baby born is us, that zero
place of nothing being everything, total
potential, a smile, perfection.

The child is health, is a blessed state, and
is within us in nature, then again it’s all nature,
isn’t it?

The child knows by sense, we cry when wet,
cold or sick, all of it spinning less like a path,
more like our planets, around and around the
sun of peace.

Feel sick?  Wait.  It passes.

Feel bad, it’s temporary, good the same way,
so beware the intervention—choose it
wisely after prayer.

Never deny God him or herself the time
and space needed to heal and care.

Blacks for Trump

19 Saturday May 2018

Posted by Bill Watkins in Poem, Poems, Poetry, Politics

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Love, Peace, Racism, Trump

Laughing out loud, one
begins to look around, consider
who “they” are.

The “Trump supporter” is a human
being, I respect that.

Donald Trump is a person, not
just an animal—I respect that.

Racist people are people, have
developed over time a prejudice
based on what Dad told them, Mom,
their community of friends or whatever
it was to seek good feelings.

Racism is the core of Trumpism, and
that is more evident with every Trump
supporter or TV channel talk I take
in to try to learn…

***

I was just on a tree-trimming job,
knew the guy I worked for was a Fox
News/Trump loyalist, liked to talk
politics and Hannity conspiracy theory.

That’s okay, as long as we can find
some humor and branches to cut,
a level of mutual respect that allows
people to agree to disagree.

My dad voted for Trump before he passed
away last year, and did so more out
of Hillary hate than Donald love.

Both my dad and this guy with the tree
have something in common, as they
have in common with all other Trump
supporters and apologizers:

Racism.

Racial prejudice.

It may be deep down, or right there
on the surface, but Donald trump
came into politics race baiting and
birth-denying, Obama-hating, and
dividing—

and his so-called “presidency” fails to
back off from hate, never taking a knee,
never apologizing.

The man with the tree pointed at me
when arguing, yelled and spit, touched
me on occasion as a way to intimidate
and bully sway.

When I did not budge, I thought it was
time to cut branches…

Then he dropped
the N word twice, flying his true
colors at last.

“Obama was a worthless, no good
N…” started a ramble I turned off, warned
him to stop so I could cut branches, adding
that I was raised by a black nanny, was in
fact “black.”

He started inside his house, knowing the
job was in jeopardy, then added something
to stir the pot about Obama and black people,
and…

I walked out of the job, walked off the property
with my gear, the man yelling,

“Are you sure?”

Me yelling back,

“Dead sure.”

I pray for that man, for my dad’s spirit as
he would have turned 93 this Monday.

Prejudice is a weed that takes work
to remove.

I needed to do the 12 steps of AA before
I could let go of my racism, bigotry
and prejudice—along with my deep-seeded
misogyny and chauvinism.

I had every ism from loose behaviors,
sipping a false god called “alcohol.”

***

“Blacks for Trump” is a disgusting
backdrop to disgusting campaign rally
speeches in the middle of a stolen
presidency.

“Niggers Don’t Kneel” would be more
honest, Trump.

Tucker.

Sean.

Laura.

And Giuliani?

Haha, he looks like a man caught
on tape with a Ukrainian prostitute
peeing on him.

Chirp, chirp—just how I want or I will
release the tape!!!

Yes, Vlad, no problem.

I concur, Vlad, saying the orange man
most-likely poor and in debt than rich.

Anything you say, Vlad, I just
want our countries to be friends.

I just want to make America White
Again—scratch that, GREAT!!!

Truthful hyperbole, we call it, and yes,
Cambridge, yes Bannon, it’s a good
way to keep the blacks from voting!!!

Clean Coal!!!

No Mexicans!!!

Blacks for TRUMP!!!!!

It’s Kinda Fun

17 Thursday May 2018

Posted by Bill Watkins in Poem, Poems, Poetry, Recovery

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Joy, Love, Peace

Walking in Peace, the drug and alcohol,
gang affiliation in the rear-view, you
stop destroying so bring on the peace.

It’s kinda’ fun, the hope of a day, it
can go this or that way, on we
walk or run, it doesn’t really matter

as long as we walk from the fire
that was your old life of disillusionment
and fear, that wide path to funeral pyre,

caught in the mosh, smoking and drinking
flammable liquids and plants in confused
trances non-transcendental tangential mire.

It’s kinda’ fun!

This life without the harm. You harmed
because you didn’t know the option not to
do so, you had your defenses that it takes

sometimes long hours, days, weeks, months
and years to discard—it can be hard!

You let go the bull, accept the cow, or heck,
you can even go vegetarian, it doesn’t much
matter, as long as saved we walk the narrow

for heaven.

****

Which may just be a peace of mind, knowing
we did our best to be the best people
we were capable of becoming, John Wooden’s

success through the front door blowing,
the wind of change through the front door
coming—you cannot slip out the back

anymore, unless the move could and would
help mankind, women too—you mom or
wife waiting at the door to see what you can do.

Waiting and waiting, but it was God, not them
that shined in the cracks, shined to give you
facts, that I’m not an animal a la White House
prejudice, throwback racist forays into bathroom
locker room talk, excuses to behave like jerks
not the way or the Tao but a sure path wide and
secure for the hell of your own making.

We walk away!!

Isn’t this fun?

You bet yer tail, this is a blast!!

Long songs absent the whine nor wine
this could be your time, one day at
a rhyme, the pen it moves and dances of
its own, you wake up to dreams of lines
to time thou growing, because you prayed
not to yourself or loved ones but to God
all-knowing!

It’s kinda fun!!

I could turn and/or twist this way or that,
walk up, walk down, make decisions,
which is to declare victory for one side
of an argument—

No one in war winning, we look over the
fallen with tears in our eyes, be they from
ours or their side of the fight—

God has the might!  We should not
wield a sword or force just because we think
we have it, turn around!!!!!

It is not tough to stand in the way of love,
the soft and weak blessed by God through
Jesus Christ, a rebellious rabbi not
enough listened to in Jerusalem or
Gaza strip, who will walk there and
preach the message of peace, willing to
die for it like the Indian Chief, stepping
into the caldron of war to prove a point
that nobody wins when the heart stops
its beat?

Killing is killing, and never defense, the army
and Navy getting it wrong when we train,
shoot for the torso on the range!

Turn around, follow me, put your weapons
down, learn true defense, martial arts,
only for defense and restoring peace when
peace is thwarted, then return,
all of us—grow flowers with our tears,
it’s never wise nor tough to roll on
the ground with other men, “friends” in
quotes egging us on, walk away,

Walk away, Walk away—

walk with me and the rebellious rabbi
toward a new day, follow me!!

Isn’t sobriety fun?

Giving flammable drink the “hasta la vista”
dance of “no more, no more,” no thank
you sirs and ma’ams, yes to say “No”
can be a complete sentence as we head back
to the old community full of new ideas,
hope and changed attitudes—

Our latitude often the same, you cannot
geographically escape from yourself,

us facing the greatest enemy alone, we must
choose blessed or cursed, we can
find our land someday, get off Native land
I never bought to find my own land someday.

To stop the curse.

To stop cursing.

To see the native family never using
curse words, pushed to the side and what
we thought was the worst land, until forever
the archetype is repeated, that the wise and
soft win heaven in the end.

Peace of mind.

Mother’s Day

13 Sunday May 2018

Posted by Bill Watkins in Mother, Poem, Poems, Poetry

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Earth, Joy, Love, Mom, Mothers, Peace

The mother spawned us, all of
us riding a tide called Life begun
with a swim in unknowns, doctors
pulling out microscopes to note.

I love my mom is an odd expression
making complete sense—to love Life,
to love yourself, love a component
of gratitude or vice versa.

We celebrate God, life and the annual
turn of the sun around the galaxy,
if by annual you refer to the Cosmic
225 million years.

We cannot stir too far from Mom, around
her we are wise to revolve, the galaxy
a spin of moons and stars pulling us,
pushing us, love and space between.

We jump and return, because “Earth
is the right place for love.”  Mom,
Mother, truth and birth—the revolving
planet returns, waves to the shore.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom, we’ve
come back to say “thanks.”  We venture
out on our vessels far but never leave
if wise, we honor the vibe—

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!  To the Earth
and you I raise not a glass but the
shortest appendage on my hand, smile,
and thank you for the love,

Sacrifice and Truth.  We are a part of
you, hence celebrate ourselves today,
and life, around and around we go,
orbits and families swirling, mixing—

Ants on and in the hill, bumping
and creating—antennae crossing.
Everyday is Mother’s Day, to come back
to the beginning the essence of the Tao,

The song to the sow, the chirp to
the bird, the roar of the elephant, the
growl of the lion—extensions of Earth
singing Happy Mother’s Day at all times,

All days to say, simply:

Thanks, Mom.

Marriage

12 Saturday May 2018

Posted by Bill Watkins in Marriage, Poem, Poems, Poetry

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Love, Marriage, Truth

God gives us all a partner, should we
rise past certain age and size, sprouting
as seeds properly planted by some
all-knowing gardener.

There she is, the boy may declare if
blessed with guts, courage, and truth
to say against the wind that doubts, locks
and fears pride’s fall.

“The wife of your youth” appears in a gay
dress of sudden on a day nothing else
changed. She smiled differently; you loved
her because she loved you,

It’s happened millions of times before,
but before now your mom or dad was
your favorite person—now her.  What to
do now?

For a truly blessed life, never let her go—
that first one.  But since Jesus changed water
into wine, could move a mountain from there
to here—God can and will

if honestly, humbly asked—make your fourth
wife the one that works.  I don’t personally
know how it works but it does, I might even say
it doesn’t work but it does,

For God’s will is exactly what happens at all times
of day and night, and you are with God now.

Perfect, strong, and you.
Weak, loving and true.

It is not us that feel and strive that makes this
an interesting life; it is the blessing that
turns mundane into blessed, moments
unforgettable on a tennis court

of truth, when she saw you, you her,
She smiled your smile—it was one, and
you got married.

De-Escalate

11 Friday May 2018

Posted by Bill Watkins in Gun Control, Military, Poem, Poems, Poetry

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

God, Joy, Love, Peace

Thou shalt not kill sounds weak
to the tempted, often vulnerable
warrior enlisted to “defend.”

I love you.  Let me say at the outset
that despite what happened to this
point in your life, there is a Power
that cares, a love that is real.

You do not have to kill a single person.

In fact, it’s better if you do not.

Killing is not self-defense, it never is,
it never was, despite what a drill
sergeant might yell in your face!

A heart’s beat does not have to stop
on the other side of the line, for the
threat of a shooter to stop.  There are
non-lethal approaches, De-Escalation
techniques, Love your Enemy said
God through Jesus Christ—

Love your enemy!!!

True self-defense is lowering your flag
of hate, the fear within you, judgment
and prejudice as you realize the guy
across the fence was born of woman, too.

There are no enemies, just fear and
misunderstanding.  You want to live by
the gun, you must accept dying by it, and just
because no one has shown you care yet,
does not mean that care does not exist.

Walk away.

Take a walk with God in nature.

Don’t believe in or hate God?

Change the name.  Consider Nature,
any Power that is greater than you.

Rest and trust.  See your part in this
life, walk away from death, and see past
the lie that you must kill to survive

Why I left the Movies

04 Friday May 2018

Posted by Bill Watkins in Blog

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Entertainment, Film, Movies

—by Bill Watkins 5/4/2018

Movies1

You go to McDonald’s, you give them five bucks and don’t get much—their prices have gone up recently.  Okay, start over: You go to McDonald’s, you give them eight dollars. In return for that money you get your order, pretty much exactly how you ordered it within a couple minutes, can sit down and eat it or go home and eat it, etc.

There’s a good guarantee that for my money, I get a product I can count on, most of the time.  Once I asked for money back at that restaurant when I saw how tables were uncared for, then they looked at me with scorn when I asked about it.  But most of the time, higher than ninety percent, it goes well, and so that is a business that will see me again.

Movie ticket prices have gone up a lot over the years, but here we go:

Give a movie theater about twelve or fifteen bucks, they will take it and give you a ticket. You enter the theater, have either snuck in cheap candy or suffer to buy overpriced items at the concession counter.  Leaving concessions out, let’s examine the twelve or fifteen bucks for the ticket.  Am I getting a consistent return on that money? Is it guaranteed?

Today’s multiplex has many theaters and screens in one place.  I buy a ticket to go to a showing of a film in one of the many theaters at a location, walk in, catch some previews if I’m responsibly, respectfully on time, then my movie begins.

I think it’s reasonable to think that for the money I paid for the ticket, I am entitled a soundtrack mixed with color/light/sound that combines with emotive elements like dialogue and music, story.  It’s a grand escape!! Sometimes one can even come away with a moral, but that is not to be expected, only hoped for…

So what guarantees I get a basic soundtrack and visual story?  Are there ushers inside the house when the film is running?  Is there a quiet manager overseeing, making sure no one talks, uses their phone, or puts their feet up on my armrest or seat, adding shoe odor to my popcorn grab and taste?

While they make checks, most theaters today are self-managed by patrons, and if something goes wrong—it is the patron that spots the problem first, comes out to the lobby and reports it to movie theater personnel.  What they are not doing when they come out to report a problem to staff is, of course: Watching the movie.

Patrons are often sold tickets late, come in late, and name a theater that really patrols and stops that flow.  As movies are an illusion, an escape into another world, how does a patron feel when in the middle of that ride—some latecomer comes in with a cellphone light on, looking for their seat as the opening music and dialogue attempt to thrill?

How does my fifteen bucks feel, gone from my account in hopes of entertainment, in the bank of businesses who think customers can be trusted with following movie theater policy and law inside presentation rooms.

“But no one complained” might become an anthem to get by week after week, but shouldn’t a theater know that many people do not complain.  For shyness or whatever reason, many are just more likely to not come back.  To give up on paying for movies they may not enjoy because of lack of theater rule enforcement.

I stopped paying for movies a couple years ago.  I went in to see Moana for a second time so I could be with my girlfriend when she saw it for her first.  No usher helped, so I closed our theater door at start time, but the jam stuck so I could not kick it.  I reached down to unlatch it, cut myself.

No usher or theater personnel was in sight.

That’s the state of movie presentation in today’s multiplex. I work at one now, and so enjoy free movies full of the above-listed problems.  But I would not pay for one at this time; not until theater policy is enforced, patrons cared for, and a good experience guaranteed by presenters.

← Older posts
Newer posts →

Subscribe

  • Entries (RSS)
  • Comments (RSS)

Archives

  • September 2025
  • August 2025
  • April 2025
  • March 2025
  • January 2025
  • September 2024
  • January 2024
  • September 2023
  • August 2023
  • April 2023
  • November 2022
  • March 2022
  • November 2021
  • October 2021
  • July 2021
  • March 2021
  • February 2021
  • December 2020
  • November 2020
  • October 2020
  • September 2020
  • August 2020
  • July 2020
  • May 2020
  • April 2020
  • February 2020
  • January 2020
  • December 2019
  • November 2019
  • October 2019
  • September 2019
  • August 2019
  • July 2019
  • June 2019
  • May 2019
  • February 2019
  • January 2019
  • December 2018
  • November 2018
  • October 2018
  • September 2018
  • August 2018
  • July 2018
  • June 2018
  • May 2018
  • April 2018
  • March 2018
  • February 2018
  • January 2018
  • December 2017
  • November 2017
  • October 2017
  • September 2017
  • August 2017
  • July 2017
  • June 2017
  • May 2017
  • April 2017
  • March 2017
  • December 2016
  • November 2016
  • September 2016
  • August 2016
  • June 2016
  • May 2016
  • March 2016
  • February 2016
  • December 2015
  • November 2015
  • September 2015
  • August 2015
  • July 2015
  • May 2015
  • April 2015
  • March 2015
  • February 2015
  • January 2015
  • December 2014
  • November 2014
  • October 2014
  • August 2014
  • July 2014
  • May 2014
  • April 2014
  • March 2014
  • February 2014
  • January 2014

Categories

  • 1984
  • Acceptance
  • Addiction
  • African
  • African American
  • Aging
  • Alcohol
  • Alcoholics Anonymous
  • Alcoholism
  • Alegre
  • Allegory
  • Amends
  • America
  • American Poem
  • Amor
  • Amtrak
  • Anatomy
  • Andrew Young
  • Anecdote
  • Anti-Political
  • Apolitical
  • Arthur Davison Ficke
  • Article
  • Articles
  • Austin Clarke
  • Awareness
  • Basketball
  • Beautiful
  • beauty
  • Beer
  • Belief
  • Bible
  • Biblia
  • Biblica
  • Biblical
  • Big Bang
  • Bilingual
  • Birthday
  • Blog
  • Blogs
  • Blues
  • Books
  • Border
  • Boys
  • Britain
  • Brothers
  • Bullies
  • California
  • California History
  • Cars
  • Catholic
  • Catholic Church
  • Childhood
  • Children
  • Christ
  • Christian
  • Christian Science
  • Christianity
  • Christmas
  • Church
  • CIA
  • Circumcision
  • Citizenship
  • Civil Rights
  • Classic Poems
  • Classified
  • College
  • College Sports
  • Colonialism
  • Comedy
  • Comical
  • Commandments
  • Community
  • Conquest
  • Constitution
  • Corruption
  • Cosmic
  • Covid
  • Creation
  • Crime
  • Criminal Law
  • Cristiano
  • Cristo
  • Cute
  • Cycle of Life
  • Dating
  • Decisions
  • dedication
  • Depression
  • Divorce
  • Doctors
  • Dogs
  • Drugs
  • Earth
  • Easter
  • Education
  • England
  • Enlightenment
  • Entertainment
  • Environment
  • Epic
  • Erotic
  • Escape
  • España
  • Español
  • Espiritual
  • Eternity
  • Europe
  • Explicit
  • Faith
  • Family
  • Fantasy
  • Fútbol
  • Feminism
  • Football
  • Forgiveness
  • Frost
  • Galaxy
  • Geocracy
  • God
  • Gospel
  • Government
  • Graphic
  • Gratitude
  • Great Spirit
  • Growing Up
  • Gun Control
  • Guns
  • Hard Times
  • Healing
  • Health
  • Heaven
  • Helicopters
  • High School
  • Higher Power
  • Hillary
  • Historical
  • History
  • Holiday
  • Home
  • Homeless
  • Homosexuality
  • Honest
  • Honor
  • Humor
  • Humorous
  • Immigration
  • Imperialism
  • Indigenous
  • Innocence
  • Innocence Lost
  • Inspiration
  • Inspirational
  • Intactivism
  • Interview
  • Ireland
  • Irish
  • Irish Poets
  • James Oppenheim
  • Jesus
  • Jesus said
  • JFK
  • John Gould Fletcher
  • Journalism
  • Journey
  • Joy
  • Junior High
  • Katherine Mansfield
  • Kennedy
  • Kids
  • La Fe
  • La medicina occidental
  • Ladies
  • Land Theft
  • Lao Tzu
  • LAPD
  • Latin America
  • Law
  • Life
  • Literature
  • Living with an Alcoholic
  • Livingston
  • Los Angeles
  • Loss
  • Love
  • Marriage
  • Masks
  • Mater Dolorosa
  • México
  • Men's Health
  • Mental Exercise
  • Mental Health
  • Mexico
  • Middle Age
  • Middle School
  • Military
  • Misogyny
  • Mob
  • Mom
  • Montana
  • Morality
  • Mother
  • Murder
  • Music
  • My Dad
  • Mystical
  • Nahuatl
  • Nationalism
  • Native
  • Native America
  • Native American
  • Nature
  • NCAA
  • New Year
  • New Zealand
  • News
  • Noise Pollution
  • Nostalgia
  • Ogden Nash Poems
  • Oldies
  • Olympic
  • Olympics
  • Opinion
  • Originality
  • Overcoming
  • Pain
  • Panic
  • Paradise
  • Parenting
  • Parody
  • Pasadena
  • Pánico
  • Peace
  • Peer Pressure
  • Personal
  • Philosophy
  • Plog
  • Poem
  • Poema
  • Poemas
  • Poems
  • Poesia
  • Poetic Blog
  • Poetry
  • Police
  • Political
  • Political Satire
  • Politics
  • Polytechnic School
  • Positive Thinking
  • Positivism
  • Prayer
  • Prescribed Medication
  • Public Transportation
  • Race
  • Racism
  • Rare Poems
  • Recovery
  • Redemption
  • Relationships
  • Religion
  • Religious
  • Resentment
  • Review
  • Rights
  • Robert Frost
  • Romance
  • Russia
  • Salud
  • San Miguel de Allende
  • Satire
  • Science
  • Scoop
  • Scottish
  • Sex
  • Sexism
  • Sexual
  • Sexuality
  • Sexy
  • Shakespeare
  • Shootings
  • SK Rolle
  • Slavery
  • Sobriety
  • Socal
  • Soccer
  • Soul
  • Space
  • Space Travel
  • Spain
  • Spanish
  • Spies
  • Spirit
  • Spiritual
  • Spiritual Awakening
  • Spirituality
  • Sports
  • Sports Addiction
  • Sportsmanship
  • Spring
  • Stage Review
  • Strength
  • Success
  • Suicide
  • Surfing
  • Talgarth
  • Tao
  • Tao Te Ching
  • Ted Hughes Poems
  • Teen
  • Terror
  • Terrorism
  • Thanksgiving Lie
  • Theater
  • Theatre
  • Thomas Lodge
  • Thomas MacGreevy
  • Tongva Nation
  • Tragedy
  • Travel
  • Tribute
  • Trump
  • Truth
  • UCSB
  • Ukraine
  • United Nations
  • United states
  • Universe
  • USA
  • Valentine's Day
  • Volleyball
  • Voting
  • Wales
  • Waves
  • Weird
  • Welsh
  • Western Medicine
  • Westridge School
  • Winter
  • Winter Olympics
  • Wisdom
  • Womanizing
  • Women
  • Women's Health
  • Words
  • World Peace
  • Xenophobia
  • Youth

Meta

  • Create account
  • Log in

Blog at WordPress.com.

  • Subscribe Subscribed
    • Bill Watkins, Traveling Poet
    • Join 452 other subscribers
    • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
    • Bill Watkins, Traveling Poet
    • Subscribe Subscribed
    • Sign up
    • Log in
    • Report this content
    • View site in Reader
    • Manage subscriptions
    • Collapse this bar
 

Loading Comments...