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Bill Watkins, Traveling Poet

Category Archives: Politics

It’s Not the Virus That Kills

31 Friday Jul 2020

Posted by Bill Watkins in Alcohol, Alcoholics Anonymous, Alcoholism, God, Government, Health, Poetic Blog, Political, Politics, Spirituality

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Addiction, Alcohol, Alcoholics Anonymous, Alcoholism, Covid, Covid-19, Cure, Doctors, Eternal Life, FDR, God, Health, Joy, Love, Mexico, Panic, Peace, Political, Politics, San Miguel, San Miguel de Allende, Spanish, Spirituality, Stephen King, Truth, Volaris, Western Medicine

Virus1

-by Bill Watkins 7/31/2020

Death stats are reported by folks who believe deeply in death.  Physical death.  That’s it, we’re done, the physical is all…  But isn’t there another way to live and see life, death and health?  The spiritual way, one under-represented right now in governments world-wide?

Yesterday I was denied access to a flight from Mexico City to Otsungna (“Los Angeles” to the land thieves) because I refused to wear a mask.  I can’t breathe through them due to a diaphragm injury I suffered in 1999, overdosing on Western medicine’s favorite cure: drugs.  I had checked with the airline, Volaris, in May, then again two days ago before the scheduled flight, and their customer service tweeted me that one could be exempt from their mask regulations, if under two years old or suffering from breathing issues.

It’s got me thinking a little more about the Western Medicine Panic of 2020, and that instead of lying around on the beaches of Otsungna for six days, I’m going to turn up the heat on my anti-panic campaign from right here at home.  This article’s part of it, then I’m planning a video documentary of people’s opinions of the panic and health itself.  I’ll write and produce a rap song in Spanish, I hope, and I’m also considering buying ad-space on a billboard here in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico.

The billboard will read in Spanish, “God is the cure” (Dios es la cura), promoting a different idea than the one co-opted governments are spewing, claiming “health” without defining the term.  I repeat, they talk about “health,” even make laws around it, spend public money on it…. without defining what exactly health is.  That’s because health is extremely personal, like religious beliefs, and everybody I know has a different definition of it.

Back when I still believed in the invalid United States of America, I wrote an article entitled “What is Health?” which included Twitter poll results from users, who shared their definitions:

1. Bill Watkins:  “Health is a Peace of Mind, Knowing I did the best I could to be the best person I was capable of becoming in all my affairs.”

2. “Duck,” Anti-Circumcision Activist:  “Health is discovering yourself and feeding your truth.”

3. Online T-shirt Salesman:  “Health means your state of being and ability to function naturally.”

4. Aaron V. from Lake Tahoe:  “Health is natural whole foods, clean water, clean air, a nature soundscape with wildlife, good social relationships, the freedom to explore and then see self-improvement or progress, and having a shelter or sanctuary where one can retreat to and be certain to have all of those things despite what else is going on in the world.”

5 Sonya on Twitter:  “I believe saying ‘I am healthy’ is relative to your own circumstances. For me, I feel health is a state of physical wellness as well as mental wellness. I believe it’s hard to say I am healthy if either one is compromised to a degree where we are not enjoying living our lives. If we are feeling the best we can for our age and capacity – in that everything is functioning as well as can be expected – and we are getting through each and every day with quality of life in tact, even if it has to be aided by medication, then to me that is healthy. If body and mind are still functioning well enough for me to enjoy life, then I am healthy.”

6. College Newspaper Staff:  “I’d say health is a state of being. I think it’s a perceived value of physical, emotional, and mental stability and regularity for each individual person. The achievement of ‘healthy’ will differ from person to person based on lifestyle, availability of nourishment and space, and personality.”

7. Dan R., Twitter:  “Being good in mind body and soul.”

8. Yvonne on Twitter:  “Health is a balance of spiritual, mental and physical well-being”

9. Anastacia on Twitter:  “Health to me means that I’m happy, I am not sick, I can laugh with out being in pain.”

10. Poetry Group on Twitter:  “Health is the harmony of our body.”

11. Carlos M. on Twitter:  “Wellness is a holistic approach to life that includes diet and exercise first with traditional medical care second. ”

12. Ariel B. on Twitter:  “Health is Peace of Mind.”

13. Marion W. on Twitter:  “Time set aside in solitude and/or quietness to grow, reflect, write and decompress.”

And… how about Google?

14. Google:  “Health is the state of being free from illness or injury.”

***

A lot of different perspectives, so why do governments think they can represent us all on this issue?  They stay away from mixing the state with religion, but aren’t they coming across many of our personal, even religious beliefs by putting their hands into such a controversial bowl of heaven keys?

“Peace of mind” is a short version of my definition for health, as it was for one of my Twitter poll participants—something that has little to do with Western medicine’s extracting blood, focusing on the physical, administering drugs.  Core to the Western medical business is core to religion: giving folks peace of mind, that they will heal from hardship.  Religion goes on to speak of heaven, doctors stop at peace…  Maybe those two words and concepts are in some ways interchangeable.

But in neither heaven nor earth will it ever be right to decide someone else’s health path, if that someone is an adult of sound mind.  Who should decide mental soundness?  I’d say, based on my Twitter poll and personal conviction, more people should be involved in health decisions, from different fields of study, and different beliefs.  There is more to heaven, earth, and health than is cooked up in Western medicine’s cake, and it’s time governments recognize that, call out doctors for the fallible people they are.  They have fancy degrees, I concede the hard work that goes into them, but who can say something divine or perfect grants them?

To me health is a peace of mind, knowing I did my best to be the best person I’m capable of becoming—a spiritual concept, borrowed shamelessly from the late, great John Wooden.  “Death” to this humble citizen of Mexico, the invalid United States and someday England: doesn’t exist, if with faith in God you lived a good life.  “No good thing ever dies,” mused Stephen King once upon a time, and I agree.  So why all the talk of “Covid deaths?”  Did those souls not live?  Why not talk about their life?  Where is the gratitude for the air we breathe, for the lives we get to live, for our amazing immune systems?  If this was our last day to live on earth, what would you do with it?  Panic?  Complain about death?  Whine about a virus?

Not me.  The above set of questions reminds me of my old life, one in which I was spiritually dead, playing sports and drinking alcohol instead of loving my parents, life, a woman, and being an honest, honorable person.  There are worse things than physical death…  Among them, a life in fear, and as such out of love—if you adhere to St. Paul’s ideal.  So love life!  Live today!!  Say thanks to what you say thanks to, because tomorrow is a big question mark, salvation for me in peace of mind, something I’ll never get wearing a mask or fearing my fellow man for any reason whatsoever.

Fear is the killer, folks, FDR echoed here…  Fear is the virus.  Inoculate yourself against it by living great days in faith, in love and free of alcohol or drugs…  Thanks for your attention, an open mind following truth as a key to serenity, willingness putting us on the road, proper relations with our fellows and the earth a guarantee for eternal life.  Never death

My Pledge of Allegiance

24 Friday Jan 2020

Posted by Bill Watkins in America, Poetic Blog, Politics, USA

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Joy, Love, Nationalism, One Love, Peace, Racism, Togetherness, Truth, USA

Peace American Flag

I pledge allegiance to World Peace,
And to being peaceful, Loving
and True to God as I understand God,
while tolerating others and their
beliefs, gods and names for them.

I reject nationalism, racism and borders,
accept boundaries as sound and safe,
but not as weapons to degrade, dehumanize
and exclude my fellow human beings
seeking a good and free day, as we all are.

I declare gratitude to God, my higher power,
the Native Great Spirit, the bible, the
Tao Te Ching, all human effort to be godly
and better than we are… We are powerless
over events, results, the future!  Admitting…

Is the start of a happy life, Truth the key;
without it we have nothing, no peace of mind,
nothing to give, sort of like trying to go out
one day without sleep the night before,
thinking you could possibly enjoy…

San Miguel del Mundo!  Not on maps only,
but in my heart, one that prays for a less racist,
honest and peaceful America that admits
the truth that people are not in charge,
Democracies are a myth, and Love is all.

***

(Excerpt from my new poetry book, San Miguel del Mundo: https://www.amazon.com/dp/165567577X)

Alcohol Ads Should Be Banned

02 Wednesday Oct 2019

Posted by Bill Watkins in Alcohol, Alcoholism, Poetic Blog, Politics

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Alcohol, Alcoholism, Joy, Love, Peace

Alcohol1

by Bill Watkins, 10/2/2019

Richard Nixon banned Cigarette ads in 1970.  He was aware through common sense and a 1964 Surgeon General study that cigarette use killed a lot of people, and he signed their advertising out of American existence…

Not so with alcohol, C2H5OH, the colorless, volatile, flammable, toxic liquid resulting from fermentation some like to buy and drink.  As with cigarettes, alcohol is a mass killer of human beings, a mass destroyer of public property and very hard to control.  And yet our televisions pitch it to us daily, ramping up during sporting events—whether in prime time or at six in the morning during British football broadcasts on NBC.

The scariest numbers in this are 88,000 and 28.4%.  That first number is how many people in this country die every year of alcohol-related causes, third most of all preventable causes of death, according to the National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism (NIAAA).  Alcohol only behind cigarettes and poor diet/exercise habits, according to the Institute.

28.4% is the percentage of under-21 viewership of alcohol ads allowed by law, according to the FTC.  As there are about 100 million Americans under twenty one, by current FTC guidelines and alcohol’s self-regulation, it’s acceptable to advertise the buying and drinking of a dangerous liquid to about twenty-eight million young people under twenty-one years of age.

The FTC has no record of how many alcoholics the alcohol industry pitches in advertising every year.  NIAAA claims fifteen million Americans over-18 suffer from alcoholism, over six percent of that age group’s population.  Is it fair that someone struggling with alcoholism, or a sober alcoholic, can tune into their favorite sporting event on TV, only to be hammered with ads that pitch him or her to engage in an activity that could or almost killed them?

Like guns, alcohol is a mainstay in this “great democracy” set up on usurped Native American land.  Europeans brought alcohol, guns, disease, and a bible—used them to control this land.  At what point will we decide to stop, analyze what is truly good, maybe listen and follow what that book taught on God, not killing and heaven?  If Nixon can hit back on a killing substance in 1970, take away some of its power, why not Trump with alcohol?  Just kidding.  But maybe a lawmaker like Amy Klobuchar, who has seen the harm of alcohol up close?

Maybe we can all find our inner common sense, reverse rudders on this crude, usurped land management, ask Native America back, kick out killers like guns and alcohol.  At the least, we can kick out the ads—a precedented step not easy against a Washington alcohol machine, but a needed one to protect America’s greatest resource: our children.

Let’s Stop the War

01 Sunday Sep 2019

Posted by Bill Watkins in History, Poetic Blog, Politics, USA

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Tags

Joy, Love, Native, Peace, USA

Native Map of America

by Bill Watkins, Land Thief, 9/1/2019

We’ve been waging war on this land ever since Columbus first “discovered and conquered” the West Indies for Catholic Spain.  First the Spanish, then the English in a land called Wingandacoa—which they changed to “Virginia” after Elizabeth I, the virgin queen, who King James loosely quotes in his first Virginia Charter of 1606:

…our licence to make habitacion, plantacion and to deduce a colonie of sondrie of our people into that parte of America commonly called Virginia, and other parts and territories in America either appartaining unto us or which are not nowe actuallie possessed by anie Christian prince or people…

“If they’re not Christian—take it,” was the attitude.  By force.  Build a fort, plantations, seek gold, bring most back to the Crown, take some for yourself, call yourself an admiral and own the land you find.  Never mind the native people and their way of life; that there was more to heaven and earth than was dreamt of in European philosophy!  Some could dismiss this all as history, if we lived in the United States of Native American Nations.  But we do not.

We live on stolen land, most of us, while its original caretakers have been pushed nearly off the map into tiny reservations.  The native people loved the land, used it wisely, moderately and with great care.  They were grateful for it, the seasons, lived in and amongst nature in a cycle of life that didn’t need books or written law codes to direct. Their art was composed by the Great Spirit; the waterfalls, valleys and rivers along with wildlife provided their entertainment and joy.

There’s the Gold, Britain!  There, the precious resource, the eternal commodities of Gratitude, Wisdom and love for the Land!

But no.  We have our bibles, our guns—they, these savages, must leave while we erect Europe Part II in this glorious land.  We’ll run our concrete and asphalt over it, build our buildings, drive our vehicles—burn the earth the natives cherished in order to go faster, higher and farther…  If there was a flame, we’d be a moth bound for it, and so there was and that flame was war.  And we are still waging that war in the city of Los Angeles, formerly Otsungna—the native place of roses.  From military to paramilitary police, we equate might with right still, pat ourselves on the back as we kill silence with our helicopters and sirens,

then we train to kill and kill our fellow human beings, if the mood strikes us, call it self-defense, say the Constitution allows us to have guns and shoot people.  Good guys and bad guys, calling ourselves Christian, while Jesus’ words echo unheard: “Only God is good,” he said, but what is he next to our own will to steal and destroy land the native people used to love and revere?  The USA is a sad ruse of stealing land, breaking from England, and playing house.

The native Great Spirit is still king here.  Get ready, if you’ve never felt it, for its proud light is soon returning, as this land thief soon removes himself.  And some day I plan to bring “gold” back to my queen or king, teach them the native ways of loving our land.

Land Theft Invalidates USA

30 Friday Aug 2019

Posted by Bill Watkins in History, Native, Native American, Poetic Blog, Politics, USA

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

America, History, Love, Native, Native America, Peace, Politics, Truth, USA

Native People Mapping1

by Bill Watkins 9/5//2019

Men will not think that robbers and pirates have a right of empire over whomsoever they have force enough to master, or that men are bound by promises which unlawful force extorts from them.  —John Locke

Land theft is no basis for a valid government.  Someone could appeal to violence and war, rationalize the European conquest of the Americas, but underneath the movement and close to the soil of this land is the truth that crimes against humanity established the thirteen colonies, who rebelled against England to assert themselves as the United States of America, while America’s original inhabitants were to be killed off, subdued, moved and forgotten.  A criminal for-profit enterprise, leaving us with usurped land, its native inhabitants pushed into small reservations—a miniscule percentage of their natural inheritance—people who never gave consent to be governed by Europeans, and never should.

When Queen Elizabeth chartered Sir Walter Raleigh’s exploration of the American eastern coast in 1584, she granted him license “to discover, search, finde out, and view such remote, heathen and barbarous lands, countries and territories, not actually possessed of any Christian Prince.”  The first “Virginia Charter” backed up that thought, as King James urged English adventurers to “bring the infidels and salvages living in those parts to humane civilitie and to a setled and quiet govermente.”  Professed Christianity would help the English usurp the land called Wingandacoa by the natives, James ordering his sailors to propagate the “Christian religion to suche people as yet live in darkeness and miserable ignorance of the true knoweledge and worshippe of God.”

Having studied native American culture diligently for a few years, sober for seventeen years, sensitive and aware, hungry for truth, it is clearer to me every day that it was the alcohol-consuming, cursing, armor and gun-loving Europeans—not the natives—who lived in darkness and miserable ignorance of the truth that the Earth was to be honored, respected and preserved. That guns, explosions, killing and noise were not strength but weakness.  And strength?  Witness a piece of it in the eloquence of a great native chief:

From Wakan Tanka, the Great Spirit, there came a great unifying life force that flowed in and through all things—the flowers of the plains, blowing winds, rocks, trees, birds, animals—and was the same force that had been breathed into the first man.  Thus all things were kindred, and were brought together by the same Great Mystery.  

Chief Luther Standing Bear1

Chief Luther Standing Bear, Oglala Lakota Sioux

Like the English, the Spanish were guilty of land theft, starting with Columbus’ 1492 raid, leading to a threatening letter from King Ferdinand to the Taino-Arawak people of the West Indies.  In the letter, King Ferdinand informs the native people that the Pope is the ruler of the world, the bible’s God is the ruler of the universe, and that Spain shall be the ruler of all non-Christian lands they discover.  Should any of the native tribes resist, the Spanish would declare “war upon you from all sides and with all possible means, and we shall bind you to the yoke of the Church and of Their Highnesses.”  Further that “we shall enslave your persons, wives and sons, sell you or dispose of you as the King sees fit; we shall seize your possessions and harm you as much as we can as disobedient and resisting vassals.”

And so these supposed Christian people stole land, people who touted a bible that forbade stealing.  We erected laws and a Constitution that also forbade stealing, even though the privilege to write laws and hold land here was obtained through armed theft. Usurpation and theft can never be a valid basis for government, something John Locke proposed and I hereby second today.

…the aggressor, who puts himself into the state of war with another, and unjustly invades another man’s right, can, by such an unjust war, never come to have a right over the conquered…

Yes, Sir John, you speak the truth.  So should all of us, so should all of us!

The Death of Bush: Another JFK Murderer Silenced?

03 Monday Dec 2018

Posted by Bill Watkins in JFK, Kennedy, Poetic Blog, Politics

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

History, JFK, Love, Truth

Cloudy Bush2

—by Bill Watkins, 12-3-2018

***

I do not feel much for the loss of George Herbert Walker Bush, as many do on my favorite cable news channel, MSNBC.  What I do feel is regret that I did not work harder to get an interview with my uncle’s old boss.

Yes, I’m the nephew of a Bush Sr. cabinet appointee, Admiral James D. Watkins (1927-2012), called to run the Energy Department after heading up Ronald Reagan’s AIDS Commission in 1986.  Before that, my uncle served in the Navy, retiring as Chief of Naval Operations (CNO) not long before accepting the Reagan post.

Years and years earlier, a lot of mystery clouds George H.W. Bush.  Between gigs as a Yale undergrad, notorious Skull and Bones member, “Texas Oil Man” and a place in the House of U.S. Representatives—was he an active CIA operative, critical to the botched Bay of Pigs operation of 1961?  Was he in Dallas on November 22, 1963, and did he, like E. Howard Hunt, have a role in killing John F. Kennedy?

Watch John Hankey’s clever, upbeat horror doc to wake up from any nap, then join me in suspecting George H.W. Bush of covert activity and cover-stories while in the CIA throughout the 1960’s prior to being elected to Congress.  It’s called The Dark Legacy and is available wherever you stream your videos, or from his website: http://www.thedarklegacy.com/.

When I watch the burial services of George H.W. Bush, I feel no sadness.  Only regret that I did not push through with my connections to get a good interview with the man.  Maybe I could have appealed to his highly reported sense of “honor” and cough up some truth!  I believe another of JFK’s murderers has finally passed away this week, and you will too if you research around a bit.  Start with Oliver Stone’s JFK for overview, get into Jim Garrison’s book, On the Trail of the Assassins, then read everything attorney Mark Lane ever wrote on the subject of the Kennedy killing.

Killing Kennedy is not our only national sin, definitely not the first!  We killed off and lied to Native America, stole land, and worked that land with slaves we never paid nor made true amends to, I’m sorry to say.

If we are ever to be a decent country, we must tell the Truth.  The truth of this week for me is that I look forward to moving past another JFK farce, get back to Mueller squaring up Donald Trump for obvious crimes committed, including Obstructing Justice by firing James Comey at the five o’clock hour on May 9th, 2017.

Illusion of Power

21 Tuesday Aug 2018

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

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Tags

God, Joy, Love, Peace, Politics

We sell our souls the moment
we pledge allegiance deeply to
anything not God, not good, not
the Creator, not Nature, not the
One.

You know the One.  The peace you
feel when you appeal to the highest
high.

It’s hard.  You have to ignore or
overcome your past, stuck in a
bottle or two—pushed out or down,

it’s tempting to get revenge, climb
some big ladder, and from apparent
heights spit down and cause problems
to your apparent enemies.

Keep it simple, they say, and maybe
they are right.

The more we hide, the more our sins
expose, the secrets we keep barring us
from finding what we truly seek;

Peace of mind.

Abandoning hate from anger from fear,
we wake up to a new day, listen to
higher power, wear less suits, tie
yourself not to things, material everywhere
except heaven—

which still exists!  Yes, we make or break
the goals we score, the mystical place
gained beyond the Great Mystery,

Native America pushed aside but truth
seeping up through evil’s cracks,
they are back in the grin of Columbus
the shiny coin of Lincoln, Seattle,
Standing Bear and the beginning.

Nothing ends that cannot, Newton
squaring all of us in three parts, one
of which asserting the conservation
of things, the equality of reality, dreams
and poking holes in power which is
only God’s no matter how it seems.

“Good Orderly Direction.”  Beware the
false gods and flags, borders and divisions.

Beware big words, capitalizing this
or that thing, there really is a jealous
Being moving stuff toward Faith.

Death removed, life toward one goal
with the Guide.  Good luck on it,
admit your faults, come out to see
the rainbow—

Imagine if after the rain, the sun
decided to fly!  It’s always here, while
today’s obsession comes and goes.

We cannot improve or change the world;
enjoy it, bloom where planted, and
consider deference to real power,
instead of the kings you crown on TV,

only that which we can touch and see.

There is more, believe me—or just wait
for the next event to humble us from shame,
putting higher power first is…

Serenity.

My President and King

01 Wednesday Aug 2018

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Bible, God, Love, Peace, Religion, Samuel, Truth

The blind leading the blind
down blind alleys and suffering;
what can a human king do for
a human being?

Samuel was a fool to ask for one,
you were fooled to vote for one;

Real power in the sky, stream and
stars that are beyond our arms,
the dance of wind and change on
your face, the leaves and branches
shadows all over the place yielding

what a man cannot:

Peace.

***

Samuel trudge back!

Go back up that hill or hut,
sound the alarm or bugle or
whatever trumpet says “Hey!”
We’ve gone amuck!

Give back the reins, let God take
it over from here.

God is my king and my president,
Smile.

And never fear!!!!!!!

Lifting the Shroud

14 Thursday Jun 2018

Posted by Bill Watkins in Awareness, Enlightenment, Native, Poem, Poems, Poetic Blog, Poetry, Politics

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Tags

Amends, Enlightenment, God, Love, Native, Native American, Peace, Recovery, Truth

We grow up unaware—

Especially those of one silver
spoon-fed table or another, it’s
not about the money or ease only,
but about the hidden pool of
vomit under the Christmas tree.

Alcohol is a good hider.  Wealth,
too, anything like “false gods” and
false hopes that lock us in or
addict us to something untrue.

We curse a lot, those especially
from the east who came west
to steal native land.

They did not curse, the natives,
the first peoples living simply
with God on the ground, Nature
their supplier, one day at a time,
a task or two to do.

Nothing ever changes, but if you
try hard enough, you can leave
the human race.

It starts slow, by setting sail from
a homeland without first checking
motives with a decision-helper like
prayer, meditation or even the
advise of respected elders or
medicine men without the dangerous
medication.

Peace was there, but adventure lacked
and the disease of more, of wanting
to be famous and rich—

pervaded until in armor we showed
up to take a land by force.

Cursing we brought with us, disease.

Ingratitude for the land—nothing was
good enough until we could bring
gold out of it for money, it seemed.

***

None of these thoughts occurred to
us, who went to private schools,
played in private sports clubs,
sought junior championships in
sports, and cursed our way to
apparent blessings like college
(false god) and other ways to live
apart from God, nature, and the
healing ground.

***

We laid cement down, crushed
the glorious rocks to pebbles to
pave our walk.

We burned Earth, traveled fast
past most of our senses’ need
to express or feel, so that unaided
by alcohol or drugs we could enjoy
life on its terms—

just as it is.

We were clueless.

Holding trophies and prizes up
against our ancestors’ lies, the
lies told to native people, slaves
we kept to build our lives.

And we kept going, because to
go back now seemed like an
impossible work, unless…

Unless you found Alcoholics Anonymous
or some other program that okayed
and even encouraged a look back
to make amends for wrongs done.

We look back enough, see and admit the
faults, that glorious destination
called Peace of Mind awaits a quick
jaunt back to fix, apologize, maybe
even return to the homeland to
stop cursing, start blessing
ourselves and this one life given
to make a crooked childhood straight,

the path to Heaven’s gate.

When it Rains

08 Friday Jun 2018

Posted by Bill Watkins in Blog, Blogs, God, Law, Love, Nature, Poem, Poems, Poetic Blog, Poetry, Political, Politics

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Crime, God, Joy, Law, Love, Mueller, Nature, Peace, Political, Seasons, Trump, Wild

It matters not the darkness
before dawn, the two at one
needing each other to be
a proper show.

It’s dry and hot, which could
never excite a soul until
the storm clouds roll in
to change forever the state

if forever is a moment, nothing
is—and truth alluding poets
but seeking always we put our
cup out to the sun, wait.

There it is, the first drop
dropping calmly, lightly with a
ting, then another, more here
and there and the humming bird

buzzes by like firefighters not
away from the event but toward
it, they fire, they rain, the bird
wants a bath so sits with the drops

closes its eyes in ecstasy, shudders,
shakes its feathers to complete
the bath before finding a branch under
cover to avoid a drenching.

Boom the thunder hits from a
far-off bolt, but this was not an
electric storm—more of a cleansing
wave, like the law man who finds

the perp burping in the sunshine,
smoking cigars, private jets, pinching
stewardess butts with a smile you’d
think only wine or money makes.

God, the view is good from up here
is a final thought as the plane goes
down, 10-20 years for money laundering
or some other hidden gem.

Wishing no harm on anyone,
unless the point of view of banks is
seen; then if you go there, you
know the people hurt when they

are robbed.  Dishonest is its own
crime, look at the board of ten
brought from God through Moses
upon the Jews, they’re good.

Cleansing is the rain; the storm
picking up, hitting the soil with what
it needs, the apple sprouting the bud
of weeds cramping gardener’s style,

so he gets online to buy more mulch,
poof, on its way, roses budding a creamy
winter of snow on the way against
this rare summer break!

Indictments are sure to come, just
as the mulch arrives, the weeds
relentless until we act, restore a level
of security and sanity to the hill.

Mueller uses not gas-powered crap
but hand to hand combat; God
is proud of earnest, humble work,
punishes the brash, but not before

they win some battles, look at the
South for five years keeping slaves
trapped, little skirmishes won and
lost, guerrilla fighting the tough

life of the rebel.  “We cannot change
the world, it cannot be done” echoes
on an Asian valley butterfly, flying
through the passage of time,

Wondering if mankind, women too,
could all get together, realize we’re
from the same general stuff, rain
water and sun, blood of Earth, the

swim of that stewardess, like a
caterpillar, becoming Flight Attendant
with a lawyer, smart on the game
so she could win, and the butt

pincher faces twenty to life now
for lying to the FBI about killing
Democracy.  The court almost laughed—
not down here, but on the planet

far off that runs us.  “Democracy!” they
laughed and almost fell off the
cliff of the universe, where they stand
and spy.  “People-rule!” gets them

busting up full, and they float down
to Earth through a black hole eating
underwear under there, causing
a great earthquake, followed by

a tsunami, the rains piling up,
a flood rising until Man once
again finds its wisest stance and
repeated mantra through captivity

toward eternal freedom from care:

“We are powerless,” smiled the
orange criminal.

And a lone flower burns on the
hillside of summer untouched,

Making ash for even democracy
to change, become wine from water
and confuse us back to powerlessness
over and over until Samuel gets

out of his cage-like grave, walks
up that dang hill, and makes an
unseen God king again; He’ll
have to do it tomorrow, too if

we wake, my friend—for whatever
progress we made today, it
will rain, and we will wonder if
before it does we laid down enough

seed, to feel the peace of mind
that turns words around, turns
our efforts on themselves, returning
us all to Tao Te Ching-like calm,

the uncarved block, the dawn,
our own birth.  Wordless

and Perfect.

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