Friday, September 19, 2014

Pregnant With Hope: A Love Letter To Scotland

Dear Scotland,

I know your hurt and disappointment today must run deep. I am feeling sad today too—I was hoping you’d gain the independence you deserve and was gutted when I woke up this morning to hear the news. Nonetheless, I am proud of all whom stood tall against the Westminister elites for social justice and a more equable future. You won in Glasgow and that is a magnificent achievement in its own right. You fought a great heartening proud of that. You have my admiration for showing that it can be done. A new surge of people have defeated fear and your young just had an education better than any political degree. It may seem gloomy for many but Scotland is not finished, it is just on pause for the moment. Your volcano cannot be capped; I know this because I have Scot/Irish blood coursing through my veins. Much was achieved by the YES campaign and I know you will harness this newfound energy as this next wave will be a much bigger one. It's true, the system is crooked, built on lies, bad faith, pathetic incompetence and fear but take heart, your YES campaign unclothed that system and suddenly it became naked. You terrified the British state. People saw. People KNOW. Don't let this pause stop you and may the days ahead be brighter than they seem today. A change is gonna come.

With Love from America,


“No man has the right to fix a boundary to the march of a nation. No man can say ‘thus far shalt thou go, and no further’. We have never sought to set the ne plus ultra of our nationhood, nor shall we ever” ~ Charles Stewart Parnell

...and a generation later Ireland became a republic.

Monday, July 28, 2014


My thoughts are with those many civilians who have already lost their lives, and the even greater number of who have suffered physical or psychological injuries. There is so much injustice going on right now and I am sickened by the reality that the children of Gaza are not only having to live in fear and insecurity but that these horrific circumstances and wounds will become deep scars inside that they will have to endure for a lifetime. I am shocked to have seen banners strung up on buildings in West Jerusalem that read, "There are no innocent people in Gaza." This occupation must put an end to this insane cycle of violence - the carnage must stop!! And if anyone does not like what I am saying you should delete me on all social networks right now. - 


Wendy Rose Watson 

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

There's No Such Thing As War: A One State Solution

This post might not be popular but I'm going to say it anyhow. No one wants death and terror. Hamas emerged from the repeated, sustained, 60 year destructive disenfranchisement of a near destroyed people. Only fools believe the ordinary Palestinian (though there is no real Palestine anymore) wants Hamas to represent them -- look what it does to them. But today, Hamas are the only organization that they have due to the equal polarization from the other side. I think both Israeli government and Hamas have commited terrorist acts, are propagandists to their ends and in this way become extremists. We here in the US seem to love this because we get to sell weapons to Israel to the tune of BILLIONS of dollars a year, which by the way keeps Israel needing the US. And we wonder why a peace process has yet to work?! Doesn't it seem clear as to why we allow and quietly encourage Israel to dehumanize a marginalized people who must retreat to refugee camps, have no nuclear weapons, lack the support of one of the most powerful nations on earth, have little economic influence, poor medical facilities, wasted infrastructure, terrible medical services, and terrible conditions for human life then build a wall around them and strangle their economic prospects--and then the Israel government expects them to act obedient and happy with their oppression? This being the case is why the Hamas answer to a deeper anger in these people. The Hamas emerged from Israel's abuse of others in the area and I dare all to look deeper beyond the propaganda (the stuff so many take in thoughtlessly from the usual controlled media outlets) Palestinian and Gaza innocents are dying by the scores--none of which support Hamas and it is a complete failure that the most powerful country in the region, couldn't find ways to share power and peace with it's most destitute neighbor. It seems crystal clear now that there really is no negotiating table. This is very depressing as sadly the fighting is not going to go as easy as Israel hoped; there will be bloodshed that climbs into the thousands soon. And those thousands will mostly be the blood of innocent civilians. A one state solution? Right. I cannot and will never be able to support the death nail when innocents are involved. Shame on all of the decision makers who are promoting this WAR and for anyone who is taking sides.

Tuesday, July 15, 2014


Big bucks for cover ups continue to dim the voices of the people within. Seduction. Mass Media. No God Exists. Corruption. Global. De- Construction of Elections that we never agreed with. Electrify Me. Teen aged dream. Everything Is an Illusion but we all one day or another have to come clean when we're on the big screen, or do we? By the way I don't know who 'we' are...might need to check into the overt dictionary to figure that out. Over and Out for the night with lots of light.

An Overt Tribute To Thunder Road

They: The ones who hide, the ones who alter, the ones who are always telling us how good we have it and how thankful we should be. 

Example of They used in a sentence: 
"They kept telling me to be grateful that I live in a town which is loaded with honest work opportunity at Walmart and McDonald's." 

"They pretend not to notice all the empty ghost structures that went out of business years ago as they make their way to the package store."

"They understand that an honest $1 is a $1 and keep telling us that we gotta work hard if we wanna live the American Dream"

"They wonder why many of us are still unemployed."

"They hope to keep an 'insane' amount of them on Prozac and other Big Pharma drugs to remain in sync with the viciously rapid cycles of modernity"

Us: The ones who will rise, the ones who will speak, the ones who feel the oppression in every nation in the world. (Insert Us used in a sentence)

Freedom: A bizarre idea especially in corporate cultures which insist on the worker explicitly following orders. (Insert Freedom used in your own sentence below)

The American Dream: It's a phantom that everyone makes movies about but no one ever really sees anymore. (Insert The American Dream used in your own sentence below)

The Revolution: The only thing that any sane citizen should look forward to.
(Insert The Revolution used in your own sentence below)

Yeah I know it's not The Boss but it's a good cover that seems to work because IT'S on Prozac.

Monday, July 14, 2014

Empty Beaches During The Off Season

I pledge allegiance to my dad for teaching me everything he knows/ and now it's time on the clock for me to dive/ dive into the tides/ tides that take me down into the dark depths of my mind/ where prehistoric landscapes keep me alive and keep me company/I feel so empty now/ I can hear my siren howl/ I can almost see the abyss staring back at me/ By the time I swear I'm his/ By the time I shiver and sigh/By the time he vows his passion is mine/ One of us will be lying/How the candle gives off such lovely light when you think the shadows are all busy just dying/And at least the robbers left the moon in my window/I pledge allegiance to my dad for teaching me everything he once had/Counting an endless repetition/The end of a sure beginning/Which is dead/ Which will always be dying. 

"The American Dream and American Psycho are starting to represent the same thing.
 Cinema and music and life are starting to merge. Death is art. 
We've played pop music out. That wholesome dream is dead." 
Lana Del Rey

Woody Guthrie's New Year’s resolutions

Saturday, July 12, 2014

Shooting Stars

a salute to the chronicles of all saints: glancing around the room..ariel...there are gardening boots in the corner, photos and papers on the piano bench, lace capped flowers in my mind with dark stems---a bright fireplace with circular shadows and white drapes with the moon shining through, a gallery of a forest out the looking glass we call windows in full bloom. geraniums, dusty leaf flowers from a forgotten age screaming to tell their stories....if i get it together soon the stories they talk about could be mine, all mine. I just don't care for things the way they care about them. i take my time. it's almost as if the price is too high -  america doesn't need another lullaby. there is after all a difference between art, mind, propaganda. where are all the blank verses, elegiacs, ballads, limericks and sonnets? father of the nights. red hands. lower worlds. come now, its' time for all our breath to strike some nerves and make necks stretch out on their knees, get entangled. please.  in another life i could of been you, too. i could of if i wanted to and you could have been me too... and, maybe baby, maybe baby, think about it you know what to say and what to do. yeah, we could'a just been just another  meteorite that day...remember that day we landed here? the day we came to play. if i get it together soon the stories they talk about could be mine, all mine and maybe you will understand then too. i just don't care for things the way they seem to care about them in that big parlor room, so full in that fever of blue.

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

Viva La Viva!

I am pleased and excited to share that my manuscript is being sent to the press at the end of July and that my first book of prose, poetry and shorts will be hot off the press in late August/early September 2014. I would also like to convey my sincere thanks to those of you who have believed, inspired and continue to be supportive on many different levels. Today, as I continue to try and make sense of this life through my writings and the act of creation, I have found that one thing is certain. To write the past is to hold a memory. To write the present is to stand witness. To write the future is to cast a spell. I hope all of you will find something that speaks to you in all selections of my past, present and future love offerings. 

You may find more of my "dreamings" where I use visuals, sound and writings that continue to be aides and tonics as I weave my way through the labyrinths of living at the links below.

"There is a skeleton (or death) that flees in the face of my will to live." - Frida Kahlo


"Take another leap in the dark
With a humble heart
Do yourself some good
What did you become?
Be sure

These days it's all in the mind

--Earth, Water, Fire, Wind, and Void--

Thursday, July 3, 2014

Dear Darkness: An Ode To Gustav Klimt And Changing Poison Into Medicine

At first sight, Klimt's Hygieia seems to be another representation of the femme fatale. Hygieia confronts the viewer almost scornfully, her haughtiness is implied by her upraised chin and inscrutable gaze and her posture is slightly ominous, the golden snake twines sinuously along her upraised arm and it is unclear whether she offering the bowl or withholding it. The stylization of her encompassing red and gold robe serves to hide her body and her hair is covered beneath her rich headdress, the only indication of humanity and feminine sensuality lie in Hygieia's bare face and arms, and even here, her sensuality becomes a source of power, though she stares out of the painting, her eyes are hidden in shadow. It is clear that Hygieia is powerful and dangerous in her own right.

Hygieia, according to Greek myth, was the goddess of hygiene, of health, cleanliness and sanitation. In fact, the snake and the bowl remain symbols of pharmacy to this day. In this context, Hygieia was not afemme fatale but belonged rather in the traditional categorization of women as caretakers. This explanation of Hygieia contrasts with Klimt's powerful, inscrutable and even ominous depiction of her.

At the same time, it is clear that Hygieia is not the only figure in this painting, hidden amongst her elaborate headdress are the reposing faces of two women and the bare torso of a naked pregnant woman is partially hidden by Hygieia's red robe. Behind Hygieia, or perhaps within Hygieia, are very human very vulnerable women whose downward gazes, flowing hair and nudity speak much more to traditional depictions of women than Hygieia's strange defiance and power. Is Hygieia protecting these women? Is she instead threatening such women? Are these women another side of Hygieia, is she both vulnerable and powerful, innocent and mysterious? These questions are swallowed in the inscrutable gaze of Klimt's Hygieia.

In 1894, Klimt was commissioned to paint the ceilings in the University of Vienna’s great hall. The commission included three paintings, Philosophy, Medicine, and Jurisprudence. When Klimt presented them to the university upon completion, they were determined to be pornographic in nature, and filled with “perverted excess.” The university would not display them. Medicine was the second painting in the series. It featured a column of nude figures on the right hand side of the painting,a young nude female who floated in space, with a newborn infant at her feet, representing life. A skeleton represented death in the river of life. The only link between the floating woman and the river of bodies is two arms, the woman's and a man's as seen from behind. At the bottom of the painting Hygieia stood with the Aesculapian snake around her arm and the cup of Lethe in her hand, turning her back to mankind. Because of this, he was attacked by critics, who pointed out that Vienna at the time was engaging in major medical advancements,claiming that Klimt conveyed an ambiguous unity of life and death, with nothing to celebrate the role of medicine or the science of healing. An editorial in the Medizinische Wochenschrift complained that the painter had ignored doctors' two main achievements, Preventive medicine|prevention and cure.In 1945, the paintings were destroyed in Germany by advancing forces, the only remaining portions being a photograph of a portion of Medicine, and certain drawings and preliminary sketches.

Philosophy was the first of the three pictures presented to the Austrian Government at the seventh Vienna Secession exhibition in March 1900. It had been awarded a gold medal at the World Exhibition in Paris, but was attacked by those in his own country. Klimt described the painting as follows: "On the left a group of figures, the beginning of life, fruition, decay. On the right, the globe as mystery. Emerging below, a figure of light: knowledge." Critics were disturbed by its depiction of men and women drifting in an aimless trance. The original proposal for the theme of the painting was "The Victory of Light over Darkness", but what Klimt presented instead was a dreamlike mass of humanity, referring neither to optimism nor rationalism, but to a "viscous void". ​​

The process of changing poison into medicine begins when we approach difficult experiences as an opportunity to reflect on ourselves and to strengthen and develop our courage and compassion. Suffering can thus serve as a springboard for a deeper experience of happiness. From the perspective of Buddhism, inherent in all negative experiences is this profound positive potential. I do not have the words to connect this post to what you may have thought you could find here, today, tonight but what I do offer is a longer thought....a thought beyond words, a feeling and a visual, a salute to mystery and the mystic law... a salute to being. So be. So stay. So beautiful, utterly beautiful and, listen inside.

Tuesday, April 15, 2014



This is the end of my life in art. At least I have found the man I was looking for. It is Spring. It is the Spring that I have waited for. In my head we are living in a suite on the fifth floor of the Chateau Marmont in Hollywood. He is more handsome than Clark Gable or Carey Grant. Except for the fear of losing him I have no complaint. I have not been denied the full measure of beauty. Nights and mornings we kiss each other. The feathery palms rise through the smog. The curtains stir. The traffic moves on Sunset over painted arrows words and lines. It is best not even to whisper about this perfection. This is the end of my life in art. I am drinking Eye of the Hawk, a drink I found in the local grocery here. It seems to be the full measure for me right now. I have not been denied the full measure. It happened as I approached my forty- second birthday. Beauty and love were granted to me in the form of a man. He wears silver rings of death on each finger just as I have instructed him to. I am happy with my luck. Even if he goes away I will say to myself, I have not been denied the full measure of beauty and yet when he lowers himself onto my mouth I feel such a measure of doom. There is a pyramid upon my breast. I want to change blood with him. I want to stop staring. I want to promise myself something. I want his death. Six-Seventy and five. Ruined in Los Angeles. I want to die in his arms and leave him. I was always ready to drive him to the nearest airport and say goodbye. He started his exercises today, he knew he'd need some muscle. Everyone except I knew he was in pain. All this junk about the gangsters of love and still today I become emotional whenever I put on my lace blouse and he comes again into my arms and there is no death because he is my image of beauty and in a flash all the words were rearranged and double-took just to suit us just like second hand clothes, a sacrificial child and an ordinary face like mine, mocking everything called Hollywood. And I really should start pouring hard turpintine on my liver again...but I won't.

Words © Wendy Rose Watson
Art- Family of acrobats with monkey, pablo picasso, rose period


We cry out for what we have lost. We embrace the containing words. Two hundred tongues and sixty six white violets for all memories that were not a blur. And no one knew where the night was going and no one knew when it would end. And no one knew what would happen next not even the howling wind. And I have begun to long for you and how you kissed my body ripe because I remember that the night has no terrors for the one who lWe cry out for what we have lost. We embrace the containing words. Two hundred tongues and sixty six white violets for all memories that were not a blur. And no one knew where the night was going and no one knew when it would end. And no one knew what would happen next not even the howling wind. And I have begun to long for you and how you kissed my body ripe because I remember that the night has no terrors for the one who lays down wearing white. So I have kept nothing for myself, Mary Magdelene was not a whore. Beauty is everywhere distilled out of hard times and it thickens the faculties of my sword. And this is not a memory of what I deserve nor a story on the wages of some war. It's the perfection. It's the destruction. It's the bloom. It's the fade. It's the rose. It's the woman. It's just me ripping my heart out again. It's just me and my confident effortless allure. It's just another blurred memory. It's just a root as I praise creation joyously and Mary Magdelene was not a whore.

Words © Wendy Rose Watson

Friday, April 11, 2014


Long live the creative expression!

Long live individuality, emotion, love, poetry, prose, mystery, forgiveness, and retribution.

May you find yourself, and when you do, may you be happy, fulfilled, kind, and full of love.

Wendy Rose

I have a book coming out in 2014 and will be away from these pages
You may find me here:

Monday, March 31, 2014

Look At The Lilies In The Field They Neither Toil Nor Spin

i am the outsider, the one nobody asks. i feel naked. i feel like eating soft ice cream. i feel like watching industrial television. i hate industrial everything. i wanna feel the taste of honey. i wanna know just like a pretentious graduate student knows the taste of their tongue because the flame of their spirit almost never runs high. i have a fever. i am the artist. i am individuality. i wanna know just like an explicit dancer knows that her "fuck you very much hip thrust" swallows you like her warm, sympathetic knife and then i already know.... but that is never enough because there are dark days lingering like a dostoevsky or a nietzsche jab to make you (not me) realize that all of us are living below the horizon...comfortably floating without name, without honor and don't recognize exactly that because all of the why's and all of the no's and is one can be happy all the time and yes... happy days are here again because after all every breath is one in the same.

words© Wendy Rose Watson