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Bill Watkins, Traveling Poet

Category Archives: Spiritual

The Voice of God

13 Sunday Jan 2019

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

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God, Higher Power, Joy, Love, Nature, Peace, Spirituality

god

Who’s listening?

There is a pulse and a spirit
under and over our lives,
giving us sanity, clues, natural
grooves to those who are
willing to stop, walk up the backs
of crevasses and ravines, nature’s
cherry, tall mountains yielding
peace in the mind of the sound.

We come out fighting—sperm to
egg, out Mom at whatever pace
gets results.

We have to develop sixth senses,
cosmic attachments to energy
there when we ask.  I asked
for poetry, travelling the song
that is Mexico.

I don’t like music anymore,
because it gets in the way of
God’s voice.

Shhh.

Who’s connecting today?  Where
is the medicine man, the prophet
designated to go up the hill and
ask for God’s blessing.

A priest denying himself sex?

Folks who meditate in buildings?

Who knows what the earth wants,
can report the facts to others,
pick up an instrument to play again
only when we’re on the same
page, one pulse attempting to please
the LORD, like the Jews in the desert.

Burn the incense, retreat back to
the dirt and calm—

God forgive our running around
with cotton in our ears, so eager
and ready to spout what others
say—

We “Edged Out God” the acronym
for ego used today.

Shhh.

Give us peace, God, and with it
your voice to teach us the way!

We Can Rise

14 Friday Dec 2018

Posted by Bill Watkins in God, Health, Men's Health, Poem, Poems, Poesia, Poetic Blog, Poetry, Spiritual

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

God, Health, Intact, Joy, Love, Men's Health, Peace, Rights, Spiritual

The seed wars to become a flower.
Democracy lies—calls people power.

Songs rhyme, the words nothing compared
to truth itself.  You pause, pray,

Give strength clean away, turn it over
We can rise.  With a god of your own
understanding, we can rise, the mystic
reason for the four seasons calling
in the night, dreams the funeral of
ignorance, chopping off parts of a penis

while our infants cry; listening to the
devil, the easy way, “What did the white
coat say?”

***

Great native spirit, aboriginal ESP, a poem
scribbled into sand by Vikings or Celtic
sages, Romeo and Juliet giving English
reasons like seeds to sprout and spread
like a wildfire of color across a northern
California coastal hill.

“God” is the name itself for some, the
goal heaven, and for it we rise.

We can overcome the worst, from ashes
bloom again, seven deadly sins trying to
burrow into holes made before we make
first decisions.

The cliff upon which we walk is forged
to challenge, the echoes of forefathers
and foreskins causing blood to pour out
in lines, the prayer a call of the realistic,

the humble are true when they admit they
cannot without divine help reach the
golden crest that is Peace of Mind.

We can rise.

But we must first admit we fell, ring the
bell that we’ve been to hell.

God, forgive us, let’s mobilize with every
breath to make amends for friends like
wind forgotten with circumcised sips
of flammable liquid passed down from
generation to generation,

Friends in armor, friends who gave
us warmth and farming techniques,
helped us survive winters before
we cast them out at gunpoint, claimed
to found a nation already here.

I’m a white man living on stolen land,
littered concrete and asphalt, helicopters
screaming war while anyone standing
high enough for peace is shot down from
Gandhi to Jack to Martin to Bobby to Oscar
to John of the Beatles, the evil wind
soaring never changed.

We can rise, the minority report flourishing
at times, enough to give us hope
like a birdie between double bogies,

We can rise.

With an ounce of truth told into the
hurricane of lies, we can turn the evil
ship around, apologize.

Admit we raped, pillaged and stole,
see the humanity we are—naked
and part of the earth.

Don’t ever snip earth worn naturally
by children, mutilate a baby against
God’s will.

The baby’s cry is God’s protest; stop
cutting, start listening.  Get out of your
car, join me on the walk to Heaven.

Word Slap

20 Monday Aug 2018

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

≈ Leave a comment

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God, Joy, Love, Peace, Poetry, Religion, Spirituality

True is as true was, not in words
until blessed—before that?

You must ask.

The ear must hear earth, listen and
touch the dirt with hands and feet,
feel the thunder, be a part of the
sound, the waves, the one heartbeat.

“God” is for you to define, life for
you to sort, master or discard, our
choices abound, so pray first.

I don’t care what you pray to, though
when I got sober I started to care about
most things.

Words, shmerds, be happy, and choose
a god or Higher Power that inspires
you to great days!

Forty-six years has provided me a lot
of evidence that some sort of code
or adherence to spiritual principles
helps one enjoy, live and give toward
great days!

What is life, but a day?  Make it great,
the key admitting we can’t do that
alone, that supplication does work.

Ask and ye shall receive was said by
a wise teacher, referring to the glory
of prayer, the same one that said
that you can move mountains with
true belief and dedication to your
faith.

Let go.

Listen to the reason, the gift given;
there is a fairness in the honest
step, look both ways and consider
before taking it.

One Goal and Basket

24 Tuesday Jul 2018

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Eternal Life, God, Heaven, Love, Spiritual, Truth

What a confusing mess, waking
up alive in a basket of confusing,
stench-filled piss, not the physical
kind—

more like the lie told and believed
that alcohol is good to drink.

Another that it’s okay to have many
focuses and gods, play sports and
compete in pretend fights, slotting
passes and balls into a hoop.

Meantime the march for some to
Heaven continues, for those who
had that goal all along.

While we sought ways to deceive
another team or player, they sought
ways to love and give to the poor—

true gifts coming from our own
poverty, of course.

The slugger or forward on the team,
a confused pursuit of “victory,” leaving
the ultimate prize behind—

God.  Heaven.  A Peace of Mind!!!

***

Wake up in piss, but wake up!

When down the wrong road, turn
around now!

The goal… the basket… the only there
is is a contented sleep in the poem
spun by One, obstructed by
scoreboards and bars, the path
to hell wide and well-traveled.

Leave it and find the narrow a
better, albeit harder walk!

Die with me into this humble
song not on your TV;

die from the lies, and turn
toward the cross on your back;

Eternal Life.

The Best Doctor

04 Friday May 2018

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

God, Love, Peace

God and Health Collage1

The best doctor I usually
capitalize,

In lines that sometimes inspire,
Sometimes surprise—

by chance, nature, or nature’s
changing course untrimmed—

Shakespeare himself, a poet
who believed,

for without humility…

Without humility what would we
the people be?

Humble is the way of truth, keeps
us at our right size,

so for goodness’ sake, let’s not put
other people too high above us,

Save a spot for God.

By God I mean a power greater than
yourself, who knows more than you do…

is more powerful than you are.

Is capable of more loving wisdom than
you are.

And, yes, this power or force can heal,
and will over time if you fast and pray,

meditate long thoughts, breathe, listen
to dreams—ask and ye shall receive,

Jesus the wise, rebellious rabbi declaring
gospel messages dripping with love and

hope for the hopeless!!

Seek and ye shall find!! Yes, and move a
mountain!!!

So, the next time someone tries to tell
you so assuredly, “go to a doctor!!”

Find time to walk in nature, lift your
heart and mind up in prayer,

and ask the Doctor!

“What should I do, LORD?” in the Hebrew
tradition of YHWH without vowels

to keep us from blabbing the Name.

You will get an answer over time or right
on the spot.

Sometimes the answer is hard. Sometimes,
the answer is easy, or

often somewhere in between.

Do what God asks of you and find peace.

And as soon as you declare it, my goodness
you will feel it:

HEALTH!!!!

For health is exactly that which God
provides when you ask…

Peace of mind.

With you all the time, unlocked with prayer,
felt after action or none,

Felt when you know life is good,
and you are not the One.

God is the Best Health Care

21 Wednesday Mar 2018

Posted by Bill Watkins in God, Health, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Spiritual, Spirituality

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Love, Peace, Truth

Believe in yourself!

Believe God made you right, perfect
for who you are and when you were born—

there is nothing wrong—are you alive?

If “Yes,” say “Thanks!” and go help
someone in the few minutes we get
on earth to make an impact!

Pray to something big.  Live good days,
and if you feel a lot of pain—

bearing a cross can yield a rainbow from
the rain!  No pain and no gain my sweet,

I gave a few bucks to a dentist once to
pull out my teeth!  Grateful for that, and
some doctors’ expertise.

But let’s take all Western Medicine with
a grain of salt—not alcohol!  Let’s be a little
tougher, know it’s okay just to let
nature heal us—

Something that can’t be done very well
in a metal box firing down the freeway at
seventy miles per hour.

We have to live on the ground a bit to truly
see the vision—see your power!

“I have a vision,” the sober say when they
wake feeling good like a child at Christmas
time.

We deify too many things, but relax:

It’s exactly as it seems!

Words are the glue we spew to fill the seams.

The talk of equality nothing compared to
the Dream!

(It’s a Martin Luther King thing!)

95 theses tacked on a door to rise up
and live while alive, avoid the place
where too many flies fly—

Keep as clean and sanitary as you can
without obsessing and calling your
doctor now, then and again and again.

Trust your body!  Believe in yourself!

Take up your bed, Lazarus!—or Bob, Robby,
Ricky and Mike—Darla, wouldn’t it be darling
to don the smile of the healthy while the
health appeared to be falling.

“Fake it ‘til you make it!”

Read a Henry Longfellow poem, better
yet a positivist Ella Wheeler Wilcox rant!

“Optimism” reminding us that when you
speak health, God will hear your words…

And make them true.

Forbidden Fruit, Samuel’s Curse And the Road Back to Eden

13 Monday Nov 2017

Posted by Bill Watkins in Poem, Poems, Poetry, Political, Spiritual

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Bible, Joy, Love, Peace

Shhh.

God is in the wind.  The song forms…

Shhh.

Don’t wake and rise until the wind chimes
night away in the mind, the dreams advising
us on what the conscious cannot report,

ESP guiding the Aborigine from tree to tree,
the desert nothing to the faithful, guiding peace
from the forest, oneness with all.

The Native American rises, beats a chest with
truth, slept on the ground that gave him life.
Sometimes too hot is the eye of heaven—

And often is his gold complexion dimmed,
Shakespeare a friend of words—

Leaving Eden, we found talking to God more
and more remote through prophets, judges,
kings and medicine men!

The best leader taps for you a way to lead
yourself—listen!

Shhh.

Sit still and breathe in the change that Adam
brought, chains of slavery wrought, justice and
other words playing out over hundreds of years

while a historian writes down “1861-1865.”

Go further.

Deny these elections, that prop up biggest money’s
biggest candidates, the process a lie.

Abbreviations like NRA and CIA have been in
control of American Government since 1963.

Human kings peeing on God from Samuel’s
request until today, so don’t buy it!

Keep your money on lockdown, un-register like
I did until your mailbox is no longer full
of candidate waste, fancy paper and graphics
while OUR SIDEWALKS CRUMBLE, TRASH LITTERS
THE STREETS, GUTTERS AND DRAINS CLOGGED,
NOISY POLICE HELICOPTERS PRETENDING TO
“KEEP THE PEACE,”

American “Central Intelligence” killing our
own peace-loving president in cold blood,
covering up the crime with lines fools, ignorant

or just people with no time to fact-check
beg to believe.

Chris Matthews on my TV, so smart and
shrewd, my elder and an experienced
pundit:

Slandering Lee Harvey Oswald, forgetting
our own 6th Amendment to the United States
Constitution guaranteeing our accused

AN ADVERSERIAL DUE PROCESS OF LAW—
A DEFENSE.  TWO SIDES IN A COURTROOM BEFORE
A JUDGE AND/OR JURY TO ARGUE BACK
AND FORTH FOR A GREATER TRUTH.

Ah, but Chris and others at the military’s RCA’s
NBC and others just go with the old
“Appeal to Authority” fallacy.

“Bobby Kennedy, the victim’s brother, with
access to all that intelligence… said Lee
Harvey Oswald did it.”

No thanks, Chris and NBC.

That is shoddy journalism, and a slander
on due process, the same thing we do today
blaming Hillary Clinton for “losing” an election
in 2016 AGAINST DONALD TRUMP AND RUSSIA!!

To call “foul” in American politics is a drop in
buckets unheard by the shooter at the range,
the killer propping up the Second Amendment
over the Sixth Commandment:

Thou shall not Kill.

Stuttering is fine, but wisdom never does it.

Ye Without Sin

22 Tuesday Aug 2017

Posted by Bill Watkins in Blogs, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Religious, Spiritual

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Amends, Conspiracy, Corruption, Jesus, Joy, Lao Tzu, Left, Love, Native America, Native American, Peace, Retribution, Right, Right Wing, Slavery, Soros, Wyatt Earp, Zero, Zorro

Helicopters, trash and campaign
spending disrupt infrastructure and
safety, a policy not right or left tending,

Just normal politicking in the post-
Samuel era of boy kings and corrupt
cravings.

Losers.  Ye without sin may cast a stone
at your neighbor, call him or her perverts,
freaks, anything to make your pain seem
sweet, we can stop and breathe or just
keep swinging.

Heaven is a peace of mind, knowing you
did your best, John Wooden surely a
“globalist” because under God, he felt
we were all equal.

Jefferson committed the same sin, under
the haze of a time that allowed him not
one but regarding slaves closer to ten.

All statues should come down, recalling the
golden calves raised up while Jews ran from
Egypt, aspired to their promised land.

Moses up the hill, the masses erecting evil
and dancing not for God as David later did.

They shook their butts and drank the wine
of other gods, and were punished as we are
every day we believe a human leader will
“stand for us,” “represent us” or “say the right
thing.”

It starts with you.  Me.  Pray first, stay silent
if not inspired, but when the right words come
please say them.

“I know I always do,” Mary Poppins posed
and sang, knowing when to bow out, enough
being every bit as good as a feast.

Zorro, Soros, Zeros—whatever the infernal thing,
right wing conspiracy theories growing on the
internet wings.

Plowing through the hate already there,
Divisions create divisions, and the Devil
smiles—God allowing this self-same insanity
for so many years.

“You cannot change the world,” Lao Tzu posed,
And no we probably can’t.  Then we can when we
admit we can’t, a spirit takes over, our humility
grows legs and Wyatt Earp is born again.

“Stop doing that, sir, there are women and children
present.”

Take an action, never kill, Love your enemy, and it
sure would be neat if the United States of
America would stop stealing native land.

Perhaps we could pay our debts someday, moral
as well as financial, give lands back according to
the old treaties, create a better karma, warm up
that speech to tell today’s Samuel, when that
prophet marches up to speak to God, apologize
and repent.

Pay that twenty trillion dollars off, one month at a time
like we all privately do, then after native amends
look square at the descendant of Africa:

“Fill out this form, establish lineage to the sin
of slavery and receive this twenty thousand
dollar grant to travel home to Africa, visit, enjoy,
and…  We are sorry to have brought your ancestors
here in chains against their will.  We are sorry
for the beatings, the murder, the emotional
as well as physical abuse.”

On our way (we must have gotten sober by now!)
we certainly admit the CIA murdered JFK.

Covert CIA gets shut down, the democracy
makes more sense, God is back in charge, and
karma is back with us.

Don’t forget to apologize to the United
Nations and to the world for all the post
World War II meddling and violence.

Read the U.N. Charter.  “I know
I always do,” says Sacha Llorenti of Bolivia,
the most enlightened country in the world
if you judge by UN security council statements,
always ready to flash the Charter.

Law.  International, Federal, State, Local.

Teach it in schools, kids can handle code starting
at five years of age.

Better than bourbon and water, better than
school’s current cage.

(You know, the one that drove John Stuart
Mill mad, before he recovered to succeed)

Success a peace of mind…  Wooden supplied.

Heaven.  Be perfect as God in heaven is perfect.

Thou shalt not kill.  Ever.  Martial arts self-defense
is even better.  Use your eyes, sense.  I love you.

Wars are never won.  Killing is for losers, Trump.

—Love, William

Like Other Nations

18 Friday Aug 2017

Posted by Bill Watkins in Anti-Political, Blogs, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Political, Spiritual

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

God, Joy, Love, Peace, Samuel

Samuel told all the words of the LORD to the
people who were asking him for a king.

***

Dividing truth, Trump logic, Right versus Left,

then label a crime a “Terrorist Attack”—
giving the Devil an alibi once again.

Evil is evil.  Call it out with love.

***

United we fall, the Warren Commission
lies, still plagues…

***

No longer in “America,”
We depart words and norms, ask
a Higher Power to bless us, come into
words so they mean something good.

The United States of Being, a place
of Freedom.  Real freedom of speech,
where words bridge to other words until
it was worth the ride…

Ever since Samuel asked for a king,
we have been plagued by our human
leaders.

There is no surprise a government killed
off a native race, allowed slavery so long,
Killed its own president and covered up the
evidence in 1963 and four.

Gandhi, Jesus, Martin Luther King looked
inward at great study.

Found and fought demons within, preached
a message of loving your enemy, judging not lest
ye be judged…

And the LORD told him: “Listen to all that the people
are saying to you; it is not you they have rejected,
but they have rejected me as their king…”

It may be time to ask God to lead
us again.

God, please be our king.  Amen

Poem:

11 Tuesday Feb 2014

Posted by Bill Watkins in Poems, Spiritual, Spiritual Awakening

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

Joy, Love, Peace

“Halfway There”

Love beautifully bound, truth in tethers
winding ‘round the Earth, orbit after orbit
coming to the willing.

Open minds receive rewards. Late night,
the beer tasted good in fancy suits, gonna
“make money” because that was the way
living was presented.

We dream a new dream—but first, must
fall the old falls down the drain of superficial
success, the other side unsure.

We make the drop, deciding present company
trustworthy, it’s okay to let the cat out the
twenty-two year old bag, “I’m unhappy!”

A spiritual awakening the other side, this
was it, the walls come down, from superhuman
to human, from great to human, Will Rogers’
“great to be great but greater to be human,”
Brian L.’s Hazelden pamphlet, perfectionism
in the rearview mirror at least a real reason
to be alive!!

I must see this other side, this chance I take,
they tell me I’m all right, they relate, twelve
steps to freedom, go with me I wish I had
this before I turned twenty-three, a virgin
‘til thirty-three, gosh the truth!

Huh, the sad keys remembering, sad only
because I missed so much in not knowing.
I guess we are really where we are supposed
to be, there’s no other way, the sea is the sea,
the North beat the South, and I have
the second half of my life to live out my dream.

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