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Tag Archives: Truth

Forgiving the White Invasion of America

11 Sunday Aug 2019

Posted by Bill Watkins in Forgiveness, History, Poetic Blog

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Love, Truth

John Smith

-by Bill Watkins 8/11/2019

***

People living on prime real estate must fight hard to keep it.

The British Isles?  Spain?  That’s some beautiful land, and many tried to invade and conquer it over the years.  Because of this, armies raise up, take advantage of advantages in defense, say the invention of gun powder out of Asia in the ninth century A.D.

Another school will look at religion and spirituality, point to the evil in possessing, the evil in desire, the seven deadly sins as motive for crimes, invasion and war.  The bible is among other things, a law book, laying down principles of living that if followed, would allow a person to feel some peace, if not go to heaven itself.

Prejudice is the devil, the real monster in all this, judging others as less than to boost us up—FEAR.  We all self-aggrandize a bit, build up and defend ourselves.  All humans do, just as all plants and animals self-preserve.  So maybe we can find some forgiveness for European people, who came across an ocean to take land away from its natural inhabitants in what map-maker Martin Waldseemüller called “America” in 1507.

No justification, but forgiveness.  Call out land theft as wrong and only wrong, but forgiveness.  Abuse in Europe can never justify abuse in America…

But forgiveness.  I believe I will forgive myself, a descendent of white conquerors, when I find a bit of land in which to live, where I am confident no one stole it.  My mind is open, as one’s should be, to learn the way of first peoples—whether the Celtic Druid earth ritual, or the Native American dance as prayer.  The Aboriginal meditation, the Taoist retreat, the bow at sundown looking East to Mecca, Allah and Buddha in the sky of reincarnated dreams pointing us all in different languages toward peace of mind.

The enemy is prejudice.  A closed mind.  And if crimes have been committed over the years against first peoples, it’s the fear behind closed minds that caused them.  God of universal understanding help us, Higher Power from AA to the bars of abuse help us to the open mind that yields the enlightenment of Creation.  Understanding.  Compassion.

And forgiveness for the White invaders of America, who hurt themselves as much as anyone else, closing minds to the native, indigenous way of life under the glow of God’s nature without books.

“Discovery”

09 Friday Aug 2019

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

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

God, Love, Poetry, Truth

Killing Natives1

The military view, combined
with general notions consistent
with Darwinian survival, Jesus’
wide path to destruction and Lao
Tzu’s unchangeable world

looked across the Atlantic Ocean
once upon a time, conspired yet
further with perverse crowns
over a people obsessed with
deifying people ever since
Samuel walked up the hill
and asked the LORD for a king…

And stole land.

We called it “Discovery” and the
right of Christian nations.  It
was a competition, a way to
beat France and Spain if you’re
British, a forgetting we’re all human,
and to take land others occupy by force
equals robbery.

Then Karma gets attached and you
have black slaves work that
stolen land, promise to pay them
after a bloody war to free them,
then renege on the promise.

Karma keeps chomping at our
own butts, as we turn our guns
inward, murder our own president
in 1963, use the guns further to
murder children at schools,

but continue to go on MSNBC
and CNN to tout the Greatest
Democracy the world has ever
seen!!  (Unless you are living in
a reservation because a white
military forced you out of your
inheritance, land and livelihood.)

We live in stolen land, the beaches
are nice but the karma pollutes
sidewalks of concrete with litter,
asphalts of broken rocks, waterfalls
of crime on crime, jails filling up
because we put kings instead
of Higher Power over our lives,
took orders like good little
soldiers as we took up arms, left
our fathers’ graves and planted
a new Europe on top of Native
American burial ground.

Litter on Westminster Bridge

23 Tuesday Jul 2019

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

England, Love, Peace, Poetry, Truth

Westminster1
Westminster2

Composed on Westminster Bridge,
9 July 2019

***

Sifting through litter on the bridge,
Attained is a spot of relish.

The hot dog is wet with lies,
Slithering down the drain
That is industrial progress,
Yelping Celtic drums and
Scottish pipes as Master Bruce
Points to graves unattended.

Love is a warm place Londoners
Must go, the calm in winds between rains
Calming as the Thames claps at history.
We left the graves of our father
To war in foreign lands, supposing a bible
Could stand for truth.  Earth unloved
As the druids scattered, and with them the land,
Now divided in his and hers, the towel racks
And showers grand, suits of fine finish
Revolving into Parliament as John the Poor begs.

Life is litter now, waiting for caring clean-up,

The homeless may apply!

I’ll attend to my father’s grave all my life, Wales too.
Scotland was a king to serve when the earth was enough,

Is it for you?

Truth

23 Sunday Jun 2019

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Love, Poetry, Truth

Einstein

Fictions the moment we write,
words changing what is at least
a little.

Occasionally we come close to
the mark, a smile catching us off
guard, songs…

We say an unexpected thing, and
someone laughs, call out evil,
violence—

Devil!  I see you, get thee behind.
Police guns, lives on the run, clichés
doing, doing

Over and over again the tempted
tempt placing tents on walkways,
calling it

all “Homeless,” so off we go in our
suits and SUV’s writing checks,
building…

Hah!  Try to get a camper camping
for free under stars to go into your
Section 8,

Isn’t it great, God relieve us of the
bondage of self, ignorance never bliss
unless—

God grant our words Truth, grant our
minds hope, give this song value,
moving pieces,

Games of Chess.

E=mc2 because Einstein was blessed,
we crack a theory, return to earth,
get undressed.  Finish… Eternal
never calls out “Next!!!!!”

We place the cards where boys and
girls can follow then rest

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.

Flying Away from Truth

15 Wednesday May 2019

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Love, Peace, Poems, Poetry, Truth

Helicopter2

We came up somewhere;
our cells, our “blood” from rivers,
mountains and streams…

We move here, we move there;
our ancestors thought it wise,
or forced out by war,

Picked up our things, set sail,
replanted across a sea in new land,
Don’t be shy!!!

Then we or someone else…
hatched a very big lie.
We were “white,” therefore better.

“We were white, therefore
deserved slaves…”  Add to that
“We were Christian,”

Believed what the Bible said.
Anyone not white or Christian
were to us better off dead.

We kept up the colony, laying
waste to the indigenous dream;
nature to be soiled and used

Not loved and thanked, we went
from flower to flower, killing power,
left our mark in the sand.

We planted Europe’s flag down,
adopted laws we mocked there.
Ethnocentric all from fear…

Gun powder from alchemy
to bombs to guns to “win”
un-winnable wars.

Peace selected by few, scoffed
at by the masses in a peer-like
pressure of exploding gas!

Don’t just trudge up the road,
look back occasionally, take
in the past!!

There we might find a clue
to bettering our current step.
Have we paused enough?

Are we wise to stop more, pray
or think real deep on next
steps like cars, flying machines

loud dreams with lots of
bells and whistles that sell
themselves but

can make the birds, coyote
and deer scream?  The merry-
go-round is still denial,

un-checked the officer will leave
the ground today, make war
on folks determined “bad.”

Judge not lest ye be judged
was spoken well and true.
Ye without sin, go ahead

Fly away from truth.

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!

Is Love in the Brain?

06 Wednesday Feb 2019

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

God, Joy, Love, Peace, Spirit, Truth

Love11

The answers cosmic to questions
tragic, mystical creation yielding
to childlike intuition.

Is love in the brain?

Heart to heart, the toddler
finds the sandbox and a parent
will remark: look how he plays,
does he know he’s loved?

Does he give and receive with
grace, does he say “thank you,”

Does he have the courage to love?
To be himself?  To give his gifts?

What if he is rejected?

***

We have no power to overcome well
the hurt you feel when your dreams
and feelings expressed get waved off
or denied.

God bless us to a spiritual space,
pass along to our kids not only the
self-confidence to be true;
but the wisdom to keep a Higher Power
there for our appeals in failure.

The higher, mystical truth outside
the lines on structured drawings,
the native Great Spirit—the Hebrew
LORD, Allah, Muhammad and Jesus,
their words, those who raise hands
and praise—

Matoax and her blessings saving a
new white race, the scar of murder
on their face, all forgiven when we ask
for help—

accept her furs, the earth a spaceship
with room for all views, check your
energy, check in prayer every detail.

Are you with Faith or Fear?  How do
we reside where the questions stop,
in peace of mind?

Is love in the brain becomes question
no more on the wind of Spirit, live
for it not her or him, fly with the eagles
and magic, love lost wives and beware
the snares that are mere human
hang-ups, grounding us as long as
resentment lasts.

Ask, receive, love, blast!

Give your song to God and wind
and the denied sandbox dream becomes
only a part of the dance David called
us to before slaying along with
Goliath every prayer-resisting fear.

Wake up, skip the rock and see the
smile on the wind for your life, the hope
the universe has for you being endless
as the pool and its rings in rainstorms.

The rainbow is in the heart;
wait there for all things loving past
insane; it’s all in balance when
love is in the brain.

Flower to Seed

04 Monday Feb 2019

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

History, Love, Native, Peace, Tongva, Truth

Flower to Seed1

We marvel at the Flashing light
that is now!  Oh, this is amazingly
bad, some say, the reason for the
bad must be the flashing light!

An alcoholic like me knows better
so picks up a book or two, Googles
some history, cries that tear for
Native America walking away from
their land, the one they bonded
with so well;

A land now captive with a European
lust for gold.

England and other nations ran
out of room years ago; ran up
against each other, lost their
gratitude for land—the kind
first people have, from Celtic
Druids to Aboriginal fluidity
listening to the flowing ground
and mountain peaks, river songs
so attentively and tenderly.

You can hear the song today, if you
step outside our perversions
called cities.

I yell at the helicopters on Twitter,
campaigning for native peace
while the wave of corruption
and trash litters the dream that
was Otsungna in Los Angeles,
a indigenous place of Roses until
we laid down the concrete and
asphalt, calling it good, God’s will
and Manifest Destiny…

The shiny ball is a racist, incompetent
“president” now, but he is propped up
by the insanity that humans can
lead other humans without divine help.

You kick God out, and this is what you
get, read about Samuel.

God’s my king and president, but that’s
sort of a locked-up secret told between
souls underground.

My ancestors came here for fame,
gold, and adventure—imagine the
England they left behind, full of shiny
balls, lights and problems—

nine out of ten of us I’m sure
on Jesus’ wide path to destruction,
so let’s yell some more on Twitter,
try to buck them toward the LORD.

Ready to Plant

30 Wednesday Jan 2019

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

CIA, JFK, Joy, Love, Peace, Poetry, Truth

caterpillar1

Inching like an optimistic caterpillar,
across the hot sidewalk of regret;

fifty-five years since Kennedy died,
CIA still above the law in need of vet.

I am not mad that we killed our Earth
in search of gold and easy living;

I cannot be mad and simultaneously
fend off temptation to keep on drinking.

I love my enemy, and if not bring hell
into life as a grave, sad possibility!

We can let Fear guide us or some version
of God, coincidence or serendipity!

I love the calm lines of the lonely lass,
who picks me up because she knows…

She is aware that I’m lonely, too, not
consciously but truthfully as it often goes…

I inch along, the inchworm ready to plant!
The tide is low a while, the garden prepped;

Sunshine lurks behind the Summer clouds,
Goodness a rainbow out of fog leapt.

God forgive our mistakes, one at a time
made in the path to oblivion far and wide…

“Keep swimming,” saith the Disney swimmer,
We’re not that great but could be…

Henry’s blessed Heroes in the strife!!!

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