While the world churns, political will bolstered by multinational corporations with globalization in mind and the restructuring process has been ongoing over decades as observed through trade agreements guided and subverted unaware through the various corporate-owned media. How this has been orchestrated, by whom and with what purposes in mind boggles the mind, mine at least. This has been ongoing for some time and I cannot for the life of me believe there’s a ‘long-game’ surrounding all of these goings on considering many in play weren’t alive at the outset. So, what’s the true story?

Consider, if you will, weather patterns over the past 100yrs and resultant food insecurities? Not to mention, Trade Agreements and manipulations through media-hype for one nation to benefit over another, primarily the upper echelon and the individual on the streets be damned, left to scrounge their sustenance for survival believing there is a beneficial trickle-down effect in place. Of course, the other well orchestrated distractions catering to imprinted biases in fear from the threat of unbearable pain according to beliefs, also created conditionings. What is really real?

We exist, living in survival-mode on the surface of styling by slick manipulations catering to illusions to delude and mystify varying mindsets to which we are all recipients. Can you step out of your subjectivity long enough to identify much less recognize the path we walk? We are no longer of the hunter-gatherer domain, nor ‘Early Civilization’ practitioners, but benefactors and products of all that’s been and gone before; the good, the bad and the ugly. We organize according to our basic predilections, tribal groupings delineated into hierarchies and political substrata with cultural, ethnic and socio-economic demographics which to orchestrate goes beyond any Zeitgeist management being offered.

Books have been written, labelled documentaries, fiction and non-fiction where it’s believed the truth may be deciphered by a select few who we are led to believe have the well-being of humankind as their goal, with a few naysayers! It’s been said that down through the ages Life is the orchestration of the masses by the few but to what end, if there truly is an End? When did these ideals become apparent ambitions to be fostered of an influential few, supported by policing sector and desired, not to mention expected by the general populace with a radical counter-force to keep the system repeating? 

This appears awfully peculiar, while we go about our lives food-surfing …




According to one position I may be labelled as one raised among the enemy being of the male gender. Raised in the absence of a male member in the family unit, I was slated to be raised among females, and the influence of females continued throughout my lifetime. In addition to 4yrs placement in board/foster-care, I was not only within their purview throughout childhood and throughout  adolescence, but also to have many female supervisors and executives as I traversed Life in the vocation I eventually discovered. 


That Life condition was not recognized as ‘different’ from any other it all I knew, even when amidst the company of men where ridicule was prevalent without being aware of their perspective. While growing up I held a perspective that ran counter in many aspects to the males I encountered, which I thought had only to do with being an individual. Little did I comprehend that there was a difference-in-psychological construct that had extenuating factors. Nonetheless, I grew into adulthood navigating the differences and learning to fend for myself while questioning the growing knowledge of how I was different without recognizing what it was. 


Until recently, I questioned the phrase, “Battle of the Sexes”. What was it, how did it come into being and what was Its purpose, in the content of what is termed a ‘Why’? I had little time to deconstruct the what/how of the battle as I ‘survival-mode’ was my daily existence. This legacy of looking into past occurrences is my  default-setting in retirement where I am unearthing a plethora of information of which I’m tasked with collating and co-ordinating for sense-making.


I’m discovering there really is ‘no battle of the sexes’, nor is there a difference in thinking of females and males save for the superficialities memes of ‘Venus’-&-‘Mars’ contextualizing. I postulate there are differences-in-thinking, everyone thinking differently because of positioning. No two things occupy the same space at the same time, making perspective intrinsically different. To my mindset, the major factor is Maturity! Physical maturity is readily understood and accepted as a fact of Life, as well as psychological and emotional/mental maturity. I found it is the Spiritual maturity that is mislabelled, and to me this of primary importance to the dilemma of human development and evolution.


“What we got here is failure to communicate” as stated in the film, ‘Cool Hand Luke’ has meaning that goes beyond the obvious antics in the film. Looking back in History we have the evidence of ongoing processes in Human Development/Evolution as adaptions occur in every habitable geographic region. We’ve studied and documented the animal kingdom, but we are sorely lacking in documenting human spiritual progress with the purpose of everyone adopting and adapting to its particular processes. It is usually considered specialized and is relegated to especial people who often faced persecution of one type or another, many being female who are ‘the hands that rock the cradle’.


What matters most is not being female or male, not discounting the current LGBTQ2+ labelling, but how one matures on all level in existence from human animal into a spiritually evolved human being. The path is arduous and, whether  long or short in duration, we are tasked with choices in becoming better along our ageing-out process from whence we came. So far, our choices have much to be desired and is less promising, as mindfulness appears unfavourable. 


As I age out of this Time/Space Continuum, I’ve learned from the best and the worst obstacles Life places along my path by which I’m to grow. I trust I’ve made the best of what I’ve overcome leaving behind ‘more black than red in my ledger’ as the character ‘Black Widow’ is scripted to say.






1a. Gated Guest c.'53


Somehow, somewhere out of the ether, as was my input for a process to manage my asthma, came the 3:00am awakening to do automatic ‘poetry writing’. This was unusual event that came upon me when I was at my lowest juncture, and I went with it. I sat at the writing table in my room, disturbing no one, and began aligning words into sentences that appeared to represent how I was feeling at 3:00am. 

This occurred with great regularity and efficiency, so much so that after a week I realized I had a collection of verses. One day, I dared approach my grade 12 English teacher, and requested she give me he opinion on the collection. She had me place them on her desk to look at, after her incoming class had gotten settled. Between the time I’d left it on her desk to the time I expected her feedback, there was a development most unexpected. It turned out that a nosey student had read a few of my poems and took a liking to them, and requested he use them as a part of his Printing class project. He wanted to publish my collection of poems as his class project, bound with cover. Miss Monroe approached me on the matter and I agreed, feeling most pleased at this turn of events. MY despondency resonated with another, possibly a few others, and was to become useful. I kept writing.

This felt like a siphoning of dark waters, just enough to keep the demons at bay while I continued in Time. The collection was made into numerous booklets of which I received three copies. The others were dispersed to where I do not know, but I was made aware of its resonance and it was used during poetry components of her English classes because of its relevance to my peers each year. Grade 13 followed, I was still writing, but there were interruptions which aligned with social involvements through my younger siblings ability to garner friends. Being the elder it was my responsibility, whenever appropriate and in keeping with get togethers when our mother was attending to her profession, to be present at her many social gatherings. 

We developed a circle of mutual friendships with older teens, and I was able to juggle these with an after-school and summer job and the extra-curricula that I fell into in those senior high school years- basketball manager, football, track and field, clubs and fundraising events which involved my singing. Amongst all of these I was able to have my very first girlfriend, learning yet again the colour of my skin plays a part in how our relationship would progress. It wasn’t to progress in the romantic manner of the silver-screen to which I attempted to align it. 

I was the eye of the storm with a torrent of activities whirling around me, unable to make sense of many of them, including the residential relocations which took us out of the neighbourhood where I was beginning to open up and feel settled.It was not to be, things were to continue in their transient, fluid and temporal way. My grades were falling again, unbeknownst to my mother, but I was able to keep afloat while recovering from a shoulder dislocation during a football practice. It was a jam packed year and I was able to manage my despondency, especially with additional 3:00am expressions. In spite of the turmoil unknown to those around, mistaking it for whatever their conditioned biases could identify, I continued on my university quest, leaving the choice to depart Life with the choice to explore the unknown into which I was headed…


During the year I was studying to achieve my grade 12 diploma, if I was not working or involved in sporting activities I was withdrawing into myself not knowing I was experiencing, what is called in today’s term, a mental health issue. All I knew was how I felt, and it wasn’t solvable by my understanding. Much of what I was involved in was a matter of course. Our family, like many immigrant and working-class citizens, was financially challenged with societal biases added to the roster. 

Yet, I was a high-functioning boy-of-colour, not overtly academic as I was sorting myself out given early childhood upheavals which contributed to my dilemma. I was quietening my asthmatic-condition, managing then unknown dyslexia and Daydreaming (ADD) coupled with the aforementioned social and filial conditions without a functioning adequate support, and a mother too busy to notice how our evolving dynamics made for the perfect storm of inner-emotional turmoil.

It didn’t matter, the expected outside-world demands to which everyone was adhering as best they knew, with whatever processes developed according to their ethnic – cultural, social and economic biases. Socially constructed systemic access and support were afforded accordingly, beneficial for some and often taken for granted. It was their privilege and right. With these and more weighing on my unconscious mind and emotions, I felt I needed a way out. Every request was felt a demand, another nail driven into a plank I felt I was walking with self-harm an option that seeped into mind partially acknowledged. Repeatedly, the notion of leaving this Life, especially after noticing I had gotten to becoming reclusive, from Friday after school until Monday morning, when I was to begin the school week.

It was odd, but acting on the thought of self-harm was regularly suppressed by my realization of who would be impacted. I never got past what I perceived as the devastating effect on my immediate family. We had endured, surviving a 5yrs separation sacrifice for a better life in Canada; but, there were the unknowns of unexpected, harmful side-effects many of which can be found in medical journals. That information and knowledge were not privy to us then, inaccessible, much less available. 

I was cognizant of the fact, that after having survived numerous beginnings, the processes affording us transition out our island home onto this continent, I was not to abandon them by the ‘choice’ I was considering. Suddenly departing would force a trauma into their lives. Whatever laid ahead was to take place without my presence and contributions as a stabilizing male figure, brother and son, they had grown accustomed to being there …


Those were interesting times; transient childhood with single parent escaping the economic difficulties of her time, no-parenting throughout formative years, then emigrating overseas to a distant continent.

Our reunification was haphazard, to say the least, where I was led into me pulling my weight without information but trusting in the say so of my mother at each turn. I learned to adapt to the reunification with the absentee parenting of my formative years, adjust ’n orienting to a new culture without knowing there was a bias towards my ethnicity, not to mention establishing dynamics with relatives that had their own presumptions that also went unnoticed. 

As far as social perceptions were concerned, I had a construct of openness and acceptance of everyone I interacted with until their behaviours towards me necessitated modification. Most often people were forthcoming, with behaviours I wasn’t able to fathom in my naivety and ignorance of bigotry: a pair of siblings informed me to not expect recognition away from the local swimming pool where we met under instruction of their parents, which was better than the unexpected bullying and assaults. If not for identifying some behaviours albeit many after the fact, I might not have successfully navigated the difficulties that came my way then.

During my high-school years I experienced some bullying, near misses in assaults and an untoward encounter with a staff/coach but, by and large, most behaved in a professional manner. Some did take care to guide all students with Life-Lessons in addition to academics, and from those I was able to benefit not having a father as most were male. The females that weren’t suppressive I was able to engage on a more personable level. One was able to lend support at a time when I was in crisis of which she and others were unaware, least of all me. I doubt if there were any of such a mindset beck in the 1960s, especially in a school of 2,700 students, 200 of which were female in Art, Home Economics, Typing/Office Management and Nursing.

After my untoward interaction with a coach I refrained from playing football for some time and took to track-and-field, which was to support my asthma project. It was in my senior year that members of the senior football team did a class-by-class drive to acquire enough players to tryout for the senior football team which was sorely lacking in players. As it turned out my track & field days were useful in spite of lacking in actual coaching as I was to discover in my grade 12 year. I was able to stay my crises by getting involved in co-curricula activities beginning in my 3rd high-school year. I was in a pressure-cooker internally, but my hyper-activity had an outlet in sports and performing, after it was discovered I had a good singing voice, and late-night poetry expressions.

Working after-school, during the summer months and on weekends meant I wasn’t having a social life, but acquired one by happenstance. My younger sibling being more of a social person was able to make friends easily and I was the older-protective brother doing his bit, as best I knew. We lived in a neighbourhood during a crucial period that allowed for social interaction. It was during that period I interacted with Italians, Jews and other Europeans adding dimension to what was unaccustomed, seeing names only on maps and Sunday school lessons. 

Information came like a steady downpour and I sorted all, as I was developing a new vocabulary adding to and replacing words to my previous recollections.

I was engaged in the world of my neighbourhood, the local swimming pool, the public-at-large; subsequently, high-school, the varying odd-jobs acquired that came and went with ensuing intermediary public/social interactions, along with family dynamics that held nuances on a daily basis. Needless to say, in addition to my internal constructs that were undiagnosed and unknown, I had quite the plate of activities requiring my attention. It was for those actions that a vocabulary was acquired, all while navigating my path to accomplishing my high-school diplomas without direct knowledgeable support through my family enclave.

I was to discern what I could given my base biases without knowing what I was constructing, as I went through the Times that were a-changing … 

Suicide   Chronicles 




It wasn’t long before the plane began to descend onto a runway, but we weren’t allowed to disembark owing to information that this was simply a stopover for dropping-off and picking-up passengers and cargo en-route to its destination. Calmly and quietly I observed goings on outside the window, ignorant of the meaning of what was taking place.


The four-propellers sequentially began their preparation for take-off, all were on-board who were to be on-board, and ascension to cruising altitude began after acquiring take-off speed. I was fascinated! I was having an experience from an internal position, one I had never imagined possible having seen this experience only on-screen, in one of those films that took me away from my transient and random lifestyle. The view above the clouds kept me looking out the airplane’s porthole, with more to acknowledge of goings on inside and with my little sister napping beside me.


It was 8-hours, before the plane made its final descent onto the tarmac and traversed along the runway to its final placement outside a large and funny-looking building. We were taken off the airplane, but before disembarking I stopped and surveyed the foreign landscape that was to become our residence upon meeting the person fading from memory over the preceding 5years.


There we were, walking down a hallway, when a lone figure stood ahead of us. What followed was a question I was to guess at the answer to maintain surety. It sounded, “Was that our mother?” I answered, “Yes.”


Hugs all around, my 2-suitcases in hand, and we were off to parts unknown. Our destination was the dwelling where we were to reside with our matriarchal grandmother, an aunt and uncle. Soon after, we were enrolled in the nearest public school with my high school learning put aside for family dynamics reasons. It was there I was to learn I spoke with an accent, was of colour that made some kind of difference that hadn’t quite settled, yet; and, was to put my rote-learning methodology to use, after taking a test that was called I.Q.


I had my first crush, a lovely whose name I still recall to this day, but I was too shy and not within earshot of her peers to join in to get close to her. My ability to memorize and recite poetry put me in good stead to present a poem during an assembly of some sort. I recall the title, “The Flower Fed Buffaloes”, but the one to indelibly startle me was “Richard Cory”! It led me down a path that was most dramatic ending in trauma. That trauma taunted me for years …


Anyway, Time Flowed accordingly from 1962 into 1963 wherein I was to have more drama/trauma in the form of a fist-fight during a snow-soccer game after school. I didn’t realize being good at something was a threat ’n imposition to the pride of others, and me being of colour didn’t register; but, the illogical process for the conflict was confusing coming from the Caribbean of the fifties. I was also called names that didn’t register, although the emotional import did and I was soon made to connect-the-two by my uncle in no uncertain terms. 


A word was uttered to which I gave no regard, or response, but I was struck on the head with an admonition about the word and my lack of regard/response to it. I inquired about being struck, and I was told that that uttered ’N’ word was the reason. I said, “It has nothing to do with me, as it did not define me as intended”; but, my reply went unnoticed, and as such was the start of things untoward.







Suicide   Chronicles 




Having relocated into a patriarchal setting, rules and regulations of this new environment was established being the add-ons to an already functioning dynamics. As Time went bye, a routine of chores alongside schooling became the norm. What was different, and had a slower infusion, was the aspect of being in the midst of ‘blood-relations’, something that uncommon during the previous 4years. Additionally, peer relations introduced us to friendly neighbours within walking distance, across the street and a few blocks in three-directions. All but south had peer interactions, which offered exploratory options suitable to my wanderlust.


Somehow, I had the desire for a dog which had been an off-and—on relationship during earlier times. I was able to procure a puppy entering a weekend, and was quite comforted. Monday morning came, and school was to interrupt my bonding flow.  I left for school early morning, with miAt the gate upon my return. I called out expecting the little legs to come running up the driveway, but there was no little legs in response. I went searching only to find a lifeless little corpse in the garage where I’d left him.


Undaunted, I quickly got one of his siblings and proceeded to groom him for my next morning departure, hoping for a better response at the end of that school day. I wasn’t to succeed with that expectation either; just another lifeless corpse in the garage, again.


The sadness was overwhelming, but I continued with the chores as expected of me, keeping my losses within. 


Unbeknownst to me, my father came to the house with a gift of a puppy from the police pound, giving his parents strict instructions to look after my puppy while I was at school. Was I to have another death experience for a third time? I was to live through two-weeks of anxious anticipation, expecting the greeting of my little puppy before the feeling of happiness replaced the fear and settled within.


The time at my grandparents continued with one incident after another, all the while I got accustomed to a family type setting with random encounters with my father. I was most likely on walkabouts if he did come by, he never asked, which was most likely the reason I hadn’t seen him during the previous four years in the boarding-house. If not doing chores, in school, playing at neighbour’s and with cousins, I habitually took to wandering near and far afield from where I lived. On my wanderings, I would visit with relatives and friendly neighbours further away, things I was also able to do on a regular basis during the previous four years.


That year I entered 2nd Form in high school, responsible for my puppy and my chores, I almost drowned while establishing a social network with family and neighbours during a rare visit to the seaside. In spite of my exciting times there was a persistent sense of dullness which affected my school learning. I could not grasp my studies as I used to in spite of feelings of the growing connectivity to my environment. I felt a separation taking place within and it made no sense to me.


Then, a turn of events emerged. I learned we were to emigrate to North America and reunite with our mother. Elated, I felt a reprieve from a confinement that was manifesting in deadening ways upon my psyche. Without clear understanding, I experienced cycles of mania and depression, hyper-activity with random  feelings of anxiety.  I withdrew myself from school, not attending classes, but I waited for classes to be out and visited with classmates right up until the day of departure. 


I said my good-byes to everyone, only to realize that this time I was the one to be leaving my beloved pup of one-year, behind. After the death of four dogs over the previous 13yrs, I was leaving the one that survived to the whims of those I could not trust to care as I did. I was going to experience a relocation of international proportions this time, with unknown proximity to my relocation. Two suite cases in hands, and my younger sibling in tow, I boarded a metallic four-engine turbo-prop aircraft for an eight-hour flight.


One awareness was to alight within my consciousness. I was to notice from the air, as the plane achieved cruising altitude, no boundaries of delineation existed below. Geographic demarkation drawn on the maps I studied in school, on lands far and wide, did not exist below. There were no defined spaces, which I ought to have suspected from my wanderings during my pre-pubescent years. 


This was just the beginning of many lessons awaiting … 








Suicide   Chronicles   



The popular thinking in earlier years were unfavourable to people with issues spanning the psychological spectrum. Needless to say, many lived off-the-grid as best they could or were treated as pariahs unless fortunate enough to have family support. That was only operational if things were identified, but when anxiety and depression were in the making, so to speak, flying under the radar war quite common.


Looking back over the decades, it’s noticeable how many had contributions to the maladies now labelled mental health issues. If you were male, the expectations laid out was quite different, harsh if you considered what was considered as boys being boys. Not to overlook the obsession that was fostered upon girls from early on in Life, which bore the brand-of-oppression deemed misogyny. I am of the opinion that this so-called battle of the sexes bore ingredients of mental illness.


My contributors came through both genders suffering under the brands already in vogue. The stereotypes of what constituted gender, social-economic-ethnic status applied their weightiness through the actions, behaviour and attitudes of the merciless ignorant and from those in-the-know, their predecessors, according to their inherited conditioning. I was to due get a heaping serving from the get go, which slowly but surely began by imprinting from unconscious psychological residues. 


Allow me to mention at this juncture, this is not-a-blame scenario but a laying out of conditions that contribute to what became dysfunctional qualities in this human being’s life.


My particular input was from an uncertain conception that culminated in the early departure of the masculine energy necessary in balancing the upbringing of any child. Once that contributing masculine energy departed, unwilling by its absence on its way out, this male-child was to remain in a primarily matriarchal environment within a transient-truncated and uncertain path. 


‘Home is where the heart is’ was the adage meant to be just that, since instability was the constancy balanced by a mother’s loving affection with two-children to provide care for in a male-dominated culture, without the support of her primary caregiver. This was the behaviour-pattern I into which emerged that cultivated its unique dysfunctional qualities.


I had the distinct pleasure of being more than bi-racial, a misnomer if I ever there was one. I was multi-national, ancestry hailing from many corners to the world. My contributors hailed from somewhere in the African continent, the British Isles,, the Caribbean, Central America, China and Europe. Exotic though this blending may sound, consider the periods in History these couplings occurred!


Certainly not recent history, and definitely not North America! The resultant fallouts continue to this day, a fuelled carry over from warnings fostered by fear from assailants afraid of their own shadows, another aspect of mental illness.


Suffice to say, the dynamics raging through each group, in each generation left scars gone unrecognized even where aberrant behaviours manifested. Of course, when I came on the scene dysfunctional behaviours were rampant and I could but navigate with what I had inherited by way the mindset of a brilliant caregiving mother dealing with inherited constrains as best she could, and timely pivotal inputs. Before, during and after the primary-masculine energy departed she had too much was on her plate to adequately manage. 


Something had to be done, which involved decisions embracing many issues that imprinted dysfunctions on this unsuspecting child’s psyche, including a younger sibling who by design was able benefit somewhat being of the dominant setting.


During an eight-year stretch in Time, ‘home’ occurred in as many locations before another definitive upheaval occurred.  







Over  the  Rainbow         …   …   …                4



I made it through by the ‘skin of my teeth’, or as Barry Manilow’s song goes, “I made it through the rain …”, upon entering university under-probation, mutually beneficial at the time. I needed time and space to adapt to what was afflicting me,  and what I could not comprehend. I was, in fact, ‘running away from home’ as accused 6yrs earlier by the police officer. What mattered was the environment establishing its new designation of a University from a College, and unknown to me at the time. But, all manner of experiences were to be added atop what was already unknown in my life, and I simply had to keep moving until I made it, establishing some semblance of that which wasn’t to be for some time. 


It was time to take on not only was unknown but also what I did know, as it turned out. The time it took wasn’t expected to be into my retirement years! The unknowns were well beyond my comprehension, not to mention family members also dealing with similar in their own ways with their own peculiar psychological processing, in tandem with my way forward. Navigating to here was problematic without even the hint of surviving, given the probabilities of being in my favour getting me to where I am. 


Not the marrying kind was more on point, suffice to say prophetic? Often pronouncements seep out of the ether, the Collective Unconscious, and are to choose how to comprehend such messages going forward in Life. Deficits offered benefits the survival mechanisms from which one has to choose how synchronize with the Symphony of Life that harmonizes with the Universe Unfolding within the Music of The Spheres …


Here today, tomorrow being promised to no one …   






2b. Setling In c.'65


Over  the  Rainbow   …   …   3



My male personality was on notice in that female-dominated environment, speckled with gender-orientation variables that I accepted as the way of things. I wandered far afield, out-of-doors after chores were done knowing I would not be missed, much less absence known. Luckily, my routes were more among Nature’s enclosures and, when among people, assumptions might’ve been made about there being an adult nearby because I was never bothered. Interactions with schoolmates were routine, with the odd injury and corporal punishments going outside prescribed boundaries. 


After 4yrs, residing in 3 locations under the guardianship of a teacher, for the first time, to me anyway, our father appeared presumably to relocate us to his family’s dwelling in time for my 2nd year in high-school. That year of living socially within a family and neighbourhood setting was expansive, and slowed the mind-numbing sensation I was experiencing. Literally, I could see my mind fading into a place/space of unknown dimensions. Then, at what seemed a last-minute reprieve, I learned we were to emigrate to another country uniting with our mother, prime caregiver, of whom I was gradually suffering memory loss. 


The experiences incurred during those first 13yrs saw little if any role modelling of a family life, parental and/or loving relations save the ones subsumed during earlier childhood under the care of my mother, and her friendly relations. Family I augmented with artificial, scripted scenarios from the silver screen. Something had to fill in the growing abyss developing in those earlier years. Soon, I entered puberty, an era I was to navigate with minimal resources. I had to deal with the presumptions, assumptions and beliefs projected onto one such as I during the 1960s, in North America, with Civil Rights agenda unfolding.





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