Coffee beans and lemon grass………..

Coffee beans and lemon grass……….. The Poet Laureate of Jamaica.

One man’s dilemma is another man’s enlightenment. When the colonies revolted in North America and eventually produced the United States of America the revolution is considered only a part of Europe’s’ period of ‘enlightenment’. But for the citizens of the colonies it was a time and a place of such overwhelming importance that in the country itself there is no period of ‘ enlightenment’ as well most of Europe knows the reciprocal. This I believe to be true.

And what is the point? What we see and hear and learn, the knowledge one carries for their life is the compilation and assimilation of environment. Each generation hopefully and with wishful thinking becomes immune to repeating the lessons of the previous generation. At times there is success. At times a hundred generations still fight the same fight. Does the repetition of struggling comes from lessons never shared or possibly not learned? Just may-be we feel compelled to dominate what we cannot. Dominate nature, her mountains and seas….all creatures and man himself at the sacrifice of enjoining and communing of thriving and sharing. A human trait of arrogance which cannot exist outside of a humans mind. Behold the universe and apply arrogance, only misery will replace the falsity of that human vanity.

The country of Jamaica beginning in the 1960’s and lasting into the 80’s experienced something of a social revolution which appears lost to history. From those years came Mervyn Eustace Morris the Poet Laureate of Jamaica. Exploring life and death, living and surviving, Morris pens a social consciousness of his brothers and sisters. Not always quickly understood but timeless and accurate, his writings and observations of man, mankind and life stand today. Showing the reader a hallowed ground of allusion balanced with restraint. Indeed forcing the reader to earn the reward of reading, denying his fans and friends or family an instant fix of satisfaction. Writing in sparse and rhythmic verse, he writes as a Jamaican ….

“A Chant Against Death”

say family
say friends
say wife
say love
say life
say learning
say cycle

The thing of life, a heartbeat from start to end. He writes from the consciousness of himself.

As the Poet Laureate of Jamaica, Morris produced with neither reluctance nor ambivalence, verse written in ‘International English’ of political ideology. His message being simple and unadorned. Do we too easily become what we rail (verb) upon, socially, morally and unconsciously, “once you choose a side“.

‘To An Expatriate Friend’

Colour meant nothing. Anyone
who wanted help, had humour or was kind
was brother to you; categories of skin
were foreign; you were colour-blind.

And then the revolution. Black
and loud the horns of anger blew
against the long oppressions; sufferers
cast of the precious values of the few.

New powers re-enslaved us all:
each person manacled in skin, in race.
You could not wear your paid up dues:
the keen discriminators typed your face.

The future darkening, you thought it time
to say good-bye. It may be you were right.
It hurt to see you go; but, more,
it hurt to see you slowly going white.

Coffee beans and lemon grass in the Blue Mountains of Jamaica.

Coffee beans and lemon grass in the Blue Mountains of Jamaica.

Poet Laureate Remarks at Investiture Ceremony King’s House, 21 May 2014
” As Dahlia Harris put it recently, speaking on behalf of Minister Hanna:
We hope for “poetry driven by a freedom to speak of ourselves . . . through forms,
content and language . . . more reflective of who we are as a people.” “

  • * * * * * * * *
  • “Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery.
    None but ourselves can free our minds.”
    ― Bob Marley

 Jamaica in the early 80’s gave me many gifts I have never forgotten nor taken for granted. These children are now the men of their country. I cannot speak for them but only read the wisdom they share to this day….walden


XXVII fortnights have passed………

It is here the background begins as too ‘why’ thee Crimson Court convenes..

There was a small kingdom within a kingdom and it was there a most productive, well ordered and progressive village did grow. Many a generation all did thrive. The women bore their children, the men fought in wars when called upon to defend their good and dignified town and in turn their kingdom. No-one of conquered lands would call these fine citizens imperialist. Their fields were prosperous and productive. All was not perfect in the small town nor wrong nor bad. The ‘torch’ of knowledge was passed accordingly from the elders to the next younger generation and only when thee generation had earned knowingly and accordingly the lessons of life, some achieving higher stations obviously than others. Lessons were hard earned and oral history passed to the next,  much like the boot-maker or artesian who from apprenticeship to journeyman toiled for the day his shingle is hung to pronounce to all ‘craftsman’.

 Do not be misled that the lessons from the elders and knowledge gained to be accepted as an elder is or ever will be as simple as the craftsman. His ‘will’ to be the judge and jury, King or executioner, forever carrying the burden of self sacrifice, decision making with a most voluntary introspective penitence to be fair, right and final in any and all conflict of dogma. Indeed every decision follows him to the grave and accordingly beyond. And it is to the beyond his life has answered too and conferred with since birth. Sadly found in all land of plenty and good will be those who find a village or kingdom is but a natural resource they reave too quietly rape!

 When those ‘said forth summoned’ do arrived to be judged, be ye man or woman and thee forced or misled to assist with infecting the ‘essential structures’ of the villages’ and kingdoms’ dogma with blacken skepticism.  Let it be noted now…. Some will have hands empty of the wrong they have done.  Others  yes they will possess vast canyons of arrogance, ‘intelligent practice’ with grey cloud of pragmatism.  Be not caught off guard when indeed they lay claim to the darkness of their history.  They among themselves have written their history to serve only to elevate and serve a very dark and ignoble deed of greed and I do submit as wrong. 

“This I Have Written”

My Soul has Shifted…….

My Soul has Shifted……..

Let the truth be told, the week of Spring break this year is far and away not a break at all.  Everyone’s children are out and about, families traveling to be with families and the most beautiful weather we have seen around these parts in a year or so.  The temperatures have fallen to something close to ‘normal’, if there is such a bench mark any more.  I’ve noticed even the most seasoned forecasters, professional media prognosticators on television here in Atlanta, experts from Accu Weather in State College, PA, are shifting to the best test of forecasting, ‘open the door and look outside before making a forecast’.  Two weeks prior to this bit of cooler weather it has been near 20 degrees warmer then, ‘normal’. Is anything ‘normal’ anymore?  With that said the trees have leafed out and the Azalea’s in our part of the world have bloomed beyond expectations. Here in Georgia, when spring and Easter converge there is a simple beauty in nature to not be missed.
Checking my e-mails this evening brought forth a familiar group of faces.  Rhonda Anderson sent me a 2nd notice from Facebook…”You were sent this via FB and you haven’t watched it and it’s URGENT”. I feel no compelling need Rhonda, my Hotmail account has you in spam, besides you’ve sent me the link I count 30 times in as many days. A favorite is ‘ and their 4th notice to call some bank.  I wasted over a hour of my life tracking and never go further than WHOIS.  Best standby in my  Hotmail ‘spam folder’ would have to be, no explanation needed. And like a 2nd cousin is “Tang Sue, Executive Director and Head of Personal Banking, Hang Seng Bank Limited. Tang Sue has 22million dollars, yes and change in my name because…….the investor…..” Aziz Musa Numan and his family had been killed during the war in a bomb blast that hit his home at Mukaradeeb. I, provided a picture of Aziz’s village and still I puzzled how a man with fortune here ended up in Hong Kong.

He lived here.

Mukaradeeb, Iraq

Reading spam e-mails typically is a habit acquired by long grueling days at work, followed by the short nights. Brought onwards by daily and weekly details trying to maintain my home in the suburbs. Turn you back for just a moment on the details? Something is going to fall apart.  I’ve always wonder how you can raise a family, keep a career on track and maintain the household? My spam is becoming seriously interesting and I’m single with not a family. Most of the e-mails I communicate with on the ‘regular list’ consistently pushes to the “Ticketmaster scroll of coming attractions”.
Having spent entire adult life here I’m fairly attuned to a regular scheduled. In Atlanta a handful of events play out each year, consistently.  It snows in early January, yeah everyone get a ‘free day off’. The State legislature convenes. For some unknown reason the night before the gavel drops there is a dinner in downtown Atlanta @the Depot or what remains of Terminus. “The Wild Hogs dinner”, also know as a lobbyist trough, we know who pays for dinner. This year, the dinner was a bit more exciting than lobbyist. Vegans and Occupiers provided the entertainment with their agendas at the front gate, occupiers were treated to a rice dinner by the vegans, across the street in the occupiers camp..  A note to crashers, you would better suite your cause & agenda by waiting a day when the reps convene. BTW, the dinner is hosted by a group that even the impressive investigative arm of the Atlanta Journal could ‘not’ pin down. Although tickets my be purchased by anyone to attend, the closest the ATL journal could come to ‘who sponsor the dinner’, was two years back, and the man had resigned as the treasurer then, and offered up a tobacco lobbyist as a contact.
The next big event would be the Ringling Bros. & Barnum & Bailey Circus.  If memory servers me right, there were two Circuses, one with more animals and the other with more aerial acts each year.  Following the circus was the ‘motor-cross event’.  This always held near and dear to in-town chatter. The old Fulton County stadium became a mountain course for the motorcycles for a week, and left a razor thin margin of weeks to completely restore the ‘turf’, for a round of over 80 @home Atlanta Braves baseball games.
In my memories on this day I feel the full force of Spring and the rhythms of the seasons. My enlightenment of this morning, and the pondering of all day. Yes we are all ‘characters upon a stage’. This day begins, a player in a play, extremely satisfying and yet altogether un-nerving. Feelings as the first time I was in the swimming pool, gripping the edges, chlorine taste of water in my mouth, trying as I might to lower my head beneath the surface, forcing air bubbles from my nose to rise. Again and again I would sink a bit, the water at my chin, lower to my nose at the surface. The other children next to me? Oblivious. My legs beneath the water searching for the invisible balance,  head slightly above and below the water line. The voice inside this small child’s head,  ‘I know I can do this” My age held me from fear an emotion yet to be experienced. This child’s most inner-self and voice grappling for their communion . Soon enough edging below the water, a chorus’ is created Air from my nose escaping outward to water, resonating vibrations, synching. To me the bubbles sing, natural and primal cadence. Satisfaction and accomplishment  rising thru my head, my body, ” a conscious moment of a child?’. Feet and legs moving with purpose, little hands relaxed their grip from pools edge.  I urged my body to float freely, above or below the waters surface and chlorine disinfected waters embraced me, me the child.  A Jonathon Livingston Seagull moment?  Discovering me as me, a season of life begins?
How quickly my time passes, Fall then winter, Spring melding into Autumn. Weeks become fleeting. lasting a day.  The months flying past, now a year seems as only last month. Time in my soul is feeling like currency, the dollar or euro, a bag of gold for yesterday, “pennies for your tomorrow sir??” My clock @home does not tick. The cool watch I have to match my glasses?  It, the watch, seems to resist being set ‘on time’. i-phone? Embarrasses’ me with ‘its’ total accuracy, cannot argue with me it says, and in return I not.  But, and yeah but. What is that movement in the body of mine, what is that pull, a balance of not eyes, the balance of synching within myself.  I pondered this day and must profess, my soul has shifted.
Years and years ago Nat Geo sent to me, after a lifetime of enjoyment a special four book edition. Oh and god-bless Reg Murphy, he is still on-board there. @one time he was ‘Editor in Chief”, after leaving the Atlanta Journal, and after being kidnapped back in the day and the FBI blew the ransom exchange…..btw they did catch the guy after he spent the money.  Unbelievably he spent the ransom money on a college degree.  When the FBI did find him decades later? He was a Doctor practicing medicine in Alaska… Anyhow the 4 set volumes covered 4 basic periods in recorded time.  You know Mid-evil, and Renaissance  movement if your not familiar with them don’t worry, like Knights and druids and such. Romans and Greeks.
Within these 4 volumes the rise, maturing and decline of governments, dogma’s set forth, conquest, inventions, artistry and mathematics. Nothing lasted forever, well maybe the math and science. Just one generation and then another, each busting their balls to be the best, the brightest, the most fair and enlighten generation or ‘civilization’. In the end as we all will by the commands of life and nature melding to the next season, the next generation. I say this and write, as one whose life has afford a unique time frame of solitude. From that solitude, today I felt my soul shift. I am stunned and wary, not enlightened. It was for a moment a perfect pitch in life of all harmony, clouds with blue skies, ocean waves and foam on the sand, I was there and me knew what it was.  There is or was no fear, or wonderment, no Angles singing. The clock may never tic again, but time by natures very substance of renewal, moving  forward as a breath is exhaled and the next begins again, indeed I witnessed my  soul as a tangible substance. Yes as real as the scent of a ‘Queen Elizabeth rose”. Life will frighten me, life will beat me down, lift me up and in the end of me, life will expire.  Again my soul will shift.

@The Wall, again.

@The Wall, again.

I’ve debated to myself the past few months on my blog, or better yet the direction, tone and subject matter of @McTells Place. Here in the middle of October the content still remains “up in the air”. Migration to WordPress from Windows live has been a challenge. The vast number of ‘writers’ is simply amazing here in WordPress; there were tons of ‘writers’, on Windows Live, some good, some great. As was mine then, a daily magazine article of our lives and times. Showing a bit of ourselves our families and the world we lived in to all who dropped by.

Moving to WordPress I felt a challenge too capture a level above, in tone, content, subject as well as presentation, notch up the blog a touch.

I miss the days of posting something of interest; adding a few pictures or a ” it makes me think twice” quote, hit “publish” and feeling the satisfaction. The debate rages I suppose. Simply, ‘post as you like it’, ‘connect the dots’, follow the thread. I find no conclusion and may just discover there is no dilemma.

I have a host of small files in a folder, filed under what else…BS to spur on a blog or post and to follow let me see what tidbits I have.

June blog stuff

The screen shot above should provide some material. First folder is ‘Buddha never through it’.

(He abused me, he struck me, he overcame me, he robbed me”-in those who do not harbor such thoughts hatred will cease. “)

(– Dhammapada 1.3-4; trans. Radhakrishnan

In contrast, Biblical rhetoric is full of references to enemies, slanderers, and persecutors. Buddhism might unmask a delusion here, rather than go on to talk of forgiving one’s enemies and blessing one’s persecutors. Biblical salvation is atonement for evils that have already occurred; but Buddhist salvation is more an effort to prevent the evils from arising in the first place. When they have already arisen, it calmly proceeds to dismantle them by going back to their roots.)


Now this bit of wisdom was for a study or debate. The debate of Christian and Buddhist philosophy of……..” If a god forgives you of all your sins, then you can continue the cylce of sin and forgiveness. What a horrible thought. Being Christian as I am the challenge of trying to come to a middle ground here was just a little bit too much for me to explore. But I do like neither philosophical thought of dismantling the damage nor atonement of wrong or poor pitiful me. The complete package of info in the folder goes for days. I’ll just stop here and if you like, help yourself to the debate.

Next up in the files is…‘Generational Sins and Curses’. Seems June was the month for religious thoughts. Open up the file and here is a paste.


The Bible tells us that the sins of the father can be “visited” down to 3 or 4 generations in future children.

This IS the bible, this IS what the Word of God says. Most churches pass over it, ignore it… I don’t know why… but I have sought it out because I had issues contrary.


If my memory serves me correctly this was visited as a possible blog when a friend of mine, who over the years/decades has consistently had issues with a vast amount of misfortune visited upon his life. Causing him to call into question the misfortunes as to being not sins of his own, but the curse upon him coming from a prior generation. Simply if ” its not my fault, then who’s’ fault is it?” And greater yet, when will it stop, will it stop and is there an “out” he could arrange. The subject seemed almost taboo as I explored. My conclusion with a grain of salt, with humor and prayer is still open ended, other than glad I’m not him. Indeed his troubles are large in scope and broad in years.

Next up in the files is… ‘Juridical and Ethical’. Once again June was the month of religious, moral and judicial debate I would think.

Dutch philosopher, Herman Dooyeweerd, who recognised that in our living there are several distinct aspects, which should not be conflated into one another. (He proposed ontology; the hyperlinks above are to his proposal for irreducible aspects.) In the realm of personal ethics, the kernel of which is self-giving love, we are called upon to exercise forgiveness. But in the realm of juridical structures of society, the kernel of which is ‘what is due’, we are called upon to exercise proportionality. And since self-giving love cannot be reduced to legal norms nor vice versa, exercising forgiveness does not go against proportionality, but enriches it.


Forgiveness, when thought of as an unsolicited gift, may increase the perceived debt of the transgressor to the victim whereas retribution should reduce it.


Herman has some very deep and very well made arguments to follow up his bottom line of forgiveness “may” my words, increase the perceived debt of the transgressor. In hindsight it is difficult to recall how these 3 tidbits to blog from came about. When I hit a thread to blog on apparently the research is a true roundabout in nature, looking always in more than one two or more directions.

Well there it is, a blog of not much but was a keen interest in Religion, Morales and Philosophy….

As a side note, my previous blog was about my visit again to my Neurologist and surgeon. December of last year there was a late afternoon icing event. As the day ended a light mist and falling temperatures created a perfect glazing all round the city and suburbs. A few years back, knowing my liking of nature in any condition, my younger sister gave me 2 sets of ice cleats. They are simple devices, fitting over boots or sturdy shoes providing metal tacks on the souls of the foot coverings. I had made it back into the office after dark, creeping along with thousands of fellow motorist; it was good to see traffic so well behaved. Leaving the office and headed across the street in a church parking lot to my Jeep, I had removed the ice cleats once inside, and forgot to put them on again head to the parking lot. I have never in my life fallen so hard.

A few months later, the spine is a bit of a problem and repairs are necessary. In the hours, days and weeks to follow the fall, the pain was from the covering of my lungs, a small tear with large pain, the giant haematoma the size of a grapefruit from my thigh to my ankle, seriously bloody. In the body’s need to protect itself, some growths on the lower disc appeared, to protect the damaged area. I can only walk for about 5minutes at a stretch, the pain will knock you to the ground. So I’m waiting for the moon, the stars and heavens to align to have the repairs done. Epidurals help a lot, but only last a week or two.

Time to hit publish, its my day off on Mondays and I’ve got a call in to my isp company because my Fast DSL is dial up speed again. But in my mind DSL speeds are minor this type of problem on the scale of life is low and low again.

 All I have is today and a hope of a tomorrow.

William M. Walden



Me blog has been Idle………..

My blog has been idle for quite some time. This being said, I have excuses. But need to thank Jacki @365 and the men from “findingthetruth” and damn it others, but this is just a tween-er blog. Both excellent blogs. Fresh-pressed is a given when I’ve got a bit more on my hand than I can handle, with the passing of the summers heat, and hectic work scheduled, scheduled accordingly from the higher ups is not so hectic, yeah right, because they do the math with pencil and paper and I do the math with my bare hands, go figure and as far as the heat of summer, heck, you can always say its been hotter.

The real world should reappear soon with a vigor unseen in wordpress, the depth, insight-fulness, wit, vigor of word usage, unending wisdom of a sage will continue to astound those whose eye may cast a glimpse of desperation to be filled with written word, upon these, yeah, these very pages of Nostradamus pinging wordsmithing,  yes capturing all in the land of ” I know it”, with a lighting bolt perceiving of gee I thought about it and he wrote about it, so it must be true philosophy of human, nay, humanities insightful, yet revolving abet fickle and intuitive insight of _____________(fill in the blank).  I’ll be back with a blog sooner I hope.

Take care to all who visite now.

Who Dat......


What We Have Here Is A Failure to Communicate

I believe these gentlemen sum up the fears and reality of American Big Government, left or right, independent or liberal. We as a country are becoming tired of nothing but bickering.. Take a read, and be satisfied you and I are not alone as well as you and I, we love our Country.


President Obama wishes to address a joint session of Congress on the unemployment situation facing America.  The White House announces the date and time they want for the speech and then all Hell breaks loose.

via What We Have Here Is A Failure to Communicate.

The Day the Dollar Died (Part XIV)

The Day the Dollar Died (Part XIV).

A continuing series from a pair of bloggers…it is fiction.  Being said, a true eye opener of fiction.  Not confused with fiction of “the literary kind”, fiction delivered thru group of circumstance much like “a perfect storm”, the consequences of a Federal government becoming way to large, the need for states rights to remain our rights together as the United States of America and to a large degree the social, political, monetary disruption to civilized society of the citizens of the states. IT ain’t pretty.  Read on, enjoy.  A most worthy gathering of actions, well written, and their immediate impact brought forth into daily lives.

Heathen Scripture

Just finished reading a blog from Australia.

Australiar and the f*cking idiot dilemma

Posted on July 18, 2011 by geoff lemon

….great read X 2 or3.

BHP whining over 3Billion tax on 22Billion PROFIT. “Tax? We only keep $19 billion? We’ll all beeeee rooooooned….”

Descriptive in new ways…”There are definitely times when you wonder if light-fingered alien doctors have been handing out mass lobotomies while we sleep.”

Or the subject of (finite resources) ..”Shit’s going to run out someday, and someone’s going to need to make the transition. There’s no reason why this generation shouldn’t be the ones to put their hands up.”(Carbon Tax)

Lastly…”Political observation in this country is like watching a guy slumped on a couch trying to eat pre-chewed food out of his chest hair.”(Mainstream language corruption)