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Tag Archives: Native America

The Failure of Democracy

03 Wednesday Nov 2021

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Bible, Democracy, Geocracy, God, Great Spirit, Guns, Joy, Lies, Love, Native America, Peace, Poem, Poetry, Politics, Spirituality, Truth, USA

Democracy1

It’s not so bad.

The realization that the second
major people-governing concept
has failed…

First there was Higher Power, gods
invoked so close to us on
earth that they came to our
dreams, spoke and guided us.

Folks like those under the prophet
Samuel kicked that theocracy out
years ago, thought kings might
be a better way, for “Hey—

all the other nations was doin’ it!”
The Hebrew god warned kings might
be corrupt, finally that on the day
we complained, he wouldn’t hear.

So the Greeks rose up like a Narcissus
flower, rejected single male power,
and invented dēmokratia, democracy –
Long live people-rule, at last!

The Romans liked it, spread it
around by force, liked Jesus—spread
him around by force, combined the two
to steal land in the New World,

a Dutch mapmaker calling it all…
America.  The natives still had their
higher powers, excited by the earth
and their place under a Great Spirit.

But we had our democracy, bible, and
most powerful of all, it would seem,
gun powder.  An Asian invention, fireworks
English and other Euros used to kill.

So people-rule it was and has been,
although I’ve never seen people rule
during an earthquake, forest fire
or hurricane.

“It’s flooding, you say? Well, let’s
hold a vote,” never much swayed
the elements, but still we claim that
“people-power is best.”

Until it isn’t.  Until two parties argue
and argue and do nothing.  Until you
realize there is no power in hallways,
marble and human art, that the

natives may have had it more right
than wrong, the waterfalls, valleys,
rivers and mountains of their
higher powers holding joy and sway.

I used to talk and write of Geocracy,
God, Earth and People-rule, but
know the word in front offends, so
onward I look, want to join?

People don’t always rule, so let’s
move on… There’s something better
at the end of this tunnel, so keep
digging toward the light.

Democracy has died because it was
never in the first place right.

The combination of people, honoring
the earth and invoking a higher power
seeming to this poet the truth,
a way to it, giving blindness sight.

Thanksgiving Lie

28 Thursday Nov 2019

Posted by Bill Watkins in Land Theft, Native, Native America, Native American, Poem, Poems, Poetic Blog, Poetry, Thanksgiving Lie

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

America, Dishonesty, History, Land Theft, Lies, Native, Native America, Native American, Native Americans, Paspahegh, Powhatan, Thanksgiving, Truth, Wingandacoa

Thanksgiving Lie -- Native1

There was partnership with
native tribes to be sure, after
we had squatted on their land.

There were allies, in-fighting,
out-fighting, and all the normal
chaos that comes with coveting.

Competition with Spain and others
so fierce, the sickness of conquest;
Viking and Roman member measuring.

We came, we saw, we coveted,
we indeed stole—first erecting
a Fort in Paspahegh land without…

communication nor permission.
White, Christian and armed seemed
enough to the sick and damaged

English, attacked and vulnerable
at all sides of its island at home.
“Attack first, hit hard and win”

Now plagued America, the coast
a notch on the belt of a warring
people, who knew no other way.

June of 1676 was a time of party
for the English settlers, who in
writing set down Thanksgiving—

A prayer of thanks to God almighty
for victory over Native Americans
in war for their land: “It certainly

bespeaks our positive Thankfulness,
when our Enemies are in any measure
disappointed or destroyed…”

…went the document, “Thanks for
killing the native people, Lord, so
we can inhabit their lands in peace.”

Have a nice turkey, if you think the
feast a proper one.  Not me, I’ll spend
the day as much as possible making

amends for stealing land.

Talgarth Graves

10 Sunday Nov 2019

Posted by Bill Watkins in Britain, Poem, Poems, Poetic Blog, Poetry, Talgarth, Wales

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Britain, Conquest, Joy, Love, Native, Native America, Native Americans, Peace, Poem, Poetry, Spain, Talgarth, Truth, Wales

Talgarth17

I went home over the Summer
to Talgarth, Wales in the mountains
of Breconshire.

There I walked land no one stole.
There I felt a connection to the land
and people, the name Watkins,
along with Davis, Thomas, Hughes
and Evans dotting graves at the
churchyard of St. Gwendoline’s…

Some graves need work, and I shall
return to work them, remember
our fathers and mothers so forgotten
when a slew of Talgarth’s sons and
daughters fled to an old world
we called new because white people
hadn’t before Columbus, Raleigh
and Smith seen it.

We vainly usurped the land before
Spain or other usurpers could,
committed armed theft over the
course of hundreds of years,

now call the British colonists’
experiment in government of
the 18th century the “greatest
democracy in the world.”

Not so for Native Americans,
or the slaves we brought to work
stolen land, promised to pay
them after the Civil War,
only to renege and continue
to preach about the Greatest
Democracy in the World.

Great on the surface for people
escaping responsibilities and
lives in Europe, such as my
ancestors, who obviously left
Dad and Grandpa’s graves to
the wind in Talgarth, Wales, so
we could go across an ocean
and steal.

The first Thanksgiving Proclamation
of 1676 was a prayer of
thanks to God for killing
off Native Americans so efficiently
with disease and in-fighting.

The natives had a message of
gratitude for the land, wisdom
and peace—

Something our bible and gun-
toting ancestors cared nothing
for, unfortunately.

Global Warming arrived in 1492,
solidified in 1607 with John
Smith and other English people
calling native Wingandacoa
Virginia, its first successful
robbery being “Jamestown”
named after a Scottish king
who unified Britain and tore
apart Native America without
a care, because those naked,
brown, content people were
not “Christian.”

Where did Jesus say it’s good
to leave your fathers’ graves,
sail across an ocean and steal
other human beings’ land?

Jesus said truth, Gospel, glory
to all that’s High for his teaching,
but his message would be
better served if we treated foreign
people with love, respect—
totally free of judgment.

The United States is a farce
built on stolen land, violence
and lies.

The land, though, thrives, and
I dream to return to it after
fixing the graves of Talgarth.

God forgive us our sins, help
us to amend mistakes and errors
to truly pave the way not
just for a biblical second coming,

but for a more full, complete
spirituality enhanced by the experience
of Native people, whose Great Spirit
is love and peace,

Glorious creation, the Waterfall
their bible,

Something they taught on deaf ears
until a day I hope soon, when
white people from Europe open
them up to hear.

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.

Land Theft Invalidates USA

Featured

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 twenty 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!

Otsungna

22 Thursday Aug 2019

Posted by Bill Watkins in California History, History, Los Angeles, Native, Poem, Poems, Poesia, Poetic Blog, Poetry

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Indigenous, Joy, Lost Angeles, Love, Native, Native America, Peace, Stolen Land, Theft

Wild Roses2

I am not where I thought I was, a
deeper look… a willingness to open;
change rains down valleys of doubt
to shine in the upside down rhythm
that is not fully mine!

El Sereno is a Spanish word.  Bairdstown
sort of English, but before that was
the indigenous Otsungna—the place of
roses, making white guests think of
names not fully mine!

I was here because I was born of woman
in nearby Pasadena, Chippewa for “Crown
of the Valley,” and before all the names—
the land was how it was, and it was as true,
forming, being in time!

The Jewish God created, the native Great
Spirit too; Jesus was a wonderful son
and teacher preaching poverty to the
masses, making pain a blessing?  Wide is
destruction’s path line!

Kanekuk said the land belongs to the Great
Spirit, be it man or woman, woman or man,
no matter the words—a rose by any other name
would smell as sweet, Borgesian fictions
dancing to beats and rhyme!

Honoring our father and our mother, we
can live a long while in the land given,
the Jewish God on the page, Niagara
and other feats of nature defining the
Eternal art that shines!

And yet we litter El Sereno, which litters
Bairdstown, which littered Otsungna—which
tried to live as one with nature, the Great
Spirit, Creation.  Sometimes when you win,
you lose, it’s a shame!

The hope is in staying awake, remembering
the beginning, planting and replanting
first plants, calling on the first names,
asking native nations to return here and
help us grow our lives!

Wilson Lake

12 Tuesday Jun 2018

Posted by Bill Watkins in California History, History, Native, Native America, Native American, Nature, Poem, Poems, Poetic Blog, Poetry

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

California, History, Joy, Love, Native, Native America, Native American, Native Americans, Nature, Peace, Rain, San Marino

San Marino used to have a lake.

(The San Marino in Southern
California, not the tiny country
in Europe.)

San Marino used to have a lake
until the settlers came, made
a claim, had ideas and acted
before asking what the land could
actually take.

Soon a guy named Wilson “bought”
God’s land, called it his, used all
that water to farm aggressively—
crops not always indigenous or
natural, or free.

“The lake had dried up into a swampy
morass due to excessive water usage
by local settlers”

an article reads.  So, then,

They brought the dirt down and filled
in the lake.

I have no judgments to make,
nothing biting or sharp, just
the observation that mistakes
mostly happen at high pace,
on the way to claim a lake—

or even on the way to the bank.

When we fail to ask before
we take—

The mass of swirl that is “Karmic
Gate,” opens up to teach us,

sometimes a hard lesson that will
be remembered and never again
re-made.

Every choice has a consequence,
every single one—

so maybe it’s not the first thought
that should win, but a third
thought fought for, prayed
for, asked for and won.

Looking for Native America

22 Tuesday May 2018

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Discovery, Earth, God, Great Spirit, Love, Mother, Native, Native America, Native American, Native Americans, Peace, Revival, Spirit, Truth, Wales, World Peace

It’s a long journey from Wales
to here;

400-plus years of wandering
makes one wonder what they feared.

We left our fathers’ graves behind,
Welshmen and women ground into
the winter soil, Celtic calls for
adventure, armored up and ready
to go, sir!

Captain John Smith is noble enough,
we can handle this sea, this new
land, the savage race—look at us!!!

We’ll make the Crown proud, become
stars, make names for ourselves,
but only if this colony comes off okay.

We’re British and militaristic; we see
these brown-skinned people, compare
and contrast, seek advantages, a way
to squat and succeed.

“Success is a peace of mind, knowing
you did the best you could to be the
best you were capable of becoming.”

Best Christians, John?

Best warriors?

Best Explorers?  Businessmen?  Reps
of the Crown?

People.  The best People we could be
requires more looking back than forward
if the looking causes you to cringe with
regret and shame.

Go back, see the poverty of the native
tribe, the reservations in shackles
of bison’s spoiled hide.

Hunted and sold, looking for gold—

Not realizing the real value was in
the wisdom of the land, expressed through
its proud care-takers.

There are many differences from nation
to nation today, and as much or more
between the native nations then and
now as the Great Spirit

hides under Western medicine, civilization
and money.

Stop taking it.  Fight for your land, still,
Native America, seek out the documents,
the treaties, the promises made, take
them to court, and win.

Hire attorneys and win.  Reclaim and rise,
never give up the spirit to try, we are
a part of the land, it is God’s

and is our pride.

They break the rocks for concrete, burn
the blood for rocket fuel, we pray for
the lost Europeans, that they find
their way back home.

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

The Search for Meaning

06 Tuesday Jun 2017

Posted by Bill Watkins in Blogs, Native, Peace, Poetry, Political

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

England, JFK, Joy, Livingston, Los Angeles, Love, Montana, Native America, Peace, Retribution, Slavery, Truth, Wales

Ancient Sins, Amends
and Justice

-by Bill Watkins 6/5/2017

Livingston2 -- Work Walk

LORD, help me communicate your message.

Amen.

***

I have left Los Angeles, California in search of meaning, poetic justice—taking my sins east someday across the ocean back to Europe.

I have decided to pass through beautiful Livingston, Montana for a year or two to gain a different experience, to become a man, prepare for England’s colder weather, and to get some financial standing.

410 years ago three Watkins brothers arrived in the land we now call Virginia—a land that was inhabited by a great people.  We, the English, named it what we wanted and called it ours.

We measured ourselves against the natives by skin color, dress and military weapons—saw an “advantage,” sought to conquer.

Our sins are vast.  Sins of judgment, murder, selfishness, ingratitude, ignorance, and self-righteousness.  Sure, we were chased there by religious wars, oppressive social structures and monarchy.

But also greed.  Vanity; the desire for fame and glory, riches—gold and spices.

A name to place in history as the man or men who discovered a new land or route around the world.

Notice no mention of “God” yet.  While our explorers spoke of “mission” and Bible and bringing God to the New World, our actions were GodLESS.

We lived by the gun and sword.  Died by it.  So many of us throughout history to now just on that Jesus-mentioned “wide path to destruction.”

Lao Tzu said “You cannot change the world.  It cannot be done.”

So why write a piece like this?  Why leave Los Angeles?

Why come to Montana, en route to Wales, United Kingdom—home of the Watkins family that stayed in Europe?

Meaning.

For this poet, meaning… For the world, this poet sets out with the gift God directly gave to drive truth into the wide path.

To split that path, and light the trail back to Heaven’s narrow road.

If I believe through fast and prayer that I may move a mountain from there to here, it shall be done.

If I know CIA killed JFK, then covered up the crime—I shall say so, demand truth, and move on to other dark chapters, light them with alacrity.

If I am sure that we owe amends to anyone related to American SLAVES, I shall write that fact—and push us to truth, action and needed reparations.

Hurting others is hurting ourselves.  Killing off Native America, is killing off Nature in this land.

We must stop, restore land to the Native peoples “won” through bloodshed, threats and broken promises—bring Karma back to the land…

The Great Spirit, often forgotten from big cities to the hearts of reservations—sad with despondent reservation, alcohol, depression—will and must rise again.

The Great Spirit will rise when the Native American people rise again, and the land will prosper.

A Third Political party will emerge.  One of peace and love for Mother Earth.

But first I must remove myself back to England.  Back across the sea, and take our sins with me.

I do so for the Cherokee.  For the Sioux.  For the Crow, the Blackfoot, the Tongva out west—all the tribes, together must rise as I leave with God’s spirit East from here to the land of the Celts.

I will take back, finally, the land’s Gold:

Native American Wisdom and Love for Land.

Europe will thrive when I bring this gold back to them.

And meaning will come to me, a life poetic that gave up comfort to honor God.

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