• AA Pitch
  • ABOUT
  • Anti-Alcohol Ads
  • Beverly Hills Cop IV
  • Beyond the Grades
  • Bill’s Books
  • Church of MARY
  • CLEAN L.A.
  • Comedy
  • Contact/Booking
  • Election Reform — Los Angeles
  • Events
  • First Step Education
  • Guest Register
  • L.A. Budget Ideas
  • Love without Alcohol — Public Speaking
  • MLK the Movie
  • Music/YouTube
  • Oswald’s 6th
  • People’s Police Force — L.A.
  • Podcast — Bill’s Poetique
  • Poetry Arrived
  • Public Safety — L.A.
  • Return to Silverado
  • Submit

Bill Watkins, Traveling Poet

~ Words For You, Just Ask

Bill Watkins, Traveling Poet

Tag Archives: Native American

Faith and Fear Amid Covid Panic

04 Monday May 2020

Posted by Bill Watkins in God, Health, Poetic Blog, Positive Thinking, Positivism

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Covid, Covid-19, Earth, Ella Wheeler Wilcox, God, Joy, Love, Mary Baker Eddy, Mexico, Native American, Panic, Peace, Positivism, Spirituality, USA, Western Medicine

monalisa-4893660_1280

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

***

You ever lean back and track your thoughts?  Decide if they are positive or negative… Helpful or harmful?

A new strain of flu comes from a foreign land, so what do the masses do?  They do what masses do…  Panic.  What did the Catholic Church do?  Here where I live in Mexico and I think worldwide, they did to mass what masses do… they listened to a bunch of men preach, evicted God and headed for their masks and homes!

“Fear people, stay inside, stay away…” If someone was to track orders from the U.S. and other governments around this Covid virus panic, you’d have to say they were sort of negative. Certainly anti-Christian!  The answer to the question, “What would Jesus do?” or even Mother Teresa is in obvious contrast to what public officials are doing, panicking at the direction of Western medicine.

Western medicine is the world’s number one religion, I’m finally admitting, a weird thought but true in light of who’s calling the shots for government action in crisis.  So far, there’s a playful tone to this, but are you ready for a serious one?  I hope so… Here it is: God is waiting to be our guide again, Higher Power—call it what you want. The Native Americans called it the Great Spirit, something one can connect with in nature.

But the American government killed and removed Native Americans so they could build the “greatest democracy on earth.”  Concrete, asphalt and monuments to ourselves amidst the trash and noise of helicopters, littered cigarette butts and beer cans.  Covid-19 is a false god pitched by over-paid medical experts, keeping their money rolling in as the world’s economy stays at home afraid…

There’s a wonderful answer and cure to Fear, developed over many years of human existence.  It’s called Faith.  Say it with a smile, then find within you the First People spirit, that inner Druid, that innocent child in love with Creation, breathing in air freely and joyfully without a mask.  Faith… that I can move a mountain, sing in that musical, write that book, dance that dance to celebrate in the way God as I understand God wants me to celebrate!

But fear established the United States, ran from England to steal this land before Spain grabbed it, brought those guns to scare the natives, cannons to blow them and nature up with deer and peace killing blasts.  We could stop and apologize. Start listening to nature, God and the Native American Great Spirit, smile and be happy one day at a time… Stay home if sick, but if well be merry and thank the Creator for another day by loving it with all your heart, inside or out of the home!

We could decide to stop listening to fear and negativity, that people are going to infect us, start again having faith that they’re more likely to bless us… Band together, re-discover that love and faith destroys Death.  Love and faith are eternal, so let’s call out the News for lying to us about Covid deaths.  STOP WHINING AND COWERING, WORLD!!!

Say you are well, or all is well with you,
And God shall hear your words and make them true.

Guns Are for Cowards

24 Friday Jan 2020

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Anti-Gun, Cowardice, Faith, Firearms, Great Spirit, Gun Control, Guns, Joy, Love, Native American, Peace

The native bow and arrow, quiet
and flowing with nature not good
enough to the conquering European
with our war sickness, our gun
powder blowing up targets loudly
and cowardly from distance.

Like splitting the atom, some think
it’s good while others see a diabolical
power unleashed, the Asian invention
and European application satisfied
the war addict, put humans above
nature and God.

Bombs, guns, fireworks—do they please
the Creator?  The birds?  The beasts of
the wilderness?  In battle, do guns
show someone’s courage and honor?
Or… do guns show cowardice, a warrior’s
unwillingness to face his enemy?

From the fields of the native Great Spirit
let us dive into the bible, the other
weapon England and Spain used to
conquer America.  What would Jesus
say to guns?  What does the bible say
about killing?

It’s so easy to hate your enemy, try to
kill them or scare them with something
like guns.  Anyone can hate someone
they do not like, but what strong heart
and soul can love their enemy as a brother,
see them walk on and come from the same

Earth?  From the same great Mother, all
humans human with the same needs,
hopes, fears, doubts… Faith?  Where is
yours, in a loud weapon that creates
fear and noise?  Mine is in love and Peace,
In the rainbow after the rain, in

the great but worthwhile struggle to
love those who persecute you, to see
them as fellow children in this merry-go-
round called Life

She Won’t Be Home For Christmas

21 Saturday Dec 2019

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Don Kingfisher Campbell, Joy, Love, Native, Native American, Peace, Pocahontas, Poem, Poetry, Watkins

Native15

-by Don Kingfisher Campbell
and Bill Watkins

As Matoax sailed away in the
Spring of 1616, she spent the day
packing her things and wondered
if she’d ever return to Wingandacoa,
a place the English called Virginia.
She’s on her way to another life,
but how can she ever forget her land,
her people, her father?
She cannot, still she goes on ahead…
She traveled to England, a world away
from home.  She makes a new life
as a new wife, but wonders if there can
ever be more than one…
She arrives to find a new world—
That’s what they say, but is it?
She knows her life has changed for good–
That’s what they say, but has it?
She can never return from this place,
The rivers and streams of her
home are her blood.
She walks down the streets searching,
London calling a clash of cultures
She sees someone who can help…
Is it the Great Spirit?  The great
Mother of her own land calling
her back?  She has found a way,
a path… A new way?  One Christmas
in England is enough;
She has received a gift for living.
Will she get one for dying?
She believes her destiny is history;
At Gravesend she was promised
Christmas at home.
She remembered all that she
experienced, before she died in the
Spring of 1617.  She became a legend
in song—
She won’t be home for Christmas.

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.

The Poem Not Written

16 Saturday Nov 2019

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

1983, Alcoholism, British, Dating, Depression, Dreams, English Beat, Galaxy, Harold Ramis, Health, Humor, James Bond, John Hughes, Joy, LAX, Love, Native American, No, Octopussy, Otsungna, Pasadena, Peace, Poem, Poetry, Recovery, Sobriety, Soccer, Stealing Land, War Games, Western Medicine, Wingandacoa, Writing, Yes

Poetry1

I had plenty to say about
British invaders “using
natives kindly” and coveting
their land before stealing
it amidst the chaos of
mutiny, rebellion, starvation,
and forced coups in a land
natives called Wingandacoa
but the British vainly called
“Virginia” after their queen.

I had even more to say about
living at LAX airport in a city
most call Los Angeles, but I
prefer the native name,
Otsungna, signifying “place
of the roses;” I lived there,
trying to raise 600 bucks to
catch a plane for London
because Sigi Schmid, the
L.A. Galaxy soccer coach,
never called me to give me
a tryout in 1999.  Instead of
being depressed about that,
I rode my bike to the airport
from Pasadena (Chippewa:
“crown of the valley”), parked
the bike, lost the bike for
twenty-four hours, figured it
was stolen, then it reappeared
magically where I had left it
at the front door to the international
terminal, un-scratched and
unscathed.  So I sold the bike to
a redcap for 250 dollars,
which is how much I needed
to buy my ticket finally,
after camping out at the airport
three days.

I would have written something
about living in psych wards, when
filled with self-doubt and un-
checked alcoholism—how I
literally checked myself in
once at an emergency room in
Pasadena with symptoms
of “Self-Doubt.”  That helped me
to realize that was crazy, and
I slowly began to believe not
that I was crazy, but that I was
alcoholic, and that if I just
refrained from drinking alcohol
or using drugs one day at a time,
all would be fine!  Even if I just
watched TV or a movie, made
that my whole day, it was okay,
and better than doing something
bad like putting mind-altering
substances in my body.

I would surely have tackled
Western Medicine, and how sick
it is.  I frankly think it has serious
health problems, along with
the insurance game littering
its offices, halls and examination
rooms—perhaps why they’re often
too cold with air conditioning that
makes you sicker than before
you left home.  The sicker you
are the better deal health
insurance is for you, so good
luck with that; the healthier
you are, you lose and the health
insurance companies win that
round, so what’s it going to be?
Remember War Games from 1983?
“The only winning move is not
to play…”  From that year I also
remember “Owner of a Lonely
Heart,” Octopussy, Never Say
Never Again—two Bond movies
in one year!  English Beat’s last
year together, Chevy Chase
in Vacation, Harold Ramis
directing the John Hughes script.
I had thirteen dollars to my
name that year and felt rich…

Last, I was going to write
something on an impromptu
date at the post office.  I ran
into Mrs. Right, I’m sure of it,
so why was she hollering outside
the name of some dude, sure
to be a husband or boyfriend?
Could it have been a friend or
brother, and I still have a chance?
No matter what, it was rather
an enchanted meeting, and
I hope to see her again.  Does
that mean if her other guy
sees this poem, he’ll come
after me, email me, threaten
me with violence, if I
don’t stay away from his girl?
It’s happened to me before,
because I try to be true to
my own feelings and let women
decide what they want to do,
and sometimes someone will
let you make moves on them
because they’re bored or
not thrilled with their current
guy, but there is a danger of
ticking someone off, so I’ve
resolved to at the sound of
“I have a boyfriend” staying
generally the heck away,
hoping for romance when the
coast is clear.

I would have written all that!

Earth for Christ?

14 Thursday Nov 2019

Posted by Bill Watkins in Catholic Church, Conquest, Imperialism, Mexico, Poem, Poems, Poesia, Poetic Blog, Poetry, Spain

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Amends, British, Campesinos, Catholic Church, Conquest, Cultura, Earth, Indios, Inquisition, Joy, Land Theft, Love, Mexico, Native, Native American, Pagan, Peace, Poem, Poesia, Poetry, Polytheism, San Miguel de Allende, Spain, Theft, Tradición, Truth, Usurping Land

Guanajuato Flores

Christ in books, the gospel
doth speake, the message of
peace and love, of what
could we peasants on Earth
argue?

Must we abandon the Earth,
customs of thousands of
years, to follow Spain into
perfect quest for perfect
biblical perfection?

What sort of inquisition is
this?  Must we abandon our
gods for yours?  Couldn’t
we each of us live and let
live?

Spain came to Mexico and threw
it down, but the mix converted
some Spanish to the spirit
you see in ballet folklórico
and Mariachi music.

The hills teem with peasant life
that gives the smile of purity
to the modern Spanish streets
of San Miguel.

The mix works, and Mexico is
of such…

In the North, the English drove
a hard, secular line between
them and religion, then brought
that set of lines to Europe’s
“New World,” usurping Christ
when convenient, dividing,
removing and killing brown
people with different customs
called diabolical and heathen
to garner justification.

Sins committed four hundred
years ago are still sins, and if
un-amended it’s never too
late to apologize and restore
love and sanity, give land
back where stolen.

The Greatest Democracy in the World

10 Sunday Nov 2019

Posted by Bill Watkins in America, Poem, Poems, Poetic Blog, Poetry, USA

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Joy, Love, Native, Native American, Peace, Poem, Poetry, Truth, USA

USA Rotting3

They pitched me a lie in school
and on screen that we were
a great country based on our
president, government and
election-based “democracy.”

That was before I started
actually studying facts.  Native
Americans were not a part
of the 1776 British experiment,
and usurping colonists usurped.

There is a great country the
farcical, violent, usurping USA
doth claim, beautiful lands,
all free to roam until
the Europeans came to conquer.

People-rule is always silly,
I mean who of us rules during
a hurricane, forest fire or
earthquake?  No government
is valid if based on just humans!

Geocracy would serve better,
God, Earth and People-rule—
call it a merging of cultures
and ideas.  The U.S. Constitution
is a dry, secular mess for the rich.

The Iroquois Confederacy finally
found paper and ink after years
of oral records, and the great
difference between it and the
British rebel one is Great Spirit—

or, if you will, Higher Power
recognition.  Their meetings
asked for blessings from
Nature and Earth—from the Great
Creator called Great Spirit.

Humility is good, a slow-moving
fact above Mexico and below
Canada.  Vikings and English
conquerors, inspired by Roman
lust for foreign land, plague us.

That hotbed of invasion for thousands
of years in Europe created quite
a scary arsenal of horrible, loud,
destructive weapons and forces
to kill other human beings.

As Lao Tzu pointed out, we
cannot change the world, but
in telling the truth about it,
we make the good Dickensian,
Mrs. Chickian effort.

Imagine if Wyatt Earp let the
gangs run towns, or if a sober
writer let the descendants
of violent land theft call the USA
the greatest democracy in the world.

It is not, nor should it be.
There is a Higher Power in charge,
and that is still knowledge for
the wide path to grab while
the narrow hopes for heaven.

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 Horrible Sound of Helicopters

22 Friday Feb 2019

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Corruption, Joy, Love, Native, Native American, Peace, Poetry

Vikings1

War is what the British waged,
came here for…

The Spanish from below and around
“west,” thumping bibles

and native skulls.

“Forgive them, Father; they know
not what they do” was written
in the book we thumped, as we
thumped the land’s caretakers.

No harm intended, harm done,
we rise and fall today not unlike
the stars and light, a dance of day
before we stretch into night.

I love the hope that is in a post-rain ‘bow;
the dream of age dies in sagging
parts not up for the challenge
of defeating God, faith and prayer.

Where is the truth?

In a bible?  A book?  A waterfall?
A stream?  A coat, given to me by
native tribes, so I would not starve
and die.

The first winter after our 1607
arrival, honoring the king and
the devil himself by ignoring the
pulse, love, soul and culture of
a vibrant, talented, loving, breathing
native people.

They were brown, naked and natural,
and in our books we wrote them down.

“The king will have us tame them;
and when we do, the riches below
their feet will be ours.”

“What of the Treaties?  The Peace?”

All is fair in love and war, and
we who usurp are just cursed, nothing
more;

just as the Jews who asked Samuel
for a king;

we are cursed like a Viking thing.

Lifting the Shroud

14 Thursday Jun 2018

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

≈ Leave a comment

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.

← Older posts

Subscribe

  • Entries (RSS)
  • Comments (RSS)

Archives

  • March 2021
  • February 2021
  • December 2020
  • November 2020
  • October 2020
  • September 2020
  • August 2020
  • July 2020
  • May 2020
  • April 2020
  • February 2020
  • January 2020
  • December 2019
  • November 2019
  • October 2019
  • September 2019
  • August 2019
  • July 2019
  • June 2019
  • May 2019
  • February 2019
  • January 2019
  • December 2018
  • November 2018
  • October 2018
  • September 2018
  • August 2018
  • July 2018
  • June 2018
  • May 2018
  • April 2018
  • March 2018
  • February 2018
  • January 2018
  • December 2017
  • November 2017
  • October 2017
  • September 2017
  • August 2017
  • July 2017
  • June 2017
  • May 2017
  • April 2017
  • March 2017
  • December 2016
  • November 2016
  • September 2016
  • August 2016
  • June 2016
  • May 2016
  • March 2016
  • February 2016
  • December 2015
  • November 2015
  • September 2015
  • August 2015
  • July 2015
  • May 2015
  • April 2015
  • March 2015
  • February 2015
  • January 2015
  • December 2014
  • November 2014
  • October 2014
  • August 2014
  • July 2014
  • May 2014
  • April 2014
  • March 2014
  • February 2014
  • January 2014

Categories

  • 1984
  • Acceptance
  • Addiction
  • African
  • African American
  • Aging
  • Alcohol
  • Alcoholics Anonymous
  • Alcoholism
  • Alegre
  • Allegory
  • Amends
  • America
  • American Poem
  • Amor
  • Anatomy
  • Andrew Young
  • Anecdote
  • Anti-Political
  • Apolitical
  • Arthur Davison Ficke
  • Article
  • Articles
  • Austin Clarke
  • Awareness
  • Beautiful
  • beauty
  • Beer
  • Belief
  • Bible
  • Biblical
  • Big Bang
  • Bilingual
  • Birthday
  • Blog
  • Blogs
  • Blues
  • Books
  • Boys
  • Britain
  • British
  • Brothers
  • Bullies
  • California
  • California History
  • Cars
  • Catholic Church
  • Childhood
  • Children
  • Christian
  • Christian Science
  • Christmas
  • Church
  • CIA
  • Circumcision
  • Citizenship
  • Civil Rights
  • Classic Poems
  • Classified
  • College
  • College Sports
  • Colonialism
  • Comedy
  • Comical
  • Conquest
  • Constitution
  • Corruption
  • Cosmic
  • Covid
  • Creation
  • Crime
  • Criminal Law
  • Cute
  • Cycle of Life
  • Dating
  • Decisions
  • dedication
  • Divorce
  • Doctors
  • Dogs
  • Drugs
  • Earth
  • Easter
  • Education
  • England
  • Enlightenment
  • Entertainment
  • Environment
  • Epic
  • Erotic
  • Escape
  • España
  • Español
  • Espiritual
  • Eternity
  • Explicit
  • Faith
  • Family
  • Fantasy
  • Fútbol
  • Feminism
  • Football
  • Forgiveness
  • Frost
  • Galaxy
  • Geocracy
  • God
  • Gospel
  • Government
  • Graphic
  • Gratitude
  • Great Spirit
  • Growing Up
  • Gun Control
  • Guns
  • Hard Times
  • Healing
  • Health
  • Heaven
  • Helicopters
  • High School
  • Higher Power
  • Hillary
  • Historical
  • History
  • Holiday
  • Home
  • Homosexuality
  • Honest
  • Honor
  • Humor
  • Humorous
  • Immigration
  • Imperialism
  • Innocence
  • Innocence Lost
  • Inspiration
  • Inspirational
  • Intactivism
  • Interview
  • Ireland
  • Irish
  • Irish Poets
  • James Oppenheim
  • Jesus
  • Jesus said
  • JFK
  • John Gould Fletcher
  • Journalism
  • Journey
  • Joy
  • Junior High
  • Katherine Mansfield
  • Kennedy
  • Kids
  • La Fe
  • La medicina occidental
  • Ladies
  • Land Theft
  • Lao Tzu
  • LAPD
  • Law
  • Life
  • Literature
  • Living with an Alcoholic
  • Livingston
  • Los Angeles
  • Loss
  • Love
  • Marriage
  • Mater Dolorosa
  • México
  • Men's Health
  • Mental Exercise
  • Mental Health
  • Mexico
  • Middle Age
  • Middle School
  • Military
  • Misogyny
  • Mob
  • Mom
  • Montana
  • Morality
  • Mother
  • Murder
  • Music
  • My Dad
  • Mystical
  • Nationalism
  • Native
  • Native America
  • Native American
  • Nature
  • NCAA
  • New Year
  • New Zealand
  • News
  • Noise Pollution
  • Nostalgia
  • Ogden Nash Poems
  • Oldies
  • Olympic
  • Olympics
  • Opinion
  • Originality
  • Overcoming
  • Pain
  • Panic
  • Paradise
  • Parenting
  • Parody
  • Pasadena
  • Pánico
  • Peace
  • Peer Pressure
  • Personal
  • Philosophy
  • Plog
  • Poem
  • Poema
  • Poemas
  • Poems
  • Poesia
  • Poetic Blog
  • Poetry
  • Police
  • Political
  • Political Satire
  • Politics
  • Polytechnic School
  • Positive Thinking
  • Positivism
  • Prayer
  • Prescribed Medication
  • Race
  • Racism
  • Rare Poems
  • Recovery
  • Redemption
  • Relationships
  • Religion
  • Religious
  • Resentment
  • Review
  • Rights
  • Robert Frost
  • Romance
  • Russia
  • Salud
  • San Miguel de Allende
  • Satire
  • Science
  • Scoop
  • Scottish
  • Sex
  • Sexism
  • Sexual
  • Sexuality
  • Sexy
  • Shakespeare
  • Shootings
  • SK Rolle
  • Slavery
  • Sobriety
  • Socal
  • Soccer
  • Soul
  • Space
  • Space Travel
  • Spain
  • Spanish
  • Spies
  • Spirit
  • Spiritual
  • Spiritual Awakening
  • Spirituality
  • Sports
  • Sports Addiction
  • Sportsmanship
  • Spring
  • Stage Review
  • Strength
  • Success
  • Surfing
  • Talgarth
  • Tao
  • Tao Te Ching
  • Ted Hughes Poems
  • Teen
  • Terror
  • Terrorism
  • Thanksgiving Lie
  • Theater
  • Theatre
  • Thomas Lodge
  • Thomas MacGreevy
  • Tongva Nation
  • Tragedy
  • Travel
  • Tribute
  • Trump
  • Truth
  • UCSB
  • United Nations
  • United states
  • Universe
  • USA
  • Valentine's Day
  • Volleyball
  • Voting
  • Wales
  • Waves
  • Weird
  • Welsh
  • Western Medicine
  • Westridge School
  • Winter
  • Winter Olympics
  • Womanizing
  • Women
  • Words
  • World Peace
  • Xenophobia
  • Youth

Meta

  • Register
  • Log in

Blog at WordPress.com.

Cancel

 
Loading Comments...
Comment
    ×
    Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use.
    To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: Cookie Policy