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Bill Watkins, Traveling Poet

Category Archives: Love

A Power Greater than Covid

26 Friday Feb 2021

Posted by Bill Watkins in Covid, Health, Joy, Love, Peace, Poetic Blog

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Covid, Health, Joy, Love, Peace

Power1

Talk health. The dreary, never-changing tale
Of mortal maladies is worn and stale.
You cannot charm, or interest, or please
By harping on that minor chord, disease.
Say you are well, or all is well with you,
And God shall hear your words and make them true.
—Ella Wheeler Wilcox

What a nightmare to be a Christian Scientist during this time.  I call it a government panic, you might call it a global pandemic; someone talks about people dying, I cling to eternal life.  Faith is the cure to all disease and conceivable woe, in my opinion—but if faith in a higher power is an offensive concept like talking politics at the dinner table, let’s talk about faith in our bodies…

I believe in this amazing body I got at birth.  It’s fully equipped with extras!  An amazing immune system, a brain so I can think for myself what works for my particular path in life… My own personal path to health, to joy, to love—some even still talk of Heaven!  Call it peace of mind, eventually having Faith in more than just your physical body, doing good things and thinking of others before yourself.

Western medicine sells theories as “fact,” that the world and us weren’t created right, so we need to put a mask over it.  Hogwash.  I have never become truly sick while my life was in perfect balance… Exercising, open air living, a good diet, a mix of loving, playing, working—sleeping well.  Of course I haven’t.  Western medicine (doctors) will have you believe during their Virus Panic of 2020/2021 that we should be scared of each other!  We should stay away from each other… We shouldn’t trust the air, it’s bad… Our bodies and immune systems not good enough!

Hogwash.  Horse manure.  Untrue… I don’t buy it!  Western medicine has been selling their snake oil for hundreds of years, going up the skirt of the human bodies for all of life’s answers.  For them and believers in them, the physical is all, the body the key to long life, but I think they define “life” and in fact “health” differently than me.  I know what works for my health because I live with me.  How is a doctor or government going to know more about my health than me?

We have lived through a bad history of “conquest” (land theft), crime justified by a bible, and in that environment of forced civilization enters the often false science of Western medicine and its overpaid, over-trusted doctors.  What was their once-grand solution to fevers and bad physical health?  Blood-letting!  What’s still their number one activity in offices across the West?  Blood-drawing!  “Yes, little Billy, let’s see what’s wrong with you.  Once we find what’s wrong, we’ll prescribe you lots of healthy drugs!”

Drugs and blood-drawing.  Hogwash.  Overpaid doctors with diplomas granted by other doctors, a community of establishing fears and illnesses, then presenting themselves as the great cure… “Will this be cash or credit, Billy?”  Hogwash.  And dangerous… Fear is the most dangerous virus in the world today, the largest religion claiming to have a cure for it being Western medicine.

Allow me, please, to present another one—older, wiser and better:

Faith.  Faith in God.  Faith in a Higher Power, call it what you will.  Faith in Creation, in the sweet air of the country, away from the cities of doctors, hospitals and large bills… Faith in ourselves.  In this amazing body we were born with, in your own health when you make good decisions and live in a balanced fashion.  Leave the cities Rome pitched so violently across Europe, and that Columbus, the Spanish and English forced on Turtle Island, Aztlán, and other parts of formerly beautiful, peaceful land called “America” by egocentric, violent, ethnocentric Europeans.

Reject the Conquest.  Reject the armed theft.  Reject forced civilization, its noise and fake cures!  Keep blood inside your body, say no to Western medicine’s bloodletting and drugs, find your own definition for health and life—a more expansive one that is dreamt of in doctors’ philosophy.  Say no to the Kool-Aide, they’ve spiked it and have been for years!  Water beats beer, a walk in nature beats a doctor visit, and faith in God is the cure you’ve been hoping a mask over your face would bring.

To those addicted to Western medicine and civilization, my words might offend you, and what’s more you might snicker and wish me a related harm, saying: “Oh, just wait ‘til you get Covid virus, and you’ll feel differently.”  I did get Covid virus, I’m pretty sure.  A real pain in the rear end… actually my head!  There are lots of bummers out there to catch, but I will never say that Western medical doctors have all the answers, like gods in white coats.  Here’s my little account of catching a really bad bug back in March of 2020:

I picked up a weird virus… Something I had never felt before, a dramatic ache starting in the supermarket one day, then a strong three week fever.  No cold symptoms, just the fever and a horrible headache, which seemed an exaggeration of the one I had before picking up the virus.

I get sick when I’m off-balance in life; in this case I had been writing too much, eight days in a row without a break.  When I write a lot, I rest a lot.  If I rest too much, including the use of ice packs to my neck, I will develop a headache from too much pillow contact… That’s how I came into the supermarket that day, and I picked up an ugly bug.

I blame no one.  Not the little girl I met on the bus to town, whose mom said she had diarrhea and was heading to the doctor’s.  Not the people I greeted at the market, or anyone else on my bus… This was the beginning of the Covid-19 panic, and all the market employees were wearing masks, making me think I was searching for produce in a hospital emergency room.

There was fear of illness, my own headache and being off-balance, and there you go… I got the evil thing that was out there.  Was it Covid-19?  I’ll never know for sure, because I don’t go to doctors much or believe in Western medicine.  I’m sober eighteen years, live in the mountains, know what is healthy for me and do it (most of the time).  Doctors’ offices are overcrowded, over-air-conditioned and over-priced.  No thanks.  I fail to see the health there.

Drawing blood out of my body, where I always thought it would do the most good; giving me experimental drugs at a hint of depression; selling experimental science as if it were factual; compromising itself with politics, getting rich and those viper insurance companies hiking up already exorbitant prices!  No thanks.  I prefer the country, my faith in God, dabble in Christian Science—using the bible and prayer for a positive attitude and health.

But I did get sick!  I get sick about every other year… I admit, this one was wild, stayed with me for a couple months off and on, just that fever ickiness washing over me every once in a while… Sickness!  I got it because I was off-balanced and my immune system was down from its normal strength.  Did I get it because someone “infected me?”  Did I get it because I wasn’t wearing a mask?  Did I get it because I was not practicing the blatantly un-Christian concept of “social distancing?”  No.  No.  No.  I reject all those theories posing as facts for governments to use in their irresponsible, un-Christian, anti-spiritual, pro-Western medical, shady legislating.  Why shady?  The U.S. Government (or any other I know) has never defined the word “health…” That’s a big deal when laws try to address “health”-care!

I like good science.  X-rays are cool, for instance… Facts!  I’m saddened by the Covid-19 Panic of 2020/2021 for two reasons: 1. It’s bad spirituality on display and 2. it’s bad science as well.  Yelling out a virus’ name, being scared of it, obsessing about it creates a false god.  Religions which have cowered from the virus should be ashamed, re-read the Ten Commandments in the bible, and “Have no gods” before the One!  Yell out One name! Fear that!! Center thoughts on that, love and Faith, then we’ll say, “Where the heck did that silly virus go?”  It goes away, like every other flu that’s ever hit a flu season!!

That’s what my strange virus did over time, like any other sickness I’ve ever felt.  It went away… It was a hard struggle, horrible headaches, fever, aches, losing pizazz and my passion for my life, not being able to write more than a couple paragraphs in three weeks!  Bummers galore!  I even cursed out God, I have to admit, more than once!  Mostly because in the middle of my sickness the locals where I live in Mexico set off fireworks a stone’s throw from my house, the week of Saint Joseph, littering our peace with bombs.  Went right to my temple, throbbing, shooting to go with the chest pain and twitches I always get around those stupid things.

Then the mosquitoes came… Just when I’m getting some sleep to bash that virus out, the buzz at my ear, and I’d have to hunt down the buggers for an hour!  Calamity!  Injustice!  Why’d you make this horrible stuff, God!?!?  I was ticked.  And sick… Near suicidal, flashing thoughts of self-harm… But… little by little… I apologized to God, that saint’s week of dumb fireworks passed, the mosquitoes gave me a break.

In 12-Step groups, I used to hear the expression, “God never gives us more than we can handle.”  I think there’s something there.  I was brought to the brink, but I had enough faith, positive thinking through my Christian Science training, and patience to gut it out and win.

***

We are all different, and my way of achieving health might be different than yours… My definition of health is a peace of mind I get by doing what I feel is God’s will for me, one day at a time.  Very “AA” of me, but in my life, I find it all goes better when the spiritual leads the emotional and physical.  Spirit, spirit, spirit!  It’s powerful stuff, that and faith, and I’ll declare now proudly that if I had one type of healthcare to name it would be Christian Science, a religion founded by Mary Baker Eddy which applied the bible (especially its gospels) to our day to day health.  An elderly woman I drove around as a service back in the ’90’s related this religious view of health to me, and I like it.  It works for me and it has a great price tag: it’s free.

Let’s put that aside as one person’s view of health in a large country.  There are over 300 million people in usurped Native American land, hence over 300 million views, which I imagine range from totally unlike mine to slightly different.  We all have different beliefs on many topics, the U.S. Government through its First Amendment to the Constitution purporting to allow for that, explicitly in the area of religion and the press.  My version of health has a very strong, in fact dominant religious and spiritual component to it.  Am I the only one?  I sincerely doubt that, as the population of Christian Scientists alone would clearly testify, a number over a couple hundred thousand to be sure.

If health has a religious connection to more than just me, why is Government so adamant that it should be involved with it?  Let’s look at that famous Amendment:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press…

The U.S. Government needs a clear definition of terms before it can be a valid legislator on “health;” perhaps one that would cross a religious line, so render it the wrong institution to in fact legislate on the topic.

I visited Otsungna (“L.A.”) in April from my home in Mexico to note that its mayor was making citizens wear masks in any public place.  This is one of many instances over the years of Government taking sides with Western medicine, calling their “experts” health itself.  A silent arrangement, but an unproven link lingers, as I know I don’t see or feel health in an over-air-conditioned, over-priced doctor’s office.  I have the Christian Science, yes, but even the Native American Great Spirit—the natural, earth-based approach to health—fills me with peace of mind more than Western offices, concrete, asphalt, pills and surgeries.  It’s okay for someone reading that to be upset and claim a different point of view!  Perhaps you get great peace of mind from Western medicine, which is fine, so wear your mask without making me wear one please.

We should all be free to decide our own health path on Turtle Island or anywhere else.  This is a hard essay to write, as I don’t actually believe in the United States as a valid government, for it was founded on armed theft and violence against the native people here.  In fact, at no time has the United States Government received consent of the native peoples to govern here that was not forced at gunpoint—and by John Locke’s definition of true government, validating itself by the “consent of the governed…” we have a failure.  That being said, one has to live by even invalid constructs, and in the case of the U.S. there is a law that’s supposed to give us free speech, and it also claims so proudly to be a democracy.

But during a virus panic, the Government feels it has an excuse to squash free speech, mandate quarantines and masks—lending to the problem in logic I have with such a response.  If one is living a healthy life, making positive choices and walking a path with conviction and belief—why would that person change such a path because of an over-hyped virus?  The U.S. and other governments aligned with Western medicine ask and demand that we be afraid of people, keep distances.  This is against Christian practice, asks that I believe the lie that my brother or sister human being out on the road is more likely to curse me than bless me. I’ll never believe that, nor will I ever believe in a government that doesn’t allow me to believe what I want to believe.

“But what about all the death?”  With true faith in a power greater than ourselves and viruses, there is no death.  Build the spirit well and live forever!

Amen

Tesoro

21 Tuesday Jan 2020

Posted by Bill Watkins in Español, Love, Poemas, Poesia, Poetic Blog, Spanish

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Amor, Joy, Love, Peace, Poema, Poemas, Poesia, Poetry, Romance

Tesoro

Nuevo y probando, la
juventud está con todos,
grande y pequeño—

los mejores regalos
a veces en paquetes chicos,
pues reza y ora todo

antes que hacer…
Nunca tener prisa es
sabio y sano, mejor

andar sin ritmo,
preguntando y cuestionando
el camino sencillo,

porque muchos siguen
otros, y ellos no saben
para adonde van,

y otros saben que andan mal,
pero continúan de todos modos
porque el camino para cielo

es bien difícil. Y tú, tesoro,
en paquete grande o pequeño,
¿que vas a hacer?

Reza cada deseo, pide y ora
antes de tomar pasos,
y encuentra su propio ritmo—

allí brillas en la manera
apropiado, Tú el único Tú
que existe, pues enséñanos

algo nuevo!!!

Espanglish

01 Sunday Dec 2019

Posted by Bill Watkins in America, Bilingual, Love, Mexico, Poem, Poems, Poesia, Poetic Blog, Poetry, USA

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Amor, Bilingual, Borderless, Hermanos, Joy, Juntos, La Tierra, Love, Mentes Abiertas, Open Mind, Open Minds, Paz, Peace, Poem, Poema, Poemas, Poems, Poesia, Poetry, Sin Fronteras, Unidad, Unity, Verdad

Mexico+USA Flags1

by Óscar Rodríguez
y Bill Watkins
*****************

Esperaba el día en que mis
pupilas te sirvieran de espejo
A mirror to remind us all,
from Trump to the Taj Mahal
Que sirviera de brida a tus
recuerdos para cabalgar hasta
ese viaje que fue el origen de
nuestro inesperado encuentro—
Estoy un poco perdido—
Brida es el freno que se pone
en la boca a los caballos
Okay, I understand now, you
want to go back to our own
personal pasado.  To the time
I jumped on a Guadalajara bus
with you; I watched your students’
play and we met as brothers
Esa noche hablamos largamente,
de nuestras naciones y sus lazos,
sin lugar para los desencuentros,
tú ojos azules y yo ojos castaños,
tú cabello rubio y yo cabello negro,
pero nuestros pechos latiendo en
hermandad naciente dos corazones
igualmente rojos
I Googled that, it’s beautiful:
“That night we talked at length,
about our nations and their ties,
with no place for disagreements,
you blue eyes and I brown eyes,
your blond hair and I black hair,
but our breasts beating in
brotherhood rising two equally
red hearts”

That’s poetry, it’s truth.  It’s
beautiful truth, the brotherhood
of all human beings despite outside
differences from looks to language.
What are national borders next to
love, open minds and Spirit?

Yo, mexicano, con olor a tierra
mojada y papel picado de colores
haciendo mariposas sobre mis ideas,
bebiendo el misticismo de una
mezcla de culturas y orgulloso
de mis raíces mestizas.

Yo, sin casa, hijo de Europa,
ladrón de tierra indígena.
I’m sorry, in English—I’m a land
thief without a home, Celtic and
Viking mixed with Roman, tweaked
on violence, conquest and murder.
(My passport says I’m “American”)

Pero esa noche los dos fuimos
ante todo humanos, hijos de una
misma América, respirando un
mismo aire que no respeta las
fronteras, un aire que no paga pasaje,
que no requiere visa, y que en ese
momento de cercanía era un
vínculo invisible, un lazo cósmico
que nos hermanaba.

Verdad.
Lo irónico… the ironic thing being
that we were brought together in
that moment of fraternity and
raceless, borderless friendship
on a trip sponsored by my father,
yes my dad.  No Spanish, no great
care for Mexico or indigenous roots,
just a white man of business,
reaping the benefits of his
own hard work, yes—

But of his race.  We stole land
and had slaves work it, called
that a country.

You met a recovering racist, sexist,
alcoholic land thief in 1995

Yo no ignoraba entonces que mi
nación perdió medio país ante
el suyo por la estupidez de mis
antepasados y la codicia de sus
ancestros, pero en mi universo
no cabe culpar a nadie por los
errores o los pecados de otros,
así que le llamé como quise,
y quise llamarle hermano.

Hermanos!
Brothers whether we say it or not.
Hermanos!
Words fail at times, so do ancestors…
Hermanos!
De la misma semilla,
From the same seed
No matter how many
Buildings built or guns shot,
Walls conceived, fears stoked,
yelling “puto” at the soccer match,
all our sins from fear or ignorance
or both. Hermanos!
To smile or joke, eternal life
in times with friends or brothers
like you, turning “homesick in
Mexico” into an open door, Family,
covering “usos de mamá,” maldichos—
bien dicho?

Te amo, chico—

Hermanos!

Más allá de los muros antiguos
como el que cayó en Berlín, más
allá de los nuevos muros nacidos
del miedo y la ignorancia, más allá
de la segunda enmienda y de las
armas, ahí estamos nosotros que
sabemos quienes somos, que
sabemos que el amor tiene los
ojos y la piel de mil colores y de
ninguno, que sentimos como laten
fuertemente, dentro de nuestros
pechos, dos corazones igualmente
rojos.

Pues, hermanos somos
Brothers are we, forged by
Love and need,
Not the politics of fake scenery,
walls of plastic and stone, metals
that forget the common seed,
neglect the students’ mirror,
our childhood dream to love
and be loved—
Youth inside us all, even Donald
Trump, boys and girls at play on
this Earth, in this life, on this day
Together.

y ahora , ya maduros, con el cabello
rubio y el cabello negro llenándose
de canas igualmente blancas,
más allá de las barras y las estrellas,
de las águilas calvas y las águilas
reales, de las serpientes, de los muros
y las escaleras, más allá del
Thunderbird y de Quetzalcóatl, de
los wendigos y los nahuales, del Día
de Muertos y el Halloween, del
guacamole y las french fries, de
las historias verdaderas y las oficiales,
más allá de todo eso estamos nosotros,
mi amigo, mi hermano, y te amo.

Abrazos para mi,
Abrazos para ti,
En la tierra sin nombre
Que es amor…

y como decía San Juan de la Cruz:
“Donde no hay amor, pon amor,
y encontrarás amor”…

Even on a bus to nowhere,
With an open mind and heart to
love, the child’s path calls us to play.
Family is there, the will of God,
Octavio’s Paz, the peace in making
friends.

y si el tiempo y la distancia
no pudieron apagar la hoguera
que encendimos, si Cronos el impío
no pudo deshacer el nudo que
formamos con nuestros latidos,
Donald y su muro pasarán a la
historia como una curiosidad, como
una anécdota más en el libro de
las vergüenzas de la humanidad.

Donald?  Hah!  A nothing, really.
He is the tip of the racist iceberg,
infected, bedeviled.

Love is the answer, he and his kind,
of which I used to be a member,
need love, but sadly may never
accept it.

It’s the enlightened artist’s job
to share truth,
The enlightened person’s to pray
for others, help the sick. But
should they not want help,
we move on, heal ourselves,
win the fight over our own demons
to shine as a beacon to the
hopeless and homeless.

Los verdaderos artistas no
aceptamos las fronteras ni
compartimos la imbecilidad
de construir murallas, los verdaderos
humanos sabemos que la historia
va a poner a cada quien en su lugar.
Pobre don nadie, su cara va a
quedar junto a las de aquellos
tiranos que dice odiar.

Es fácil odiar a su enemigo…
Pero lo que ayuda mas este
universo es AMAR nuestro enemigo.
Perdonar… Por eso, invito Trump
a Boyle Heights para una horchata
y taco…

Así es!

Kiosko Vacío

22 Friday Nov 2019

Posted by Bill Watkins in Amor, Español, Love, Poem, Poems, Poesia, Poetic Blog, Poetry, Spanish

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Amor, Español, Joy, Love, Paz, Peace, Poem, Poema, Poems, Poesia, Poetry, Spanish Poem

Kiosko1

Un kiosko vacío es
amor no realizado;
una casa sin fuego,
extraño del humo!

Veo los músicos—
es amor, o pues cerca,
Bailando al ritmo.
“Pachanga” y rima.

Pero ahora no, el
Kiosko vacío, no llena
de gente ni fiesta—
amor no realizado.

¿Qué necesito cambiar
Si quiero una vida llena?
Si doy mi regalo sin
preocupar de resultado…

Si regalo mi corazón
sin marcando y expectante de
algo regresado… Si vivo
una vida honorable y

totalmente honesto
expresando mi amor
cuando me siento—
¿eso va a llenar el kiosko?

Estoy allí, rezando,
Mi oración no común
porque pido para poesía,
porque yo sé que ella

está mas para jugar
que saber, quiere ella
bailar antes de amar,
y si no juegas en adición

a siendo sincero, anda
vacío el kiosko de la vida,
pues con mente abierta
abro la puerta, a ver si que

“me conseguía una fresca,”
proyecto uno yo mismo,
es ser la persona que ama
y cuida, luego bromeo

y canto mi canción
como cenzontle esperando
mi pareja, sabiendo que
tal vez no viene.

Un kiosko vacío es
amor no realizado. Voy
a llenarlo en su tiempo,
mientras disfruto.

Missy

11 Monday Nov 2019

Posted by Bill Watkins in Dogs, Loss, Love, Poem, Poems, Poetic Blog, Poetry

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Dogs, Friendship, God, Joy, Loss, Love, Memorial, Nature, Peace

Missy

The soul calls us to love.
Missy and Charlie were nameless
dogs on the street when I found them,
and I picked them up, put them in
the car, took them home, bathed them
with my friend, cut their mattes out,
took them to the vet, assessed their
age, checked for microchips, named
them, spayed and neutered them.

I wanted to give them up after
all that because we already had two
dogs at home, but my friend, whose
house I lived in, said I could leave
anytime I wanted—

but the dogs were staying.
Mini-schnauzers, Missy and Charlie,
brother and sister, lovers, friends,
co-survivors of homelessness in
dirty “Los Angeles.”

How else can a land be that was
sacked by Spain, Mexico, then
the British USA?  We put roads,
concrete, asphalt and European
civilization over a paradise
natives called Otsungna, the
place of the roses.

Too stressful a place, in the end,
for Missy—who was high-strung anyway.
She lived to lick, run and play, had a
strong appetite until she got struck
with epilepsy.

I see her running in circles around
us walking, boundless energy
and love from God.

I used to tell her and her
brother, “The LORD made you,
you know that?”  I saw in their
eyes the light of God, Creation
itself, innocence and honesty.

We are all brothers and sisters
from the same seed.

Missy lives where she always lived:
in the heart of Spirit, love,
licking life up to two hundred times
a day!

Give all you got to life, and you
never need to mourn the loss
of a friend that did the same.

All Better

09 Saturday Nov 2019

Posted by Bill Watkins in Belief, Faith, Health, Inspiration, Inspirational, Joy, Love, Mental Health, Poem, Poems, Poetic Blog, Poetry, Positive Thinking, Positivism

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Tags

Belief, Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Faith, Health, Inspirational, Joy, Longfellow, Love, Mary Baker Eddy, Peace, Poem, Poetry, Positive Thinking, Positivism

Health1

In the Mary Baker Eddy spirit,
rising in lines hopefully,
as an Ella Wheeler Wilcox sonnet:

I have overcome all illness,
God is here, and for you too—
We are all better, no complaints!

If we pause and doubt, cringe
and dip low in thoughts
We indeed worship Pain not joy,

We hoist “Cancer” up, some ailment
we raise until it becomes king.
Abolish that horrid monarch now;

Force abdication by your positivity;
the way you think is by God known,
So build today then, strong and sure

With Longfellow’s firm and ample base,
ponder not because you cannot
see Higher Power that it fails,

Or that some form of loving God
does not exist!  It’s in us, our healthy
loving thoughts!  So be with me

Pure in thought today, skip
rooms and offices to drop our
hundreds on white coats and insurance

gambles and gambits.  Walk the trail…

Believe.

Emoji Kiss

24 Sunday Feb 2019

Posted by Bill Watkins in Forgiveness, Love, Poem, Poems, Poesia, Poetic Blog, Poetry

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

CIA, God, Joy, Love, Native, Peace, Poem, Poetry, Politics

Emoji Kiss

We are forgiven the moment
we ask for it;

but we cannot be relieved of
burden, until

we admit the problem.

We stole land in the fifteenth,
sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries because our weapons
were harder and bigger,

because we had a book we loved
and could justify stealing gold
and land with the idea that
bringing brown, naked, natural
people our book would surely
save their lives.

Hell is what you make of it,
heaven, too!

Sometimes there’s nothing left
to do in life on stolen land but
to do!

Kiss your enemy, invite them back
to the table.

Ask forgiveness, admit our faults
today!

Kiss your wife or friend when
the two of you have a bad day.

“Change your stars,” like William
did in that weird, anachronistic
movie with knights and Queen
music!

Slap the CIA an emoji kiss,
and forgive mass murder and lies;

no one I know tries to do wrong;
they at least try to find the right
book to their crimes justify.

The Tender Kiss

21 Thursday Feb 2019

Posted by Bill Watkins in Love, Poem, Poems, Poesia, Poetic Blog, Poetry

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Tags

Earth, God, Joy, Kiss, Love, Peace, Romantic

Kiss1

We peeshaw, as we age
sometimes, the best and most
tender side.

We develop defenses against
abuse, harden to survive.

The baby opens to a kiss,
a smile is from God.

Love and life renews, the earth
spinning around the sun jumps;

it all connects and makes sense,
Love the grease—

moments of bliss decorate the
stars that shadow the face,

Gods and Creator myths smooth
and become real, the water
bending, not breaking around
the rock as palms too weather
the storm.

Fearlessly we kiss; we love and
say thanks!

Then we meet the hard edge,
the stone itself, the back of a hand,
rejection and sarcasm tearing flesh
and ideas of what it all means.

We see a large mass of people
going one way as they age—

It seems “cool” not to love…

Life, what a mess.  Sometimes to
figure it out you gotta be Elliot
Ness, wear a cross on your chest
and love your enemy.

Heaven may be a peace of mind,
eternal lines to time growing,
a cosmic energy you put out
that was positive,

the Karma of that regenerative,
gods and myths blending into one
tender kiss on the mouth of faith.

You can love hate away with belief
and well-placed kisses;

You may be killed in that eternal
embrace, self-will dying in the
ashpit of truth as we take up the
cross that is loving in all conditions,
a default perfection.

Love is one thing.  Its detractor
sleeps next to it, needing your
words to separate it and keep it
at bay as we grow up tempted to
act as old as we are.

Good teachings challenge us to
discard the untruth of age, stay
young, forget our pain and hurts—

land that kiss on Daddy’s mouth
to honor God and forgive his and all
our sins.

The Lock

07 Thursday Feb 2019

Posted by Bill Watkins in Love, Poem, Poems, Poesia, Poetic Blog, Poetry

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Tags

God, Joy, Love, Peace, Romance

Stare2

The earth in her eyes, time
stopping a moment and you see
nothing but the opaque hues,
the amber ruse, the wondering
brow—soul to soul,

and she’s off, a deer in light

an enchanted moment never
explored again, but remembered
forever.

Careless Un-Whispered

25 Thursday Oct 2018

Posted by Bill Watkins in Love, Poem, Poems, Poesia, Poetic Blog, Poetry

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Tags

Joy, Love, Peace

She had a failure like me, dripping
unseen—her humanity in the odor
that comes upon us as men and
women, not at eighteen like a
discriminating Constitution and
laws pose.

But at puberty.

For her at thirteen; for me it was
years away, but I still liked her.

I asked her to dance, after I cleared
it with friends (as you do in middle
school).  I was short and cute, she
was normal height, huge to me,
pretty and hair that flared up like
‘80’s hair was supposed to do!

Every man chose a partner; I chose
her, though short of being a man, me
in 7th, her in 8th—me at X School, her
at Y School, visiting for the night
in a dance that would last forever.

Sounds corny?  Out of a George
Michael Wham song?  Ok.  But true,
because I will never forget Melanie
and cry tears of sadness, melancholy
and regret mixed with nostalgia—

hoping to see the light of good memories
to pass onto our children.  Not “ours,”
but hers with a loving husband, my
path poetic and unknown—God whispering
lines in my ear since 1995, Spanish
and English lullabies.

What smashes ties?  Or is it better to
cry.  Just let the tears gush; I’m so
sorry I was alcoholic and am.  I’m so
sorry I couldn’t express love like
I’d have liked. I’m sorry to Anne before
Melanie, JJ between—the lies of loving
but failing to report the love some of
the worst sins known to mankind.

Women of Melanie’s kind deserve better.
Truth and better weather; God loving
us on a lonely dance floor filled with
confused un-guided people.  Some say
“kids,” but we had seen it all by then;

the love sweep, the love deep, dreams
crashing on alcoholic shores of
“what’s the cool thing to do,” fighting
the careless un-whispered purity
I failed to be.  Anne knows, JJ and now
Melanie.

We are all fools in love.

The heaven-bound say so, and love
the ones they love by telling them.

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