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Author Archives: Bill Watkins

The Great Mother

06 Saturday Sep 2025

Posted by Bill Watkins in Great Spirit, Love, Poem, Poems, Poetic Blog, Poetry, Spirit, Spiritual, Spiritual Awakening, Spirituality

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Earth, God, Joy, Love, Mom, Mother, Nature, Peace, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Spirituality

I’m going to see the Great Mother today,
I’m going back to my birth.

I’m going to dance on her rocks today,
I’m remembering my worth.

She reaches into the sky with magma fire,
Cools and calms alike—

I dance across her trails the Army Corps made…
Some race by in a bike.

I love to see her curls in bark, the trees
never dead in their lines.

Great Mother, solemn loving earth, I hear
a bird call and am fine.

I love your hair and warmth, you greet
me by the stream.

I take a picture with your column shadows;
your truth it seems!

To lie in your bosom eternally, to fire
Up to see you true—

Is to truly live between the grinds of city
lies, forgetting just who…

Who is my Great Mother, the spirit
of earth formed;

My wife and brother, family all around
the rocks you warm,

Truth abounds in your skin adorned;
Great Mother!

Thank you. There is in fact, no other.

Hoarders of Land

19 Tuesday Aug 2025

Posted by Bill Watkins in Immigration, Poem, Poetic Blog, Poetry, Political, Spiritual

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Bible, Christianity, Faith, God, Immigration, Jesus, Joy, Love, Peace, Politics, Spirituality

ICE with their masks and guns
are hoarders of land, hoarding
land for a government that did
not create the land.

Might does not equal right, less
so if cowardly guns are your
choice for influencing a fight;
you have lost your way.

I myself while growing up on
stolen land was a racist bigot,
sure I was right because I was
white, dancing

somewhere between their march
and the fourth of July. Fireworks
celebrating bombs and guns’
theft of the night.

Who are we to hoard land? Did you,
Government, Create a Single Thing?
Who are you to hoard, cut off,
sequestering a river?

You wall off and divide, you say the
“illegal alien” is a criminal because
they were too poor to wait,
broke through our gate.

The poorest and last will be chosen
first, for the spiritually inclined,
perhaps heaven is a peace of mind;
treat all people with respect.

Treat the poor right, you bet, the
poorest among us perhaps in
God’s eyes the most blessed. The
white supremacist, too…

Who’s poorer than you? Be godlike
in this fight, seed to flower, the
war of staying above the plunder,
God’s thunder,

making us aware this world is
his or hers, not ours… Something there
is, said Frost, that doesn’t love a wall
and wants it down.

Something indeed. Something big and
loving, the same wind that created us,
life and this land made it all for all—
not just the white,

or those so skilled as to charge out
Mom’s womb on this side or another
of a political border. The old precepts
win, grant peace.

Sit back, melt down your guns
and embrace God, your fellow man,
woman, no matter their color or
nationality.

Your nationalism is a false god,
you cannot serve two masters so
love life and its Creator with all your
heart, soul and mind.

Law is man-made, a concept my
ancestors in Norway invented by
writing Things down, laying words
to rest on pages,

Never facts because language is
also a human invention. Something big,
loving and powerful bless us and help
us remember,

for like Merlin said it’s the “doom of men
that they forget.” Remember our place.
We did not make the mountains or
the rain.

Not the rainbow, not the joy we
feel, nor the pain. Love your
enemy, as the wise rebellious
rabbi used to say.

Hating him is too easy, a game
of fools leading us to endless wars
and locking down schools, uniformed
scoundrels claiming police-hood

scouring the hood cursing instead
of blessing, judging instead of
cheerleading. Its own curse.
No one feels it worse,

Than those agents sent by racist,
confused suits in red, white and blue.
Hoarders of land we did not create.
Change now, before it’s too late!

MS-13 Is From Los Angeles

14 Monday Apr 2025

Posted by Bill Watkins in CIA, Crime, Criminal Law, Immigration, LAPD, Law, Poetic Blog

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Tags

central-america, el-salvador, Gangs, Immigration, Los Angeles, MS-13, Travel, Violence, War

-by Bill Watkins

***

Once upon a time, I was close with a few officers over at Hollenbeck Division in Los Angeles, CA. That’s LAPD. One of them, named Guillermo, took it upon himself to “take me to gang school” one morning, got on the dry erase board, gave me some history for about forty-five minutes.

One of those lessons seems pertinent today, when so many people are clamoring about MS-13. “Those monsters!” “They’re sending us their worst people!” “They’re savages!!!” “They use machetes and cut up victims and families!!!” “Egads!” and the like. I think it might surprise the people so scared and up-in-arms about MS-13 that this gang was born not in El Salvador, but in the Pico-Union community of Los Angeles, CA.

Guillermo told me something any website on MS-13’s history will confirm: that in the early 1980’s, El Salvadoran war refugees settled in Los Angeles. Soon, as the story goes, they were picked on and bullied by an established, hardened Los Angeles gang called 18th Street. In the absence of enough LAPD presence or any other deterrent or defense, the El Salvadoran immigrants fought back.

“They remembered how the death squads did it back home,” explained Guillermo. “They got some machetes, copied the death squads’ brutal methods…” And MS-13 was born. So could you say “war” and the absence of good L.A. policing helped create MS-13? Perhaps. But where’s the root? Who or what created that war in El Salvador in the first place? The United States of America couldn’t have had much to do with that, right?

Wrong. The American CIA was all over that place in the 1970’s and 1980’s. One can read about links between CIA and government death squads suppressing dissent, warding off a perceived “communist” peasant-guerilla rebellion. Yes, another Vietnam-type thing, sure, call it another CIA-led war related to the Red Scare. Control. Protecting capitalist U.S. interests at any cost.

So who or what created MS-13? The reader can put pieces together, with our own CIA and LAPD serving as possible culprits. Why point that out? Well, a wise, rebellious rabbi once commanded, “Judge not, lest ye be judged.” The next time you jump on the “I hate MS-13” bandwagon, consider the gang’s origin and whether your “hate” is heading the correct way for helpful change in this hemisphere.

There are wise sayings about pulling weeds out by the root instead of just cutting their tops off… If you oppose violence, especially the type MS-13 can bring, consider opposing the violent elements that created the L.A. migrant community’s need for extreme security measures. See the whole picture, appreciate it for what it is, and judge not.

Real vs. Usurped Christianity

21 Friday Mar 2025

Posted by Bill Watkins in Christ, Christian, Christianity, Education, Poetic Blog

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Bible, Christianity, Faith, God, Jesus, John Locke, Joy, Love, Peace, Religion, Usurpation

-By Bill Watkins

***

As the true Tao cannot be spoken, real Christianity proves itself, needs no explanation. But in the face of the word’s prevalent misuse, I’ll venture out to define it, discuss it, and clarify as best I can. I consider myself an actual Christian, who tries to follow the word of God through Jesus in the four gospels most Bibles present.

There is nothing harmful in the gospels, but for many years people have usurped the name of “Christian” to do evil, commit violence, and as my indigenous friend and writer Steven Newcomb asserts, to dominate others. Domination, evil and violence are absolutely not found in Jesus’ message to his disciples and the world. Because of that very fact, I contend, Christianity has been a perfect target of usurpation: to steal the pure and good for evil purposes.

The middle age Crusades drew a Christian cross on their shields, killed people for land. No credible interpretation of Jesus’ teachings would claim the rebellious Nazarene Rabbi wanted this. Any gospel references to the “sword” seem metaphorical, as Jesus’ overriding singular teaching above all others was Love. Love your neighbor as yourself. Love your enemy. Repent, and the other twenty-plus Jesus commandments in the Book of Matthew have nothing to do with the Papal writings that greenlit the Crusades and later the many abuses of European “Discovery.” In his Romanus Pontifex of 1454, Pope Nicholas V called on Catholics:

…to invade, search out, capture, vanquish, and subdue all Saracens and pagans whatsoever, and other enemies of Christ…

Aha! Enter the Catholicism versus Christianity debate. What is a Catholic? What is a follower of the Church that descends from Rome, home of the Romans who killed Jesus? To me the Catholic Church mixes the Bible, Christian views, idolatry and Roman polytheism enough for me to consider it somewhat alcoholic, confused with occasional gospel teachings that save lives.

English enlightenment thinker Sir John Locke was undoubtedly aware of usurping Christ to commit evil acts, when he wrote a treatise on usurpation, including this tidbit:

It is vain for any man to usurp the name of Christian, without holiness of life, purity of manners, benignity and meekness of spirit.

The above quote the perfect response to a reader ready to hit me with the invalid “No real Scotsman” fallacy in this Real v. Actual Christian debate. The “No Real Scotsman” fallacy does not apply to Christianity because Scotsmen have no explicit written code to follow. True Christians do, and follow it over anything a human leader might say, be he a pope or king or whoever asking people to break Christ’s commands.

Or a president associating him or herself with “Christian Nationalism,” something that doesn’t actually exist. The two terms are at odds. Are oxymoronic. Man cannot serve two masters, saith the gospel: we must choose sometimes. In the case of being a Christian, a follower of Christ and his teachings, you cannot be one while at the same time worshipping a national flag, nation or government.

Go beyond words and declarations. See the truth underneath. Know whether someone is false or true “by their fruits,” recommended Jesus. Their words can say one thing, their actions another. So to say, “I’m a good Christian” as you judge, mistreat, kill and dominate others is to say, you are not an actual Christian. It is to say you are attempting to usurp the name of “Christian” to help you do evil.

And never forget our beliefs, which coincide with the teachings in which we believe. If an actual Christian, you will be certain that you cannot be a “good” Christian because “only God is good,” according to Christ. You wouldn’t put a cross on a shield and kill people, if a true Christian. You wouldn’t post “Christian” on your Twitter bio blurb, while you spew hatred against people who look and talk differently than you.

You would treat the word of God with respect, Jesus’ commandments as laws and never break them consciously. Writing “I’m a Christian” or “I’m doing this for God” is a lot easier than actually living Christian principles. “Do as they say, not as they do,” and “you will know [false prophets] by their fruits” were teachings to prepare us for the Fake Christian. The violent person posing as a follower of God.

The usurper. The thief. The wolf in sheep’s clothing. If you see, hear or spot one of those I’d recommend using Jesus’ words against them: “Get thee behind me, Satan.” Then carry on in the best way forward in your “holiness of life, purity of manners, benignity and meekness of spirit.” Do anonymous acts of kindness, pray in private, love your enemies, forgive to be forgiven and be such a Christian you’ll never have to say you are one.

RCT and Memory Loss

05 Wednesday Mar 2025

Posted by Bill Watkins in Health, Poetic Blog

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Alzheimer's, alzheimers-disease, Childhood Trauma, Dementia, Health, Memory Loss, Mental Health

-by Bill Watkins
Christian Scientist

***

Everyone’s pretty excited about “Alzheimer’s Disease,” something named in 1906 by its namesake doctor, but not mainstream until the 1980’s. Dr. Alois Alzheimer noticed irregularities in people’s brains, as neurologists continue to diagnose today, the National Institutes of Health estimating last year there were around seven million Americans over sixty-five plagued with its brand of dementia and memory loss.

Did you know that Repressed Childhood Trauma also causes memory loss? Google it. One might argue in order of events that Repressed Childhood Trauma, stemming from… the childhood… supersedes any diagnosis to the brain of a person in their advanced years. Could one say there is a more plausible root of memory loss in our childhoods (environment) than in some sort of God-given/birth given genetic curse?

Science is fallible, no matter what scientists (fallible human beings) say. The Covid disaster from certain perspectives was as much a disaster of Western medical reaction and inconsistency of offered remedy as it was a mighty tough virus. There is theoretical medicine and factual. There is the beautiful photograph my orthopedic surgeon gives me to point out my fracture (factual) next to his or her decision to operate as a “cure” (theoretical).

There is a gigantic element of salesmanship in Western medicine, as well, that cannot be overlooked when examining any scientific or “health” dilemma. A lot of money on the line! Staying with the orthopedics example: It’s a few hundred bucks in this country to diagnose a bone issue to a patient (factual), while surgery (theoretical) yields thousands from insurance companies and personal accounts of the uninsured.

“Health” is a word, in and of itself, that lacks official definition in government and legislating life. There is literally no working definition of the word in Government! Not in ours, at least… I’ve reached out to Nancy Pelosi’s office, one of Obama Care’s architects, asking what their definition of Health was. No response. Same with Bernie Sanders’ office, and same from the Democratic National Committee in Washington D.C. Nothing. I did a little Twitter survey of fifteen or so users, found that there were fifteen out of fifteen different definitions of health.

So this is a push back on Alzheimer’s. A push back on the “expertise” of Western doctors who stand to gain materially by big diagnoses and big payoffs. I am not saying there isn’t actual care for patients mixed into Western medicine, just pushing back. I hope in this also is a seed yielding the flower that is research yielding fact. Repressed Childhood Trauma causes memory loss. What is more reasonable, that we are born with genetic curses or that we are born equipped well to live through sickness and malady, and that environmental stuff happens in life to throw us off of a healthy trajectory?

What is more reasonable, that God or birth injected into us certain “bad” genes damning us to late life suffering, or… factors in childhood and life threw us into funks, in some cases so severely that we cut off those periods from our memory as too painful to revisit. To rethink or relive those moments was too difficult, so we obliterate them from our minds. It is such brains/minds, in my opinion, that Dr. Alzheimer, so many years ago, studied under a microscope to find had abnormalities in them.

Were those abnormalities from “bad” genes or bad living? Can childhood abandonment, rape, abuse, incest or being locked in a closet do enough damage to the brain when coupled with repression of memories to cause abnormalities that a doctor might deem “Alzheimer’s Disease” and gain a lucrative patient for a few years? I think it’s reasonable to think, yes. If so, let’s rethink our excitement for a trendy diagnosis that justifies putting parents away in homes, leaving them to drug treatments and nurses; leaving them to waste away instead of helping them suffer through their childhoods to find, then utter the truth of their pain.

Unlocking negative memories perhaps a key to restoring all of them. Sounds reasonable. Sounds more reasonable than “God cursed my parent with the Alzheimer’s gene. You know the one not mentioned in any spiritual book that’s more powerful than God?” Not reasonable to me. Not plausible, and from laziness and money to spend on professional instead of familial parent care. Let’s wake up to our trauma and break free! Let’s welcome the mental breakdowns sure to happen when we look back, putting the microscopes not on tissue as much as, “Break out the tissues, it’s time to cure our wounded emotions!”

Looking at any non-native family history, is it… unreasonable… to think that we immigrant descendants in this country, so far away from our original roots, might have a lot of trauma, sadness and homesickness to work out? There’s a choice, to me: work it out with drugs, doctors and nurses, or go back to God, even G.O.D. – Good Orderly Direction, as they speak of in Twelve Step rooms. Go back to the wilderness of our beginnings, be it in Scandinavia, Africa, Asia or Latvia, go back to what our folks did to us and theirs to theirs – find the real cure to our wandering minds and bodies.

Your “Depression” Could Be Alcoholism

05 Wednesday Mar 2025

Posted by Bill Watkins in Poetic Blog

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Tags

Depression, Health, Love, Mental Health, mental-illness

-by Bill Watkins
Formerly Suicidal
Los Angeles, CA

***

I was in a freefall. The order of events seemed to be: I had a spiritual awakening at the Betty Ford Center in February of 1995, dropped everything to become a dedicated member of the Al-Anon 12-step program for about four years, then… the roof caved in. I felt like I had entered a Black Hole. Not depressed at first, but more like empty, unsure, and listless. My joie de vivre was suddenly tres blasé, the spirit from my awakening at zero… I just thought I was dying.

Of what, though? The rounds with doctors began… Psychiatrists, psychologists, a neurologist and a cat scan. I had Clinical Depression, that’s it! Manic Depression even a better one because I would swing up emotionally with creative projects, then dip down at other parts of my day. With that handy diagnosis, prescribed medication became readily available to me, and doctors began to prescribe various drugs to me.

Their doses didn’t create the desired effect, so I conveniently took over their management, got high on Lithium hours before that experiment sent me to the hospital. I had overdosed for the first time, but was it? When I blacked out on alcohol as a kid, that was an overdose wasn’t it? We didn’t call it that, but it might have been. For a few years I wasn’t ready to link alcohol use with my depressive state.

How depressed was I? Suicidal eventually. For days, weeks, months on end – unsure if I wanted to live through days, unsure if I even could live through them. Sometimes I still thought I was just dying, moreso after the overdose on lithium, which left me gravely injured physically. Of all things, that psychotropic natural salt on the element chart, used by some as an industrial cleaner and certain physicians as a way to calm the mind of suicidal patients – it tweaked my brain enough to tweak my diaphragm.

I remained suicidal and now physically injured from an overdose for a period, then overdosed again, mostly on another psychotropic they gave me called Celexa. It was during that hospital stay when I looked up at my very tall psychiatrist doctor and noted, “Dr. W, there is no Pill for Will!” A true statement that jarred me back to my twelve steps. I started to slowly piece together my alcohol and substance use as a child, relate it to my current depression.

I started drinking alcohol on Dad’s lap at five years of age, his last sip of bourbon and water. He didn’t want to give me that “adult drink,” but I kept asking for a sip, knowing it was that liquid standing in the way of our intimacy. When I took that sip, I crossed several thresholds that would come back to haunt me. I had jumped into the alcohol drinker’s club young, kept that secret from Mom, so had learned how to lie – which for the religiously inclined like myself let in an evil force I call the devil, you can call it what you want.

That evil led me to a career of underage drinking, reconnecting with the substance with friends at twelve, blacking out on it for the first time at thirteen. I was a little thirteen year old, by the way, not a burly young man… still a squeaky-voiced boy, chugging flammable, toxic liquid around my sport playing, thinking that was normal. I didn’t know how to tell the girl I loved that I loved her, but I could play sports and drink alcohol.

A sad past, leading to a sadness doctors called a clinical depression, green lighting drug intake without checking my alcohol and substance abuse history. I suspect this happens when the doctors in question are out of touch with their own alcoholism. Lee Harris, the social worker who led me to my spiritual awakening at the Betty Ford Center on February 7th, 1995: was in a position to truly help me, coming from relevant training and… I suspect life experience.

Lee created a safe room of strangers at the facility’s “Family Program,” inspired us to tell our truths out loud to the group. Hence the awakening, as it will always be true that the Truth sets us free. I dream that this humble piece stirs the truth in readers, perhaps one veering toward depression and a merry-go-round of “know-it-all” doctors who don’t know it all.

First Kiss

15 Wednesday Jan 2025

Posted by Bill Watkins in Love, Romance

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Tags

Joy, Kiss, Love, Peace, Romance

The rainbow awaits the end of rain,
rain itself from drought and pain—
the Creator puts a woman to a man,
girls to boys, a first spouse to have;

We are driven to the moment like birth,
down the corridor of scorched earth.
People need people, love a natural thing
do not stop its tide from rising,

like static cling, but bigger, better, wetter
the first kiss! Don’t through fear or pride
it miss. Love without excuse, the innocent
peck of youth to find.

You need not look hard, it so often finds you;
this song, this sound, this rising power
of the crush. The breaking of the wave,
the longed for release, we take the risk

Abandon the fear of loss, this is where
and when we jump the cliff, a leap of faith
into what created us, we cannot stop
the hot, warm kiss. Who needed it more,

her or you? Take charge. Let go,
without a first kiss, there’d be no second,
no consummation, no fire, no thrill,
no Michael, no Robert, no Tina, no Bill.

Suicidal

14 Tuesday Jan 2025

Posted by Bill Watkins in Alcohol, Alcoholism, Recovery

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Tags

Alcoholism, Depression, Family, Joy, Life, Love, Mom, Peace, Recovery, Writing

If I wanted to take my own life
in my late twenties, it was because
I loved my father.

I loved him so much, I used to wait
by the front door every weekday
before six, when he entered.

I grabbed his leg, and we walked
to the den, where he prepared
a drink of bourbon.

He turned on the TV, and we took
a seat on the couch, started the night’s
play until bedtime.

The drink got in my way of the play
enough that I asked him to remove
the drink.

He would not remove the drink, like
a proper running back with the ball,
so I changed tacks.

I was five years old.

My mind worked in its quick, young
pace, and I changed tacks to ask Dad
to have a sip.

Dad said no a few times, “No, Billy,
this is an adult drink.” But one day
he broke down…

He gave me his last sip. Became a nightly
tradition. Mom was in the kitchen, talking
with friends.

She was talking about divorcing my dad.
I didn’t just learn how to drink a toxic
liquid, no.

I learned how to keep something from
Mom. I learned that my favorite person
liked the drink,

and now I was in his club, so that when
the drinks were passed around at
twelve, I was ready to fall.

I was blacking out on the substance
by thirteen. What was I not doing?
I did not love.

I did not know how to express love.
Dad loved my Mom, but could not
express it.

She fired him.  And with his departure,
my best friend was no longer there
on weekdays.

I was alone.  I had two skills to go
out and fight the world:  Sports playing,
and alcohol drinking.

Those “skills” were not enough to love
women or life.  And I was suicidal and
depressed by twenty-five.

Border Tension Ends with A.U.

09 Monday Sep 2024

Posted by Bill Watkins in Border, Immigration, Latin America, Love, Poetic Blog

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

America, American Union, Border, Immigration, Joy, Latin America, Love, Mexico, Peace, Racism, United states, Unity

In the United States, there is a large historical force that denigrates people who reside or come from south of our border.  We so often look down our noses, but enlightened thought tells us we do so to our own economic and cultural peril.  So many missed opportunities to connect!  So many lies we tell ourselves to make us feel superior, even though any religious or moral code worth a darn will tell you that all human beings under heaven are one hundred percent equal.  How can the United States overcome its prejudice to see that what this Hemisphere really needs is an American Union?

Anyone who crosses the U.S./Mexico border knows the tension; with the right papers in your car, you might get stuck in a two hour line without a restroom, then get searched if you have packed the wrong kind of banana.  The folks searching are heavily armed.  On both sides.  You feel that if you misstep here, at minimum you will have a costly delay to your trip, at maximum a scary detention.  What’s the difference between crossing this border and the one with Canada or crossing between European countries, where you simply show your passport and move on?  What, if not racial or ethnic prejudice?

Currently, there exists a First to Third World divide between the United States and Latin America akin to a Western Hemisphere Apartheid.  That division, that exclusion… is as responsible for border tensions and immigration demand as anything else.  Instead of whining about our southern border,  the United States government could choose to recognize its unique position to help our Latin American neighbors, extend a hand, and end the economic, racial and cultural divide that inhibits the region, eternally damning it to isolation, tariff and prejudice.

The biggest critics of Mexico and all things South of the Border are often self-proclaimed White Christians, the loudest ones residing in the United States Senate and House of Representatives—folks who don’t seem to know the countries they judge very well, nor their people, nor their own religion.  A real Christian loves their neighbor as themselves, never judges, and even loves their enemies.  A real Christian doesn’t name-call, or look down on people who look different, speak different, think different or pray different.

Could this region get together, form a union in the European style with our neighbors to the south and north, open up trade, exchange culture, ideas, technology and innovation?  Mexico and Third World Latin America could help folks in the United States with humility, religious dedication and keeping the sanctity of marriage, while we help them build better roads, centralize their utilities.  They could teach us how to value elders, keep families close and honor ancient traditions while we lift them to First World levels of trade, commerce and productivity.

We can trade farming tips, while we build roads and train routes across our borders.  Develop an American Currency like Europe’s Euro!  From the Patagonia of Argentina to the highest icy regions of Canada and Alaska, we could be a unified force of countries with unique difference, bonded by proximity and the enlightenment that would surely come with such a positive change.  Borders would be more token, less toxic, its patrollers freed up to keep the peace instead of wasting our time with searches veering dangerously close to fourth amendment violations in every lane.

The only reason suspicion of crime, tensions and migration demand at the border are as high as they are is because of the division itself.  We fear, keep out difference.  We criminalize immigration and travel into regions we judge as worse than ours.  If there is anything worse in other countries, like decentralized gas power and weak electricity grids down south, let’s blame ourselves instead of the immigrants from those countries fighting their way into our First World.  There is a fight because the United States government, like others, hoards land it did not create.

So many people here call ourselves religious or Christian, but instead of loving our neighbors into the First World, we doom them to a Third World lifestyle that pushes them to our doorstep illegally.  Open up, United States of America!  Share! Let’s form an American Union!  Be the Christians we claim to be, watch the benefits to unification roll in, not least among them the absence of border tension.

The New Year

17 Wednesday Jan 2024

Posted by Bill Watkins in Love, Poem, Poetic Blog, Poetry, Spiritual

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Gospel, Joy, Love, Mendelssohn, New Year, Peace, Poem, Poetry, Roman, Spiritual

New Year1

It’s nothing but a blip on a Roman
calendar, but the sun factually has
seen us circle it complete;

Boys become men, girls women
but not until they realize that to
go forward, back is neat!

Live a whole life toward that sun
we encircle, warming ourselves on
the thought of love…

Not late night and drunk escapades,
I’m speaking of first crushes, first
kisses and the first hug;

Mom was there or not, Dad a great
example or not, but we drive our
lives towards the path—

The one that never tires of that going
back, becoming not old but young
again with altered math!

We can rise only when we fall! We grow
tall only when we respect the small!
That youth inside…

It’s the only way we grow alive… “Be
as these little ones” to go to heaven,
folks, it’s peace of mind!

As that ball drops, another year, play
Mendelssohn’s Octet in E, climb the
mountain that repeats…

Visit Fingal’s Cave, watch the waves
crash, 1, 2, 3… Us around the sun… Never
give up, not here, not there, be of
childhood cheer!! Happy New Year…

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