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Tag Archives: Love

Mi Familia Mexicana

10 Sunday Nov 2019

Posted by Bill Watkins in Bilingual, Español, Family, Mexico, Poem, Poems, Poesia, Poetic Blog, Poetry, San Miguel de Allende, Spanish

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Tags

Family, Joy, Love, Mexico, Native, Peace, Poem, Poema, Poesia, Poetry, San Miguel de Allende, Spanish

Me and Mexico1

When you rise in the morning,
think yourself in the hills,
a Spanish rancho set in
Guanajuato, Mexico—

San Miguel de Allende
a place of magic, as time
suspends… Cobblestone
streets and the colors of
Dream’s wild dance in
February or May, it doesn’t
much matter—

This is… Mi familia Mexicana.

Jesus said “Family are those
who do the will of God,”

La voluntad de Dios, pero,
te pregunto ahora:

¿Que es el nombre de tu Dios
personal?

Lo mío cambia, y soy sin duda
un politeísta… Que tengo mi
biblia, y la estudio mucho,

Pero, mis amigos y familia,
¿Que del mundo indígena?

No teníamos para mucho tiempo,
libros, palabras escritos ni impresas,

y había un Dios en esa época
y ahora.  Sin palabras, sin saber
ni una sencilla, solitaria cosa:

un Dios está, tal vez El Gran
Espíritu, como se llama en
El Norte, esa tierra nombrado
por Ingleses y Españoles
algo Europeo—pero ¿cual es correcto,
el nombre para tierra y dioses
de la gente de la región natural con
historia de miles de años…

O los nombres que usaron Europeos
con armas y biblias, nombres de
una tierra robada?

Mi familia Mexicana sabe la respuesta;
no hay naciones, fronteras en
el corazón de cariño y amor.

Haciendo la voluntad del dios de
su propio comprensión… Libertad…

Amor sin condición, bailando con
mariachis en el Jardín de San Miguel,
gente de las montañas, caballos
y burros de Dios nos sirviendo humilde
y sencillo, la sonrisa de todos niños
de cualquier color o “raza…”

Es, señores, y señoras…

Mi familia Mexicana.

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.

Wingandacoa

09 Saturday Nov 2019

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Britain, Conquest, Imperialism, John Smith, Love, Native, Native America, Native American, Nature, Peace, Pemisapan, Poem, Queen Elizabeth, Sir Walter Raleigh, Treachery, Truth, Vanity, Violence, Virginia, Wingandacoa, Wingina

Wingandacoa1

There was a name for a place.
It was named how it was named
for a reason, thousands of years
of tradition, story, repetition and
heritage made that place special,
its people living, dying, circling
the earth in spirit and land—

Gratitude for the water, the food,
the abundance and song.

Then came the British white man,
who was vain and violent enough
to change the name of the place
at a glance because its inhabitants
were not Christian, bible-toting or
“advanced” enough in war (cowards)
to carry and use loud, destructive
firearms—

the kind that still kill in malls,
churches, streets and schools today.

The British white man called this
land “Virginia,” after their virgin
queen Elizabeth.

Vanity.  Violence.  Usurpation…

To first usurp the Bible and Christ
for violent land acquisition.

Then to usurp the land itself…

Wingandacoa lives and breathes;
is the place I cherish and maintain
in my heart one of abundance,
native beauty and tradition.

No Roman-influenced conquest by
a people bedeviled by war and
violent competition with other
European nations can change
the essence of a place, unless
one yields to untruth.

I do not and call the land
where John Smith landed:

Wingandacoa.

The Red Rose of Celaya

09 Saturday Nov 2019

Posted by Bill Watkins in Mexico, Poem, Poems, Poesia, Poetic Blog, Poetry, Romance, San Miguel de Allende, Sports, Travel

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Amor, Bilingual, Bullfight, Celaya, Cristina Sanchez, Joy, Love, Mexico, Peace, Poem, Poetry, Spain, Spanish, Story, Torera, Travel

Red Rose3

Anthony was our leader,
other friends.

We set out on foot and by
bus to Celaya from San
Miguel de Allende, the
year 1995—the quest
to watch a female bullfighter
fight.

Cristina Sánchez, torera
Española, beautiful, strong
and proud.

Graceful, too—a show-woman,
showing up the men and
bulls alike,

her signature move to tire
the bull in a dance of
deception, then go to her
knees while ripping open her
vest to show the bull world
that she was a woman.

A woman in the man’s domain,
crossing over to show it could
be done.

***

I threw three red roses into
the ring that day.

The last one, my friend Mike
helped as Sancho Panza did
assist Don Quijote so dutifully:

We placed a simple business card
of mine that had my name, phone
number and address on it…
through the bottom of the rose,
poking a hole.

We jimmied the card up the stem,
and I threw the rose into the ring.

Cristina had picked up the other
two roses… fine.

With this third and final rose, she
bent, noticed the rose and
myself, the thrower—still
standing near ring’s edge,

and she did look at me and
smell the rose.

Her eyes smiled, and we parted
ways. She never called, but the
spirit knows what happened that
day.

And Anthony, who
just watched two crazy, romantic
young men act fools for love
shook his head.

His eyes did smile, too.

And we brought love and joy to
San Miguel and to Celaya that
day.

Que viva México.  Donde vive
fuerte que sé es adentro de
mi corazón, todavía aquí
palpitando, esperando su
llamada mientras bailo en
el Jardín con Los Mariachis
de Bonito Tecalitlán.

Guardo mi 200 pesos, y preparo
mi próxima rosa.

¡“Guadalajara,” por favor, Capitán!
¡Tengo 50 pesos, vamos a tocar
para Dios si Mismo!

Pero no, necesitan dinero los músicos
para vivir, entonces, paso mi gorra
allí al publico, y voy a ganar 200.

!Si, “Guadalajara” tocamos!  !Y La Negra
ya sigue!

Que viva México hoy y pa’ siempre.
Viva en este, mi sueño, mi poema,
mi rosa de hoy…

Es lo que recuerdo cuando recuerdo
Cristina Sánchez, torera Española,
La Rosa Roja de Celaya…

Oh, boy!!!!

La Puerta

07 Thursday Nov 2019

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Amor, El Cielo, Español, Heaven, Joy, Love, Paz, Peace, Poesia, Poetry, Spanish

Door1

Oración, la puerta, la manera
de abrir la mente de oportunidad
está para ti en frente, siempre
en frente, después permitir
la verdad caer de la montaña
verde que es la vida real, la vida
sin guerra.

Sonría—mejor, ría en nuestro
camino sin importancia, sin
propósito, sin valor en un
mundo vivido tantas veces,
lo mismo antes el cambio que
llevaste cuando ese viento te
hizo,

Dando vida al deseo al mismo
tiempo un nuevo concepto
nunca pensado que se llama
con orgullo, “optimismo.”
Zapata, sí vive, más que Villa
en su baile con “América”
matado por ser hombre de

Paz.

Siempre es las vida reformada
y para cielo que impresiona
al diablo en hombre, causando
la muerte.

Jesús, o sino… su viento, eliminando
todo, matándola, dejando solo
vida en o alrededor del kiosko,
ya no vacío.

Anne

07 Thursday Nov 2019

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Amends, Blessings, Curses, First Crush, God, Love, Peace, The Devil, Truth

Anne1 -- Flower

The first one is blessed by God.  Nature.  Truth.
She comes to you, when you are ready, when
She too, is that part of you that’s ready,
The smile, the joy within finds its way out

And Love springs.

Alcohol as “drink,” un-guided living, the Devil
Himself intervene with love sometimes,
and we surrender it to adoption services, or
Some later date, convenient to the scared

And confused…

Anne was my first crush, and could have been
The only love of my life, and I would have been
blessed—this, if life was not saturated in Alcohol
as “drink,” the Devil playing with us, confusing

and Usurping—

Like the land in America we stole, usurping the
Name of God, Christ, the Bible to steal land from
a Natural people connected to the Great Spirit,
Creation itself forgotten by Europe, Rome,

Book thumps and war.

We killed the Druids and almost their spirit.
Romans conquered themselves, we too—
The English took on the worst of Rome, made
it our own, conquered ourselves and God

in Greed for the Crown.

Anne, meanwhile, couldn’t have sparkled more,
Myself unable to tell her I loved her.  Because
I was a Viking.  And Roman.  And Alcoholic.
And bedeviled.  I thought a flammable liquid

Good to drink.

***

I am a fool, am fooled—was born a drunk,
a liar and a thief.  A violent war monger
un-guided and destined for Hell—

Truth help me.  God help me.  Great Spirit
and Creation forgive me; my father’s sins
are mine, I climb and escape them only
with doses daily of Truth, doses daily of

Love and forgiveness.

Anne lives in mountains, as do I—she there,
Me here, and I cannot make the weather
move her to me, only asking higher powers
to reward willingness for amends and Truth

with Health.

Will I die an example of what not to do?
Will I live to the hilt making amends for the past?
Can my message help the next child, blessed by Love,
But tempted and un-guided on his way to Hell?

Truth, son, will bring you back to Anne…

The First You

03 Sunday Nov 2019

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Joy, Love, Originality, Peace, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Truth

Children2

So you have trouble fitting
in sometimes, you look up
at Dad and Mom, what they
did and who they are or were,

and think there I am somewhere.
Do not be so deceived!  You
are neither with Mom or Dad,
represent neither one but a

Strange combination of them
never before you tried.  You

are in fact, the first You ever made,
so gather strength, listen to
the rain, the voice inside that
pushes us past the pain,

Rainbows await the patient
and the wet; games lost are won
the moment you reach across
and shake hands heartily.

God is the sunshine, or a fiction,
or the joy after a hard nap,
Dreams things that come when
we ask for help.

We cannot do this on the
path already chosen for you,
so break off and find the true—
the Truth that you are a

masterpiece, if you so believe.

To Peace

23 Wednesday Oct 2019

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Alcoholism, Decisions, Joy, Love, Peace, Poem, Poetry, Spiritual

Star Peace123

We live and decide, sometimes
decisions above us somehow,
making themselves as we powerlessly
inch around where others have
often gone before us.

We do the thing we dream or see,
but from where did the dream come?
Did it come from good or evil?  Man or
God?  Devil or angel?  Is the thing we
do good not just for now, but eternity?

Where do we want to be when we
give up the earthly fight becoming
Spirit—all the love, genes and things
we ever did in the air, our legacy?

Riding a motorcycle, throwing up
devil horns, playing it all loud,
drinking a flammable liquid, taking
a drug to alter our state, acts of
desperate high, don’t forget loose
sex that risks disease…

These are for our moment, not
forever, and get us by until
some lives do just that, they
“get by” and defer on big decisions
until “later.”

Sometimes later fails to arrive,
and we suddenly let a doctor decide.
We take the drug, do the thing told,
because the alternative is original
thought, which has less roadmaps,
we could get lost—

I’d rather die with this doctor I know
than the unknown curve in wild,
unfettered nature.

One finds strength in numbers,
looks around at dollars made drinking
“what he’s drinking,” doing what
they’re doing, add some job security
with your mayonnaise and you got
a pretty manageable sandwich…

But the soul… “Dust thou art to
dust returnest” was not spoken of
the free.  And we all are, so watch
your step because sometimes you
get just what you asked for, ma’am
and sirs.

That shiny car… guzzling gas and loud.
That bright new bike, gaining roads
at higher speeds, don’t crash, I lost
a friend that way.  A six-pack of beer,
so exciting when we skip studying
what’s in it, C2H5OH ethyl good
for rockets, but us?

You can dazzle in the short term or
deny your highs to live out a long,
meaningful, helpful life toward Peace.

If you want war, have it.  Be loud, live
fast and know the blaze of glory
is in the eye of beholders, absent you,
if you die young.

It comes back to the old wisdom about
honoring your parents.  If you
want a long, good life, honor those
people who brought you.

If you love your anger and self-pity
at your hard times so much, refuse
to forgive and believe in a power
greater than you, spit on your
parents’ advice and memory
because “they were bad,” you have
made a choice, own it and good bye.

Me, I’d rather sacrifice my passion
a bit, have and exude Peace instead of
playing around with this life dishonorably
and die.

The Harms of Alcohol Advertising

15 Tuesday Oct 2019

Posted by Bill Watkins in Alcohol, Blog, Health, Poetic Blog

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Tags

Alcohol, God, Health, Joy, Love, Peace

Alcohol1

-by Bill Watkins, alcoholic

I am writing as a plea to lawmakers and media outlets to urgently consider a ban on alcohol advertising for the good of our country.  The FTC allows alcohol’s self-regulating industry to pitch flammable liquid as drink to 28.4 percent under-21 viewership, making OUR CHILDREN collateral damage in this fight.  Alcohol as “drink” is more vice than product, responsible for the death of over 88,000 people a year in this country, third on the list of prevalent preventable killers in the U.S., after smoking and lifestyle.

Alcohol is a killer.  It almost killed me, and has killed many friends of mine.  I started drinking the toxin on my dad’s lap at age five, his last sip of bourbon.  Alcohol has been slapped together as a buddy to sports, sports watching and being a sports fan, gambling a neighbor to those.  But of those various activities only alcohol directly kills.  And yet we allow these ads to continue, pitching children; pitching alcoholics like me!  I worked hard to overcome this disease, checked out of the hospitals, went to Alcoholics Anonymous and got sober, ONLY TO COME HOME AND GET PITCHED ALCOHOL WHILE I WATCH MY FAVORITE SPORTS TEAMS AND ATHLETES COMPETE ON TELEVISION.

What kind of world allows this?  Richard Nixon had a mountain of faults and committed crimes in office, but even he saw the value in curbing killer cigarettes in 1970, banning their TV and radio ads by signing a congressional ban.  It seems that since the insanity of Prohibition, alcohol is getting a free pass to self-regulate and kill at will, even green-lit to pitch to an under-21 audience.  Disgusting.  Wrong.  When will we stand up against alcohol as the extremely flawed President Nixon was able to do with cigarettes?  Please stand with me to renounce alcohol ads and to remove them from our children’s viewing Today.

NO CHILD OR ALCOHOLIC SHOULD EVER SEE A SINGLE ALCOHOL AD.  Refute that statement and you should be stripped of your position as legislator or media programmer.  And the NCAA?  Shame is the muck in which you conspire with TV networks to make money off our often under-21 year old athletes, students and fans by SELLING A VOLATILE, FLAMMABLE, TOXIC LIQUID.  The shame could end today with an immediate study of alcohol injuries, deaths, which will surely lead to a rational choice to ban their ads immediately from our televisions.

A few years after my first alcoholic missteps with Dad, I began drinking the poison at age twelve with friends, started blacking out on the substance at age thirteen, all the while dreaming of being a professional athlete, alcohol ads on my television assuring me that this was all okay.  Alcohol has no part in sports, is a dream-killer, says the sports dropout and two-time overdose loser writing this letter today.  Yes, my experiments in the liquid intoxicant turned into depression eventually, a suicidal one that had me whining at doctors until they gave me (irresponsibly) drugs on which I could and did overdose twice.

Barely alive with injuries from the OD’s and 100 percent regret for ever having a single sip of fermentation’s perverse result, I ask us all to rethink our own drink and take alcohol off our airways immediately for the good and health of this country.  Our kids deserve better.  And you, sirs and ladies, should know better.  I love you.  Love and its free expression has come to me in sobriety; may the Higher Power unto which you pray and believe take you to the realization I have had that alcohol ads should be now and forever banned.  Alcohol itself and its sales should not be banned.  Who wants another crazy Prohibition?

But alcohol ads must and should be banned immediately, if we want a proper world and safe TV room in which our children can play and watch their favorite athletes play in peace and safety.

Love and Peace
William “Bill” Watkins
Alcoholic, Poet, Humorist
3920 Hawley Avenue
Los Angeles, CA 90032
http://www.travelingpoet.net
323-573-0460
billwatkinsword@yahoo.com

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.

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