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Tag Archives: Police

Lethal Force Argument Fails in Big Picture

02 Tuesday Nov 2021

Posted by Bill Watkins in Nature, Poetic Blog, Police

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Joy, LAPD, Lethal Force, Love, Peace, Police

Lethal1

***

I recently spent some time with an LAPD officer, who went over a variety of potentially lethal situations he and his fellows face while on the job, trying to protect and serve.  He was surprisingly convincing, had me on the edge of my seat, and I was close to renouncing some of my religious views—the main one with relevance being the Sixth Commandment of the Jewish Torah:

Thou shalt not kill.

The officer was convincing with the set of conditions in front of him, as a lethally trained cop, but…  After a few days to meditate, I recalled the big picture.  Stolen Native American land… Guns and more guns rationalized by bibles, then the forced industrialization and development of this once thriving wilderness turn New Europe.

In the insanity civilization has created, the normalization of fast cars, planes, and even the loud war machine helicopters above us claiming law enforcement:  one could argue that indeed some people need killing.  An insane notion made almost palatable on the concrete and asphalt of this city:  law officers speeding around in fancy cars burning earth, flying around over our homes burning more earth—

Showing up mid-conflict… someone draws a knife, or a gun, or a machete… and now?  The police officer called in with few facts and limited knowledge of a crime scene shows up to make a life or death decision with his or her lethal firearm.  They trained to kill, trained to shoot for the largest mass on the human body—the torso, the chest, the heart… to kill.

And given all of that, all that touring around in fire-burning vehicles across this once natural area turned polluted metropolis:  they are out of touch.  Their boots are not on the ground.  They don’t know the suspect nor the suspect’s family.  They often know only a little about the community they enforce, and what they do know they know driving at high speeds or worse yet, flying loud metal choppers from above us.

Lethal force in policing is always wrong, I still assert.  Even after an LAPD officer’s impassioned plea to me and set of scenario explanations…  Why?  Because the concept of “America,” land theft and the forced industrialization of this land has created the insane situations they experience that only seem to justify the taking of human life on the job.

I reject lethal force.  I reject lethal force training.  But well before that, I reject “Los Angeles,” the “United States of America” and any other concepts deriving from a racist, criminal theft of land some like to call a romantic conquest so they can keep benefitting from sin.  Putting down our guns may not be the first step toward proper amends, but it is one. 

It’s time to question the founding of this New Europe on stolen Native American land, where gun use is too often justified in the loud, polluted insanity industrialization has created here.

Helicopters Disturb the Peace

24 Saturday Aug 2019

Posted by Bill Watkins in LAPD, Native, Poetic Blog, Police

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Love, Police, Truth

LAPD Helicopter1

by Bill Watkins, Land Thief, 8/24/2019

TITLE 11. OF CRIMES AGAINST THE PUBLIC PEACE [CPC 403 – 420.1]
( Title 11 enacted 1872. )

415.
(2) Any person who maliciously and willfully disturbs another person by loud and unreasonable noise.

Written American law code is sort of a joke, when you think that the United States government was founded on land theft.  But while here, I’ll play with it to point out how unlawful LAPD and other police agency helicopters are, operating loudly and by code illegally over our communities.

I never see the criminals or suspects around here, just hear and see the horrible sounds and sights of LAPD’s warlike choppers—fine for the Hell of CIA’s war in Vietnam, but no good for a peaceful, loving society.  I smirk, for how can we ever be, if we do not invite native America back to their land, retreat to our own lanes and spaces—from our countries of origin to smaller tracts with permission and coordination with the natives?

A horrible sound and people we have let ourselves be, from the get-go rationalized by our bibles and guns.  “We must be better than the native peoples,” we belched, “because we can kill better, curse better, drink alcohol better and steal land better.”  Shameful.

Turkish Proverb1

The moment we turn back, we can rethink the asphalt in that road, the polluting machines we use to travel on them, and above everything else the horrible war machines police abuse to abuse the peace of our neighborhoods, called helicopters.  A horrible invention by a lost people, a people who have abandoned their fathers’ graves and past—

to steal the land of native Peoples in Martin Waldseemüller’s “America.”  We have lost our way, and the abuse of helicopters is representative of this loss, along with mass shootings and gun obsession.  If we ever should want peace of mind, we must turn this ship around;

it all starts by telling the truth.

LAPD Choppers Reduce Quality of Life

23 Friday Aug 2019

Posted by Bill Watkins in LAPD, Native, Poetic Blog, Police

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Love, Noise Pollution, Peace, Police

LAPD Helicopter1

by Bill Watkins, Land Thief, 8/22/2019

We are victims of our own fundamental sins in “Los Angeles” and other modern cities across this land mapmaker Martin Waldseemüller called America in 1507.  The real name for where I live is the native Otsungna, or “place of the Roses,” and mustn’t that have been nice?  There was a river running through it, instead of graffiti on concrete surrounding a weak stream.  There was a lake in the area we now call San Marino, but white farmers came in and sucked out its water so much that it is now a nice grass-lined park… but no more lake.

There were no sirens, no airplanes, and no helicopters robbing the earth of peace simultaneous to burning her blood to go faster and higher.

Speaking of robbery, there was a people, mostly naked and brown-skinned, who lived on and with the land.  They had no books, modern weapons or guns—so fell easy prey to aggressive, land-grabbing white people, who threatened and committed violence under a painted cross.  We stole land and butted out peaceful inhabitants here so that we could erect our New Europe.

We brought guns, alcohol, cursing and disease—but oh man did we have a book!  “This book will save you from all your sins!” we bragged to the native tribes living at peace with the real God in nature.  We did not want to hear their myths and stories, took some tips on planting and living in this land, then kicked them out in the name of the god of words on pages, revved up our industrial revolution and “progress”—progressing and advancing our weaponry, noise, cursing and alcohol consumption, while the native people were pushed out of sight and mind.

Today LAPD helicopters claim to patrol this land, claim to “safeguard the lives and property” of us citizens of a city, county, state and government based in land theft.  Crimes are committed everyday, the most evident to me while I still live on this stolen land by police helicopters killing peace with their war tools.  The LAPD mission statement, quoted above, also says that its officers work “with the diverse communities to improve their quality of life.”  Are we defining terms the same way?

What a sad people we are, roaring up in metal vessels, polluting the air and life below, deeming it good for our quality of life.  A roar we unfortunately hear, since 1957’s first introduction of the noise polluter above our city, to me the point of the sword that killed and forced out native America, peace, rivers and lakes from this land.  We could have set up trade, respected native peoples, allowed them to live side by side with us, but no.  We were too sick, too infected with the self-righteousness of might equaling right, with some words in a book we were sure could not ever be beaten by any people’s unwritten traditions.

We have failed to improve this land, and yes I plan to leave it soon, to give my spot back to a native American.  While I am still here, I will continue to point out obvious crimes—most commonly committed by our supposed crime-stoppers, the LAPD.  Police officers across this land represent our collective shame, our thievery, our pollution.  It’s time we admitted our sins—

the first step in amending them.

Killing is Not Defense

01 Saturday Jun 2019

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Joy, Killing, Law, Love, Military, Peace, Police, Truth

Killing1

We brought the guns from
Europe to America, lorded
them over the native people,
were careful to hit when we shot,

Part of scaring the people
into submission and stealing land.

We needed guns, or so we thought,
crammed together in close
quarters—England, France, Germany
and others within stone’s throw.

We looked all around, and best
weapons of war seemed to win.

We brought the disease across
the sea, that with our bibles
to justify treatment and dismissal
of a people clearly not Christian.

The Virginia Charter of 1606 clear,
calling all in armor sent across for the

…propagating of Christian religion to
suche people as yet live in darkeness
and miserable ignorance of the true
knoweledge and worshippe of God…

The descendants of Chief Luther
Standing Bear of the Lakota Sioux
from Wakan Tanka, the Great spirit
living among the kinship “with all

creatures of the earth, sky and water…
all of one blood, made by the same hand,
and filled with the essence of the
Great Mystery… The Lakota never

enslaved an animal, and spared all life
that was not needed for food and clothing.”

No cursing, no swearing, no loud guns
until we came here pushing our loud,
violent way as better.

And we tout a military that kills,
police that learn to kill, shooting for
the torso on the firing range, selling
our soul so often over the years,

All normalized and baked in the cake,
America the Beautiful shot in the heart,
helicopters overhead “keeping the peace?”

Killing is not defense, nor can it ever be.

Killing is offense, weapons of war, instruments
of fear—“all creatures hate them,” says
Lao Tzu, but what can one do?  Jesus said
“Live by the sword, die by the sword,”

So we as humans get to choose.  But if
your goal is to stop an attacker,
do so moderately short of stopping
his or her heart—

and the reward will be peace, and
perhaps a converted bad actor
given a second chance to be what
Wakan Tanka wants us to be.

Truth in American Policing

11 Saturday May 2019

Posted by Bill Watkins in Blog, Blogs, Poetic Blog, Police, Political

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

God, Great Spirit, Love, Native, Peace, Police, Truth

Police Aviation -- 1934 image1

—by Bill Watkins
Los Angeles, 5/11/2019

Native Americans had quite a message for us, so far unheeded or followed very much.

They lived at one with nature, took and used what they needed, in harmony and without loud intrusions like guns.

Europeans brought guns with their bibles, an arms race close quarters and over-populating seemed to bring in the Old World.  A good life to a European person was different from the good life a Native person found in America.  Book reading, elaborate clothing, and aforementioned guns—loud and nature-defying—were seen as marks of a better society than found when Columbus and other explorers began to conquer this land.

The British and Spanish cited lack of Christianity as a justification to kill, enslave and remove native people here, in a long war to replace their culture and presence with ours.  Now, guns are commonplace, noise meeting little resistance, police forces an extension of those first European thoughts that the un-Christian should be dominated and controlled.

A militant start has yielded militancy, and I have seen first-hand the violence at the heart of modern American governing.  Violence.  Judgment of others.  Justifications for noise and war.  Scapegoating people to separate us, from “gangs” to “terrorists”—groups we create with political corruption, greed and un-checked imperialization and colonization.

Guns do not make a culture better, but louder.  More violent.

Helicopters the same.

When will we stop, listen to the native Great Spirit?  When will we hear God in peace?  When will we stop taking so much money in leadership, while communities suffer and seek to protect themselves in what judgmental circles call those darned “gangs?”

We made the gangs with our neglect.  Now go punish them with our guns?  Now go invade privacy and disturb the peace with helicopters and sirens day and night?

The greatest enemy to peace in the city of Los Angeles is the greed at City Hall combined with a violent paramilitary force protecting the status quo of neglectful suits claiming to serve under-served neighborhoods.  Those under-served communities suffer, while councilmen make $178,000/year, the mayor about $232,000 and the Chief of Police around 300K.

I’m writing to plead with the real criminals of Los Angeles to change our ways, take less, and finally start serving communities we turned into problems years ago by kicking peace out to make way for our war.  Our war on nature.  Our war on people without bibles.  Our war on people who peacefully lived in a spot we coveted.  We displace and displace, neglect and neglect, drive around in our suits and bloated salaries.  Join me and end this criminal cycle!

Helicopters and Hurricanes

08 Friday Sep 2017

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Joy, Love, Noise, Peace, Police

The power of God, natural things, Earth
is nothing to the loud player of God,
revving and burning earth, running, driving
around—even “flying.”

No thought to the deer, the coyote, the birds
in flight running scared—the human mark
is felt, we have forgotten our place on the
ground, where spirit soars.

We want larger, bigger, and better, then hand
power over to the violent—uniformed police
and military, “make us safe” at any cost,
bullets to the torso, sirens and noise…

Boys will be boys, girls girls, Something there
is that suffers under the engines and rotors
of “progress,” the cement, asphalt and sky-
scraping truth of Hell planted in soil.

Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,
people too—too hot for me and you, “To
serve and protect” an expression neglected
on the firing range, as boys learn to kill,

Call it self-defense, put on a vest, say “we’re
keeping folks safe”—even Saving Lives!!  I say
that God saves on the phone line, hang up
with watch commanders, whose minds

are set on killing peace.

I thought cops were “peace officers,” but
how could they be with all their noise?

Shhhhhh!  Be quiet.  God’s at work, think
of the deer.  Shhhh!  Be quiet.  Act like you’ve
been here before, apologize to Mother Nature,
let’s change, go back to God.

Shhhh!  You want to make sounds, sing a song,
find an instrument, play like David did for
praise and love of life!!!  Be a hero in the strife!

Let’s harken back to a better time, I’m not
saying it’s all been bad but helicopters should
be scrapped—they do not please the LORD.

How many times does God talk through wind
in trees, the birds and bees, and we crank up
a huge engine, do whatever evil we please.

Putting yourself first can go along the road
a while, but there is a point at which the
selfish life fails, that point when news choppers
hover over my house, and I ask them

“What’s the deal?”

Really??  You call this news service, getting us
stories on our TV, that’s worth WRECKING THE
PEACE for miles and miles, I say it’s not!!!

Stand with me, it’s not!!!

Shhhhhhh!  Be quiet, so I can hear the LORD.

Shhhhhhh!  Earth is the right place for love,
haven’t you heard?

Robert Frost was the worst farmer in four counties,
but man he had peace and with a pen knew
what to do with it.

Mind the deer, the buck playing with cheer,
antler on antler, gorgeous hillsides teeming
with life and quiet, giving birth to the next
generation of joy—

that horrible, grinding, yelling buzz of choppers
and their engines, go away!!

Pilots, heal thyself, and come back to sanity,
to walk with me, get out of even your cars, use
your five senses, put your muscles into motion,
stop earth-burning and propelling to use
the machine God gave us, perfect and clean.

Okay, so we’re not always clean, but you know
what I mean…

We’re better off as king of animals, not the sky;
give the sky back to Peace, do it before of
noise pollution we surely die.

Uniformed excusers, you are not saving lives,
you are shutting joy out of life, put rubber
bullets in your chambers, start to live by ten
commandments, the sixth not to kill or murder,

we can turn this “progress” ship around, make it
work, our best qualities undress and give before
we scare the next wild animal clan extinct,

lost to the map of life forever…

Manly men, sports and alcohol, we’re so tough
we don’t need you all—off we go, above the earth,
“we’re saving lives” while we kill the peace, it
makes no sense, nor dollars—

heck, crown Mike Pence!

Fire Samuel, make God our king, we need to live
quiet as deer if we want to protect the land to
keep them here.

In native language, my name is Naked Horse,
I reach out to your spirit, save your soul, come
with me, save the trees.

Leave the heliport, to Police I say “Turn it
all into a foot patrol station,” come out to
schools, teach about law and put your lethal
guns away.

Shhhhh!  Make no noise, walk slow and soft
over leaves as you approach, and the buck,
so pretty in the muck, will find his dream
like yours here on earth opposed to fear don’t
duck the humble needs we have, rest in the
mother’s arms, the dirt our home—our friend,
fear it not, return to peace, return to love,
the deer at play, the seer finally saying what he
sees:

Shhh!  It’s a deer crossing; let’s welcome
peace back in our day!

Second Amendment Wrongs

23 Thursday Mar 2017

Posted by Bill Watkins in Blogs, Gun Control, Poetry, Political

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

2nd Amendment, Constitution, Love, Military, Murder, Police

The right to kill permeates military
spending, uniforms sparkling,
“something to do” as we seek out
and destroy to generals and devil’s
cold glaring shout of pride
and approval, the parade going by,

so sharp and sure, knowing
what to do finally, because they
yelled in my ear what I’m supposed
to do.

This was years after I neglected Moses
on the hill, or upon returning from
God.

A few tablets or one, or two shouted
easy truth—so it seemed, ten commandments
then hundred of little laws;

but the commandments, they are still
good. Thou shall not kill is re-written in
1789, ’90 and ratified in ’91 as the Second
Amendment to the U.S. Constitution.

Thou Can and Should Kill, sayeth not Moses
but geniuses like Alexander Hamilton and
Washington, War-mongers in sharp
beating uniforms parading in peace-time
to simple orders.

“… the right of the people to bear arms”
the rally call for NRA and killers all, so fun
at the range or in a video game, paramilitary
or on the front line, get a holster, clean your
weapon, Soldier, time to learn to live
by your gun, die by it too—go to court,
pull out the Second above Moses and God’s
Sixth—plead insanity or “self-defense,” the same
thing:

To MURDER as self-defense! “Yes,” the Devil
loves that amendment! “Make more like
that, abandon God, forget Moses, and
Jesus, rabbis and priests hypocrites
the lot of ‘em!”

BOOM, LAPD shoots another in the chest;
the bum was reaching for his vest,
must have been bad—the evil as much
in thinking we know the future as anything
else.

So vain, so sad, we plead the fifth against
the second avoid the sixth and cop
to violence over and over again
at borders and beyond, your own
front lawn.

“The right to bear arms, “defend by
killing—“Justifiable homicide,” the
Devil’s favorite two words, those and
the one known as “judging,” so
“please” the Devil pleads, coerce the
people to go in and judge others!!

Throw out Moses, God—take YHWH,
write it LORD, then bastardize it as
“Lord” without the capitals, go all the
way—

Amend real, ancient and wise law with
the right to bear arms, “right to kill”—

Murder God now!

Or repeal toward peace to Devil’s
frown, the God we kill rising up
to guns and bullets melting down
except for the ones used to hunt
our food, we can change even though
the world cannot.

And this was good.

Prepare for Peace

26 Thursday Mar 2015

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

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Joy, Love, Military, Peace, Police

Peace13

Police, paramilitary and Military training
that I’ve seen forget a key
course, the most important lesson
of all to take into the world:

Knowing what to do if no one
or nothing is wrong.

If all is quiet, no crimes are being
committed, no borders breached:

DO YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO
IN TIMES OF PEACE?

I fear (prayer the remedy)—better yet,
it concerns me, the gung ho nature
of violent training, “preparing for war”
and “violent criminals shooting their
guns.”

As depicted in Apocalypse Now and
W. Bush carrier landings, the hoopla
and hype and “excitement” to go to war,
to use training to kill

is sick.

But that’s okay God love you anyway,
just learn how to organize twenty-four
hours of Peace. Difficult, I know!!

Takes an alcoholic at war with himself for years
to understand the compulsion
to seek and destroy, to find some “safe
place” apparently made safe by guns
all around you, but then you forget Jesus
who said “live by the gun, die by the gun”—

you’re painting a target on your heads sons
and daughters…

***

I know he said “sword” not gun, by the
way I’m not totally dumb, I used
to be scared and run, and figure that
if I “got you” before you “got me”—
well, then, I was living…

Ten percent of those who go into
police and military should be trained
for the worst.

The other ninety, give’em to me, to
Peace, to helping other nations, ours,
to being of service.

You have to learn to take one on the cheek,
and give them the other one to hit,

BECAUSE THAT IS REALLY SECURING

World Peace, friends

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